Lies are a contagion, a virus that replicates itself. Marc’s deception was the germ that had infected me. I was sick with it, fevered with a compulsion to understand how he’d managed to deceive me and why, so I was coughing up lies of my own. The detective was right. I was withholding information. The text message from Marcus, the name given to me by Ivan, his alleged brother-those things belonged to me. It felt like all I had left. If I let him have these things, I’d have lost ownership of them as well.
“I don’t believe you,” he said simply.
“I want a lawyer.”
He raised a hand, gave me a warning look. “If you go down that road, it puts us on opposite teams.”
Oh, spare me. Did he really think he could manipulate me out of my rights?
“Our conversation ended thirty seconds ago,” I said.
The detective pressed his mouth into a thin, tight line and I saw his nostrils flare just slightly. Would he blush or pale with his frustration? I wondered. Then his cheeks fired up, a lovely rosey blush on the white of his skin. Marcus always used to go gray when he was angry. It didn’t seem healthy. Red is the color of emotion brought forth, a brilliant rush of flame that burns hot and incinerates itself. Gray is the color of ire that’s eating you up inside, hollowing you out.
Detective Crowe opened his mouth and then clamped it shut again. We had a brief staring contest, which I won. He lowered his eyes, turned and left the waiting room, the electricity of everything he had wanted to say trailing behind him. He’d have slammed the door, I’m sure, but the hydraulic hinge only allowed it to close with an unsatisfying hiss.
He wasn’t gone long-I was still staring at the door-when Linda and Erik burst through. I’d called Linda upon arriving at the hospital, quite by instinct. I barely remembered the conversation. Her arrival caused some odd combination of anxiety and relief. Trevor and Emily followed behind, holding hands, looking like bush babies with wide eyes and nervous smiles. The sight of this made me sad. If they weren’t fighting, they were scared. I had to take responsibility for everything. I’d let Marcus into our lives, and he’d damaged us all.
“Have you seen Fred since he arrived? What happened?” Linda asked, rushing to me, grabbing me hard with both arms. Then, “How could you just race off like that? And why haven’t you answered my calls? I’ve been really
I let myself sink into her strong embrace, into the soft cashmere of her coat, didn’t even bother answering her questions. Over her shoulder, I looked at Erik, who gave me a sad nod. Suddenly I could feel the undercurrent of tension between them and I knew he’d told Linda everything.
“Fred’s okay,” I said into her shoulder. “He’s going to be fine.”
I recounted the events at the house, leaving out the details I’d kept from Detective Crowe. I didn’t want them to know anything that could get them in trouble later.
“You need a lawyer,” Erik said, pulling his cell phone from his coat.
“Call Fred and Margie’s guy,” Linda said to him, her tone polite but clipped. “I left messages for Mom-one on her cell phone and a message at the hotel desk. They said they’d find her and tell her there was an emergency. I know she’ll come right home.” She shot me an apologetic look. “With Fred being hurt, I had to call her.”
I nodded my understanding. “I called, too, of course.”
Emily and Trevor hadn’t said a word, something I wouldn’t have thought possible just two days ago. I knelt down and opened my arms and they both came to me. I held on to them, felt their arms wrap around my body.
“It’s okay” I whispered, even though this was a lie, that disease again.
“Mom is really mad at Daddy,” Emily whispered. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Linda bow her head. Erik turned toward the window and looked out at the parking lot. He seemed to be scrolling through the phone book on his cell; I could hear the soft musical beeping as he scanned contacts.
“It’s okay,” I repeated. “Everything is going to be fine.”
I pulled back, looked at their sad little faces, gave them each a kiss, then reluctantly moved away.
“I’m going to check on Fred,” I said to Linda.
“I’ll come with you.” I didn’t want her to, but I could hardly refuse. I grabbed my bag off the chair and Erik’s voice followed us out.
“This is Erik Book, Fred and Margie Thompson’s son-in-law. Is John Brace in?”
In the hall Linda grabbed my hand and held on tight as we walked.
“You already know,” she said. Not a question.
“Yes,” I said, squeezing her hand. “It’s going to be okay.” This was fast becoming my stock response as everything fell apart around us. But I found I couldn’t look at her long, or give her the comfort of my gaze. Her blue, blue eyes seemed to glow in the pale landscape of her face. The purple smudges under her eyes, the strain around her mouth hurt me too much. She didn’t have to say anything else; I knew every emotion rocketing through her. I could feel it through her skin. And she knew she didn’t have to say anything. We’d talk later, dissect and analyze, figure and resolve.
But for the moment we moved down the hall toward the room Fred now occupied, not saying a word. Before we got to his door, I stopped and took both her hands.
“Forgive him, Linda. As awful as it is, he did it for you.”
“I forgive him,” she said, not looking at me. “I just don’t know if I can live with it. I feel like Mom. He did all this, risked our whole future, and I didn’t even know. There are other things, too. My fault. I don’t know if we’re strong enough to survive everything that’s wrong.”
“Don’t say that.” The thought of their marriage falling apart because of a mistake I had made filled me with a terrible anxiety. “Please. Let me fix this.”
“This is not for you to fix, Iz,” she said, putting a gentle hand on my face. “Don’t you get that? You didn’t do anything wrong. You loved him.”
“You warned me. This is my fault.”
“Even I didn’t imagine this, honey.
“You were right,” I said. I let her take me in her arms, rested my head on her shoulder. “Don’t leave him, Linda. Your marriage, your family. It’s real, it’s solid. It can survive anything. It’s only money.”
She squeezed me hard but didn’t answer. “Let’s go see about Fred,” she said after a moment, pulling away from me and taking my hand. She didn’t want to talk anymore; I let her off the hook and led her to Fred’s room.
We stopped at the entrance to the dim space, watched Fred’s still, narrow form, listening to the reassuring tones of his heart monitor. I was buffeted by twin tides of regret and anger. But when he saw us huddling in the doorway, he smiled. That was Fred. He could always manage a smile. Or maybe it was the pain medication.
“You look just like when you were girls,” he said. A dreamy, loopy quality to his words made me wish for a little dose of whatever they’d given him. Linda moved to the bed and took his hand. The births of Emily and Trevor had brought them closer. Fred was a wonderful grandfather, the only one her children knew. He showered them with love, and I think in recent years she was finally able to see the man we all saw. She’d take care of him until Margie got back; I knew that. The good girl.
“I’m sorry, Fred,” I said from the doorway. “I’d never have come to you if I knew…” I let the sentence trail.
He shook his head slowly. “I’m glad you did. I just wish I could have protected you, Isabel. I keep forgetting I’m an old man.”
I went to his bedside and leaned down to gently kiss his forehead. He pointed to his bandage. “Maybe we could get everyone else to wear one just so we don’t look so silly.”
We both smiled and Linda leaned in to kiss him on the cheek when her phone rang. She answered it quickly.
“Mom,” she said. “Everything’s okay.”
With Linda talking and Fred looking at her expectantly, neither of them noticed as I slipped from the room. I backed into the hallway and then walked toward the elevator bank, just missing the closing doors of one car. I pressed the button hard a couple of times, but the digital screen above it told me the car was floors away and I might be waiting awhile. I decided on the stairs.
“Where are you going, Izzy?”
