Across the road, a delivery truck slows and pulls into the drive. I flick my cigarette out the window and watch with interest. “Well, what do we have here?”
The driver leans out to press the gate intercom, and I roll the window further down. On the third ring, Madelyn-May’s voice crackles across the gate speaker. “Yes?”
“Delivery for Marozzi.”
“Who is it from, please?”
“American Airlines.”
“Come on up.”
The eight-foot-high gate slides open, the van makes its way up the drive, and for what feels like the millionth time I curse out loud at Madelyn-May. As usual, she is messing up all my plans. “Shit, shit, shit! American Airlines! You can kiss my ass if you think they’re making in onto any flight.”
She’s already taken a leave of absence from work, so there’s every chance they could be flying out as soon as today. With money like that, they can do whatever they want, for as long as they want. For all I know they might not be back for months. “You messed up,” I curse at myself out loud. “Now what?”
If I miss my chance, I may never get it again. All my planning and promising will have been for nothing, and that’s not acceptable. I have come too far, waited too long.
“Alright, Madelyn-May,” I breathe. “Looks like you’ve left me no choice. Today it is. I guess we’ll just have to improvise.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Madelyn-May
Since the moment the kids woke up, they haven’t stopped asking questions. Why didn’t they go to school? Why are we going away in the middle of a semester? And most of all: where’s Daddy? If truth be told, I’ve been asking myself the same question.
I’ve called his cell over and over, but it goes straight to voicemail. At 11am I called his office, but Val said he hasn’t been in. I try to push the idea of him and Sophie out of my mind, but inevitably it comes creeping back in, whispering and taunting. There are no coincidences. Sometimes things just happen for a reason.
If that’s true, and this was all meant to be, will the ending be Bastian and Sophie together with our twins? Would the courts allow that? Technically, Sophie is not considered their biological mother, because I was the one who gave birth to them, but genetically they are irreversibly intertwined.
I look over at the kids, staring at the screens of their devices, oblivious to what is going on around them. They know something is up, that Daddy has gone away, but they are blissfully unaware their entire lives are hanging in the balance. I picture Sophie reaching out for them, and a shiver runs through me. I imagine her and Bastian walking through a park holding hands, while the kids run ahead laughing, all of them lost in the joy of finally being together.
What kind of mother would she be? Loving, kind, compassionate? Would she bring them joy in a way I have never been able to? Would she bake cakes, and watch movies?
What about Harlow? Would Sophie be the role model my daughter so badly needs?
And Harry. Could she pull him close, fiercely, and without fear?
Thoughts run rampant through my mind, but it really comes down to one question. Would she be a better mother for them than me?
For twelve years I’ve remained cold and distant. Bastian must have been drawn to Sophie’s warmth, like a shadow longing for the sun.
The thought pulls me to my feet, and I begin to pace. Bastian and I have both lied. We’ve both kept secrets. But if he came back, we could try to start over, together this time. No more pretending, and no more lying. We could talk, really talk, and maybe through forgiving each other we could become stronger. We could finally be together like a real family.
I glance at my children, and my heart swells. I felt them growing beneath my heart, but is it too late to let them inside it? Until now, I have always taken solace in the fact their DNA is not mine, that they are not infected with the flaws I carry. But as I think of losing them, my body takes over, and it’s molecular. A warm tingle of hope rushes through me, pushing its way into every cell.
“Harry, Harlow, get changed,” I tell them quickly. “And put some decent clothes on. Harry, jeans, shirt and belt, and Harlow, your blue dress, that one with the white flowers you like. We’re going for a drive.”
Five hours remain until we need to check in for our flight. I can make it.
From my laptop, I log into Bastian’s office account. A few years ago, I created a profile for him, in case he was ever sick and had to work from home. Inside are most of his basic records, and access to current client files. I flick through his payroll program, and there she is. Sophie Miller, and her address. If that’s where he is, then that’s where we’re going. I want my husband back, and Sophie needs to see that Harry and Harlow are our kids, that we’re a family. There’s more to being a mother than DNA, and if she thinks she can step into my place, then she has another thing coming. I am their mother. Then, now, and always.
