Charlotte’s Story (34 page)

“Why did you marry me? What did I do to make you hate me so much?”

He rolled over onto one elbow. I could smell Scotch on his breath, but I knew he wasn’t drunk. “Hate you? My God, Charlotte. You’re one of only two women in my life I’ve ever come close to loving. Haven’t I given you everything you wanted? Security. Position. Have I ever said
no
to any little thing—or big thing—you’ve wanted? Now you have my mother’s jewelry, half of this house, plenty of money. No one will ever take your place here unless you make it happen.”

I waited for more.

“I
protected
you. Do you think that anyone else’s wife would have escaped punishment for getting drunk and letting her daughter drown in the bathtub while she slept it off? You’re a very, very lucky woman. I treasure you, just like my father treasured my mother. Just like
his
father treasured my grandmother.”

My gut went cold remembering what I’d seen happen in this very bed. There had been worse suffering than mine in this house.

“I know about your father.”

“Everyone knows about my father. It’s hardly news that he died.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“What?”

I had his attention now, more than ever, and I felt something new grow inside me. It felt horrible. Disgusting. But it felt right. I had almost pitied him because of what I’d learned about Olivia, and the rape. What Michael Searle had been forced to watch. I knew Michael Searle wasn’t his father, but did Press know it?

I didn’t go on. He deserved to keep wondering. I had no pity for this man, and I was done loving him. Still, a part of me was convinced that the man lying beside me wasn’t really Press. The man I had known as my husband had disappeared in the days after Olivia died. Even if this man, this Preston Bliss had shown some glimmer of compassion that night, I didn’t know that I wanted him back. The place in my heart that had been full of him for so long was full of something else now.

It was a dark, fearsome something else, and I didn’t want to look too closely at it, because I was afraid it might kill us both.

Chapter 34

Running

What do you do when you realize that life as you once knew it is over forever?

My life had ended once already—in that same, very strange month of October—the day that Eva died.

Press had woken me. No, that’s not precisely right. I had awoken to find him standing over me, holding a tearful Michael, looking horrified. He had looked at me as though I were some stranger who had wandered into his house and done something unspeakable.

I had done the unspeakable. I had let our daughter die.

“What is it?”

When I’d held out my arms for Michael, Press had taken a step back, reluctant. Who would give their precious son to a stranger?

Why hadn’t I felt something the moment that Eva had fallen into the tub, hitting her head? A mother should feel something when her child’s life slips away into the water, or into the air—a sudden
absence in the universe. But no. I had felt nothing. Sensed nothing. I hadn’t even been awake.

The next day, I did the only thing I could do. Press was wrong about my father. I was certain that he and Nonie would stand behind me. They had to. Michael was too precious to risk, and I knew that if I stayed with Press, he would do something to hurt Michael or twist him in some way. Bliss House was where we belonged, but not if Press was in it. I’d rejected the idea of killing him, but I now knew where I really stood. Michael and I were prisoners, and Press valued life far less than I did. I could only trust that Olivia would be there for Eva if I couldn’t be. But Michael was alive, and I had to protect him. So I ran away.

I thought it would be difficult not to give myself away. But I was better at lying than I knew.

When I went down to the kitchen, I found Press, Marlene, and Terrance seated at the table. Press stopped talking, and he and Marlene looked at me, but Terrance started to rise. I put out my hand to stop him.

“That’s all right, Terrance. I just came to speak with Marlene about dinner, but I’ll come back.” Perhaps I should have made an effort to speak to Press. I confess I knew it would embarrass him in front of Marlene—if not Terrance—when I ignored him. But the loathing I felt, along with my pride, wouldn’t let me. How much had my pride cost me already? I turned to leave, but Marlene spoke.

“The side of beef from our order was stocked in the freezer yesterday, Miss Charlotte. I thought maybe steaks with autumn vegetables, and bread?”

“That’s fine. Is there mail?” Glancing at the table, I saw that a stack of mail rested at Preston’s right. An envelope with Nonie’s handwriting sat on top.

“I’ll bring it to you when I’ve been through it, darling.” Press smiled.
Darling
. Had I ever really been his darling? Somehow I knew he would never give me the letter.

“We’re doing the memorial tomorrow night. I’m just finalizing plans with Marlene and Terrance. It’s a light menu, though God knows that crowd can eat! Just think. We’ll christen the new theater in style. Helen would’ve loved it, don’t you think?” He turned to Marlene. “Twelve people, plus Miss Charlotte. Terrance will serve and take care of cleaning up. It will go rather late, so there’s no need for you not to retire at your usual time.”

“It’s no trouble, Mr. Preston.”

Terrance shook his head. Press just smiled. It was decided.

Thursday. Halloween. It seemed appropriate, given the secretive, dramatic natures of both Helen and Zion. The secretive, dramatic nature of my husband.

I turned to leave again, and Press said, “Don’t worry about a costume. I have it all arranged.”

Holding my breath so I wouldn’t be tempted to shriek at him, I hurried toward the stairs between the kitchen and dining room. By the time I reached the second floor, I was panting.

