The Secret Between Us (28 page)

Bad timing?
Horrendous
timing.

But still she felt cleansed, which made an important point. Rain didn’t make things messy. People did that all on their own.

Chapter 22

Greg returned the children to Leyland himself on Sunday afternoon, for which Deborah was infinitely grateful. Given what they had to do, having Greg there would make things easier.

First came a meeting with Hal. Greg set it up, and Deborah was grateful for that, too. Confessing to a lie was difficult, but even more so when the one deceived was a friend.

Once they were settled in the living room, Greg laid out the truth about the accident, and if Hal was disappointed in Deborah, he didn’t let on. He barely looked at her, barely looked at Grace. Greg’s presence modulated him, as Deborah had known it would.

“So,” Greg finished, “how do we proceed? Clearly, we have to talk with John. What are the possible consequences for Deborah and Grace?”

Hal looked concerned. “Deborah filed a false police report. She could be charged with that.”

“Penalty?” Greg asked.

“If she had a record, she could see jail time.”

“Mom,”
Grace cried.

Deborah took her hand. “I have no record, Grace. Please, Hal.”

He relented. “Likely probation. Maybe a fine.”

Deborah could deal with that. “Who determines what happens?” she asked.

“The local police have jurisdiction over the issue of the false report, but not over a civil suit.”

Deborah thought of Tom, but Greg rescued her with an impatient question for Hal. “I want to know what happens
now.
If we go to John, say, tomorrow morning, what are the consequences for Grace? Would she be charged with leaving the scene of an accident?”

“Possibly. Again, in this case, a misdemeanor. Likely probation.”

“What does probation mean?” Grace asked in a nervous voice.

Hal’s tone softened—but then, Deborah had never doubted his affection for her children. “It means, basically, that you go about your life as usual as long as you don’t break another law, in which case there’s trouble.”

“She didn’t do anything wrong,” Deborah put in. “It was me. I sent her home. She wanted to stay.”

“That would be taken into consideration,” Hal replied. “Did she violate any permit requirements?”

“No.”

“I was drinking,” Grace reminded her.

“That’s another issue,” Hal said. “I’m not sure you need to tell John that.”

Grace stared at him. “But I was
drinking.
”

“We may have to tell him,” Deborah said quietly. “Grace needs him to know.”

Hal didn’t like being contradicted. “Fine, but trust me, his main concern is the other issues. I know John—”

“Knowing him doesn’t justify special treatment,” Deborah cut in. “Isn’t that what the civil suit is about?”

Hal made a face. “Christ, Deborah, do you want him to throw the book at you simply
because
he likes you?” He turned back to Greg. “As for Grace, if there were no permit violations—and no civil infractions, like speeding—the RMV wouldn’t impose sanctions. She’d keep on driving and be able to get her license. The danger is still the civil lawsuit. If you go to John now with full disclosure, he’ll be required to tell the D.A. That’ll complicate things.”

“How public will it be?” Greg asked.

“That depends on how public the D.A. wants to make it. Actually, it depends on how the victim’s family reacts. Grace is a minor, so her name would be kept out of the papers, but Deborah’s would be there.” He held up a hand. “This is all speculation. But you have to understand that there will be repercussions if you tell John everything.”

Deborah was thinking that they might not have a choice, when the doorbell rang. Puzzled, she left the room and went to the door.

Karen stood there, clearly upset. “Is my husband here?”

“Yes.” Deborah drew her inside. “What’s wrong?”

“He said he was coming, but lately what he says has nothing to do with what he does.” She was shaking. “I had a surprise visitor a few minutes ago, an Arden Marx. She wanted to return some of my husband’s belongings. A pair of monogrammed cuff links. The engraved Montblanc fountain pen I gave him last year.” Her voice rose. “Arden Marx claimed he had given them to her. She wanted to return them now, since it appears he’s dumped her for someone named Amelia, another associate in his firm, which means,” she was fairly shouting now, “that everyone in his firm knows he’s been screwing around behind my back.”

