by Meg Tilly
“Phillip, no!” Auntie Jane cried. “Put that away. What are you doing?” And that’s when Sarah noticed the snub-nosed pistol in her uncle Phillip’s hand.
“Cleaning up loose ends,” he replied, his pistol trained on Sarah. “I had imagined that when Kevin saw this little slut show up last night with a man she was obviously shtupping, he would have taken care of my little problem for me. No such luck. Oh well. Needs must.”
It took a moment for his words to penetrate Sarah’s brain. She was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that her parents’ trusted lawyer and friend appeared to be holding a gun on her. “You . . . you were the one who forced Vicki to call?” Sarah was hoping she had heard him wrong, that there was no gun and the painkillers were making her delusional.
“That’s right.” He rocked back on his heels with a smirk on his face, so pleased with himself.
“And it wasn’t Vicki. You’re the one who sicced Kevin on me.”
“Ding . . . ding . . . ding . . .” He crowed like he was running a bingo hall. “We’ve got a winner!”
“You sonofabitch,” Sarah ground out, but Phillip just grinned and did a half bow as if she had paid him a compliment. The odd thing was, Sarah discovered she wasn’t scared at all. Must be the meds. No, she wasn’t scared. She was seriously pissed off. “And now, oh my. Look at you. Eeek.” She raised her hands in the air as she took a casual step backward, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “Bet you feel like a real big man standing behind that gun. One problem, asshole, you shoot me, how are you going to drag my body over to that hole to bury it? Notice the slight incline.” She dropped her hands, using the movement to take another step back. She was still too close. Odds of survival wouldn’t be good if she ran. Five or six rounds in the pistol’s chamber. At such close range, even a crappy shooter would probably make contact. Stall. Increase the distance. Then run. Serpentine. “That’s going to make your job even more difficult. Don’t think your puny little arms are up to the task.” He blinked. “Yeah. Good planning, big shot,” she drawled. “With those inferior strategy skills, it’s hard to believe my parents trusted you with their fortune. But that’s the way they were, trusting and loyal to the core, and look how you repay them.”
Phillip’s face turned puce. “Is that right?” he sneered. “Well, I hate to burst your little rose-colored bubble, but your father was interviewing people to replace me. He said ‘it was time for me to retire.’ ” He raised his hands and made quote marks with the fingers of his left hand and over the barrel of the gun with his right. “He said I was ‘slipping up’ ‘making mistakes,’ that he had noticed ‘discrepancies in the accounts,’ ” his voice shrill and mocking. “That is who your precious father was. Someone who would fire a loyal retainer who had worked tirelessly to increase his net worth, who was at his beck and call, who looked after his interests day and night. And how did he plan to repay me? With enforced retirement! By elbowing me out of the way. Ageism plain and simple.”
“He . . . he offered you a very generous pension, Phillip,” Auntie Jane said, her voice reedy, wavering slightly.
He turned on her. “Shut up! What do you know? Nothing!” While he was distracted, Sarah took two more large steps and casually eased the strap of her purse over her head, careful not to make any sudden movement to draw his attention. She would be able to run faster if she wasn’t weighed down. “My job was my life. And he wanted to steal it from me!” The old man was sobbing now. Sarah took another step back, her body braced, ready to run. “Your father left me no choice,” he wailed. “He had to be dealt with.”
Everything in Sarah froze. “What?” fell from her numb lips. Her chest felt like an iron fist was wrapped around her heart. “Dealt with? How?”
“Your mother wasn’t supposed to be in the car.” He shook his head, dragging his arm across his wet face. “She was supposed to meet Jane for an early dinner and an evening at the ballet. But you”—he turned on Jane with a look of disgust—“canceled. Had ‘a headache.’ You fucked up, like you always do, and thus signed the death warrant for your best friend.”
And suddenly running was no longer an option. This fucker had killed her parents, and she would make him pay or die trying. She wrapped the strap of her purse around the fist of her good hand. “So, you killed my parents,” she said conversationally. “I never suspected foul play.” Sarah could see Auntie Jane was staring at her husband in abject horror. Jane staggered back a couple of steps, as if recoiling from the toxicity emanating from him.
