The sizzle in my gut begins to burn. “That’s why I agreed with Adam we shouldn’t tell anyone he was there.”
Ruth throws up her hands in frustration and once again raises her voice. “You were a detective once, right? If they figure out that Adam lied about his whereabouts, won’t it make things worse?”
“You don’t understand . . .”
“What don’t I understand? Stupidity? For God’s sake, Zach. How could you let this happen?”
My gut has reached the boiling point. “I didn’t let this happen,” I shout. “He did it to himself. The truth is he arrived there early to meet Milo. He went there to buy drugs.”
Ruth eyes widen. “Drugs?”
“Not bad drugs. Just Adderall.”
“Just? He was meeting Milo that morning? He was going to buy stolen drugs? Oh my God. This is so much worse than I thought.” She begins to pace again. “It’s your fault,” she says.
“What?”
“Adam didn’t need to work at Serenity. That was your terrible idea.”
The sizzle bursts into flames that are fanned by my words. “It wasn’t a ridiculous idea! He couldn’t just sit in your house like some worthless loser and do nothing every day. That would’ve been the worst possible thing for him.”
“He could’ve found another job. Somewhere, anywhere else.”
“Yeah? Where?” I get up and slam the window shut. Don’t need nosy neighbors listening in.
“I don’t know where. Anywhere but Serenity Acres.”
“Didn’t we agree it would’ve been difficult for him to get a job?”
She plucks at her stupid Fitbit. “We didn’t agree on anything. It was your idea. Damn. I should’ve known better. I never should’ve hired you, Zach. That’s the dumbest thing I did all year.”
“Really?” I get right up into her face. I can smell her baby powder scent. “Why did you hire me, Ruth? Huh? Let’s talk about that.”
“I hired you because I felt sorry for you.”
“That’s a lie.” I jab a finger at my chest. “You hired me because you wanted to keep me quiet. You knew I was falling apart with guilt, and you didn’t want me blabbing. You didn’t want the real story of Hunter’s death to get out.”
“That’s not true.”
“Bullshit.”
“Well, if it’s the truth, I failed in my mission. You spewed to Carlyn anyway.”
“I didn’t spew.”
“What do you call it?”
“I call it telling the truth.” The flame in my gut ratchets back and turns into a hardened lump of coal. Whatever sympathy I’ve ever felt for Ruth, whatever caring, all of it is gone. “Come on, Ruth. Admit it. You hired me to buy my silence.”
It takes a long time for her to answer. “Yes,” she says. “I suppose I did.”
I take a deep breath. “Well, I can’t be bought, Ruth. And it’s time we told our secret. It’s only fair Adam should know.”
“You think it’s going to make him feel better to learn we were having an affair?”
“Not an affair.” I’m aiming daggers at her heart. “We had a one-night stand. And it wasn’t even night.”
She holds her hands to her ears. “Don’t say that.”
I wrestle her hands away. “It wasn’t one night, was it? Was it?”
Her eyes grow large with fear. “No,” she whispers. “It wasn’t.”
“It was a warm spring afternoon when you were falling to pieces.”
“It wasn’t my fault . . .”
“Because you had just learned your dick of a husband was having an affair.”
Ruth yanks her hands from mine. “I’ve had enough. Don’t say anymore.”
“And to be honest, there was no love on my side. It was barely lust. I felt sorry for you, Ruth. I felt pity. Doug treated you like shit.”
“Stop it.”
“You were upset. I was upset. We added booze to the mix, and hell if I didn’t do to my wife what Doug did to you. Only I had no excuse, because I loved Tina.” I grab Ruth’s hands again and hold them in mine. She struggles like a captured animal, but I refuse to let go. I can no longer see her clearly through the tears that blur my eyes. “We’re doing this, Ruth. Today. We’re not going to let another hour go by without facing our truth.”
“No!”
“Because I can’t stand it anymore. I want people to know. I want Adam to know.”
“Leave Adam out of it!”
“How can I, when every day I wonder if his problems stem from our lie?”
