She weighed her words carefully before she spoke. “Annie’s not here,” she said quietly. “The situation’s different from any the two of you had to handle when she was alive. You don’t really know what she would have done.”
Alec pulled the Bronco into the emergency room parking lot. “Well, soon enough you’ll have your own kid and then you can raise him or her any way your heart desires, but Lacey’s done just fine all these years and I’m not going to change things now.” He turned off the ignition and got out of the car, walking around it to open her door for her. By the time she had stepped out, her eyes had filled. She looked up at him.
“I understand that you’re embarrassed Lacey saw us together,” she said, “but please don’t take it out on me.”
He looked crestfallen. “I’m sorry,” he said, nearly whispering, and she was glad they were under the bright lights of the parking lot, glad they couldn’t touch. She got into her own car and pulled out of the lot, glancing back to see him standing in the pool of white light, watching her drive away.
There were four messages on her answering machine when she arrived home, all left by the same reporter—an eager-sounding young woman—from the Gazette. Each message was more urgent than the one preceding it, and the last was marked by an almost threatening quality, as the reporter finally stated the nature of her call: “It’s critical that I speak with you tonight, Dr. Simon,” the woman said. “It’s regarding Annie O’Neill.”
Olivia bristled. She pressed the erase button. What could possibly be so urgent about a woman who was already dead, a woman Olivia had no interest whatsoever in discussing tonight? She knew reporters, though. This young woman would not give up until she had Olivia on the line.
She followed the phone cord to the wall and unplugged it. In the kitchen, she lifted the phone from the wall and set it on the counter. She pulled the cord from the jack in her bedroom as well, knowing as she did so that she was cutting herself off from the possibility of hearing anything more from Alec that night. That was just as well. If he didn’t try to call her tonight, she didn’t want to know.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“She’s the doctor who killed Mom,” Lacey said as she poured milk on her puffed rice.
Alec frowned at his daughter across the table. “No,” he said carefully. “She’s the doctor who tried to save your mother’s life.”
Lacey looked up at him. “Mom had this one tiny little speck of blood on her shirt. That was it, but by the time that doctor got through with her, she’d bled to death.” Lacey’s lower lip trembled, and he watched her fighting to still it. She looked down at her bowl, bobbing the puffed rice in the milk with her spoon. A tiny stripe of red was growing in the part of her black hair.
“Lace,” he said. “Look at me.”
She tried. She lifted her eyes to his for the briefest of moments, then turned her head toward the window.
“Sweetheart.” He rested his hand on her wrist. “We’ve never really talked about this. About what actually happened that night.”
Lacey pulled her hand away from him. “She’s dead,” she said. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Well, I think maybe it does. I had a lot of questions, Lacey, and I bet you do, too. That’s how I know Dr. Simon. I bumped into her a few weeks ago at the studio. She’s taking stained glass lessons from Tom, and I had a long talk with her about what happened to Mom.”
Lacey looked at him, her nose red. “Are you, like, dating her?”
“No.”
“Then why were you with her last night?”
“She’s become a friend.”
“You had your arm around her.”
He did not know what to say. He couldn’t even explain last night to himself. “She’s married, Lace,” he said. “She and her husband are separated right now, but they’re probably going to get back together. Her husband is the guy who wrote that article about Mom in Seascape Magazine, remember?”
She wrinkled her nose. “He got my age wrong.”
“Did he?”
“Don’t you remember? He said I was twelve. Twelve.” Her eyes grew huge. “I was thirteen and a half.”
Alec smiled at her indignation. “Well, I guess that sort of mistake happens all the time.”
Lacey began dipping her spoon in and out of the cereal again. So far none of the puffed rice had made it to her mouth. “So,” she said, “what did you and that doctor talk about last night?”
“The lighthouse.” Alec leaned back in his chair. “She’s going to help out with the speaking engagements. She has a lot of experience doing that sort of thing. As a matter of fact, she’s driving up to Norfolk with me this morning.”
