October Snow (42 page)

She nodded.

“I’m scared, Jo. For you, for Sammy, for all of us. It’s like…I keep getting this feeling that everything I care about could disappear without a trace.”

“It’s happened before.”

The truth of it struck her. “Yeah.”

“Maybe you have things to let go of, too.”

“Maybe.” She caught it then: the focus had switched. “But this is about you.”

She pulled away. “I’m not going to kill myself, Maxine.”

“That’s not good enough. Not dying isn’t living, just like not being hopeless doesn’t add up to hope.” She thought about it. “
That’s
what being buried alive really is.”

Jo was watching the seagulls play, and didn’t respond.

“I’m messing up here…”

“No you’re not. You’re fine.” She hugged her again. “You’re the best.” She pulled away, and Max saw that the curtain had come down again. “It’s going to be hard to go home. Let’s avoid it as long as we can.”

Max nodded, wondering how she could have been so hard on Jo, so quickly, after what she had just lost.

“You miss her as much as I do, Max.”

She thought she might as well have said it out loud.

“You’re going through something here with me, and I’m grateful. So don’t hurt yourself, just because you’re feeling burned out. You’re not a machine.”

“Neither are you.”

“Point taken.” She managed a smile. “Want to get some lunch? There’s a clam shack about five minutes from here.” She cupped her cheek. “Let’s just try to forget the bad stuff for now, okay?”

“Yeah. Plenty of issues are waiting out there for us.” Maybe, she thought, the threads of many moments in time would add up to a tapestry, a happy ending for all of them. For that one moment, it was the best thing–the only thing–she could do.

“Hey, Max,” Jo called from the living room, “Sammy’s on the phone.”

She came rushing from the kitchen, drying her hands as she reached for Jo’s phone.

“Geez, wait a minute, will you?” Jo turned to block her from taking the phone. She put her hand over it. “I didn’t tell her about Daisy.”

“Okay.”

“Sammy? Maxine’s being rude, as always…. Yeah, I know, but she’s like that.”

Max stuck her tongue out. “Give me the phone.”

“You’re regressing, Maxine.” Jo handed it to her.

“Bimbo.”

They had found some room for humor in the day that had passed since their confrontation at the ocean, and Max was enjoying it, in spite of twinges of guilt: she thought she should be much more somber; on the other hand, she wondered if solemnity was what Jo really needed.

They chatted for a few minutes. Sam told her about their trip, and got Max laughing with a story about a moose that blocked the road to the campsite for nearly half an hour; Dave got on then, reminding Max that they’d be driving up from Boston on Saturday to collect Sam’s things. “How are you two?” he asked.

“Fine. We slept for the first two days after you guys left.”

“I’m not surprised,” he laughed. “Hey, can we stay over on Saturday night?”

“You bringing Tyler?”

“Of course.”

“And amaretto?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, we’ll let you in.”

“Can’t wait. See you Saturday.”

She hung up smiling. “They’re coming up this weekend,” she said as she went back into the kitchen, where Jo was peeking in the oven, frowning at the casserole.

“Still not done.” She clicked the light off. “They tell you they’re stopping to see Liz on the way back to Mass?”

“No.” She looked intrigued. “I don’t know that I’d want to be there for that one, but it’s gonna be interesting.”

Liz groaned when she saw Jack at the door. She gave a furtive glance around the room, wondering if there was any obvious indication that she was home.

“I see you, Liz,” Jack cooed, attempting to sound playful. He struck Liz as sinister. “Your shadow just crossed the window.”

“Hold on, Jack. I’m not dressed.” She waited for a minute for effect, glancing in the mirror by the door. Her expression wasn’t right, she decided–too somber–and she practiced a welcoming smile.

She took a deep, calming breath as she opened the door. “Well, how are you?”

“Been better,” he said, but Liz thought that he appeared to be quite congenial that morning. He leaned into the doorway to kiss her cheek. “Have you heard from Samantha?”

“No,” she lied. Sam had called only an hour earlier, to let her know she’d be dropping by around noon. Liz had given her word that she’d say nothing to Jack–but she found his timing to be curious, showing up so quickly after Sam’s call. “Anything on your end?”

“Nope. Nothing. It is what it is, I guess.” He seemed almost jovial about it. “I’m on my way to work, and I was hoping you would do me a favor.”

It struck her as more of a directive than a question, and she bristled inside, tamping it down quickly. Something about him always both annoyed and intimidated her. “Of course.”

He pulled an envelope from the pocket of his suit. “I’m sure she’ll stop by here when she finally surfaces, probably before I get to see her.” He extended the envelope. “Would you give this to her?”

Relieved that his request was such an uncomplicated one, her smile became genuine. “Absolutely. And I’ll be sure to let you know when I do.”

“You’re the best.” He looked her up and down, and her annoyance returned–as did her anxiety. “You look wonderful today, Liz. Special plans?”

