Tainted (25 page)

I know the last thought you had was Katy. I heard you say her name at the end. I'm so sorry you had to die like that. But what were you thinking, Henry? Honestly? Did you really believe I could tell Holly? What would happen then? She'd kick me out. She'd banish me from her life. And if I tried to see Katy, she'd take a restraining order out on me. How was I supposed to never see Katy again? My princess? You were taking the piss, Henry. I had to stop you.

Oh, right. I could have knocked you unconscious, couldn't I? Then walked back home and not said a word and left the way we planned to. But how long would you have been unconscious for? Long enough to give us a decent head start? How could I be sure how long you'd be out for? I suppose I could have tied you up and gagged you—but I didn't think of that, did I? The second I saw you hunched over that computer, I knew I was in trouble. I tried to talk you out of it. I thought I had. But you insisted on coming with me. Like I said, a big mistake.

When you saw the knife in my hand, you looked incredulous. That's a good word. Incredulous. Holly would like that.

There's so much in life that's ironic, isn't there? You were the one who made me comfortable using a knife. You finally convinced me I could help clean the fish, you taught me how to use it.

You left me no choice, Henry. I know—this wasn't an accident. I know what death is all about now and I know I killed you. It's not like before. This wasn't an accident, but it
was
self-defense. If you told Holly about me, I wouldn't have a life. I wouldn't have Katy. I'd be effectively dead. Katy wouldn't have a father. She wouldn't have
me.

You can't say you believe in the law, in the justice system, and then turn around and say, “Not when it comes to my granddaughter. You're not allowed to have a life, Jack, to be a normal person again, because you married
my
granddaughter.” That's hypocritical, Henry. Wrong. Either you believe in the justice system and redemption, or you don't.

I'm every parent's worst nightmare, aren't I? Wake up one morning and discover that nice man your daughter—or granddaughter in your case—married is actually a child killer. Do you tell her or do you let her live happily ever after? Because that's the way it would have been, Henry. Your blood wouldn't be all over the hall floor. I wouldn't have had to get a sheet from your bed and wrap you in it and then pick you up and carry you up here to your bed and lay you down so you looked peaceful. It's lucky I became so fit in jail. That was not easy, Henry. A dead body like yours is, well, it's deadweight.

But I hated how sad, how
distraught
you looked downstairs. So I had to make you comfortable.

No. If you'd only let us live happily ever after, we would have. No problem. We were all about happy endings.

We like, seriously, like totally, were.

When Holly opened her eyes, she saw Jack sitting beside her, looking down at her, smiling.

“What time is it?”

“Eight-thirty. I just got back from fishing with Henry.”

“Is Katy up?”

“Mmm. She's in the kitchen, eating some cereal.”

Holly sat up, put her hand on Jack's arm. “Your jacket's all bloody. Were there a lot of fish?”

“We caught eight, can you believe it? The boat was a mess, and getting all the hooks out, then cleaning them all, we got splattered. I'm going to take a shower in a second. But first I wanted to tell you some good news.”

“What? What good news?”

“We're not leaving. We're staying here.”

“You're kidding! Jack! Why? What made you change your mind?”

“I decided you were right. No one is going to shop me. Henry helped convince me too.”

“This is so great.” She kissed him. “Whoa—you've been smoking. It's early for a cigarette, isn't it?”

“Celebratory one. Sorry.”

“One day I'll get you to stop. But right now you can do anything and I won't mind. I can't believe it. This is amazing. You've made me so happy, Jack. I promise nothing bad will happen. We'll be fine. I'm sure.”

“So am I. You look like you're still tired.”

“I didn't sleep well last night.”

“Sorry—my fault.”

“You don't have to apologize to me for anything. I can't believe we're staying! I can go have coffee with Henry as usual. And I thought I might never see him again. I can't believe it.”

She made a move to get out of bed, but Jack gently pushed her back.

“You should get more sleep. You don't have to worry now. And Henry's gone into town anyway. He said to tell you he's sorry to miss coffee, but he has to pick Bones up from the vet and then he has a load of errands he has to do. He'll be out for a long time. You've had a bad night. Go back to sleep. I'll have a quick shower and then I'll take Katy into town. You can have total peace and quiet. Bask in it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“OK. I am tired. Even though I'm excited. Another hour or so in bed would be great.”

“You've got it.” He stood up, made a move to leave, turned back and sat down on the foot of her bed. “What do you think Katy will be like as a teenager?”

“It's hard to imagine.”

“I don't want her to be like those girls sitting in front of us on the bus.”

“Neither do I. I don't think she will.”

“But innocence is so fragile now. What happens when she wants to wear make-up? When she hangs out at the mall with girls her age who corrupt her?”

Jack looked so serious, so worried, sitting there in his fish-bloodstained jacket. Holly imagined him waiting for Katy to come back from her first date, pacing the floor with paternal anxiety, and had to suppress a smile.

