The Seacrest (22 page)

She cocked her head at me, glancing down at my body that betrayed me whenever she was around. “Hmm. You’ve still got energy, after moving all day?”

I reached up and pulled her down to kiss me again. “With you around, I’m perpetually energetic.”

She laughed. “I noticed.”

It happened again, as we two-stepped, kissing fervently, toward the bathroom, shedding clothes as we went. I started the warm water running, and was thrilled to discover Jax had installed some kind of fancy waterspouts that shot water from the sides of the shower as well as the top. A plastic slatted seat was built into one corner of the huge enclosure, and before long I was sitting on it with Libby astride me, lathering her breasts, arms, back, and legs at the same time we rose up and down, me deep inside her and wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever.

We went about it slowly, leisurely, and when it was over, I felt like I might collapse to the floor in a weak puddle of spent desire. She stayed on me, still holding me inside her, her head resting on my shoulder.

“Finn. My God.” She breathed hard, a wide smile on her face.

I rubbed her back with my hands, still massaging her soapy skin in small circles. “I know. We fit together so well, don’t we? In every sense of the word?”

“We’ve picked up right where we left off. I still can’t believe it.”

Her cell phone rang, but we ignored it, sitting for yet another ten minutes under the warm spray, enjoying the squeezing, pulsing sensations that came after making love.

When we finally separated, we dried off and she rummaged in her backpack for a silky flowered sundress that made me think of our summery teen years together. We wandered back to the office, where I turned on Jax’s computer screen again.

“I thought maybe I’d learn more about him and Cora from email. But the one he left open here is just business stuff.”

She pulled up a chair beside me. “Maybe he has two accounts? One for business, one for…other stuff.”

“Maybe.” I scrolled through the folders and apps, noticing he had both the Google Chrome and Mozilla Firefox browsers downloaded. I’d found his gmail account. But maybe there was another one?

She leaned over and lifted the laptop, glancing underneath it. “I wonder if he hides his passwords somewhere?”

There was nothing taped to the bottom of or lying beneath the laptop. But when we opened the drawer to the desk, she found a file folder taped to the bottom of the drawer.

“Oldest trick in the book,” she said.

We scanned the list, and I noticed he had—as she’d suspected—several email accounts. I hadn’t seen the Yahoo account before, and opened it while she read the password to me.

“Um, the password is Cora123.”

I sighed, felt angry again, and typed the letters. “Of course it is.”

And there they were, sitting in his inbox, hundreds and hundreds of emails from her. Her account—Corabell456—was one I hadn’t ever seen, a Gmail account.

“Corabell?” she said.

“Yeah. Strange. I never called her that.”

“Maybe it was his nickname for her?”

“Maybe.”

I opened the most recent note, and wasn’t surprised that it involved setting up a tryst together the night before they died. The last sentence read, “Finn’s been falling asleep earlier and earlier. I’ll text you when he’s out.”

My shoulders slumped, and Libby rubbed them, standing behind me now. “What a bitch,” she said.

“I can’t believe she waited every night for me to fall asleep. Cripes.”

“Was this the night before they died?” she asked.

“I think so. Next morning she went to ‘class,’ or so she said.”

“But she didn’t?”

“I’m not sure she was even enrolled, tell the truth.”

“Whoa. Really?”

“I’m gonna check it out. Now I feel like I want to know everything, uncover every stone. I just…I need to know.”

“I don’t blame you.”

I went to open the next email when Libby’s phone rang again.

“Drat. It’s Dad.” She flipped it open and listened. “What?” She listened and mumbled into the phone. “I’ll be right home.” She hung up, but didn’t move.

“What’s wrong, Lib?”

She didn’t speak and her face drained of all color. She stood up, then swayed toward me.

“Whoa! What did he say?”

I jumped up and settled her on my chair, bringing her a paper cup full of water from the bathroom. “Here you go.”

She took it with trembling hands. “Thanks.”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She took another sip. “Uh huh. I kinda did.”

I gave her time, waiting for her to offer it up.

She sighed deep and long, looking out the window. “He’s back.”

My heart sank. I had a really bad feeling about this. “Who’s back?”