“Karen,” Hal interrupted from the living room arch, “you’re not yourself.”

Karen turned on him. “Meaning that I’m not my usual deny-it-all patsy?” She gestured angrily. “How
can
I deny it this time, when it’s shoved right under my nose? How could you, Hal?” she cried. “You’re the first one to criticize clients who cheat on their wives. Did they give you lessons, or did it just come naturally?”

“Arden Marx has an axe to grind,” Hal said, still calm. “She’s just been fired.”

“According to her, she quit,” Karen argued, “and—here’s something we can check out—she says she just signed on with Eckert Seamans, which is a more prestigious firm than yours, so if you’re going to claim she was fired for poor performance, no one will believe you. She also says Amelia Ormant botched a case and got a sizable bonus for ‘effort.’ And what about the cuff links and the pen, both definitely yours. She might have taken the pen from your desk, but cuff links?” She was breathing hard. “And what about Amelia Ormant, who is
married,
for God’s sake.”

“She’s leaving her husband,” Hal corrected.

“And that makes it all
right
? Hal,
you
have a wife. You also have a
daughter,
who’s noticed all on her own that you’re coming home late freshly showered or ‘soaked by the rain.’ Our daughter is seventeen. She isn’t a child. She doesn’t believe for a minute that you’re playing racquetball, even though I defend you when she asks.”

Hal was beginning to look uneasy. “This isn’t the time or place, Karen.”

“I think it is,” she said. “If I don’t say all this when I’m rip-roaring mad, I may lose my nerve, because we both know that part of me loves you enough to keep on denying the truth rather than risk losing my marriage. And Deborah and Greg have known us forever.”

Hal looked from Greg to Deborah, waving a dismissive hand at his wife.

“That’s
exactly
why I’m here,” Karen argued. “I knew you’d try to make me out to be delusional. But Deborah and Greg know me. They know I’m right. Three years ago—
three
years, Hal—I got a call from our credit card company wanting to verify certain charges. When I asked you about the one from the Four Seasons downtown, you said it was for lunch for a large group, all eight hundred and fifty dollars of it, and I believed you. But there were other bills from the hotel on days you told me you’d be in Rhode Island or New Hampshire. Arden claims she was only with you for a year, and if it ended three months ago, like she says, that means you were with someone else before then.”

“I think we should go home,” Hal said, opening the door.

Karen followed him, but only to the threshold. “Did it start when I got sick?” she asked with a hand to her chest. “Were you turned off after my surgery?”

“I’m leaving,” he said. “Either come or not.” He glanced back at Deborah and Greg. “You got your free advice. If there’s a civil case, I’ll recommend someone to represent you.” Leaving his wife at the door, he strode down the walk.

Karen stared after him.

Deborah waited, giving her a chance to follow, but Karen didn’t take a single step as Hal got in the car and drove off. Only then did Deborah put a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

Suddenly, all Karen’t rage and bravado crumbled. “What did I do?” she cried softly and dissolved into deep, gut-wrenching sobs.

Greg and Grace had tactfully disappeared. Clasping her friend tightly, Deborah moved to sit on the stairs.

“He’s gone,” Karen said brokenly and pulled a tissue from her pocket. “I knew he would leave me.” She pressed the tissue to her nose.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Deborah reasoned gently. “He was embarrassed in front of us.”

“He was
caught,
” Karen said over the tissue.

“That, too. He’ll lick his wounds and think about what he wants to do. The more important question is what
you
want to do.”

Karen took a shuddering breath. “I don’t know. I’ve asked myself that dozens of times. I can’t keep on going this way. But will Hal ever change? I don’t think he’ll agree to counseling.”

“He may, if he wants the marriage to last.”

