Undertow (26 page)

I rolled onto my hands and knees, watching as the tail lights disappeared into the darkness. “Meg!” I cried, my shoulders collapsing as my head dropped to my hands.

When Gigi called the next morning, I wasn’t sure if she was going to curse my name or try and help me solve the problem. I wasn’t sure if Meg would confide in her mother something as horrible as what I’d done, and if she did, I wasn’t sure where I stood with Mrs. Weaver.

I’d known her twenty years. She’d watched me grow up. She was a mature woman. Maybe she’d have some insight into how we could work through this problem. Or at least know some way I could fix it so Meg didn’t hate me. At least not forever.

“Alexandra? It’s Gigi.”

“Mrs. Weaver. I’m so sorry.”

“What do you mean?” I heard her frown.

She must not have known what had happened, I thought. “I guess I was still dreaming,” I said. “I’m sorry. What is it you need?”

“I need you to come to my house,” she said in a strangely flat tone. “Do you think you could bring little Julian to my house this morning?”

“Sure,” I said, unsure what this meant. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

I staggered to the bathroom and froze, stunned. The cut on my forehead looked dreadful, even though I’d done my best to tend to it. I probably needed stitches, but I hadn’t been able to go to the hospital last night. Julian was asleep, and it was too late to drag him out.

I cleaned the cut and re-dressed it. I had some old butterfly bandages, and they helped close the gap. Then I slipped on my faded jeans and a long-sleeved black tee. I put Julian in one of his little fleece jogging suits and a little hat on his head and carried him to the car. He was almost two and getting heavy, but he still liked me to carry him. I liked holding his warm little body close to mine. His sweet face was the one bright spot in my otherwise disaster of a life.

We arrived at Gigi’s in time for me to see several cars in the driveway, one of which was Bill’s. I did not want to see him today, but Mrs. Weaver was waiting for me. I went to the door, and she opened it looking solemn. I walked inside and Bill was sitting in a chair staring at the rug. He didn’t even look up when I entered the house. The twins were sitting on the floor talking to each other, and Will was trying to get on his emotionless daddy’s lap. The whole scene made me dizzy and slightly nauseated; something was very wrong here.

“Alexandra, come in,” Meg’s mother said, taking my arm.

“What’s going on? I don’t understand.” I lowered Julian to the carpet, and he instantly ran to where the twins sat.

“I’m afraid we’ve got some bad news,” she continued. “Meg was in an accident last night.”

I must’ve fainted because the next thing I remembered, I was lying on the couch with Mrs. Weaver attempting to give me a sip of brandy.

“Lexy?” Her voice was a strained whisper. “Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry.” I held her arm. “Where’s Julian?”

“He’s fine. He’s playing with the children upstairs. You fainted, and we didn’t want him afraid.”

I couldn’t stop shaking. I was the one afraid now. “You said something about Meg in an accident. Is she okay?”

There was a long pause as her mother looked down. I could tell now she had been crying, and as she looked at her hands, her tears started again. She whispered the words that stopped my heart. “Meg is no longer with us.”

I rolled onto my side as the pain hit me again and again. I had no breath, and I curled into a tight ball, my hands over my face.

“I’ll put on a pot of coffee.” Gigi left the room, but I couldn’t unclench. I simply wrapped both arms around my knees and squeezed, pressing my face into them.

After several minutes, I felt a hand on my side and looked up. It was Bill. I slowly pulled myself to a sitting position, away from him, hugging my knees to my chest.

“It’s my fault,” he said. “She would never have been in that car if it weren’t for me.”

My throat was so tight, but I managed to say it. “Or me.”

“I haven’t told her mother anything,” he continued. “I haven’t told anyone, but from the state of the house… Chuck could tell something was up.”

I blinked up at him. “What was at the house?”

“Smashed pictures. All your paintings were torn and thrown in the yard.”

I clenched back into my knees again, and a fresh stream of tears slid down my cheeks.

“She found the note,” he continued. “She knew about Julian. About us.”

I nodded. “She told me.”

His eyebrows pulled together as he studied my face. “You saw her again?”

“She came to my house. She said she knew about Julian. She hated me, and I took everything she ever cared about.”

He exhaled deeply, looking again at the carpet. “She would’ve forgiven you. One day.”

“She would never have forgiven me. Not as long as I lived.” I was sure of that.

After a few moments, he turned his palm over, studying it as he spoke. “Did she seem like she wanted to kill herself?”

I shook my head. “She wanted to kill me. And I was ready to let her. She was very angry and very drunk. I tried to stop her, but she hit me in the head.”

He glanced at my eyebrow. “You need stitches.”

“I can’t take Julian to the hospital right now,” I said. “It’ll have to wait.”

“Leave him here. I’ll take you.”

Gigi agreed to watch Julian while Bill took me to the hospital. I lied and said I’d hit my head last night and didn’t realize how bad it was. I wasn’t sure if the police would be able to tell Meg had been at my house, but the last thing I wanted was for people to know she’d been drinking or the reason she was there.

Bill took me to the emergency room in Fairview, and they led us back immediately. He sat with me while I waited for the numbing medicine to take effect.

“How did it happen?” I asked. “What did the police say?”

“Lightpole. Smashed into it at about 100 miles per hour.”

“Oh, god.” I closed my eyes as fresh tears filled them. He reached for my hand, but I pulled it away. “Don’t. I can’t take comfort from you. It’s hard for me to even look at you.”

He nodded, clasping his hands in his lap. “What will you do?”

“I don’t know.” I couldn’t think for the pain in my chest, the storm swirling in my brain. “I can’t go to that office again. I’m never going back there.”

“You’ve got to do something. What about Julian?”

“I’ve got enough money saved to last a little while. I’ll figure something out.”