“Nobody did.” Phillip’s face was still wet, but his chest swelled with pride. “I was tricky. Made it look like an accident.”
“So, you hired the cement truck driver to make the hit?”
“Yes, siree,” he said smugly. “I was surprised at how easy it was to arrange. Cheap, too.” And that’s when Sarah charged, the raincoat falling from her shoulders to the damp ground. She heard a shot ring out, but she’d gone low, swinging her weighted purse like a mace, making contact with his crotch. A stream of soda pop fizzed out of her purse as her belly hit the ground. Phillip screamed in pain and fury, the blow doubling him over. Sarah rolled quickly to the side as another shot rang out, sending a hunk of sod flying a few inches from her face. She’d scrambled to her feet to launch her body at him again when she was halted by the sound of a loud thunk. Phillip staggered, the pistol falling from his hand. Another thunk. Phillip’s eyes rolled back in their sockets as he pitched forward, landed in the pit, and lay motionless, his neck bent at an unnatural angle.
Sarah stared down at him. “What the hell just happened?”
“I did.” Sarah turned. Her auntie Jane had moved to stand beside her, the wooden handle of the shovel resting against her shoulder, a smear of blood on the spade. “I don’t care if I go to jail,” she said shakily, her eyes welling up. “I had to stop him.” She stared into the pit at his broken body. “I . . .” She swallowed hard, as if battling back nausea, her chest rising and falling like a trapped bird. She wrenched her gaze away from her husband, but it settled on the bloodstained shovel in her hands. “Oh my Lord.” She dropped the shovel in horror and backed away, wiping her hands frantically on her dungarees. “What have I done?”
Sarah took the trembling woman in her arms. “What you did, Auntie Jane”—Sarah kept her voice gentle, as if soothing an injured fawn—“took tremendous bravery. I am forever in your debt. You saved my life.”
“I couldn’t let him kill you. I couldn’t.” She clung to Sarah like a woman drowning in grief. “You are the daughter of my dearest friend and . . .” Her gut-wrenching sobs were ripping Sarah’s heart asunder. “And . . .” Auntie Jane pulled back slightly and met Sarah’s eyes dead-on. Breath-catching shudders had possession of her body. Tears continued to flow down her face, but there was a fierce determination as well. Auntie Jane’s trembling hand rose to gently cup Sarah’s face. “The mother of . . .” Auntie Jane said softly. “My precious little Lilly-girl, who has been such a ray of sunshine in this dark, bleak world.”
58
Sarah stared at her Auntie Jane, stunned. Her heart was thundering like a runaway horse, and she could hear the seashore in her ears. “You need to sit down, dear.” Auntie Jane’s voice seemed to be coming from far away. “You look pale. The shock. I understand.” Typical. Auntie Jane was still crying, but Sarah could feel her gentle hands guiding Sarah to a sitting position. “Put your head down between your knees . . . There you go . . . Take deep breaths, nice and slow.” Sarah could see both of their feet dangling in the pit above her uncle Phillip’s body, could feel Auntie Jane’s hand making shaky circles on her back as Sarah gulped in air. She noticed a small clod of dirt falling from her shoe onto Phillip’s cheek and then rolling off to join its brethren dirt clods, leaving a streak behind. The skies opened up, and it started to rain, and still they stayed, feet dangling, breathing in the smell of wet earth, and being alive, and freedom.
Once Sarah had managed to catch her breath and the dizziness had subsided, she lay back and stared at the gray skies overhead. “My daughter, you say?” Sarah said, breaking the silence now that her heart was beating properly again. “That beautiful little girl who is in your house right now watching Frozen . . . she’s my daughter?”
Auntie Jane leaned back on her elbows and looked skyward as well. “Yes. And she is a wonderful child, loving and kind. Smart as a whip. Generous. Everything a mother could desire.”
Sarah rolled on her side to face her. “I thought she hadn’t made it. I was told she died.”