“That’s a big if. He’ll probably say that he can’t stay with me after I’ve humiliated him in front of you. You know, I’ve fantasized about embarrassing him in public, because he’s done it to me. Maybe that’s why I came over today. Maybe I’ve deliberately goaded him to get
him
to file for divorce because I don’t have the guts to do it myself. I don’t want to be alone. But I don’t want to be married to someone who would prefer to be with someone else.” She sagged against Deborah. “I just don’t know. I don’t know what I want. I wish I had a crystal ball and could see where I’ll be in ten years. Between the cancer and Hal, I feel like I don’t have a future.”

Deborah smiled sadly. “If it weren’t cancer and Hal, it’d be something else. We all want a blueprint that spells out what’ll happen to us.”

“I just want to know where it
ends.
”

“So do I, but we can’t know. Dylan said it. It’s like going through fog, feeling your way along until what’s in front of you finally appears.”

“That implies you do nothing at all along the way to determine your own future.”

“But you get my point. Sometimes we just can’t see far. People like you and me want to plan. But we can’t. Not long-range.”

“Then what do I do now, right at this moment?”

“Drive home. See if Hal’s there. Talk with Danielle. Does she know about Arden?”

“She was listening. I didn’t know it until Arden left. Dani heard every word.”

Grace heard every
word, too. She was in the living room, not hiding exactly but unable to leave. By the time Karen left, she was remembering the way Dani had crouched down beside her in school.
Something’s going on with my dad. I really need to talk, Gracie. Please?

Grace had refused, so obsessed with her own problems that she hadn’t seen that her friend was in pain. And if Dani had been hurting before, it would be worse now. Grace knew what it was like to have her father jump ship—knew the creepy feeling thinking of him with another woman, knew the sense of betrayal.

Pulling her cell phone from her back pocket, where it had been tucked for the better part of two weeks, she pressed Dani’s number. It wasn’t like she knew what to say, especially when Dani picked up after a single ring and burst into tears. But this was a friend who was as close to a sister as Grace would ever have, and even if she could only sit there and listen, it was more than she’d done last week.

I’m not a good person for anyone to need,
she had told Dani then, and it wasn’t that she was suddenly a better person now. But she wanted to be.

Grace kept telling
herself that. Still, she went back and forth all night, needing to tell John Colby the truth but terrified. Once it was out, there was no taking it back. It could totally change her life, just like that instant on the road in the rain.

Unable to sleep, she curled up in bed with her mother. Deborah wasn’t sleeping either. They lay together for a while, staring into the darkness. Grace couldn’t be sure what her mother was thinking, but her own thoughts didn’t stray.

“Are you sure we can’t talk to Chief Colby here at the house?” Grace finally whispered. There was a jail at the police station. That made her nervous.

But her mother shook her head. “We’re better off going there. That way no one can claim we’re pulling strings. Don’t try to predict what will happen, sweetheart. Imagination is often worse than reality. Tell me about Vermont.”

“I can’t think about Vermont.”

“Your father came through, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Do you feel better?”

“A little.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Grace did, but it was awkward. “Do you really want to know that Rebecca’s a great cook?”

There was a moment’s silence. “Is she?”

“Yes,” Grace said, “but she freaks out at the sight of blood. She cut her finger chopping veggies and nearly fainted. I had to put the Band-Aid on.”

“Was she appreciative?”

“Totally.”

“Is she good with Dylan?”

“I guess. He spent all his time with the pups.”

“I may lose that battle.”

But Grace didn’t want to talk about Dylan, or her father, or Rebecca. “What do you think John’ll say?”

Her mother was quiet. “He’s fair. He’s compassionate. He cares about us.”

“That’s favoritism.”

“It’s fact. He’ll do what he feels is best.”

“That’s no answer.”

“What can I say? I wish I had answers for everything, Gracie. Clearly, I don’t. Clearly, I make mistakes.”

“I drank. I drove.”

“I lied.”

Grace knew her mother was tense, could hear it in her voice. But Grace was the one urging them to confess. Maybe she was wrong. “Maybe going to John is a mistake, Mom. Maybe we should wait.”