As I left the small hallway where the stairs were located, I nearly ran into Shelley, who was leading Michael by the hand. Shelley looked startled and, worse, there were gray shadows beneath her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Bliss. I didn’t hear you.” She let go of Michael’s hand and he toddled toward me. I picked him up and held him close—so very close—to feel the softness of his fine blond curls on my cheek.

“Where are you two off to?”

“It’s so nice outside, I thought we’d walk out to the springhouse and maybe play in the playhouse for a little while. I was going to stop in the kitchen to get a snack to take with us.” She hesitated. “That’s all right, isn’t it?”

Of course, she’d hesitated because the playhouse had been Eva’s. I smiled to reassure her. “Just keep him away from the pool.”

“Oh, I definitely will. We won’t even go in the woods. I promise.”

I kissed Michael and set him down. “You be good for Shelley.”

He seemed to have bonded with her quickly, and I was—mostly—grateful. He would miss her. But he would have Nonie and my father, as well as me, if everything went the way I hoped it would.

“I think I’m going to stay in his room tonight, Shelley. I’ve missed him, and he doesn’t sleep very well in bed with me. You can even go home for the night if you want to. Why don’t you do that? Come back in the morning.”

She looked reluctant, but finally nodded. “I’ll stay here. I like to be here when he wakes up. He’s the most cheerful boy I’ve ever seen in the morning!” She picked him up as he started to break for the stairs, and he giggled.

When they were gone, I waited in my room until I saw Terrance bring Press’s Eldorado from the garage.

I packed a few of Michael’s things in the single suitcase I would take to my father’s house. Two changes of clothes, a few diapers, pins, and plastic pants, his winter jacket (he was wearing a sweater outside), shoes and socks. His favorite toy—a stuffed Winnie the Pooh bear—I left in his crib, and told myself I would remember it when we were ready to leave. There was already a change of clothes for me in the case, along with a framed picture of Eva, and the hundred dollars I kept in my jewelry box for an emergency. This certainly qualified as an emergency.

I thought of going over to Rachel’s, if not to say good-bye then to at least see her and the baby again before I left. But I knew myself
too well, even then. I was used to telling Rachel everything, and while I wanted to believe that she wouldn’t betray me to Press, I couldn’t take the chance.

Dinner and the hour in the library with Press after dinner was a puppet show of politeness. He was uncharacteristically affectionate with Michael, which I found a little alarming. And although we were alone, he didn’t mention J.C. again. I wondered if she would dare to return for the memorial. She had known Helen and Zion, though I didn’t think terribly well. When Marlene had cleaned her room, she’d found her bottle of
Caron Poivre
sitting on the dresser and brought it to me. It was an odd thing for her to have left behind. I told Marlene that she could keep it if she wanted, that J.C. probably had more than one bottle. It was a mean and small thing for me to do, but I felt no regret.

Press spoke to Michael, who was on his lap. “Do you think we should tell Mommy what her costume is, or should we let it be a surprise?”

I tried hard to sound curious. “What is it?”

He grinned. “Why, it’s Brunhild, of course! Don’t you remember? Helen thought you’d make a wonderful Brunhild.”

“Ah.” I nodded. The idea of putting on a costume for all of Press’s friends repelled me. Though I took comfort in the fact that I would be gone that night and wouldn’t actually have to.

“But can you sing, my dear?” His eyes gleamed with amusement.

Yes, I remembered. For my own preservation, I smiled. “I don’t have to wear horns, do I?”

He played at looking hurt. “Not if you don’t want to, I suppose. Maybe just golden wings on the sides of your helmet.”

Picking up Michael (I really didn’t want to go near Press, but I had no choice), I said “Time for bed, sleepy boy.”

Michael snuggled onto my shoulder, not at all reluctant to leave Press.

“I’ll probably come in to see you tonight. I think you should sleep in your own bed.” It was obviously an order. Not a suggestion.

“Oh, Press. Shelley had Michael out for so long today. Didn’t you notice how warm he is? I want to sleep in his room tonight in case he feels bad. It wouldn’t be right to disturb him if he’s sick.”

Press made a kind of grudging, grunting noise. My heart was pounding as I left the room, and I held Michael closer as though I could muffle the sound.

Press’s bedroom windows overlooked the short driveway leading to the carriage house, so I paused outside his door before gathering Michael to make sure I heard him snoring. There was no question that he was inside his room and asleep. Michael barely woke when I picked him up out of his crib, and we managed to get down the kitchen stairs without making any noise at all. The doors onto the patio from the dining room opened easily, and the
click
of their latch was lost in the constant chirp of a lone, late-season cricket in the nearby bushes. It seemed that Bliss House was going to let us go.

Walking across the patio in the moonlight with Michael draped in his favorite blanket and drowsing against my shoulder, I was both anxious and fairly confident that we would get away. At the last moment before leaving my room, I had put Olivia’s jeweled peacock knife in the pocket of my coat. I felt as though she were blessing our escape.