by John Saul
Phyllis smiled tightly at the doctor. “She knows I love her,” she said. “And she knows I want only the best for her. But I don’t believe in letting children run wild. I believe they need to be trained. I shall do for Melissa what needs to be done.” Without waiting for Andrews to reply, she stalked out of the office.
Charles hesitated by the door, then offered Andrews his hand. “I’ll talk to her,” he promised. “I know she tends to be overcritical of Melissa, but I can deal with that. If I have to, I’ll take some extra time out here this summer.”
Andrews nodded. “I think that would be a good idea,” he said. “And the question isn’t whether you can deal with your wife’s attitude toward Melissa. The question is whether Melissa can.”
Teri stepped back and surveyed herself in the mirror on her closet door. The dress she’d chosen for Jeff Barnstable’s funeral was navy blue, with a wide red belt that wasn’t quite bright enough that it could be criticized. She’d also found a pair of earrings in the exact same shade as the belt, but decided against wearing them. In a couple of months, though, when she had moved back to the city with her family, the earrings would set the outfit off perfectly. In fact, if she could find a string of beads in the same color …
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of muted voices, and after a last satisfied glance at her own image, she left her room. The voices were clearer now, and she knew where they were coming from.
The master suite, where her father and stepmother were also getting ready for the funeral that afternoon.
She glanced at Melissa’s closed door, then moved quickly past the staircase, pausing to slip off her high-heeled shoes, since their tapping echoed loudly against the hardwood floor when the voices of her parents fell silent for a moment. Carrying the shoes, she padded down the hall to the door to the master suite. Though it was closed, she could hear the argument clearly enough.
Inside, Charles glared at his wife’s image in the mirror as she sat making final adjustments to her makeup. “Is that what you want us to do?” he said, his voice heavy with anger. “Just lock her up somewhere?”
“Of course not!” Phyllis snapped back, leaning forward to apply a touch of mascara to her eyelashes. “It has nothing to do with ‘locking her up,’ as you put it. But if she needs a rest, I don’t see any reason why we couldn’t find her some nice place to go. Like a summer camp, or something.”
“A summer camp!” Charles exploded. “What the hell are you talking about? If she’s having a hard time coping with kids she already knows, how the hell do you think she’s going to do suddenly being thrown in with a bunch of strangers!”
“Oh, really, Charles.” Phyllis dropped the mascara brush onto a small tray and turned to face him. “It just seems to me that we have to think of Teri, too. How is it going to affect her if we have to spend all our time catering to Melissa’s whims? Considering what she’s been through—”
“So now it’s Teri, is it?” Charles broke in. “Let’s see—so far you’ve said we ought to send her away for her own good, and Teri’s good. Now, what about you? It would make it a lot easier for you, wouldn’t it? You could spend even more time than you already do lying around the pool at the club trying to impress all those bitches who won’t give you the time of day!”
Phyllis, quivering with rage, rose to her feet. “How dare you?” she demanded. “How dare you talk that way about my friends? Lenore Van Arsdale is one of the finest people I’ve ever—”
“Lenore Van Arsdale is a crashing snob, which you should be the first to realize, since she won’t even speak to you if she can find a way out of it. Christ, sometimes I think Polly was right. The only thing that seems to count around here is ‘fitting in’ with the ‘right people.’ Not that any of them do anything—most of them spend their lives bragging about what their grandparents did and spending the money they inherited. Half of them couldn’t do a real job if they had to.”
“And what about you?” Phyllis shot back. “What makes you think you’re any different?”
Charles snorted derisively. “Who said I am? I’m not a real lawyer—I only went to law school because that’s what Holloway men do. And what have I done? What’s the biggest contribution I’ve ever made? I’ve figured out a few loopholes to keep myself and my friends from paying our fair share of taxes.” A brittle laugh escaped his lips. “What a life, huh? And that’s the life you’re bound and determined that Melissa will lead, too? Frankly, I think she might be better off growing up and marrying Tag Peterson than one of the spoiled brats our friends have raised.”
Phyllis’s expression turned livid. “I don’t want anything but the best for her,” she hissed. “We’ve given her everything! And what thanks do I get? She humiliates me! She embarrasses me in front of our friends! And now she pulls a stunt that kills someone, and claims she doesn’t even remember what happened. Maybe she should be locked up! Maybe she is crazy!”
For just a moment Charles was certain he was going to slap her again, as he’d slapped her on Saturday night. But then he regained control of himself. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he said, his voice suddenly devoid of emotion. “You want her to disappear, now that Teri’s here.”
Phyllis bridled. “Teri has nothing to do with—”
“Oh, don’t bore me with that,” Charles told her. “I’m not stupid, you know. All Melissa has ever been to you is a replacement for Teri. When Polly took her away, I think it hurt you even more than it did me. But When Melissa came along, I loved her for what she was. All you could ever do was try to turn her into another Teri.”