“Please let me help you.” His blue eyes were so full of pain, but there was no way I could ever allow myself to be near him again. We’d have to find comfort elsewhere.

“I’ll let you know if Julian needs anything. For now, just leave us alone.”

The doctor repaired my head and even gave me something to help me sleep, as if I could take it with a baby in the house. I collected Julian from Gigi’s and went home. He was tired from playing with the twins and Will, and I pulled him in the bed with me and closed my eyes.

I hoped to sleep for a long, long time.

* * *

Anna –
December

She hadn’t written any more after that. I put the book down feeling weak and completely drained. Tears had filled my eyes over and over reading the pages, and I was sure it was because I knew what happened next.

For the next seventeen years Alexandra LaSalle lived alone with her son, she stopped painting altogether, and she withdrew from society. She shut Mr. Kyser out, and it wasn’t until six months ago that Julian’s near-fatal car accident drove them back into each others’ arms. That was where I came into the story.

From what I could tell, it was also the start of Mr. Kyser’s renewed efforts to coax her back to him, but her resistance was so strong. Even that day at her house when he’d practically begged her to tell Julian, when he’d pulled her into his arms and kissed her, she’d pushed him away.

I looked up at my window and thought of Julian. He was so happy and carefree all the time. I wanted to call him and ask him to take me somewhere. I wanted to pull his arms around me and make him hold me close. I wanted him to kiss me again. I wanted to be ready for us.

I studied my phone several minutes before deciding to send him a text.
Thinking of you
, I typed.

I didn’t have to wait long for his reply.
Meet me at the beach?

Sure
, I replied.

In less than ten minutes, we were walking side by side in the growing dusk. I still wore my jeans and tee with the black cardigan from earlier. He was similarly dressed, but in a black hoodie. Every few seconds the sky would light up with a lone firework. The city was preparing for their New Year’s Eve celebration, and apparently the producers were testing a few explosives early. We were walking by the shore with only the street lights breaking the dark and the occasional glittery rocket.

“I love nights like this.” Julian’s eyes twinkled in the light from the fireworks. He looked into the distance, and from where we stood, the glow of lights seemed centered over the ocean.

I studied his face. What would Julian say if he knew what I’d just read? I wanted to tell him so much, but now I understood his mother’s fears. Maybe keeping this secret was the best thing after all.

“What were you doing tonight?” I asked instead, sliding my bare feet through the cool sand as we walked. I’d left my flip flops back at the pier.

“Welding, forging. Lyon’s Share asked for a few smaller pieces, and I’m trying to make something they can sell.”

Lyon’s Share was a small, family-owned art gallery in downtown Newhope, and they had several of Julian’s pieces on display. They were even writing a recommendation for him for SCAD. He was definitely following in his mother’s footsteps—at least professionally.

“Have you sold anything yet?” I glanced over at him, and he smiled.

“Not yet, but once I do, we’re going on a real date.”

“Julian.” I shook my head.

“Right,” he nodded. “You’re still in mourning.”

I punched his arm. “I’m not in mourning.”

“Good, because that guy was a loser.”

I bit my lip. “He wasn’t. It was just… complicated.”

“Well, he was definitely stupid.” He slipped an arm across my shoulders and pulled me into his side. I hugged his waist and thought about what I’d read of his dad at his age. Good genes.

“Tell me what you made,” I said as we walked.

“Just generic stuff. Hummingbird feeder with vines and leaves. A dancer.”

“A dancer?” That had me curious.

“Like one of those ballerina pieces? Just trying to make stuff people like to buy.”

“I’d love to see it,” I said.

He stopped walking and faced me, our arms still around each other. “Then come over now.”

The fireworks testing seemed to have ended, and we’d circled back around to where my car was waiting. “Can I get a rain-check?” I said, stretching up to kiss his cheek. “I’ve got some work to finish.”

“But we’re on break.” He smiled and I studied his lips. If I went back with him to his studio, we would most definitely end up making out, and I really wanted to do that again very soon.

But I shook my head, stepping out of his arms. “I can’t. I have to finish this project this weekend.”

“Is it for school?” He caught my hand.

“No… it’s for the paper. Research. Historical stuff.”

“Wow,” he laughed, “am I that boring?”

“Of course not,” I said, squeezing his hand that now held mine. “It’s actually really fascinating stuff.”

“Then bring it over. You can read it to me while I work.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I mean, I can’t. It’s… not really something you can read aloud.”

I pulled my hand back and fished in my pocket for my key. Julian watched me for a second then he leaned forward and kissed my forehead. His lips were warm against my skin in the cool night, and his breath whispered against my lashes. An involuntary shiver moved through me, and my eyes blinked to his. I thought of New Year’s Eve and midnight and kisses.

“Tomorrow’s the big night,” he said. “Want to come back and watch the fireworks show with me?”

I smiled and blinked down again. Then I nodded. “I’ll call you.”

* * *

The quiet in my empty house was like a presence. The last journal waited for me upstairs, and it was almost as if Mr. Kyser stood up there waiting with it, waiting to tell me his side of the story.

I poured a glass of water and took a few sips before going to the stairs. My phone lit up with a text from Lucy, telling me about a New Year’s Eve party tomorrow night. I nodded, but didn’t reply to it. Instead, I turned my phone off and dropped it in my bag. I was almost finished here. One journal left.

I walked slowly to my room, not sure if I was ready for more intensity, but I had to know the final side. Maybe it would help me understand the end, where we were today.

I shut my door even though I was home alone and reached under the bed to retrieve Mr. Kyser’s leather-bound journal. As I held it in my hands, I thought about what I knew of him. Cold, distant, rude at times, completely withdrawn from his children. Well, except for Jack.