Kiss River (33 page)

I
t was turning into the sort of week that made the tourists wish they’d stayed home. Rain pelted the van as Alec drove through the outskirts of Elizabeth City, and although the trip had not been that long, he’d be glad when they reached their destination of the hospital. He felt like the chaperon on a field trip.

Brian Cass sat in the front passenger seat, but he’d been twisted around beneath the seat belt the entire time so that he could talk with Henry Hazelwood, who sat behind Alec. In the rear of the van, Gina and Clay sat holding hands like two teenagers. Gina was sullen, probably upset at the delay the weather was causing in raising the lens. It was obvious to Alec that Clay had become her support, her best friend and her lover. He was worried, though, about his son’s heart. Gina’s home and work were three thousand miles away, and Alec still nursed the suspicion that she was using Clay to get that lens raised. Clay refused to talk to him about it. “I’m taking things one day at a time,” he’d said.

Alec recognized the wisdom in that approach. Maybe Gina
was simply helping Clay in the transition from inconsolable widower to a living, breathing male again, and he would be able to move on easily when she left. Yet he couldn’t help but worry.

In spite of his concerns, Alec was growing to like Gina. He still didn’t understand why she’d felt the need to lie about her connection to the Poors, but he was trying hard to overlook it. He’d seen her at work in Shorty’s, and he liked the way she treated her customers with a pleasant deference that was neither cloying nor insincere. She wasn’t provocative with the male customers the way some of the other waitresses were. With her beauty, she attracted a lot of attention. Men turned their heads to follow her when she walked past them, their forks forgotten halfway to their mouths. She had to be used to it. She dealt with the men easily, with just the right mix of appreciation and gentle condescension, and he could tell they respected her for it. He particularly liked the kindness she’d shown Henry and Brian since Walter’s heart attack. And his two youngest children, although they’d only met her a couple of times, talked about her constantly, as though they knew her well. So, he was ready to forgive her sullenness right now.

“Is this it?” Henry asked. In his rearview mirror, Alec could see Henry peering through the rain at the large building they were passing.

Brian scoffed. “That’s not it, old man,” he said.

“Not yet, Henry,” Alec said with a smile. He wondered if he and his friends would talk to each other like these guys did when they were old. “It’s a couple more blocks.”

“That
does
look like a hospital,” Gina piped up from the rear of the van, and Alec knew she was saying that in Henry’s defense.

Alec had spoken with Walter’s two sons, both of whom had arrived from Colorado shortly after their father’s heart attack. They were flying back today, so Walter would be alone again. It seemed like the right time to visit him.

They finally reached the hospital, and Alec pulled under the portico to let everyone out before he went to park the car. He caught up with them in the large waiting area on the first floor, where the four of them sat across from one another in the upholstered chairs.

“He’s on the second floor,” Alec said, waiting for them to stand up again. They paraded toward the elevators.

“I hate this place,” Brian said with a shudder as the elevator door closed on them, and Alec recalled that Brian’s wife had died here only a couple of years earlier.

They found Walter sitting up in bed, the wires of a monitor running beneath his blue-and-white hospital gown to his chest.

“Well, look at this!” he said, smiling broadly. “I must be dying for you all to come way out here to see me.”

Gina moved forward to kiss him on the cheek, but the rest of them surrounded the bed in an awkward circle.

“You look really good,” Alec said. He did. His color was far better than it had been the last time he’d seen him, when he was being carried out of Shorty’s, that was for sure.

“I understand you and the missus saved my life.” Walter reached a hand toward Alec.

Alec took his hand, and the elderly man held it more than shook it. “I’m just glad we were there,” he said. It had been something, working together on a patient with Olivia. He’d been aware of both the depth of her skill and her trust in his.

“Thank you,” Walter said. “And tell your wife thank you from me, too, okay?”

“I’ll do that,” Alec said.

Walter turned to Henry. “Sorry I ruined your party, Henry,” he said.

“You always did like being the center of attention,” Henry said, and everyone chuckled.

“You were out for a while,” Brian said with his usual lack of tact. “Hope it didn’t kill none of your brain cells, or you’ll be a lousy chess player.”

“My brain cells are just fine, you old son of a bitch,” Walter laughed. “So don’t think you’re going to have an advantage on me when I get outta here, ’cause it ain’t going to happen.”

Walter told them that he’d be going into an in-patient rehab program straight from the cardiac unit, and that he planned to do everything he was instructed to do to get home quickly. They chatted a while longer, then said their goodbyes and filed out of the room. All the way down in the elevator and across the waiting area, they talked about how good he looked, and Alec could see the unspoken relief in Brian’s and Henry’s eyes.

The rain had stopped, although the air was still thick with it, and the drive back to the Outer Banks was not as grueling. He dropped Brian and Henry off at Shorty’s and then drove Gina and Clay to the keeper’s house.

