Full dark,no stars (46 page)

She appeared to consider. She was considering, in fact, although such thought processes as she could muster were probably not trending in a direction he would be likely to understand.

What she thought was: Its what drug addicts say. Ill never take any of that stuff again. Ive quit before and this time Ill quit for good. I mean it. But they dont mean it, even when they think they do they dont, and neither does he.

What she thought was: What am I going to do? I cant fool him, weve been married too long.

A cold voice replied to that, one she had never suspected of being inside her, one perhaps related to the BD-voice that whispered to Bob about the snoots it observed in restaurants, laughing on street corners, riding in expensive sports cars with the top down, whispering and smiling to each other on apartment-building balconies.

Or perhaps it was the voice of the Darker Girl.

Why cant you? it asked. After all he fooled you.

And then what? She didnt know. She only knew that now was now, and now had to be dealt with.

Youd have to promise to stop, she said, speaking very slowly and reluctantly. Your most solemn, never-go-back promise.

His face filled with a relief so total-so somehow boyish-that she was touched. He so seldom looked like the boy he had been. Of course that was also the boy who had once planned to go to school with guns. I would, Darcy. I do. I do promise. I already told you.

And we could never talk about this again.

I get that.

Youre not to send the Duvall womans ID to the police, either.

She saw the disappointment (also weirdly boyish) that came over his face when she said that, but she meant to stick to it. He had to feel punished, if only a little. That way hed believe he had convinced her.

Hasnt he? Oh Darcellen, hasnt he?

I need more than promises, Bobby. Actions speak louder than words. Dig a hole in the woods and bury that womans ID cards in it.

Once I do that, are we-

She reached out and put her hand to his mouth. She strove to make herself sound stern. Hush. No more.

Okay. Thank you, Darcy. So much.

I dont know what youre thanking me for. And then, although the thought of him lying next to her filled her with revulsion and dismay, she forced herself to say the rest.

Now get undressed and come to bed. We both need to get some sleep. 10 -

He was under almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, but long after hed commenced his small, polite snores, Darcy lay awake, thinking that if she allowed herself to drift off, she would awake with his hands around her throat. She was in bed with a madman, after all. If he added her, his score would be an even dozen.

But he meant it, she thought. This was right around the time that the sky began to lighten in the east. He said he loves me, and he meant it. And when I said Id keep his secret-because thats what it comes down to, keeping his secret-he believed me. Why wouldnt he? I almost convinced myself.

Wasnt it possible he could carry through on his promise? Not all drug addicts failed at getting clean, after all. And while she could never keep his secret for herself, wasnt it possible she could for the kids?

I cant. I wont. But what choice?

What goddam choice?

It was while pondering this question that her tired, confused mind finally gave up and slipped away.

She dreamed of going into the dining room and finding a woman bound with chains to the long Ethan Allen table there. The woman was naked except for a black leather hood that covered the top half of her face. I dont know that woman, that woman is a stranger to me, she thought in her dream, and then from beneath the hood Petra said: Mama, is that you?

Darcy tried to scream, but sometimes in nightmares, you cant. 11 -

When she finally struggled awake-headachey, miserable, feeling hungover-the other half of the bed was empty. Bob had turned his clock back around, and she saw it was quarter past ten. It was the latest shed slept in years, but of course she hadnt dropped off until first light, and such sleep as shed gotten was populated with horrors.

