Brianna’s car. It’s just like something Brianna would own.
But Gabriel and Brianna have never met, and she’s hardly his type. The idea of buttoned-up Gabriel with someone who dresses like an anime character or a Goth, depending on her mood, makes her laugh out loud.
Chapter Thirty-Three
September 199_
Saturday morning both sisters came up with lies about their plans that wouldn’t make their mother suspicious. Kimber said she was going to her friend Stacy Carroll’s two basketball games. Michelle asked if she could drive to a girlfriend’s house, then straight to work, if her mother didn’t need the car.
“All my errands are done for the week,” her mother said. “Where would I go? The Wagoneer’s here if there’s an emergency.” She laughed. “Your father thinks I don’t want to be seen in it, but I really don’t mind. I kind of like the old thing.” Michelle kissed her mother’s cheek, feeling like a traitor both because of the lie and because of where she was headed. If the person—the boy? the man?—who was telling her these things about her father was being truthful, it meant the three people her mother loved most in the world were all deceiving her.
Once Michelle had the car, she stopped at the end of the next block to pick up Kimber, who seemed nervous. She fidgeted with the radio, complaining that once they got out of town there would be nothing to listen to except country music.
“It doesn’t work that way,” Michelle told her patiently. “Union’s not even an hour away. Radio stations reach.” The Audi had a CD player, but neither of them had brought discs. “I’m glad you didn’t bring any CDs. Mom would get mad if we accidentally left them in the car. I’m not supposed to listen to music when I drive.”
Kimber shook her head. “So dumb.”
It was the first time the two of them had driven any distance together, and the car turned out to be a relaxed, neutral kind of space. Outside the windows, it still looked like summer, even though the fall equinox was past. As the suburbs dropped away, the trees on both sides of the interstate were still mostly green. Only the sunlight was slightly subdued, painting the sky a warmer blue.
Kimber offered Michelle some of the Goldfish crackers she’d snagged from the pantry and didn’t complain when Michelle lit a cigarette. “You better not use the ashtray,” she said. “I’ll open my window some too or Mom will be able to smell it.” During a long spate of commercials on the radio, she started up a game they’d played when they were younger: “I’m thinking of something, and it starts with the letter g.”
When Michelle finally guessed “G-string,” they burst into laughter. Michelle laughed so hard she thought she would have to pull the car over.
Then they saw the exit for Union. The spell was broken, and they fell silent.
“We should at least get something to eat,” Kimber complained. “We’re, like, twenty minutes early. Look. There’s an ice-cream store next to the restaurant.”
Michelle pulled the Audi in between two other cars in the parking lot across from the restaurant where their father’s car was parked. Union was a smaller town than she’d expected, with quaint tourist shops and flower boxes full of chrysanthemums in front of all the buildings along Main Street.
“With Dad’s car thirty feet away?” Michelle turned off the engine. “We can’t get out now. We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t notice us as it is.”
“Yeah. I don’t think that’s even his car. Did you bring your super-secret spy camera?” Kimber was back to being her sarcastic self.
Michelle didn’t answer but just stared out the windshield, wishing they hadn’t come. She’d considered bringing a camera, but the idea made her feel even more like a traitor. He was still her father, and she prayed, prayed, prayed that she was wrong about him.
A light September breeze filtered through the half-open windows. Kimber tucked her feet beneath her and read a book she’d brought along. Though Michelle doubted her sister would ever be able to get over herself enough to put the principles in How to Win Friends and Influence People into action.
She watched people going in and out of the restaurant. Although she was nervous, the warmth of the day made her sleepy. Finally, at five minutes after two, she nudged Kimber, who had nodded off. “There they are. Wake up, Kimber. That’s Dad. See him?”
“Shit, what?” Kimber sat up, rubbing her eyes. She peered through the glass. “I don’t think that’s him. Dad? It’s not.”
Except Michelle knew it was.