“I honestly don't think we'll have to worry about that. Katy has a strong personality and she'll have a stable, loving family. She won't let herself be corrupted.”

“Life corrupts. It taints people. We start off as innocent, sweet children and life taints us. I couldn't stand to see that happen to Katy.”

“If we have any problems with her, we'll deal with them, Jack. We can deal with whatever life throws at us as long as we're together.”

“You're right.” He nodded. “As usual.”

Standing up, he came over to her and kissed her on the forehead.

“Goodbye, Holly Barrett Dane.”

“Bye.” She curled into the sheets, pulled the pillow under her head. “See you later. I guess we'll be having fish for lunch.”

“I guess so.”

“I'm so unbelievably happy we're staying. And thanks for taking Katy and letting me sleep. It's really sweet of you.”

“No problem. I'm here to serve.”

Holly smiled, closed her eyes.

My third and final present from you, Mom and Dad—we get to stay, we get to live happily ever after in Birch Point. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Eric Haffner drove down the Birch Point Road, wishing he could have lived there himself. It was such a secluded spot and so beautiful, even in the drizzle. If he'd gone into a different kind of medicine, if he hadn't been a vet, he might have been able to afford a house there. But then he wouldn't be doing what he felt called to do in this life: taking care of animals.

Henry Barrett would be pleased to see Bones safe and healthy. Bones had quite a few good years left in him, Eric reckoned. He was a good dog and he had an owner who loved him. Bones would stick around for a while. The little stomach upset he'd had was over and he was ready to go home. Eric liked having a personal relationship with the owners of the animals he treated; he particularly liked Henry—an old codger who spoke his mind, had a keen sense of humor and a sharp tongue. Eric was looking forward to delivering Bones to him and sitting on that porch of Henry's shooting the breeze and having a cup of coffee. He'd left Jacob in charge of the surgery; he could take at least a half-hour break before he went back.

When he reached Henry's house at the end of the Point, he was pleased to see Henry's car parked at the side. He hadn't bothered to call before to say he was coming, assuming Henry would be in. And he'd assumed right. Parking beside the red Audi, Eric got out, let Bones out of the back. As soon as he climbed out, Bones wagged his tail.

“Yes, Bones. You're home. Come on, let's go see Henry and scrounge a cup of coffee.”

He walked up the porch steps and knocked at the door. There was no answer, so he knocked again, louder. And waited. But Henry didn't come to the door.

He's probably taking a walk
, Eric thought.
Damn. But my bet is he leaves the door unlocked
.

Opening the screen door, he then turned the door handle of the main door and pushed. Unlocked. Sticking his head inside, he called out, “Henry!”—no response.

“OK, Bones, I'll leave you here. He'll be back soon. And he'll find you waiting for him.”

Bones padded inside. Eric Haffner shut the front door after him and returned to his car. He hadn't looked down. He didn't see the blood on the hall floor.

Billy Madison had barely slept. Something was wrong about Jack's Mafia story. In fact,
everything
was wrong about the Mafia story, but he couldn't say why he was so convinced it was a lie. And yes, Jack's story about his sister dying was a sad one; it might have explained why he felt so close to Katy, but it didn't excuse that late-night drive.

At eight-thirty he got out of bed, made himself a cup of coffee, and tried to take his mind off it all by turning on the television. But he couldn't concentrate on any program—he kept flipping the channels, searching, hoping something would distract him. He was tired of thinking about Jack Dane, or whatever the guy's real name was. The whole point of coming back to Birch Point had been to connect with Katy. Instead he'd spent his time obsessing over some English dude who had muscled in on his daughter.

Katy. She'd been asleep upstairs when Holly and then Jack told their story. How late had Jack kept her up the night before? How much sleep did a five-year-old need normally anyhow? It wasn't as if he knew.

Face it. You don't have any idea what happens in the life and brain of a five-year-old. Even if you were allowed to see Katy, how would you begin to get to know her? Take her out for ice cream? How predictable and forced is that?

At Stanford, whenever the concept of Katy came to his mind, he'd take out a mental shovel and bury it. He'd then pat down the ground on top by deciding Katy was better off without him, so what was the point of even thinking about her existence? The technique worked. He'd have a brief flash of “I have a daughter,” but it never lasted more than a few minutes. He'd get back to work, or call up a friend and suggest a beer: he could always figure out a way to walk away from being a father.

He wouldn't call it a revelation, exactly. He wasn't St. Paul on the road to Damascus—or was it some other saint on the road to some other city? He couldn't remember. In any event, that wasn't what happened. He wasn't struck dumb with the desire to find his daughter and be a father. More like it crept up on him. He began to notice women pushing buggies. When he'd go running in the park, he'd see children in the playground and stop for a minute or two to watch them. He didn't think
Katy.
Not at first, anyway.