She used the toilet, dragged her housecoat off the hook on the back of the bathroom door, then brushed her teeth-her mouth tasted foul. Like the bottom of a birdcage, Bob would say on the rare mornings after hed taken an extra glass of wine with dinner or a second bottle of beer during a baseball game. She spat, began to put her brush back in the toothglass, then paused, looking at her reflection. This morning she saw a woman who looked old instead of middle-aged: pale skin, deep lines bracketing the mouth, purple bruises under the eyes, the crazed bed-head you only got from tossing and turning. But all this was only of passing interest to her; how she looked was the last thing on her mind. She peered over her reflections shoulder and through the open bathroom door into their bedroom. Except it wasnt theirs; it was the Darker Bedroom. She could see his slippers, only they werent his. They were obviously too big to be Bobs, almost a giants slippers. They belonged to the Darker Husband. And the double bed with the wrinkled sheets and unanchored blankets? That was the Darker Bed. She shifted her gaze back to the wild-haired woman with the bloodshot, frightened eyes: the Darker Wife, in all her raddled glory. Her first name was Darcy, but her last name wasnt Anderson. The Darker Wife was Mrs. Brian Delahanty.

Darcy leaned forward until her nose was touching the glass. She held her breath and cupped her hands to the sides of her face just as she had when she was a girl dressed in grass-stained shorts and falling-down white socks. She looked until she couldnt hold her breath any longer, then exhaled in a huff that fogged the mirror. She wiped it clean with a towel, and then went downstairs to face her first day as the monsters wife.

He had left a note for her under the sugarbowl. Darce-

I will take care of those documents, as you asked. I love you, honey. Bob

He had drawn a little Valentine heart around his name, a thing he hadnt done in years. She felt a wave of love for him, as thick and cloying as the scent of dying flowers. She wanted to wail like some woman in an Old Testament story, and stifled the sound with a napkin. The refrigerator kicked on and began its heartless whir. Water dripped in the sink, plinking away the seconds on the porcelain. Her tongue was a sour sponge crammed into her mouth. She felt time-all the time to come, as his wife in this house-close around her like a straitjacket. Or a coffin. This was the world she had believed in as a child. It had been here all the time. Waiting for her.

The refrigerator whirred, the water dripped in the sink, and the raw seconds passed. This was the Darker Life, where every truth was written backward. 12 -

Her husband had coached Little League (also with Vinnie Eschler, that master of Polish jokes and big enveloping manhugs) during the years when Donnie had played shortstop for the Cavendish Hardware team, and Darcy still remembered what Bob said to the boys-many of them weeping-after theyd lost the final game of the District 19 tourney. Back in 1997 that would have been, probably only a month or so before Bob had murdered Stacey Moore and stuffed her into her cornbin. The talk hed given to that bunch of drooping, sniffling boys had been short, wise, and (shed thought so then and still did thirteen years later) incredibly kind.

I know how bad you boys feel, but the sun will still come up tomorrow. And when it does, youll feel better. When the sun comes up the day after tomorrow, a little better still. This is just a part of your life, and its over. It would have been better to win, but either way, its over. Life will go on.

As hers did, following her ill-starred trip out to the garage for batteries. When Bob came home from work after her first long day at home (she couldnt bear the thought of going out herself, afraid her knowledge must be written on her face in capital letters), he said: Honey, about last night-

Nothing happened last night. You came home early, thats all.

He ducked his head in that boyish way he had, and when he raised it again, his face was lit with a large and grateful smile. Thats fine, then, he said. Case closed?

Closed book.

He opened his arms. Give us a kiss, beautiful.

She did, wondering if he had kissed them.

Do a good job, really use that educated tongue of yours, and I wont cut you, she could imagine him saying. Put your snooty little heart into it.

He held her away from him, his hands on her shoulders. Still friends?

Still friends.

Sure?

Yes. I didnt cook anything, and I dont want to go out. Why dont you change into some grubbies and go grab us a pizza.

All right.

And dont forget to take your Prilosec.

He beamed at her. You bet.

She watched him go bounding up the stairs, thought of saying Dont do that, Bobby, dont test your heart like that.

But no.

No.