“We didn’t do anything to him. He . . . he was the one that left the yard to watch TV.”
“He was eleven, Ruth. Only eleven. We were the adults. We made the mistake. And we laid every bit of blame on that young boy’s back.”
Ruth’s voice drops to a whisper. “Please. Please don’t do this to me. My life is already a mess. This will only make things worse.”
Come on, Tina interjects, do it. I’ve been waiting two decades for this.
I let go of Ruth, and she drops onto the couch. I stand above her, arms folded. “The truth is, if we hadn’t gone to your bedroom that day, Hunter would still be alive.”
And me, Tina says. Don’t leave me out of the equation.
“And Tina,” I say. “Both of their lives rest on my back.”
And they rest on hers too.
“And they rest on yours too. And then to let a kid take all the blame for a drowning? It’s no wonder Adam turned to drugs to deal with his guilt. I turned to alcohol. And you . . . you turned into a block of ice.”
“We didn’t let him take the blame,” Ruth moans, dropping her head in her hands.
“Hell we didn’t. You told the police we put him in charge for only a few minutes so we could check on some paperwork. Remember? Remember that? You said we ran into the house to grab a copy of your plans for the remodel. That we’d put Adam in charge for no more than five minutes, and you couldn’t understand why he wandered away. But it wasn’t five minutes, was it? It was over an hour. Who would blame the kid for heading inside? He was hot. He was tired. He was thirsty.”
She looks up, eyes narrowing. “You went along with my story.”
“That’s true. I did. And I take full responsibility for that. You came to the hospital and begged me, and I agreed to back you up.”
“I was trying to help both of us,” Ruth says. “If Tina had learned the truth, it would’ve made things worse.”
She’s wrong, Tina says.
“You’re wrong!” I yell, the rafters shaking. “Maybe if we had told her the truth, she would’ve focused her anger on me. Maybe her ‘accident’ never would’ve happened. Maybe she would’ve found her way to a decent life.” I raise my fists in the air. “And that would’ve been better. Don’t you understand? Anything would’ve been better than how it turned out.”
“Please stop,” she whispers.
I sink next to Ruth, anger melting. “Remember that afternoon, Ruth. Remember? Doug was out of town at a conference. You were sure he was with his gal. Alice had spent the night at a friend’s. And Tina was at a play in LA. It was hot, so Adam had filled up a plastic pool and was sailing his toy boats around. He was a nice kid. Really nice. So he had no problem sharing the pool with a toddler. If only he had been a selfish brat.”
“Stop.”
“You were needy, and we got drunk, and I took you in my arms.”
“No.”
“And I kissed you, not once. I kissed you several times.”
“Please.”
“And then you nodded toward the inside of your house.”
“No.”
“Watch Hunter,” you said to Adam. “Mommy and Zach will be right back.”
I hate this part, Tina sniffles. It really breaks my heart.
“And then we climbed into your bed. Remember, Ruth? Remember?”
She looks up, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Please don’t do this. I’m begging you.”
I understand what she’
s asking, but there’s no way I’m going to stop. “And then somewhere along the line I noticed how quiet everything had grown. Remember? Remember the quiet? I can’t get it out of my head. I knew before I even jumped up that my little boy was dead.”
“I’m so sorry,” she moans.
“And then when I pulled him from the water . . .” My throat closes.
“Stop,” she begs.
“Mom?” I look up and see Adam standing limp in the doorway, Ember’s melted face peeking around his back.
V. GLUTTONY
For drunkards and gluttons become poor, and drowsiness clothes them in rags.
—Proverbs 23:21
The Angel
Death be not proud. That’s a lovely but troublesome phrase when you can’t get it out of your head. And that’s what’s happening to me right now. My thoughts are spinning wild. It’s not like I’m looking for justification. I know I did nothing wrong. God placed me on earth to do his bidding; who am I to thwart his will? But I could have handled matters differently. I admit to making a mistake. I didn’t expect to operate in such an obvious manner; the death shouldn’t have happened that way. I was planning on a quiet overdose in his morning coffee or evening snack. A drug death wouldn’t have surprised anyone after his history came to light. But Milo’s passing was more than messy, and now outsiders are snooping about.