Tears began to trace her cheeks. “Ian. They located him in an Afghanistan hospital, and he’s being shipped home. He’s arriving in three days.”

PART II

Secrets and Sorrow

Chapter 50

June 21st, 2001

5:30 A.M.

I
woke to the feeling of little fingers tickling my feet and a tiny voice giggling beneath the blankets. I groaned, rolled over, and noticed Eva’s legs and body not quite covered, sticking out at the foot of the bed.

“Hey,” I mumbled. “Who’s that tickling my feet?”

Another giggle and more tickling.

I sat up, leaned toward her, and swooped my little sister into my arms, cuddling her and blowing raspberries on her belly when her pajama top rode up. “Take that, you little monkey.”

She raised big green eyes to me. The pure childlike love in them melted my heart.

“You git up, Finn. You pway wid me.”

“Okay, okay.” I glanced at the clock. Only 5:30. Even my parents weren’t up yet.

Eva had been climbing out of her crib regularly, since she turned three. I glanced over to Jax’s empty bed, abandoned since he joined the Navy several years earlier. Now, after serving for the shortest term possible, he was going to school on the Navy’s dime, learning about accounting and finances and things that bored the hell out of me, at none other than NYU, one of the most expensive schools in the northeast.

I’d just finished my second year at the local community college, trying to save money. But the art department there was pretty lame, and I was scheduled to transfer to Brown University in Providence in the fall. Another not-so-cheap program, but my parents had insisted I follow my dreams and had co-signed the loans without batting an eye.

“Git up,” Eva said. “Pway wid me.”

“Okay, let me get changed first, honey.” After I used the bathroom and changed into shorts and a tee shirt, I opened the door to her expectant face and she watched me brush my teeth.

“Me, too,” she said, her face shining.

I helped her put My Little Pony toothpaste on her pink Barbie toothbrush, and held her steady while she stood on the bathroom chair and leaned over the sink.

“Good job, little one.”

She hopped off the chair and we headed down to the kitchen, where I made us scrambled eggs while she assembled her dolls and ponies for us to play with in the living room.

She did a good job cleaning her plate—I made sure to add plenty of cheese to her eggs—and when I’d rinsed the dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher, I followed her to the group of dolls she’d assembled in the living room. There they lay, Barbies, Disney princesses, ponies, stuffed animals, and even a princess castle made of pink plastic parts that snapped together. I recognized them all.

“Who do you want to be, Eva?” I asked, knowing full well she’d choose all the girl dolls and most of the ponies.

“Arial,” she said firmly. “You be Pwince Ewic.”

And from there it went on and on. She picked. I picked. Finally, when we had our troops amassed, we began to act out scenes Eva imagined in her sweet little brain. Most of them seemed like Disney spinoffs, and the time flew by.

My mother came in half an hour later, peeking into the blanket fort beneath which we hid.

“Did you two have breakfast yet?” she asked.

Eva swatted at her with one hand. “We’re pwaying, Momma.”

“Sorry, Mom.” I laughed and looked at my watch. “Ten more minutes, honey. Then I’ve gotta help dad with the berries.”

My mother still looked at me with one raised eyebrow. “Well?”

“Oh, sorry, Mom. Yeah. I made us eggs.”

“Really?” she said, with a tone of surprise and pride. “Nice job, Finn.” Her eyes flitted to the kitchen and back. “Wow. And you even cleaned up. Thank you, son.”

Something had happened in me over the past few months. I guess it had to do with growing up a bit. I felt more responsible, more worried about our home and my little sister when I wasn’t there. I loved them fiercely, and for the first time in my life I didn’t mind doing dishes or cooking. It felt good. And I liked that feeling. With Jax gone, I was free to be “the good son” without his taunting and teasing, which I’m embarrassed to say used to stop me from doing what my instincts prompted me to do.

Now, I was free.

I’d named one of the dolls with dark hair Sassy, and Eva had liked it. I had to do something to keep my love alive. I knew someday, some how, I would reconnect with her.