Lacey rolled her eyes and stood up to carry her bowl to the sink.
“Aren’t you going to eat that?” Alec asked.
“I’ve lost my appetite.” She began running water into the bowl.
“Who’s Bobby?” Alec asked.
“A friend.” She kept her back to him as she put the bowl in the dishwasher.
“Well, why don’t you ask him over sometime so I could get to know him?”
Lacey turned around to frown at him. “Get a life, Dad.” She dried her hands on a paper towel and left the room.
Alec smiled as he pulled into Olivia’s driveway. She was sitting on her front deck in a pale, apricot-colored suit that looked out of place on the rustic wooden deck, but would be perfect for her interview in Norfolk. He was wearing a suit himself.
He got out of the Bronco and walked around to open the door for her, and he was relieved to see her ready smile after their tense words of the night before.
“You look beautiful,” he said as he took his seat behind the wheel once again. “Sophisticated.”
“You too,” she said. “First tie I’ve seen you in. Looks nice.”
Alec quizzed her about the lighthouse as they drove over the long bridge to the mainland, and they had crossed the state line into Virginia before either of them mentioned the night before.
“I’m sorry about the way I acted when we bumped into Lacey,” he said. “Are you still angry with me?”
“No. I know it was awkward for you.”
“I tried to call you to apologize, but you didn’t answer.” He had dialed her number several times, finally giving up at eleven o’clock.
“I’d unplugged my phone.”
Alec frowned at her. “So I couldn’t get through?”
“No, Alec.” She smiled. The peeling bridge of her nose made her look very young. “A reporter from the Gazette was trying to reach me and I just didn’t feel like talking to her.”
“What did she want to talk to you about?”
Olivia shrugged and looked out the window where a de-lapidated barn sat in the middle of a wide, jade-green field. “I have no idea,” she said.
They reached Norfolk a few minutes after noon, and they ate lunch at a restaurant near the radio station where Olivia would be interviewed. Olivia ate her own tuna salad sandwich as well as a couple of bites of his.
He grinned at her. “Are you one of those people who eats a lot when they’re nervous?”
“I’m eating for two, remember?” she said, then added a bit defensively, “And I’m not in the least nervous.”
He walked her to the door of the radio station, feeling guilty about leaving her to wait out the forty-five minutes before her interview alone. Then he drove to the public library, where the Mid-Atlantic Lighthouse Friends were meeting.
He had taken the easier assignment, he thought as he spoke to the appreciative audience of thirty or so fellow lighthouse fanatics. They could not have been more receptive, and by the time he had finished, several of the men and a couple of the women had written hefty checks for the lighthouse fund. He left after a short period of questions and answers, and once back in the Bronco, turned on the radio to catch the last ten minutes of Olivia’s interview. Olivia and her interviewer, Rob McCain, were laughing, and he knew it was going well.
“Obviously,” Olivia said, “the vagaries of nature are only a small part of what we’re dealing with. Any decisions made with regard to the lighthouse have political and technological and economic implications as well.”
Alec stopped for a red light, smiling, impressed.
“But the sea wall concept seemed to have so much support behind it,” Rob McCain said. “Was that support politically motivated?”
“No more than for any other solution,” Olivia said. “The interest in saving the Kiss River Lighthouse cuts across political boundaries, and so the need for funding is completely nonpartisan. We’ve received donations from schoolchildren and grandmothers and executives and politicians. Anyone who cares about saving a piece of our history.”
He liked that she was using the word we to describe the committee, despite the fact that he usually felt possessive about the little band of lighthouse zealots he’d put together. After today, Olivia most definitely belonged.
She stood on the sidewalk in front of the radio station, watching for the Bronco. The interview had gone exceedingly well. She’d done a little extra reading on her own beyond the information Alec had given her, and it had increased her comfort, her confidence.