“I realized that today, coming back from taking Lilly upstairs. I overheard you talking with my husband about your desire for children, and the world as I knew it came crashing down around my shoulders. You see, my dear.” Sarah felt Auntie Jane’s weathered hand cover hers. “Phillip had told me you didn’t want to be a mother, refused to see your own baby or hold her. He told me that Kevin was abusive and that you hated everything to do with him, including your baby. You needed us to bring money, were running away. Refused to take refuge with us, because we were the first place that Kevin would look. That you were terrified at what he would do to us. And Phillip told me you’d instructed him to put Lilly up for adoption.”
“I never would have left her behind. I wanted her so very much.”
“I know that now. When we arrived at the hospital, Phillip insisted that I not mention the baby to you. He said you’d been through a terrible ordeal, and talking about it would only distress you further. When I entered your hospital room, I fully intended to disregard his orders, but when I saw your face.” She shook her head, lost in the past. “Sarah, my heart broke to see you that way. There were so many bruises and such a weary bleakness in your eyes. I figured the beating, the premature birth of your baby on the heels of the strain of your parents’ untimely deaths had been too much for you. When we left the hospital, we took the baby with us. In hindsight, I’m not sure how he managed that.”
“He had legal and medical power of attorney,” Sarah said. She could feel the raindrops cleansing the past. “Must have paid someone off, or convinced them I was mentally unsound.”
“But why? Why would Phillip do such a thing?”
Sarah laughed, the sound bright as a bird in flight, feeling oddly happier and lighter than she had in years. “Money. Pure and simple. My parents left a huge estate behind. When I disappeared, that was a huge boon for Phillip because Kevin had no access or control over the estate. He just received a monthly stipend. If I was dead and had no heirs—that’s where getting rid of Lilly came in—for Phillip it would be even better. That would give your husband unfettered access to do what he liked with the funds from the estate for the rest of his life, with very few checks and balances.”
Auntie Jane nodded. “That’s it. He was always jealous of your father. Why did I believe him?”
“He was your husband. Of course you believed him. But why didn’t the doctor at the hospital tell me Lilly had survived?”
“Phillip must have given him the same spiel he told me. He was your legal and medical representative. Or it’s possible the doctor was corrupt and Phillip bribed him. Who knows? But I should have known better. Rather than handing over the envelope of money he told me you’d asked for so you could run, I should have found a way to discuss the baby with you. Should have made sure.” Auntie Jane exhaled deeply. “Anyway, I refused to let him take Lilly to a safe haven drop-off location to put her up for adoption. I insisted we take her home and raise her as our own. She was Barbara’s granddaughter. Barbara had been so delighted that she was going to have a granddaughter to dote on. I just couldn’t let Lilly be raised by strangers. In the back of my mind, there was the belief that perhaps you were suffering with postpartum depression and that in a week or two you would find a way to come and see me. I’d ply you with tea, you’d tell me you regretted your decision, I’d produce Lilly, and all would be well. But you never came.”
“I’m here now,” Sarah said softly.
“Yes, you are.” Auntie Jane’s face was filled with a quiet joy, and wistful, too. “Do you want to go meet your daughter?”
“Oh yes.” Sarah’s words came out almost as a prayer. “So very much.” They got to their feet, helping each other so they didn’t slip in the wet mud. They gathered the borrowed raincoat, the scattered picnic items, and the two of them headed back to the house.
59
Auntie Jane had tucked a soft throw blanket around Sarah’s shoulders. She had spread a dish towel over her lap and handed her another one, which Sarah tucked into the top of her blouse before Lilly climbed onto her lap. Sarah would take a shower later, but her daughter’s little body was nestled into her. Sarah’s arms were holding her child for the very first time, and she was wrestling back tears of joy. Lilly gently glided her finger over Sarah’s bandaged left hand.
“You have a bad boo-boo?”
“Not too bad,” Sarah replied. “Just have to be careful not to bump it is all.”
“You guys are muddy.” Lilly grinned mischievously, as if she’d caught them being naughty.
“We’re super muddy,” Sarah replied.
“Were you making mud pies?” Lilly asked.
“No. I make really good ones though. We’ll have to do that someday.”
“I like making mud pies.” Lilly reached up and patted Sarah’s cheek. “And I like you.”