Let him test it all he wanted. 13 -

The sun came up the next day. And the next. A week went by, then two, then a month. They resumed their old ways, the small habits of a long marriage. She brushed her teeth while he was in the shower (usually singing some hit from the eighties in a voice that was on-key but not particularly melodious), although she no longer did it naked, meaning to step into the shower as soon as hed vacated it; now she showered after hed left for B, B amp; A. If he noticed this little change in her modus operandi, he didnt mention it. She resumed her book club, telling the other ladies and the two retired gentlemen who took part that she had been feeling under the weather and didnt want to pass on a virus along with her opinion of the new Barbara Kingsolver, and everyone chuckled politely. A week after that, she resumed the knitting circle, Knuts for Knitting. Sometimes she caught herself singing along with the radio when she came back from the post office or the grocery store. She and Bob watched TV at night-always comedies, never the forensic crime shows. He came home early now; there had been no more road trips since the one to Montpelier. He got something called Skype for his computer, saying he could look at coin collections just as easily that way and save on gas. He didnt say it would also save on temptation, but he didnt have to. She watched the papers to see if Marjorie Duvalls ID showed up, knowing if he had lied about that, he would lie about everything. But it didnt. Once a week they went out to dinner at one of Yarmouths two inexpensive restaurants. He ordered steak and she ordered fish. He drank iced tea and she had a Cranberry Breeze. Old habits died hard. Often, she thought, they dont die until we do.

In the daytime, while he was gone, she now rarely turned on the television. It was easier to listen to the refrigerator with it off, and to the small creaks and groans of their nice Yarmouth house as it settled toward another Maine winter. It was easier to think. Easier to face the truth: he would do it again. He would hold off as long as he could, she would gladly give him that much, but sooner or later Beadie would gain the upper hand. He wouldnt send the next womans ID to the police, thinking that might be enough to fool her, but probably not caring if she saw through the change in MO. Because, he would reason, shes a part of it now. Shed have to admit she knew. The cops would get it out of her even if she tried to hide that part.

Donnie called from Ohio. The business was going great guns; they had landed an office products account that might go national. Darcy said hooray (and so did Bob, cheerily admitting hed been wrong about Donnies chances of making it so young). Petra called to say they had tentatively decided on blue dresses for the bridesmaids, A-line, knee-high, matching chiffon scarves, and did Darcy think that was all right, or would outfits like that look a bit childish? Darcy said she thought they would look sweet, and the two of them went on to a discussion of shoes-blue pumps with three-quarter-inch heels, to be exact. Darcys mother got sick down in Boca Grande, and it looked like she might have to go into the hospital, but then they started her on some new medication and she got well. The sun came up and the sun went down. The paper jack-o-lanterns in the store windows went down and paper turkeys went up. Then the Christmas decorations went up. The first snow flurries appeared, right on schedule.

In her house, after her husband had taken his briefcase and gone to work, Darcy moved through the rooms, pausing to look into the various mirrors. Often for a long time. Asking the woman inside that other world what she should do.

Increasingly the answer seemed to be that she would do nothing. 14 -

On an unseasonably warm day two weeks before Christmas, Bob came home in the middle of the afternoon, shouting her name. Darcy was upstairs, reading a book. She tossed it on the night table (beside the hand mirror that had now taken up permanent residence there) and flew down the hall to the landing. Her first thought (horror mixed with relief) was that it was finally over. He had been found out. The police would soon be here. They would take him away, then come back to ask her the two age-old questions: what did she know, and when did she know it? News vans would park on the street. Young men and women with good hair would do stand-ups in front of their house.

Except that wasnt fear in his voice; she knew it for what it was even before he reached the foot of the stairs and turned his face up to her. It was excitement. Perhaps even jubilation.

Bob? What-

Youll never believe it! His topcoat hung open, his face was flushed all the way to the forehead, and such hair as he still had was blown every which way. It was as if he had driven home with all his car windows open. Given the springlike quality of the air, Darcy supposed he mightve.

She came down cautiously and stood on the first riser, which put them eye-to-eye. Tell me.

The most amazing luck! Really! If I ever needed a sign that Im on the right track again-that we are-boy, this is it! He held out his hands. They were closed into fists with the knuckles up. His eyes were sparkling. Almost dancing. Which hand? Pick.