“What happened, again, to her? I think you’ve told me once before, but we were little.”
“Ruthie was almost eleven years old. She was tall and smart and always let me in the room when she played with dolls. She was like my mother. Mostly because Mom had Chris to deal with. He was just a baby. Ruthie always made sure I had something to drink and eat; she even made sure I showered at night.” Rachel sat up, crossing her legs Indian-style. “I don’t ever remember fighting with her. I’m sure we did; I just don’t remember it.
“Anyway, my dad was pretty much a no-good person. He never did things like dads are supposed to do, like carry you up on his shoulders or ride you around on the mower to cut grass. The only memories I have of him are being drunk and yelling at Mom. One time I walked into the kitchen and saw him hit her across the face. She fell against the counter and I ran back to my room and told Ruthie. That was the last time he stayed with us. Billy, Mom’s brother, came and got him and told him never to come back around.”
Collette sat up on the bed.
“One day, my dad came over to our house. I remember seeing his car pull up in the driveway. It was a blue Bronco. Completely loaded with everything. He said a car wasn’t worth having if it didn’t come with every option it could. Anyway, I saw that blue truck and I began to shake. I ran and got Ruthie. You see, he wasn’t supposed to come to our house anymore. Mom had gotten a court order for him to stay away.”
“Oh, my Lord. What happened?” Collette asked.
“Well, Mom was folding clothes out back at the clothesline. She ran inside and told us to run and hide, and take Chris with us. So Ruthie grabbed Chris from the playpen and we got in our closet and rolled the door shut. We heard yelling in the front room.
“‘The court told me I could see the kids this weekend and I’m here to pick them up. Now, where are they, Nancy?’ His voice sounded mean.
“‘The court never told you that. The court told you not to come here. I have custody of those children and you’re not taking them out of this house.’”
Rachel stared at the picture of her sister, on the opened page of the book. “I was so scared I started to pee my pants. I was sitting on top of a pile of toys and they were cutting into my skin. When I began peeing, it felt warm on my legs. Ruthie turned to look at me. I could see her big eyes by the light that was coming in the crack of the door. She had Chris on her lap, holding one of her dolls for him to look at to stay quiet. I thought for sure that Dad was going to hear him.
“‘You’ve been drinking, Carl. Just go home and sleep it off. Come back tomorrow and you can see them.’
“‘I’m not coming back tomorrow. I’m here right now and I’m taking them. My company is having a family picnic and I’ve come for my family. Now get them or I will.’ His voice was getting loud, like all the other times before he got to hitting.
“Ruthie placed Chris on my lap and slid open the closet door. I started to pull on her shirt. She turned and looked at me. ‘Rachel, I’ll be right back. I can get Dad to leave. Promise.’
“The next thing I heard was my mother’s voice: ‘Ruthie, go back to the room.’
“‘No, Mom. Dad, you better get going.’
“‘Don’t tell me what to do, little girl. Your mouth is too sassy for your own good. Now you go and bring your sister and brother. We’re going to a picnic.’
“‘Don’t you touch her, Carl,’ Mom yelled.
“‘Mom, I’ll go with him.’
“I couldn’t believe it when I heard Ruthie say that. What was she thinking? I put my hand over Chris’s mouth. He started to hit the doll and began screaming. His diaper smelled like rotten eggs on my lap. I couldn’t hold onto him much longer. He was wiggling out of my arms and the toys were pressing hard into my legs.
“‘Ruthie, go on back to the room, now.’ Mom said it again.
“‘All right, I’ll take you, then, Ms. Smarty Pants.’
“‘Leave her be, Carl.’”
Rachel placed her hands over her face, covering her eyes. She was going to lose it; she just knew it.
“After I heard the front door slam, I pushed open the closet door, put Chris on the rug beside my bed and ran out to Mom. My legs felt wet, and I watched as my dad drove off with Ruthie. I could see her head in the passenger seat, looking back toward the house.”
Rachel wiped a tear from her cheek. “It wasn’t long after, Mom got a call from someone. I watched as she slid down the front of the kitchen cabinets and fell to the floor. She began slapping the floor with her hand, screaming Ruthie’s name. Dad had hit a semi-truck head on and both of them were killed.”
Collette covered her mouth. “Oh my God, Rachel. Honey, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe you had to go through that. And now Scott?”
“Yeah. How is it, do you think, that I’m so lucky to have escaped death twice? That my sister died just trying to get Dad out of the house and beating us all. And then Scott takes me and drives drunk, hitting a car and still I’m a survivor? How is it that you’re able to survive being dead, but you aren’t able to survive being the one who lived?”