Of course, I shouldn’t have gone through with Appleton’s crossing; I should’ve waited until he returned home. But he had set a time and a date, and I can be quite compulsive when it comes to my heavenly work. Unfortunately, I didn’t notice the scoundrel hiding behind the bathroom door. Milo watched as I administered the epinephrine. Revealed himself before I left the room. Threatened to expose my secret unless I conceded to his demands.
I’ll allow my temper took control of my actions and clouded my better judgment. I attended his clandestine meeting hoping a payoff might delay his next move. I offered him money in exchange for his silence to give me time to construct a plan. But the wretch snubbed my proposition—wanted more than my meager savings would allow. So when he reached for the initial payoff, I lunged for his portly neck. I honestly had no choice in the matter. It was eradicate or be exposed.
RUTH MOSBY
One
Thursday, September 26
“Mom?”
The look on Adam’s face brings back memories of his early childhood. That time before a newborn gains control over his fleeting facial expressions. I remember watching as my baby boy tested the boundaries of every human emotion, from happy to sad, proud to embarrassed, courageous to scared. He does that now until his face settles into an angry mask. My throat goes dry; my stomach curdles. I finger my Fitbit and pray.
Zach gets to his feet, then freezes. No one says a word. The silence is all-encompassing, the earth about to shake. My gaze pivots from Adam to Zach, soundlessly begging for help.
“Mom,” Adam repeats, his hands clenched by his side. His face has grown swollen and red. I think it might split. He eyes me like I’m a monster. I want to tell him I’m not.
“Honey,” I say, slowly standing. “I can explain.”
“Explain?” he says. “Explain what?” Ember steps into the room and takes Adam’s hand and whispers in his ear. “No,” he says, shaking her off. “You don’t understand.”
Zach takes a step forward, clearing his throat. Adam takes a step back. “I’m sorry,” Zach says in a pleading tone. “We should’ve told you a long time ago.”
“So why didn’t you?”
Zach mumbles something to himself. “I wanted to,” he says after a moment. “I really did.”
“Wanted to?” Adam thrusts his fists in the air. “Wanted to what?”
“Wanted to explain . . .”
“Explain? There’s that word again. Explain what? How you fucked my mom when she was married to my dad?”
Zach looks like he’s been struck. “Adam, please.”
“Fuck you.” Adam spins in circles, looking like a trapped cat. “Fuck the both of you.”
“Don’t use that language,” I snap, although I really don’t care. I’m frightened my secret has escaped from the bottle, and there’s no chance of putting it back. Adam stops spinning and glares at me.
“Don’t use that language? Really?” He jabs his finger in my direction. “Who are you to stop me? You’re a liar and a whore.”
“Adam!”
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s true and you know it.”
“Adam,” I repeat, my heart racing. “You’ve got to settle down.”
“Are you kidding me?” He rakes his hands through his hair. “You let me believe it was me and only me that was responsible for Hunter’s death.”
“We didn’t do that . . . we just . . .” My voice fades, and Adam jumps back in.
“That day has haunted me for twenty years. Even when I was using, I never got it out of my head. If I hadn’t gotten bored. If I hadn’t watched TV. If I’d only paid attention. But I didn’t. And Hunter died, and so did Tina, and I’ve spent years blaming myself.”
“You have?” I’m overcome by a wave of crushing guilt. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. You never said anything.”
“I was only a kid. I couldn’t express myself. Just felt guilty and ashamed.”
“But we took you to a counselor . . .”
“You took me to some old lady that smelled like cigarettes and pee.”
“She came highly recommended.”
“Guess she fooled you.”
“She told us you were handling things fine.”
“Did she?” Adam belts out a crazy laugh. “Then that old lady didn’t know shit, ’cause I wasn’t ‘handling things fine.’”