Ike Hannon, dressed in a blue polo shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots, held the arm of a petite dark-haired woman in white stirrup pants and a bright yellow top. Her thick hair was caught to one side and fell in a ponytail over her shoulder, reaching all the way to her generous bust. Before they could get a good look at her face, she put on a stylish pair of white sunglasses that Michelle thought were similar to a pair she’d seen Princess Di wearing. She looked like somebody’s pretty mom. Not the mistress of a man with a traveling bookkeeper’s job and two teenage daughters. Before the couple started for the Buick, the woman embraced a second, older woman who’d followed them out of the restaurant. The second woman had a broad, pleasant face above a fussy, high-collar blouse that looked too warm for the weather. In her floral midi skirt and sensible heels, she was dressed like she was headed for church. Their father bent to hug the older woman as well. Michelle was curious about her, but the woman soon turned away and started up the street. Their father and the long-haired woman moved toward the car parked at the curb.
“Wait, Michelle. Even if it’s him—so he had lunch with two ladies. Big deal.”
Michelle heard the faux bravado in her sister’s voice. It was Kimber who worshipped their father, and now there were possibly two other women she had to share him with. Yes, Kimber, it’s a really big deal.
“Bet you wish you’d brought your stupid camera now, huh? Let’s go. I want an ICEE on the way back.” This was Kimber pretending not to be upset. She became rude and bossy instead of breaking down.
Michelle was too engrossed in watching their father to answer right away. When he opened the car door for the dark-haired woman, she tilted her check toward him, and he kissed it. It was so much like something he and her own mother might have done that Michelle felt a twinge of alarm in her chest.
“We’re not going home. Not yet.”
Beside her, Kimber sat up straighter. “We saw what you wanted to see, right? Dad is having sex with some woman who lives out in the country. Fine. Me? I’ve seen enough. We can go home and you can tell Mom and totally ruin our lives or we can go home and just get over it. So Dad’s an asshole, just like everybody else’s dad.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the door to stare at Michelle. “Can we just go?”
Across the street the Buick pulled away from the curb, and Michelle quickly started the Audi and backed out of the space.
“Finally.” Kimber put her seat belt back on and turned the AC fan up.
When Michelle reached the road, she turned left to follow the Buick.
“This isn’t the way!” Kimber cried. “What the hell are you doing?”
“The other place on the map. Did you see the little star on it? I bet that’s where they’re going.”
“I want to go home. I don’t want to see where they’re going. I just want to go home.”
Michelle continued to drive, ignoring her. Soon the old-fashioned houses and quaint shops were behind them, and they were into a brief series of gas stations, rural stores, and fast-food restaurants. She’d never followed anyone in a car before and lost sight of them several times because she wasn’t all that comfortable with navigating big intersections. “Can you see them? I think I lost them.”
“Good. I wouldn’t tell you if I did see them. This is stupid.”
“No. This is important. Wait. There they are.” Her father’s car was stopped at the next light ahead of them.
In another mile the Buick turned onto a two-lane highway with a lot less traffic, and Michelle had to ha
ng farther back. She had absolutely no idea what she would do if she caught up with them at the other place on the map. Would it be the woman’s house? Should she and Kimber confront them? What if there really was some logical explanation? Maybe the person writing the notes was wrong. Maybe this was an unknown member of her father’s weird family. Maybe the dark-haired woman was a cousin.
No. You don’t kiss your cousin like that.
The next time the Buick turned it went onto a road that didn’t even have lines on it. Michelle didn’t take the turn but drove on.
“Now do we get to go home?” Kimber was exasperated. “Mom’s going to start wondering if I don’t get back.”
A quarter mile farther on, Michelle made a U-turn. Slowing at the road down which the Buick had gone, she also turned.
“Stop it!” Kimber shouted. “We need to go home.”
“I bet the house is right up here.” Now Michelle was excited. She still had no idea what was going to happen, but things would happen fast now. The road ahead was empty. Although the Buick was out of sight, she was sure it wasn’t far away. Slowing the Audi, she instructed Kimber to look down the few long drives they passed. Whatever houses lay at the end of them were obscured by trees and brush.