Chapter Forty-Three
Sophie
Miss Molly and I turn the final corner of our walk and head for home. I haven’t heard from Bastian since he stormed out last night, and I can’t blame him for not wanting to see me. I have replayed the scene over in my mind so many times, trying to figure out if it was a misunderstanding, or if I meant to tell him. Had there been a part of me that for a fleeting moment wanted him to know? I have stretched my mind trying to imagine what happened when he got back to the house. Had they screamed and fought? Had the children overheard? Would he still go on the trip? I didn’t dare call. Even if he answered, I wouldn’t know what to say. How do you apologize for a lie so huge it threatens to tear apart the fabric of someone’s world?
As we draw closer to home, I notice a car parked out front I have never seen before. To most people it would sound crazy to say you know every car that frequents your street, but as a person who spends almost all their time at home, I know every detail of what happens outside, from all the regular cars in our street, to which baby sparrow belongs to which bird. I know how long it will be before my neighbor’s grass needs mowing again, and what time I need to be at the window to see the two brown sausage dogs trot by each afternoon in their pink harnesses. But I have never seen this white Audi SUV before.
We approach slowly, and I notice the shapes of three people inside the car. An adult in the front, and two children in the back. When the driver’s door opens, Miss Molly barks, and a woman in tailored grey trousers and a pastel knit sweater steps out. I unconsciously glance down at my dirty sweatpants and worn-out sneakers.
“Sophie.” She says my name as though it was inevitable.
“Madelyn-May.”
Her eyes take in my disheveled clothes then she looks past me to the house. “Is he in there?”
She looks so different from the last time saw her. Long, inky hair has been replaced with cool, blonde waves, and the way she is standing, poised and proud, makes me feel small. Her eyes are hidden behind gold-rimmed sunglasses, and all I can think is that she is a perfect reflection of her Hamptons-style home. Fresh, clean, lovely. “No,” I manage. “He’s not here. I haven’t seen him since…. Well, I guess you know what happened.”
Through the car’s side window, I can see the shapes of Harry and Harlow sitting in the backseat.
She follows my gaze, and wastes no time putting me in my place. “You’re not their mother. You do know that?”
She is looking at me the way a lion might stare at a lamb. “Yes. I know that.”
“Are you trying to take my family from me?”
I reach down and scratch Miss Molly behind the ear, more for me than for her. “No, Madelyn-May. I would never do that.”
“So, you would never do that, but you would sleep with my husband? I’m sure you can understand my confusion.”
“I didn’t know he was your husband,” I tell her. “Not that it should matter. I know what I did was wrong.” The familiar creep of anxiety begins in my stomach, and inches its way toward my chest. I glance longingly at the house, and want more than anythi
ng to go inside where it is quiet and safe.
“Why did you tell him what we did?” she hisses. “I paid you well, more than I had to. We had a deal, Sophie. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“I do, and I’m sorry, honestly I am. I didn’t mean to… I don’t think I did, anyway. It all just happened. He told me your mother was threatening you over a secret, and I assumed it was ours. I said something stupid about seeing her outside your house, and it unraveled from there.”
“You saw her?”
“I know I shouldn’t have been there… stalking…. Wow,” I gasp. “That sounds bad out loud. But it wasn’t like that, not really.”
I’m rambling. I’m dressed in old clothes and battered sneakers. I am outclassed, out of my depth, and out of excuses. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, Madelyn-May. I don’t know how it happened. It just came out.”
“Yes, well, secrets tend to do that.”
I don’t know what else to say, so I train my eyes on Miss Molly’s coat.
“Sophie, I trusted you. You were the only person I ever trusted like that, and look what you’ve done.” She follows my gaze down to Miss Molly, then to the gold band on my finger. “Where did you get that ring?”