“Oh, Adam.” I think back on my little boy, wishing I could take him in my arms.
“And to top it off, there was the arguing. You and Dad going at it night after night, and all because of me.”
“It wasn’t because of you.”
Adam slams his fist against the wall. “I thought it was. That’s what counts, right? I couldn’t escape feeling guilty. Not anywhere. At school it was even worse.”
I swallow. “How on earth could that be? You were in fifth grade. How would the children have known?”
“Hello! Everyone in town knew the story. And there are mean kids in the world, Mom. Not many, but it only takes one to get things going. And in my case, a couple of them started calling me baby killer.” He places his hands on his hips. “Did you know that? Huh? Baby killer. That was my nickname for years.”
I put my hand to my mouth, a siren screeching in my ears. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I wish you had told me.”
Adam sinks to his knees. “Do you? And what exactly would you have done with the information? Sent me to another counselor? Told me a new pack of lies? Because I find it hard to believe you would’ve told the truth.” He begins to sob, a low guttural sound. Ember tries reaching out, but he jerks his shoulder away. “Do you know that baby killer followed me all the way through high school? It’s true. I even heard it on the soccer fields. That’s why I quit the team. In the end, the only thing that made me feel better were the drugs. Yeah, that’s right.” He points from Zach to me. “You two played a part in making me an addict. Can’t thank you enough for that.”
“Oh, Adam.” I drop onto the couch. What have I done? And why? There’s nothing I can say that excuses my behavior. Not Doug’s affair. Not the alcohol. Not my distant parents. Not my depression or my anxiety or the divorce that tore me apart. There’s no justification in the world that excuses such a lie.
Zach glances at me and then crouches next to Adam and works to absolve himself. “You’re right,” he says. “I should’ve told you years ago. I can only beg for your forgiveness. I’d be humbled if you’d give me that.”
“You can beg all you want,” Adam says, “and tell me you’re sorry for the rest of your life. But it’s never going to change what I’ve been through. And it won’t change what I’ve
become. Fact is, you’re a goddamn coward. You should’ve told the truth from the start.” Adam staggers to his feet with a look of disgust. “I thought you were my friend, but you’re a fraud just like my mom.”
“That’s not true,” Zach says, standing with a groan.
“I hate you. I hate both of you. And I’m out of here, man. For good this time. Come on, Ember. Let’s go.”
“Are you going home?” I ask in the smallest of voices.
Adam makes a guttural sound like he’s getting ready to spit. “I’m sure as hell not going to your home. I want nothing to do with you.”
Ember gazes at me with the saddest of eyes. “I’m sorry,” she mouths. Then they turn and rush from the house. I wait in silence until I hear my son’s car zoom off before I get up and head for the front door.
“I’m sorry,” Zach calls out. “I didn’t mean for things to end like this.”
I don’t turn. I can’t bear to see his face. “Yes, you did. You always wanted this. Seems you were right all along. My lie destroyed my son’s life.”
“Our lie.”
“Whatever.” I stumble down Zach’s steps and stumble up mine. I unlock my front door, head straight to my bedroom, kick off my shoes, and climb into bed.
My mind flashes back to that horrible year: Doug’s affair. Hunter’s drowning. Tina’s fiery death. Then I pause on the day Doug left me. We were having dinner at the Sojourner Restaurant, and for the first time in months, we seemed to be getting along. But midway through the stir-fried vegetables, he cleared his throat and said he needed a change.
A change? A change? What type of change? A new car? A pet? Different cereal? Better gym? Oh, no. He wanted a new life. Said it wasn’t me but him, and it had nothing to do with his affair with the young intern at work. It would’ve happened anyway. And the kids? Our kids? His kids? Alice and Adam? He said they’d adjust to their new life. Then he reached out and took my hand and told me he would always be my friend. I held tight for a moment before I let him go. Then I walked out of the restaurant and staggered the long mile home, where I sobbed into my pillow until I couldn’t breathe.
What She Never Said Page 18