“Dammit, I said stop!”
Kimber’s hand clamped around the steering wheel, and the car jerked. The Audi careened into the gravel on the narrow shoulder and skidded as Michelle hit the brakes and tried to wrench the wheel from Kimber. When Kimber suddenly let go, the Audi spun around a hundred and eighty degrees and came to a stop when its left rear bumper hit the grassy rise on the far side of a ditch.
Stunned into silence, they sat breathing heavily. Michelle knew she should ask Kimber if she was all right, but she was too angry. Finally she said, “If the car is wrecked, it’s your fault.”
“No. If the car is wrecked, it’s your fault. I’m not even here, remember?”
It took Michelle a moment to figure out why the Audi wouldn’t move. It had been knocked into neutral. Finally she drove slowly out of the dry, shallow ditch, and when the tires were back on the pavement, she got out to look at the damage. It wasn’t awful, but there was a shallow depression about five inches long just above the rear passenger wheel.
Kimber leaned out to look. “That sucks.”
When they were back on the interstate, Michelle was the first one to speak.
“We have to tell Mom. I can’t lie to her about Dad, and I can’t lie to her about the car. It’s just not fair to her.”
“No, you just want to feel better. You just want to lay all this stuff on Dad and me, but I’m not going to let you. Just tell Mom someone hit you in the parking lot at work while you were inside.”
Michelle shook her head. “You’re not going to stop me.”
Kimber settled back in her seat, sanguine. “Remember that last Friday before you broke up with Paul? When Mom and Dad were out super late and you guys were up in your room?”
“Nothing happened. Why would you say something happened? You told me you’d never tell. I paid you.”
“Oh yeah, you did. I guess it’s not really fair of me to go back on that deal.” Kimber sighed dramatically. “But I have something better. I’ve got your diary, and it’s somewhere you’ll never find it. If you even think of telling Mom, I’ll make sure she sees everything that’s in there.”
“What did I ever do to you to make you hate me so much?” Michelle only glanced over at her sister, wary of taking her eyes off the road.
The corners of Kimber’s mouth lifted in a smug, maddening smile, then she turned back to the window. They drove the rest of the way home in silence.
In the early part of the following week, there were no more notes. Then Thursday, the day before the annual multi-high-school field day at Meramec State Park, one fell out as Michelle opened her locker door.
Call this number tonight at exactly 8 o’clock if you want to know the whole truth about your father.
Below the number was a rough map labeled “Trail,” and an X marked on it. She was to be there at one o’clock the next afternoon to get the proof she could use to confront her father.
A few minutes before eight, she checked to make sure Kimber was still watching television with their parents and moved the upstairs phone into her room. At exactly eight, she dialed the long-distance number and held her breath. The phone on the other end rang once, and she was about to hang up because she just wanted the whole thing to go away. But the call was answered too quickly.
“Michelle?”
“Yes.”
It was a male voice. “My name’s Kevin Merrill. I’m your brother.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
I don’t feel sick!” Hadley all but stamps her adorable bare foot before breaking into a cough that sounds like it’s coming from somewhere deep in the earth rather than from inside her little-girl chest.
“Croup.” Diana speaks quietly, but Hadley still hears her.
“I get croup in the winter. It’s still summer. Daddy says it’s still summer.” She pronounces “croup” croob, and Kimber almost smiles but doesn’t. A disappointed Hadley is a formidable creature. “I don’t feel sick!”
Still in her pajama shorts and top, she runs the rest of the way down the stairs and into the family room. She jumps up in front of Kimber, her thin, tanned arms raised. Kimber picks her up, and Hadley wraps her arms and legs around her. “Feel my head!”
Kimber rests her fingertips on the girl’s smooth, soft brow. “I’m not a thermometer, so I can’t tell. I’m sorry. Maybe you’re a tiny bit warm?”