The Bronco turned the corner and came to a stop in front of the radio station. Olivia climbed into the passenger seat to find Alec grinning at her.
“I caught the tail end of it,” he said as he pulled out into traffic. “You were great.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I enjoyed it.”
It was hot in the car. She wished she could take off her suit jacket, but she’d had to pin the waistband of her skirt closed this morning. She’d been stunned that the safety pin barely managed to span the gap between the hook and the eye. Her jacket would have to stay on no matter how warm it got.
“Air conditioner’s starting to act up, I’m afraid,” Alec said.
She opened her window a crack and turned to look at him. “How did yours go?” she asked.
“Fine. They were very enthusiastic, but I think you should take all the speaking engagements from now on.” He glanced over at her. “You floored me, Olivia. I don’t think I believe that stuff about you not feeling confident outside the ER. I think you were born confident.”
She smiled. “The teacher I moved in with after I ran away from home was in charge of the debate team at my high school.”
Alec was quiet for a moment. “You ran away?” he asked finally. “You’d told me that you left home, not that you…” He looked over at her. “Why, Olivia? Why would you do something like that?” His tone was very soft. Curious, not accusatory.
Olivia gnawed on her lower lip, wondering how to answer him. Alec looked at her again, his eyebrows raised.
“I’m debating whether to tell you the abridged or unabridged version,” she said.
“I’d like the unabridged. We still have a long drive ahead of us.”
She drew in a breath, resting her head against the back of the seat. “Well,” she said, “I left home—ran away from home—the day I was raped and I was afraid to go back, so I never did.”
“But why would you leave your family at a time like that?” Alec’s eyes were on the road, but he was frowning.
She was quiet for a long moment, trying to find the words.
“Do you want to tell me?” He glanced at her.
“Yes.”
“Try, then.”
“It’s too hot,” she said, and even she could hear the child like tone of her voice.
Alec turned the failing air conditioner up another notch, and it gave out a promising stream of cool, light air. They were driving through Chesapeake, past the fast food restaurants, the hospital. It was one of the hospitals she had looked into when she decided to leave Washington General, but the offer in the Outer Banks had come first.
“The house I grew up in was a real rat’s nest,” she began slowly. “It was very tiny. Just one bedroom, which I shared with my two brothers. My mother slept on the couch in the living room—or rather, that was where she passed out. She never remarried after my father died. She was…heavyset, and she used to say the only man who would fit on the couch with her was Jack Daniel’s.” Olivia felt her lips curve into a smile. She glanced at Alec, whose somber expression didn’t change as he stared at the cars ahead of him.
“I came home late from school one day. It was winter, and I remember it was already dark out. The boy who lived next door to us—Nathaniel—was in my room with my brothers. I was uncomfortable around him to begin with, because he was enormous. He was seventeen and probably six and a half feet tall and two hundred and fifty pounds, and his idea of fun was to shoot dogs and cats with a pellet gun. Anyhow, when I walked into the room, the three of them suddenly stopped talking and I knew they were up to something. I tried to leave, but Avery blocked the door and Nathaniel started circling around me, saying I looked good, I was really…filling out, was what he said. He started touching me as he walked around me. Just little touches—” she touched her fingertips to Alec’s shoulder, just for a second “—like that. But all over. Surprising me. I didn’t know where the next touch would get me. He was really frightening me. I started beating on Avery to try to get the door open. At one time I could actually beat Avery up, but he’d gotten too strong for me—he was almost seventeen then—and he just laughed. Someone said something—I don’t remember what—but I realized then that I was part of a deal. Nathaniel had done something for them or given them something and I was payment.”
“Jesus,” Alec said.
The air conditioner had grown sluggish again. She could barely breathe. She opened the window a few more inches, but the hot, noisy air was intolerable and she rolled it up again. “All of a sudden, Avery grabbed me and held me back against him by my arms and Nathaniel tore my blouse open.” The buttons of her blouse had landed on the wooden bedroom floor with little clicking sounds, rolling beneath the beds and the dresser. “I was fighting like crazy, kicking at him, but he didn’t even seem to feel it. He pushed my bra up.” She turned her head to look out the window again, remembering the sharp pain of her embarrassment. She had only recently taken to dressing in the closet, away from her brothers’ eyes.