“Whose car is that?” Alec asked as he pulled into the parking lot. Lacey’s car was there, along with Gina’s car and Clay’s Jeep. But a fourth car, an old, amazingly well-preserved woody, was parked next to the Jeep.

“Very cool!” Clay was out of the van as soon as Alec brought it to a stop. He and and Gina joined him next to the car. It was an aquamarine-colored Mercury station wagon, and the wood siding was in remarkable condition. Alec ran his hand over it. The last place he’d bring a car like this would be the beach, with the humid, salty air.

“I know whose car it is,” Gina said. “It belongs to a guy who comes into Shorty’s sometimes. I don’t know his name, though.”

“Why would he be here?” Alec asked.

Neither Gina nor Clay was quick to answer. Clay looked toward the keeper’s house. “My best guess is that he’s visiting your daughter.” There was disdain in his voice.

Alec remembered the chartreuse discoloration on his daughter’s cheek, still visible that morning at the animal hospital, a week and a half after Brock had hit her. Was the woody’s owner another potential abuser?

“At least this one has good taste in cars,” Clay said.

“Seriously, Clay,” Alec said. “Is she…is she taking care of herself?”

Clay glanced at Gina, then at the keeper’s house again. “Dad, I don’t know what it is with Lacey,” he said. “She tries so hard to be like Mom, but…I’m sorry, Dad. She’s got this slut routine going on that I just don’t get.”

Alec dropped his hand from the smooth wood of the car. Olivia was right. It was time to tell them, whether he wanted it to be or not.

“I need to talk to you, Clay,” he said. “To you and Lacey.”

Clay frowned at his serious tone. “What about?”

“I’ll tell you when I have you both together. And I’d like that to be right now.” He turned to Gina and rested his hand on her
arm. “Gina, I have to ask you to excuse us for a while. Would you mind?”

“Of course not,” she said. “I need to make a run to the grocery store, anyway. I just have to go into the house for a minute to get my backpack.”

“That’s fine, thank you,” Alec said. “While you’re in there, would you please tell Lacey I need to talk to her?”

“She might be busy, Dad,” Clay said.

“I don’t care what she’s doing.” He knew he sounded angry. He
was
angry, but more with himself than with his daughter. “I need to talk to her
now.
”

“I’ll get her, then,” Clay said, obviously wanting to spare Gina from having to interrupt whatever Lacey was up to.

Alec followed them into the house, his own pace slow. How was he going to tell them? The words would come, he reassured himself as he waited for them in the living room. He would find a way.

Gina left for the grocery store, and a moment later, Lacey appeared in the room. “Are you all right, Dad?” she asked. She looked worried, and he realized he might have given them the impression he was ill. She walked over to him and hugged his arm to her. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Strangely, he felt himself tear up. Lacey’s concern, her little-girl hugging of his arm, touched his heart. She looked so much like Annie. And he was about to change her world. Hers and Clay’s.

“I’m fine,” he assured them, “but there’s something I should have told you long ago, and I want to tell you now, okay?” He looked from Clay to Lacey and back again, as if asking for permission. They offered small, apprehensive nods in unison.

“Let’s sit down, then.”

He sat on one end of the sofa with Lacey at the other, while Clay sat on the ottoman, leaning his elbows on his knees.

“Your mom was a wonderful person, as both of you know,” he began. “She was an incredible mother. But she was troubled, too.”

“About what?” Lacey asked.

“She was…promiscuous,” he said.

“You mean, before she was married, right?” Lacey asked.

He shook his head. “I mean, throughout her entire adult life.”

“Mom?”
Clay asked in disbelief.

Lacey wore a deep frown. “Are you saying…more than just with Tom?” she asked.

Alec nodded. “Yes, hon. I’m sorry to have to tell you this about her. I never wanted to, but—”

“She cheated on you?” Lacey asked.

He nodded again. He heard the man upstairs moving around, using the bathroom.

“Did you know about it?”

“Not at the time, no. I didn’t learn about it until after she died. Mary Poor told me. Your mother used to bring men out here to the keeper’s house.”

“Jesus.”
Clay exhaled the word.

“I don’t think Mary’s memory was that good,” Lacey said.

As proof, he could tell them about Annie’s affair with Olivia’s husband, Paul, but that would be unwise. They saw Paul from time to time, when he came to visit Jack.

“I believed her,” Alec said. “There were many, many clues that I missed. Obviously, Mom had a need that couldn’t be met in our marriage. That I couldn’t meet.”

Lacey began to cry. Alec moved over to put his arm around her, but she shrugged him away, much as she had as a teenager.

“Why are you telling us this now?” Clay asked.

Alec looked down at the old, worn floor for a moment, remembering the terrible day in this house when he’d learned the truth about his wife. “Because I see Lacey following in her footsteps, and it worries me.” He looked directly at his daughter. She’d grown pale, the yellowish bruise the only color in her face. “I’m worried about you, Lace,” he said.