“I like you, too, honey.” Sarah’s voice was thick with emotion. Auntie Jane was bustling around the kitchen, keeping her hands busy while they waited for the police, brewing a pot of tea, and placing butter cookies with rainbow-colored sprinkles onto a plate. Lilly snuggled in. Sarah bit her lip from the pain of the warm little body pressing on her injured abdomen, but she wouldn’t have shifted her precious daughter for the world. Lilly plopped her thumb into her mouth and sucked contentedly as she smoothed a corner of the dish towel between her tiny fingers. Sarah bent her head and inhaled, filling her lungs and her being with the fresh scent of Lilly’s downy soft hair and the warm wiggling sweetness of her child’s little body. “My child,” Sarah murmured, and suddenly she was filled with awe and wonder and the glory of God. She raised her eyes and met Auntie Jane’s gentle gaze over Lilly’s head, sharing with her the preciousness of the moment, the sheer simplicity and the beauty of the pleasure. Thank you, she mouthed. Auntie Jane inclined her head and placed her hand over her heart.
Lilly’s thumb popped out of her mouth. “What’s that noise?” she asked, her head tipping like an inquisitive baby chick.
“What noise?” Sarah asked.
“That noise,” Lilly said, gesturing toward the ceiling with her wet thumb. And then Sarah heard it, the sound of helicopter blades overhead, getting louder and louder.
Auntie Jane froze, teapot in her hand. “The police,” she whispered, all the color draining from her face. “They’ve come for me.”
“The what?” Lilly asked, looking from back and forth between the two of them.
“Maybe not,” Sarah said, but she knew she was probably whistling in the wind, because the sound of the helicopter was now a deafening roar. “Does one of your neighbors own a helicopter and commute from the city?”
Auntie Jane shook her head. There was the sound of running feet, pounding at the door. Auntie Jane gently placed the teapot down. Straightened her spine and sailed into the main hall as if she were in a comportment class and had a stack of books on her head. Never mind that she’s muddy as hell, Sarah thought, unable to hold back the smile even though the consequences were dire. Mother was right when she said Auntie Jane had class bred into the very marrow of her bones. Well . . . Sarah stood and plopped Lilly on the chair. There was no way she was going to let Auntie Jane deal with the police on her own. “You stay here, okay? I’ve got to go talk to the people at the door for a second.” She dug into her sticky soda-soaked purse. Her finger
s closed around the little mason jar of gummy bears. She pulled it out, tore off the plastic seal, opened it, and placed it on the table in front of her daughter. “You see that clock on the wall?”
“Yes.”
“You see the big hand?”
“I can tell time,” Lilly said proudly.
“Wonderful. This is what I need you to do.” Sarah reached across the table and slid the scattered crayons and paper over to Lilly. “While you are drawing, out of the corner of your eye, I’d like you to keep an eye on the clock for me. When the big hand moves to the next number, then you get to gobble up a gummy bear.”
Lilly’s little face lit up. “Okay,” she said with a happy wiggle. “You can count on me.”
“Wonderful!” Sarah dropped a kiss on the top of Lilly’s head. The little girl already had a purple crayon clenched in her fist. “Stay put. I’ll be back in a jiffy,” Sarah said, and then swiftly left the room. She could see the slender figure of her aunt at the end of the hall, her hand on the door. “Wait for me,” Sarah called, but her voice was drowned out by another thundering volley of knocks.
60
The door fell away from Mick’s fist. Standing in the opening was a fragile-looking elderly woman. Her gaze skittered past him, taking in the helicopter on the front lawn. It seemed as if she had expected to see something else. Something unwanted. Her shoulders relaxed slightly. “Yes?” she said in a cultured mid-Atlantic accent. “May I help you?” The woman reminded him of Sarah, how she carried herself like royalty despite the fact that there were streaks of mud across her face, on her knees and thighs.
“I was told Sarah Rainsford is here.” Mick had to work to keep his voice steady, when all he wanted to do was charge inside and rip the place apart until he found her. “I’ve come to fetch her.”
“And you are?” the woman asked as protective as a mother bear, but who was she protecting? Phillip Clarke? Was Sarah okay? Was she safe? Suddenly Sarah appeared behind the woman, her hand settling on the woman’s shoulder, and relief tore through Mick like a flash flood.