I’d heard through town gossip that Libby had started college at The Sorbonne in Paris. I wondered what she studied, and every few months I tried writing to her again, only to receive the notes back unopened. Several times I’d driven to The Seacrest, that imposing mansion by the sea. I’d spoken once to her housekeeper/cook and once to her father. Both times, it hadn’t gone well.

Their faces had turned dark and angry before I even opened my mouth to speak. I’d tried handing them letters for Sassy, and told them I didn’t know why she was so angry, but that I still loved her, and would they tell her so?

They’d stared at me, muttered things like “You’re unbelievable,” or “You sod,” or “Go away and don’t come back!”

So, I’d gone.

But I didn’t stop trying. I’d never stop trying.

“Finn! Only ten more minutes,” Eva reminded me, pushing my hand to make my doll move. “It’s a party. Dance him.”

I moved the doll appropriately and then made him pick up the Sassy doll and “hug” her. “I love you, Sassy,” I said in a whisper.

Eva giggled. “The pwince said he loves her.”

I sighed, smiling at the cherubic face. “Yeah. He did.” I patted her hand and tousled her hair, and we played for another fifteen minutes until my father came looking for me.

Chapter 51

July 21th, 2013

Noon

I
drove Libby home in the rented rig, returned it to the U-Haul place, and came back an hour later to find her upstairs, fixing up a spare room. Already, an old looking hospital bed and other paraphernalia—leftover from Aunt Shirley’s post-heart attack days?—had been shoved into one corner.

“What can I do to help?” I asked, standing in the doorway with my arms crossed, already feeling useless.

Rudy and Fritzi talked in the corner, arguing about where the television should go. I noticed they’d moved it from the den downstairs, at least it looked like the same model and there were no new cartons from Best Buy or Walmart littering the floor.

Libby had turned wooden again, her face a blank mask, her movements robotic. “Nothing,” she said, not looking at me.

“Lib?” I said, moving toward her. “Is Ian going to need a bed like this? What’s going on with him?”

She yanked her arm away from me when I gently took it. “Just leave.”

Flustered, I backed up. “What?”

Her angry eyes pinned me. “I said,
leave
. Can’t you understand English?”

Her father and Fritzi both shot me apologetic looks, and Fritzi used her hands in a shooing motion, encouraging me to go with a sad smile.

“I…” Feeling overwhelmed, I stumbled backwards, then turned and walked out the door.

It couldn’t be happening again.

No.

No way.

Why did she turn on me?

Part of my brain told me it was the shock of finding out Ian was alive. I didn’t know if he was alive and well, but I knew he must be good enough to transport, and obviously needed a hospital bed and the rest of the stuff.

She’s feeling guilty.

My brain ran through the past few days and I knew it had to be true. She’d just made love to me numerous times in the past twenty-four hours, reclaimed me, forgiven me, was probably about to accept my invitation to live in the big farmhouse together. And now…she finds out Ian isn’t dead.

Would she stay with him out of duty?

Would he hurt her again?

Ace whined at my side, licking my hand.

“I know, boy. I’m upset, too.”

I fumed behind the wheel of my old Jeep, tearing up the driveway, and headed for the farm.

No way would I let him hurt her again. I didn’t care what it took. I’d kill him if I had to, to protect her.

No way.

At the turn for my driveway, I paused, realizing I needed more food in the house. I swung the Jeep around and mechanically drove to the market, trying to ignore the cold fear for Libby that kept returning.

I parked the Jeep at the bottom of the hill and walked through the crowded lot toward the store. Inside, the AC blasted cold. I grabbed a cart, heading for the fruit and vegetable section.

“Finn?”

I swear, the only place I ever run into anyone I know in Brewster is this market. If I ever got through a shopping expedition without bumping into someone from my past, it was a miracle. I sighed and turned to see who had called my name this time.

Before me stood Jenna Sullivan, arms linked with Berra, Jax’s ex-wife. I’d seen Berra at the funeral, but she hadn’t stuck around to talk with me afterwards. Now here we stood, face-to-face in a place you couldn’t duck out of very easily.

“Hi, Jenna.” I nodded to Berra. “Berra. Good to see you.”

Jenna stood before me with a whimsical expression on her face. “My God, Finn. It’s been forever.”