Hadley pouts. “You mommy people are all the same.”
Kimber doesn’t bother to argue that she’s not anyone’s mommy. Mr. Tuttle stares up at them with a look of devotion in his eyes that might be meant for her or maybe for Hadley. “If you have to stay home, I’ll stay too. You can paint my nails any color you want.”
“But you can’t do pictures. The lady at the nail shop paints horses and flowers and stuff, but you can’t. I want tiny horses! And I want cupcakes. They always have cupcakes.” She struggles out of Kimber’s arms and goes to stand before Diana, hands on her tiny hips. “You have to take me! I want to go, now!” Her face is heated and damp curls cling to her cheeks.
Without saying another word, and her face a mask of unbelievable calm, Diana picks up Hadley and carries her—now simply shrieking—up the stairs. The shrieks lessen only as Diana gets farther away. Mr. Tuttle looks at Kimber, then runs after them. It’s obvious to whom he’s actually now devoted, and Kimber feels a prick of jealousy.
She can’t help thinking of Jenny when she’s with the little dog, and the reminder sobers her. That morning during breakfast Diana told her she read on the Post-Dispatch website that the medical examiner had declared Jenny’s death an accident.
Their outing to the fundraiser was meant to be an escape, and Kimber realizes she’s been looking forward to spending the day with Hadley. Little-girl chaos is far preferable to the grown-up chaos of her own life. Hadley is like a kind of talisman. Surely if Kimber is with Diana and her golden child, Lance Wilson won’t dare follow or creep up on her. That is, unless he and Diana really are connected in some way. Which she now thinks sounds completely absurd. Whether or not Diana suspects anything about her and Kyle, Diana could never be evil. A possible connection between Brianna and Wilson seems much more likely to her, though she can’t imagine a single thing they have in common.
Maybe last night with Gabriel was the only break she’s going to get. At least it was a good one—a very good one. Her face warms thinking about the sex. She never wants to go that long again without sex.
Hearing a noise from the kitchen, which is just three steps above the family room, she looks up to see Kyle leaning against the island. He holds a can of La Croix water and wears an annoying, shit-eating grin on his face.
“Still wish you had kids? It’s not too late, you know. You just need the right man.”
“How was t
ennis?” No way is she going to follow him down the baby-conversation path. It would only flatter him. “You won?”
“Shit. Not today.” He swings one elbow forward. “Stiff. Couldn’t hit worth a damn.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” Kyle doesn’t like to lose.
She takes the steps up to the kitchen so they’re on the same level and stands within a couple of feet of him. He smells of the country club’s house bergamot-and-lemon soap that she remembers. He smiles, misunderstanding what she’s there for.
In his best gravelly whisper he asks, “Remember that night you wanted to make a baby? God, that was fucking amazing. You were amazing. I don’t think you ever fucked me so hard.”
She remembers it almost too clearly, and the memory makes her feel ashamed. It had been a brief desire. No, it was more: a sudden, primal need. The words just came out of her mouth as she was on top of him. She was on the pill, but she had a feeling, a terribly strong feeling, that if she wanted it enough, she would become pregnant. And that had fueled her like no other thought or feeling ever had. It had never happened with Gabriel or her husband, Shaun, or any of the other men she’d slept with. Only Kyle.
“You can still have it. No one has to know.” He touches her hip. “It can be our secret. She’d be beautiful, just like you.”
“Or she’d have your ears. Hadley lucked out.” When did she decide it was okay to hurt him? Back when they were seeing each other, she didn’t think it was possible to hurt him because he was so cocky. Gorgeous. Great in bed. But now she understands how vulnerable he is, especially when he’s being a jerk. She’s figured out his weak spot, though: Kyle is more vain than any woman she knows.
“I love it when you’re stone cold.” He pulls back, narrows his eyes. “It seems to be happening more often with you. Maybe it’s an age thing. You’re about to hit forty, right?”
The Stranger Inside Page 17