Lacey looked up at him. “Are you making this up because you think
I’m
promiscuous and that by telling me a story like this I’ll stop?”

He shook his head. “I’m not making it up, Lacey. Believe me, I wish I were. I know it seems unbelievable. But what’s really unbelievable is watching you turn into her right before my eyes. All the good parts as well as the bad. You’re Lacey O’Neill, honey. Not Annie.”

Lacey stood up. She scooted past Clay, then ran to the stairs,
her bare feet slapping lightly on the wooden floor. Alec sighed. He knew she wasn’t going upstairs to throw her lover out. She was going there for comfort.

“Dad,” Clay said. He ran his fingers through his dark hair. “I just…I wish we didn’t know. I wish
you
didn’t know.”

“I had to tell you,” Alec said.

Clay nodded. “I’m sorry. What that must have been like for you…to discover…” He shook his head. “Man.”

Alec stood up and nodded toward the second story. “Keep an eye on her, okay?” he asked. “She’s built her life around her mother being the great Saint Anne.”

Clay walked him as far as the back door, and he continued the rest of the way to his car. He still didn’t know if he’d done the right thing or not. Olivia would say he had. But he couldn’t forget the pain in Lacey’s face. With a few words, he’d hurt her. He only hoped those words would stop her from hurting herself.

Saturday, August 15, 1942

T
oday, Dennis and I were married. Nothing has changed except that I am now Mrs. Dennis Kittering. Elizabeth Kittering. Not a name I’d ever expected to have. If anyone had told me a year ago that I’d be married to the schoolteacher who camped on the beach on weekends, I would have laughed in their face! I’m not laughing now.

We were married in the rectory at St. Mary’s, by the priest who told me the only way to atone for my sin would be to convert to Catholicism, and I am doing that, although not with my whole heart. I’m just doing it to get the priest off my back and to make things easier for Dennis, since I know he could only imagine being married to a Catholic. SueAnn was there, and a lady from the rectory, and that was it. Just a quiet, simple exchange of vows.

This was not what I’d expected for my wedding day, that is for sure, but it’s me who messed everything up, so now I guess that’s my payment. Or penance, as the priest would say. “For your penance, say five Hail Marys and have a small, peculiar wedding.” Of course, we are not taking a honeymoon. We are not
even sharing a bedroom. Dennis told me that he loves me, but he knows I don’t feel the same about him and that we don’t have to sleep together until I’m ready. I do love him, although I didn’t tell him that, since it’s not the sort of love he means when he says it to me and I don’t want to give him false hope. But I know marriages used to be arranged all the time and they worked out even if the two people didn’t start out loving each other, so I’m hoping this one will work, too. It has to, because Dennis doesn’t believe in divorce. Not that I do either. I guess I am glad to be married, actually, since it will soon be very obvious that I’m pregnant. It’s best I have this ring on my finger.

Of course, the whole point of Dennis begging me to move here was so I could get a better education, and now here I am, not able to go to school in the fall. He is going to teach me himself. He’ll bring books home for me and tell me what books to get from the library and have me study by myself during the day. I like this plan, although I will feel even lonelier here than I already do, not being able to make friends at school. But that is hardly Dennis’s fault. I have only myself to blame for my predicament.

I wonder if I’ll ever see Mama and Daddy again. I already feel so different from the girl I was a few months ago. I’m afraid of all the questions they’d ask me if I go back to visit and afraid of getting Dennis in trouble. It might be better if I never go back, although I get a heartache when I think about that.

If I was still in Kiss River and they discovered I was pregnant, I know what would happen. After I got the tar beat out of me by Daddy (That’s just an expression. He wouldn’t ever lay a hand on me, but the words he’d chew me out with would feel like it all the same), I would have to drop out of school and live with Mama and Daddy. I’d have the baby right there, in the house, and be one more Banks girl who just becomes a mother and nothing else. It is better for me here, I keep telling myself. Yet, if I still lived at Kiss River there’d be a chance I might at least see Sandy every once in a while. If he didn’t get picked up by the FBI, that is. And although I know that seeing him is the wrong thing to wish for, I can’t help it. I miss him, at least the Sandy I knew before that night that changed everything.

Some pain goes on and on. I can hardly remember what he looks like now. I keep trying to get his image in my head, but I can only see around the edges of it. I can’t really make him out at all. But I can remember him holding me, and us walking the beach on his patrol, and a lot of times at night I cry myself to sleep thinking about him, hearing those ugly words he said to me the last time I saw him. Tonight will be one of those nights, because whatever hope I still had that I might someday see him again, that some miracle might happen to make things go back the way they were, is gone.

Yours in heartache,

Mrs. Dennis Kittering.