“My wedding ring?” I twist the gold band, a stark reminder that forever can slip by in an instant. “It’s not from Bastian, if that’s what you think. I was married once. We had a son. His name was Josh. They were both killed in a car accident when he was five. That’s why I wanted to find you after all these years, Madelyn-May. It was never to disrupt your life. I just thought….”
“…you might see your child in my son.”
I dare to meet her eye. “You understand?”
“You know, until today I probably wouldn’t have, Sophie. But yes, I understand.” She catches me off-guard by turning and opening the back door of the car. “Harry, Harlow, can you come out here please.”
“What? What are you doing?” Wide-eyed, I watch as Harry and Harlow climb out of the car and walk timidly toward me.
“Hi, I’m Sophie, and this is Miss Molly,” I manage. “You can pet her, if you like. She doesn’t bite.” I crouch down, but Harlow ignores me, and makes a beeline straight for Miss Molly. “How about you, Harry? You want to pet her?”
He reaches out to stroke her head, and I take every part of him in. His chestnut hair. His eyes with the same mix of green and brown I loved every time Josh looked at me.
Harlow finally tears her eyes away from Miss Molly, and holds a fistful of her hair against mine. “Hey, we have the same hair. Sophie, do you see? It’s the same.”
“Yes, sweetheart, I see.” I bite down hard on my bottom lip to stop from crying.
Madelyn-May looks at me, and I nod in gratitude. What she has done for me might be the kindest gesture I have ever experienced.
“Alright. you two, you’ve patted the dog – now back in the car please. Say goodbye to Sophie.”
They chime their farewells, and pile back into the car, none the wiser for the gift they have given me.
“I’ve made mistakes, that’s a given,” Madelyn-May tells me when they are out of earshot. “What Bastian did, a lot of that was my fault. But I love my family. I hope today has given you what you need. Now all I ask is for you to be kind enough to do the same for me.”
“Madelyn-May—”
She cuts me off. “Goodbye, Sophie.”
“Goodbye, Madelyn-May.”
I lock the memory away safe and sound, never to be forgotten. “Well, there you go, Miss Molly,” I say, as we head inside the gate. “That was your brother and sister. What do you think of that?” She barks, and I allow myself to laugh, the gentle sound blowing away on the breeze.
Behind me, the sound of a car ignition interrupts my moment, and I turn in time to see a blue van roar down the street, following Madelyn-May and the kids. At the wheel is a face I can never forget: the woman who was outside their house.
“Oh no,” I whisper. “Miss Molly, come on, quickly.”
It’s been more than a year since I’ve driven, but as I bustle Miss Molly into the back seat all I can think about is warning Madelyn-May. It’s unlikely Bastian would answer my call, so instead of finding my phone, I fumble with the keys, and finally shove the right one into the ignition. Miss Molly looks at me as I fly backward in the driveway; all I can see are the whites of her eyes.
“I’m sorry, sweet girl, but I didn’t catch either of the plates,” I tell her. “I just need to catch up enough to call it in. The kids could be in danger.”
I press my foot on the accelerator, and hope to God I don’t lose my mind. Catching up is going to take some speed, and fast-moving cars don’t sit well with my anxiety. “Hold on, Miss Molly. I’m as scared as you are right now.”
I blast my horn, and swerve wildly between two cars. Up ahead, the van is stopped at the traffic lights connecting Fairmount and Pennsylvania avenues. So far, so good. I press the phone icon on my dash and it comes up with a message: No Device. So much for my great idea of leaving the phone at home on our walks. Up ahead, the lights change to green, and I shift gears. “Hold on, Miss Molly, here we go again.”
I follow them onto Kelly Drive, past the rowing club and the trees of Fairmount Park.