He had a knowing sneer on his face, and all at once, Liz was done with him. She was weary of him, and the way he made her feel. It occurred to her that life had become way too complicated since Jack had come into their lives; and, although still too intimidated to confront him, she drew on her natural animosity toward men–most of whom, she regarded as evil–and gave him a serene, flattered smile. “You
charmer
.
Thank
you. Actually,” she lifted her head, taking on a slightly haughty air, “I have a lunch date, my dear.”

He looked impressed, believing her. “Anyone I know?”

“I’m not sure. Do you know a Larry Anderson?” She pulled the name out of thin air. “He knew of your dealership, so maybe you’ve met him.”

He shook his head. “Not familiar.”

“Well, I met him at the mechanic’s when my car was in for repairs. He mentioned he was in the market for a new car, himself–hey, have you got any cards on you?”

He quickly produced several of his business cards. “Excellent. Thanks, Liz. Tell him I’ll treat him right.”

“I will,” she purred, enjoying what a dupe he was. “You’ll be at the dealership all day?”

“Nine to close, yup.”

“I’ll try to talk him into heading over there after lunch. Look for a tall, distinguished-looking man, about seventy, driving a white sedan.”

“I will. Thanks again.” He checked his watch. “Gotta run.” He kissed her cheek again, and Liz, disgusted, wiped it off after he turned to leave.

She waved gaily as he sprinted down the walk, smiling as she mumbled, “You just wait there all day, you blithering idiot.” She blew him a kiss as she closed the door, then tossed his cards into the umbrella stand. She went to the kitchen to make muffins and set up coffee for Samantha.

At exactly noon, Liz was shocked to see Dave’s car pull into the driveway, and Sam and Dave emerge from it, holding hands as they approached the house.

She opened the door quickly and stood waiting on the front stoop, grasping the railing. She thought that Samantha looked radiant, more beautiful than ever. But the thing that most impressed Liz, in a tangle of emotions that she didn’t recognize, was how relieved she was–delighted, even–to see Dave.

Sam gave her a hesitant embrace. Liz held her for an extra moment, even as Sam tried to pull away, whispering, “It’s so good to see you.”

Dave waited at the bottom of the front steps, his hands in his pockets. “Liz,” he said with a curt nod, his eyes cold on hers. “How have you been?”

Liz, never one for spontaneous shows of affection, surprised them all–especially herself–as she opened her arms to him.

.

chapter 19

D
AVE SAT AT
Liz’s kitchen table, staring into his coffee, still trying to adjust to the idea that Liz didn’t want him to disappear. He had stood in her entry after her unexpected embrace, and stated plainly, “Samantha and I are married, Liz.”

Her jaw did drop, but Sam quickly explained the strange situation of the lie she had lived with Jack. Liz’s answer to Sam’s story caught them both off-guard:

“I have muffins and coffee in the kitchen. You must be hungry. Come on.”

In the kitchen, she served them with great care, even smiling at Dave several times. “You don’t have any questions, Liz?” he asked.

“None that I want the answers to,” she said, busily setting napkins and plates on the table. She truly wanted as little information as possible: upon seeing Dave again, she had quickly decided that the fewer contrasting stories she heard, the better able she would be to avoid doing the wrong thing. More than that, she had spent a good amount of time in recent days reflecting on her daughter’s life since Jack, and how menacing he was, and how seldom she saw Samantha–or Tyler–and she had changed her position about the guy she decided to refer to in the future only as “the blithering idiot.” As for the lie about the marriage, well, that was true to Jack’s absence of character. Dave was back, Jack was out, and that was good enough for Liz.

She finally joined them at the table, pouring cream into her coffee, deliberating whether or not to give Sam the letter. With things obviously going so well, Jack didn’t need to be heard from again; at some point, however, he could mention the note to Samantha.

Liz reached into her pocket. “I really hate to do this–I was hoping to spend some relaxing time catching up–but Blithering Idiot himself dropped this off for you this morning.”

Sam glanced at Dave as she took the envelope with a flowery, overdone
Samantha
written all the way across the front of it. He had drawn hearts under her name.

Dave leaned in beside her as she opened it.

My Baby,

I know why you ran from me. We need to work this out.

She gasped, the color draining from her face.

Come home, Samantha. More than anyone, I understand the demons that chase you, and I want you to know it’s okay. I’m still here, I’ll always be here. Just look over your shoulder. I’ll always be right behind you.

All my love forever,

Daddy

She put her hand on her abdomen, forgetting to breathe for a minute.

Dave pulled her to him, holding her tight as she crumpled against him, covering her face with her hands. He understood Jack’s message. “Those aren’t nicknames.”

“No. We had no pet names.”

He had never before experienced that level of rage. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” How he would do so, he had no idea, but he knew that she needed him to take over.

Liz watched them, her heart starting to race with alarm. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

Dave folded the letter, jamming it into his pocket. “From the tone of this letter, it’s pretty obvious that Jack has decided to be an issue.” He knew that Sam had no more intention than he did to mention the baby at that point, and he stood, pulling her to her feet. He stared evenly at Liz. “Thank you for the welcome, Liz. I hate to cut this short, I truly do, but we have to take care of a few things. I hope you understand.”