But as time went by, he stopped
noticing
and began to
look.
Especially in restaurants. He had a female friend who wouldn't go into a restaurant unless she was sure they had a chocolate dessert on the menu. Gradually he started to judge the suitability of restaurants by how many kids were in them. Other people, normal people, hated screaming, loud, messy kids when they were trying to have a nice meal out. Billy wanted them there. He loved to watch mothers and fathers trying to negotiate the problems of feeding toddlers in a public place, silently congratulating the ones who showed their love and attention, scolding the ones who didn't seem to give a damn. It got to the point where he once went over to a man who was being mean to his little son and told him he should treat his child better.

The scene that ensued from that was a fiasco. The father yelled at him, told him to mind his own business; the whole restaurant turned to stare as the man screamed, “You can tell me what to do when you have a kid yourself. Like you know one thing about being a parent. You don't know jackshit.”

“OK, OK.” Billy had backed off quickly, his palms in the air. When he got back to his table, a male friend who was with him said, “Jesus, Madison, that was a whack-job thing to do. Are you on something?”

Not long after that, he decided he needed to find Katy. Or he'd be doing whack-job things more and more regularly. The way he watched children in playgrounds, he'd probably get arrested for being a pervert.

He couldn't kid himself any more. It was all about Katy.

After forty-five minutes, he turned off the cartoon he was half-watching, stopped himself from calling Anna to discuss the weirdness of Jack's story again and decided to go down to the Back Beach. He wasn't going to swim, just get some air and stretch his legs. On the way down, he tripped, swore and swore again. Chances were he'd brushed into some poison ivy and would be sporting a killer rash by the end of the day.

There is no mastery without ease.

Sure. But how am I supposed to be easy about some supposed Mafioso being my child's stepfather? Tell me that, Mr. Barrett.

The tide was coming in, he could see. If he hadn't had such a bad night's sleep, he would have jogged, but he didn't have the energy for anything more physically strenuous than a walk. As he made his way across the beach, he heard barking.

Bones must have found a skunk or something.

He kept walking. The barking didn't let up.

Is Bones trapped somewhere? And Henry can't get him out?

Billy turned left, started to climb the path that led to Henry's house.

When Holly woke up and looked at the bedside clock, it was twenty past nine—she'd slept almost an hour. All the anxiety she'd felt the night before had evaporated; she jumped out of bed, went to take a shower, and found herself singing “Dancing in the Moonlight” as loudly as she could. She used to sing along to the car radio, too, but now she felt self-conscious about it: not only because Jack never joined in but also because on their trip back from Vermont he'd said, “Oops—a little off-key there, Holly.”

It didn't matter if she was totally off-key in the shower. Jack was in town with Katy and she had the house to herself. If she wanted to, she could sing and dance and yell. Scream with this happiness that was feeling uncontainable. She hadn't dreamed it—Jack
had
come back and told her they didn't have to leave. She didn't have to try to imagine herself and Katy in some cabin in a strange place, or their life without Henry. Everything was going to be fine.

“Everybody's feeling warm and bright. Everybody's dancing in the moonlight . . .”

After the shower, she toweled herself dry, put on a pair of blue jeans and the Lobster Pot T-shirt Jack had given her on their first date, brushed her hair and decided she would try actually skipping to the kitchen.
“Grown-ups don't skip, Mommy,”
she could hear Katy say. And she would have replied, “
But right now, I'm five years old too, chicken. So I'm allowed to skip.
”

The entire morning was a special one. She wasn't cooking the usual breakfast, she wasn't making sure Katy finished her orange juice, she wasn't even having coffee with Henry. Everything about the day was different.

“Slow down, you move too fast. You've got to make the morning last . . .”

A Simon and Garfunkel song her mother had liked popped into her head; she forgot the rest of the words, but hummed the tune as she made a cup of coffee and peeled a banana.

Fish for lunch. How should I cook it? Grill? Bake? Maybe grill it—put some bacon on top.

We can stay. Nothing has to change. We can work things out with Billy better now that he knows the truth. It wasn't a mistake to tell him. He'll be more reasonable with Jack now.

Jack talking about Katy growing up was weird. What does he think? She'll be a mall rat with dyed hair and a nose ring? I wonder if she'll find someone like Anna for a friend. She's starting real school in September. How crazy is that? She'll be in first grade.

Holly picked up her coffee mug, wandered into the living room.

He hasn't talked about it, but I bet he wants a baby.

Her hand went up to her mouth, she stared out the window.

A baby. How amazing would that be? To have a child, with someone I love who loves me? Katy would love a little brother or sister, I know. She wouldn't be jealous—she knows how much Jack loves her, how special she is to him. Maybe I should talk to him about it—tonight. Why not? Or maybe I should wait for a while. We've been through so much in the past forty-eight hours. It might be better to wait. I'll play it by ear.