Soon the cars around us start to fall away, and I finally have a clear view of Madelyn-May’s SUV and the van following close behind. I only know what Bastian has told me – that Madelyn-May’s mother is unbalanced, and has threatened the children. I glance into the rear-view mirror at the empty road snaking out behind us. I have no phone, and there is no one around to help. I pound the wheel, and consider intentionally cutting off the next car I see just to use their phone. Then, up ahead, the lights turn red. We all pull to a stop, and I unclick my belt and take a deep breath. The only way to warn Madelyn-May is dashing past the van and banging on her window. She’ll have a phone to call the police. But before I can open the door, the woman in the van gets out of her vehicle and runs toward Madelyn-May’s car. And she has a gun.
I look in every direction, my eyes searching wildly for another car. Oh my God, what do I do? In the backseat Miss Molly stares at me, my terror reflected by the exaggerated whites of her eyes. I need to do something. Shit, what do I do?!
Up ahead, the lights change to green, but Madelyn-May’s car doesn’t move. The woman is in the passenger seat, and I can see the shape of a gun pointing back at the children. I open the door, and step out onto the road. If ever there was time to be brave, this is it.
Chapter Forty-Four
Madelyn-May
'’Get in the back!”
We were so close. In a few hours, we would have been tucked into our seats on the plane, Harlow watching a movie and Harry playing on his iPad. I would’ve let my shoulders fall slack, and asked the flight attendant to bring me a glass of full-bodied red.
“I said, get in the damn back, Madelyn-May,” Mom orders again. “Do not mess with me.”
In the backseat, Harry is crying, those messy blubbering sobs that boys do when something really bad happens. I can’t hear Harlow, and when I turn, she is staring straight at my mother, her eyes brimming with confusion and hate.
“Please put the gun down,” I tell my mother. “You’re scaring my children. There’s no need for this.”
She glances back at the kids, Harlow first then Harry, and I search her face for any softness, any hint of compassion. “They’re your grandchildren,” I whisper. “Please, stop.”
“Just shut up, and get in the back. Now.”
The last thing I want is to turn my back on her, even for the few seconds it will take to climb from the driver’s seat into the back. But she has a gun pointed at my children. “I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t point the gun at them. Point it at me – it’s me you want to hurt, so point the gun at me.”
“I’ll point my gun wherever I damned please. Now, I’m not going to ask you again.”
With no other option, I begin climbing over into the
back, but she stops me.
“Not that way. Get out, and go around.”
“I’m not getting out of this car while you have that gun pointed at my children,” I tell her. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Get out, or I swear to God you’ll leave me no choice but to use this gun. And unlike you, I’d rather not turn myself into a murderer. That wasn’t the plan. But it can be.”
Her face is strained, like someone is squeezing her too hard around the waist.
“For God’s sake, they’re twelve years old,” I try. “You must have some compassion left.”
My mother’s reaction is to cock the hammer of the revolver, the ominous click causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. “Okay, alright, you want me to say it? It was my fault. Everything that happened was my fault. What happened to Daddy and to you, it was all me, and I’m sorry for what I did, but I can’t take it back now. I was just a kid.”
“You were not just a kid, Madelyn-May. You were fifteen. You knew what you were doing. Don’t try to make excuses for what you did.”
I glance back at Harlow. She looks defiant and brave. Next to her Harry’s entire body is heaving.
“You have no idea what it was like, back then,” I whisper. “I wanted so badly for you to love me, but you just wouldn’t, Mom. We were never your daughters. We were a crutch for you to lean on. You hated your life, so you blamed us, and we swallowed every word whole. What I did has been hanging over me every day of my life. If I could take it back, I would, you have to believe that.” I choke back tears, and finally it hits me. All this time, it wasn’t Bastian’s forgiveness I craved. It was hers. “I didn’t want to kill him. You have to know that. But he wouldn’t stop. He was doing it to all of us. Melody too. You must be able to understand that? Melody, she—”
“Melody’s dead.”
“What?”
“She’s dead. Mercy is in prison. Drugs on both counts.”
The Secrets We Keep Page 21