“That’s not true—”
“Of course it is. And now that Teri’s back, you don’t really have any further use for Melissa, do you? You got Polly’s house, and her husband, and her friends. Now you’ve got her daughter, too. So what do you need your own for?” He turned and moved toward the door, then faced his wife again. “But I won’t have it, Phyllis. I won’t send Melissa away, and I won’t have you making her life miserable anymore. Just let her be who she is. Because if you don’t, I swear I’ll send you away before I send her away.”
By the time he opened the door and left the master suite, Teri was already halfway down the stairs. But she’d heard enough. Phyllis was already convinced.
Soon, her father would be, too.
“You’re sure you can handle this?” Charles asked Melissa twenty minutes later. “If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. I’m sure everyone will understand.”
For a split second Melissa was tempted to seize the opportunity to stay home from Jeff’s funeral, but even as she opened her mouth to speak, she remembered her mother’s words an hour ago: “You will go to the funeral, and you will behave yourself. Not going would be as much as admitting you knew what you were doing Saturday night. It’s bad enough that everyone already thinks you’re crazy—if they think you did it deliberately, none of us will ever be able to hold up our heads here again!”
Now, as her mother glared darkly at her from her position a few feet behind her father, Melissa swallowed the words already on the tip of her tongue and managed a nod. “I want to go,” she breathed. “I—I always liked Jeff.”
But an hour later, as she sat in the small Episcopal church which was supported primarily by the Cove Club crowd, she wished she’d stayed home after all.
From the moment she’d walked into the church, her father beside her, she’d felt as if everyone there were watching her, staring at her, silently accusing her.
She’d tried to ignore it, sitting quietly in the pew between her father and Teri, her eyes glued to the little memorial the usher had handed her on the way in. But now, as the minister finished the eulogy and began the final prayer, she looked up, glancing around uneasily.
Most of the people in the church had their heads bowed, but here and there she saw eyes watching her.
Cyndi Miller was staring right at her. But at least when she looked at Cyndi, the other girl looked quickly away.
>
Ellen Stevens, on the other hand, glared at her, and it was Melissa herself who immediately shifted her eyes from Ellen’s accusing gaze.
But I didn’t do anything, she told herself once more. I was just walking along the road.
Or had she been?
She still couldn’t remember anything at all, not from the time she’d put the wig on until the blast of the Porsche’s horn had sounded in her ears.
What if it had been D’Arcy?
She had to put the question out of her mind, had to stop thinking about it. If she didn’t, she’d go crazy.
Unless she already was.
But she didn’t feel crazy, most of the time.
Suddenly she felt Teri nudging her, and came out of her reverie. Ahead of her the row of people were already on their feet, moving slowly into the side aisle and walking up toward the front of the church where the open casket sat on the catafalque.
Melissa felt a chill of panic creep over her.
Did she have to do that?
Did she have to look at Jeff’s face?
Next to her her father stood up, and she numbly got to her feet.
I won’t look, she told herself. I’ll go up there, but when I pass the coffin, I’ll close my eyes.
She edged sideways, following her father into the aisle, and a moment later felt a twinge of panic as more people crowded in behind her. She glanced around, searching for a means of escape. But the side doors were all closed, with an usher standing in front of each of them, and she couldn’t bear the idea of scurrying across one of the empty pews, then running down the center aisle.
She was at the front of the church now, and she could hear the people ahead of her sighing softly, or muttering a quiet good-bye as they looked down into the coffin.
And then she was in front of the coffin herself.
Instead of closing her eyes, as she’d silently sworn to do, she gazed down into Jeff Barnstable’s face.
He didn’t look dead at all.
His eyes were closed and his face wore a peaceful expression, as if he were merely sleeping. Instinctively, she reached out and gently touched his face.
His flesh was hard, and cold as marble.
She gasped, and the panic that had been building inside her burst forth. “Nooo,” she moaned. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t—”
Her tears overwhelmed her then, and she buried her face in her hands. Instantly, her father’s arm slid protectively around her and he hurried her down the aisle, threading his way quickly through the crowd of people.
The crowd of people who were staring at her.
Staring at her, and whispering among themselves.
She could almost hear them, accusing her.
“No!” she screamed. “I didn’t do it! It was D’Arcy! It was D’Arcy who did it!”
A moment later she was out of the church, in the bright sunlight of the summer afternoon. She blinked and looked up to see her father gazing down at her, his eyes sympathetic, his gentle hand stroking her hair. But then she saw her mother.
Though Phyllis said nothing, Melissa shuddered as she felt the fury that emanated from the angry slits that were her mother’s eyes. Terrified by her mother’s silent rage, Melissa didn’t notice the small smile of satisfaction on Teri MacIver’s face.
As her father gently steered her to the car, a wave of hopelessness swept over Melissa.
I’ve done it again, she thought. And this time, she’ll never forgive me.
CHAPTER 23
“I don’t understand how she could have done that,” Phyllis complained. They’d arrived home an hour before, and after calling Dr. Andrews, Charles had gone into the village to pick up a prescription for a sedative. Now Melissa was upstairs in bed, where Charles had sat with her until the medicine had begun to take effect. When she’d finally dropped into sleep he’d come back downstairs to find Phyllis, her features set angrily, pacing restlessly in the library. Teri, still dressed for the funeral, was perched nervously on a chair.