“Olivia.” Alec shook his head as he turned the Bronco onto the jughandle by the tall, sky-blue water tower. “You don’t have to tell me any more. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“I wanted you to ask,” she said. She wanted to tell him all of it, to get it all out. “I want you to understand.”
He nodded. “All right.”
“Nathaniel started touching my breasts. He was really rough and I screamed for my mother, but I knew that was useless, and I screamed for Clint to help me, but he was just sitting on the bed, staring at the floor. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor and Avery somehow pulled my blouse back in a way that trapped my arms so I couldn’t move.” She shuddered. “That was the worst part, not being able to use my arms or my hands. I still…I can’t stand to feel trapped. Paul once held my arms down when we were making love—not to scare me, he didn’t mean it to frighten me, but I started screaming.” Paul had cried when he realized how he’d fed into her terror. “Poor Paul,” she said. “He didn’t have the vaguest notion what he’d done.”
She rested her temple against the warm glass of the car window and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She would need a rest room soon. Her bladder seemed perpetually full these days.
“So,” she continued, “Nathaniel pushed my skirt up and took off my underpants and Avery crammed them in my mouth so I couldn’t scream. I felt like I was choking and it was so…humiliating. I was kicking at Nathaniel with all my strength and finally Avery told Clint to help hold me down.” She looked at her hands where they rested in her lap, and an old ache started deep in her chest. “I feel sorry for Clint when I remember this,” she said. She could still see the confusion in her twin’s face as he struggled to figure out to which of his siblings he owed his allegiance. A year earlier, it would have been Olivia
for sure, but now, at fourteen, his older brother’s approval meant everything to him. “He was crying himself, but he got down on the floor and held one of my legs while Avery held the other.”
Nathaniel had loomed above her like a giant and she remembered the scene as if it had happened in slow motion, his meaty hand pulling down the zipper of his pants, reaching inside to draw out his huge, dagger-straight penis. She had screamed then, the sound muffled by the cloth in her mouth. “The next thing I knew, all two hundred and fifty pounds of him were on top of me, but he couldn’t get inside.” His body had hammered against her unyielding flesh, his face growing red with frustration. “He said it was like trying to…fuck a brick wall, and I kept praying he’d give up, but he didn’t. I was crying and gagging and I couldn’t use my hands.” She lifted her hand to her throat. “He was so heavy. He was crushing me. I remember Clint saying, ‘Maybe you should stop, Nat,’ but I don’t think Nathaniel even heard him. Finally,” she shrugged, “I felt as though I…split open. The pain was so bad and it took him forever. I passed out, I guess, because when I woke up I was alone in the room. There was blood on my skirt and my legs. There was blood on the doorknob.”
Alec took his right hand from the steering wheel, reaching toward her to slip his fingers into the cup of her palm. His thumb traced the bones in the back of her hand, and she closed her own fingers gratefully over his.
“I ran to Ellen Davison’s house. She was my science teacher. I didn’t tell her what happened. I never did, but she must have known somehow. She acted as though she’d been waiting for me to show up. She had a spare room, the bed made up and everything. I just moved in, and she switched me to a school outside my neighborhood. I never saw anyone in my family again.”
“Good lord, Olivia.”
“I worried about Clint,” she said, “but I only thought of myself after I left home. I learned about my mother’s death during my first year of college, and I knew I should go back to make sure Clint was all right, but I just couldn’t. I was so terrified of Avery, and…” She wrinkled her nose. “I felt as though if I went back after all my hard work to get away from there, I would somehow be stuck there again. That I would become the old, scared Olivia. I know it doesn’t make sense, but…”
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