“Well, it doesn’t surprise me at all,” Charles replied. “Frankly, I can’t imagine why she went in the first place, the way she’s been feeling.”
“She went,” Phyllis interjected, “because she knew it was the right thing to do. And it would have been fine, if she’d simply managed to control herself. But to make a scene like that …” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head hopelessly. Then, after glancing at the clock, she sighed heavily and seemed to pull herself together. “I suppose we’d better get going. The graveside service should be over, and—”
“Going?” Charles stared at his wife, almost unable to believe what she was suggesting. “You’re not seriously suggesting we go to the reception, are you?”
Phyllis met her husband’s gaze for a moment, but turned quickly away. “Of course I am,” she said. “And the last thing I need from you right now is an argument. What else can we do? After Melissa’s performance at the service, the least we can do is apologize for her. Didn’t you see the look on Paula’s face?”
Charlese’s jaw set. “I don’t give a damn about Paula Barnstable, or any of the rest of them. Right now all I care about is my daughter. If you think I’m going to leave her alone now—”
“You’re not,” Phyllis broke in. “Teri says she’ll stay with her.”
Charles shifted his gaze to his older daughter, who smiled at him sympathetically. “I really think Phyllis is right, Daddy,” she said. “I saw the way some of the people were looking at Melissa. And if none of us goes to the reception, won’t it just make things look worse?”
Charles cocked his head. “Nothing happened except that Melissa got upset,” he began, but frowned as he saw Teri and Phyllis exchange a quick glance. “Is there something I don’t know about?”
Teri shifted in her chair, as if reluctant to speak. “I—Well, a lot of the kids are talking about Melissa,” she said at last, her eyes studiously avoiding her father’s. “They—Well, some of them think she’s kind of—” She hesitated a moment, as if searching for the right word. “… well, they think she’s kind of strange.”
“You mean they think she’s crazy,” Charles said bluntly. “I know how kids are—I was one myself once.”
“I didn’t say that,” Teri hastily replied. “But—Well, I just think Phyllis is right. Wouldn’t it be better if you went and explained that Melissa was just upset, but that she’s all right now? I mean, if none of us goes, it’s just going to make it worse for Melissa, isn’t it? Everyone will think we were afraid to leave her alone.”
Charles was about to protest once again, but then changed his mind. Teri, after all, was right—all that had happened, really, was that Melissa had burst into tears. If he let himself overreact to it, in the long run it could only make things worse. In fact, he could almost hear the kids talking now:
“They had to take her home and lock her up. She was so hysterical no one could even leave the house.”
“I knew she was weird, but at the funeral she went completely nuts. They had to put her in a straitjacket.”
None of it would be true, of course, but that wouldn’t stop the kids’ talk. If he and Phyllis went to the reception, explaining that Melissa had simply gotten upset but was fine now, it might put a damper on the worst of the wagging tongues. “All right,” he said at last, still not completely certain he was doing the right thing, but having no stomach for a further argument with his wife. “We’ll go.” He went over to Teri and put his arm around her, giving her a quick hug. “You sure you don’t mind staying with Melissa?”
Teri shook her head, her lips compressing into a sad smile. “I—I really don’t like funerals. I’d rather stay here with Melissa.”
Ten minutes later, after checking once more on his younger daughter and finding her fast asleep, Charles hurried down the front steps to the car, where Phyllis was waiting impatiently.
From the porch, Teri waved good-bye.
Twenty minutes later Cora tapped at Teri’s door, then pushe
d it open. “I’m goin’ into the village,” she said. “I’m gonna make a lemon pie for Melissa, and there’s a couple things I need.”
Teri glanced up from the magazine she was reading. “So?”
Cora’s lips compressed into a tight line as she heard the insolence in Teri’s voice. “So I just wanted to know if there was anything you needed.” Then, realizing that Teri was still wearing the dress she’d put on for the funeral, she shook her head in disapproval. “You’re going to ruin that dress, lying around in that way. It’s linen, you know.”
Teri shrugged. “If it gets wrecked, I can buy a new one. We’re not poor, you know.”
Cora took a deep breath, the temptation to give Teri a lecture on the value of money rising inside her. But then she changed her mind. She’d been watching Teri closely over the last few weeks and come to the conclusion that Polly’s daughter wasn’t quite what she pretended to be. In fact, she’d decided she didn’t really like Teri very much. She was certain it had been Teri who decided to get Melissa all dressed up as D’Arcy for the costume party, and a fine mess that had turned out to be. And despite Teri’s words of sympathy for Melissa, Cora had a distinct feeling that she was actually enjoying Melissa’s unhappiness. “Fine,” she said now. “Suit yourself. I’ll be back within the hour.”
A few minutes later, after she heard Cora’s car grind down the drive, Teri got up and finally took off the dress, dropping it in a heap on the floor. Stripping off the rest of her clothes, she put on a bathing suit and wandered down to the swimming pool. She was about to dive into the cool water when she saw Tag.
He was standing twenty yards away from her, his head cocked oddly, staring at something.