“I think it explains why you lost your memory.” Collette helped Rachel stack the books on the floor in front of her bed.
“Huh?”
“Well yeah. I only took two semesters of required psychology, but I think that’s what happened to you when you were young and it frightened you so bad, that when Scott began drinking you chose to push it out of your memories of him. You somehow safeguarded the Scott you knew and loved from the guy he had become. Maybe he began to remind you of your dad.”
“Did I ever talk about Scott to you?” Rachel stood in the doorway of her bathroom and looked at Collette.
“Yeah. You’d call me when you’d had a bad evening with him. You needed to hear a sane voice, you’d say.”
“What made it a bad evening?”
“He wouldn’t come home for dinner and you’d cooked. Then he’d come in late, smelling like liquor. You said he even broke his finger once, falling on the ground. You gave him an ultimatum, Rachel.”
“What was it?”
“You told him if he didn’t go to AA, that you’d leave him.”
This was someone she didn’t know. Didn’t want to know. No wonder she blocked it out. And she was good with it. She didn’t want to have the awful memories of her dad creep over into her loving memories of Scott.
But she might not have a choice, if it meant she could let him go and be free from the guilt she always felt. And maybe the guilt she felt was about Ruthie going with her dad that day, and not her. Maybe she only thought she felt guilt about Scott. It was all so confusing to her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Bah-Humbug
Rachel set her cup of hot chocolate down and went to answer the door. She figured it was Debbie from across the road. Maybe she’d forgotten one of the kid’s umbrellas when they came over to give Rachel a batch of cookies for Christmas. It was snowing pretty hard so they didn’t stay long. Caitlin was coughing softly and Rachel suggested she stay inside for a few days. It wouldn’t be difficult; tomorrow was Christmas. Rachel had tucked a card in Debbie’s mailbox last week, like every year, and anonymously put five hundred dollars inside it. She knew it would help out with presents.
“Dane, what are you doing here?” She pulled him inside. Snow had already covered the shoulders of his coat.
“Well, when I came out of the mall, it was only sputtering snow. It’s coming down harder, now.”
He stood on the rug in her foyer, gripping a red-foiled bag and shaking the snow from his head. She turned on the outside porch light and closed the door. The air was brisk and the snow swirled in the wind.
“I’m sure the roads are getting bad. Why are you here?”
He handed her the bag and stayed put.
“What is this? We exchanged yesterday at the office party.”
It was a sad party, indeed. It consisted of Michael, who was Jewish and sat quietly in the corner. Melinda, who wore jingl
e bell earrings and a tinsel hair band. Roz, the bookkeeper, who left three times to smoke on the back stoop. Sabrina didn’t even show up. And her and Dane, who exchanged gifts in his office before going out to join the others. It wasn’t anything big, just some cookies from the supermarket and a bottle of champagne. There wasn’t even a cheese tray. Melinda was lactose intolerant and “forgot” to pick it up.
“I know, but this is something small.”
“Did you like the tie? I figured since the other one looked so good on you, you could use another one.”
“So you liked the other one?”
She gave him a slight glare. He knew she did. “It was all right, I guess.” She turned off the foyer light. “Come in. Hang your coat up, and get warm by the fire.”
“I shouldn’t stay long. I don’t have four-wheel drive.” He said it while hanging up his coat.
She had gone into the coziness of her living room. The fire was crackling and shooting off sparks, her dog was settled back into his bed, and It’s A Wonderful Life, black-and-white edition, played on the television.
“Okay, Rach.”
She turned to him before falling into the cushions of the sofa with her bag. “What?”
“Umm…where is your tree? Your lights, something that indicates Christmas is tomorrow morning?”
She shooed him with her hand. “Psshhh. It’s for children. Who wants to drag a tree inside their house, pull out countless boxes of ornaments to decorate it, and then spend the next few weeks forgetting to remember to water it? Only to drag it back out to the curb and fight needles clogging your vacuum for the next week?”
“More than half of America. It’s a tradition. Are you kidding?” He searched her shelves, looking for something. “Nothing? Not even a cheap Santa or elf, anywhere?”
“Dane, I’m not twelve. I’m watching Christmas on television.” She pointed to her Jimmy Stuart and Donna Reed. “Doesn’t that count?” She put her hand on her hip. “You have one?”
“One, what?” He sat down next to her.
“A Christmas tree. Do you have one up?”
“Well no, but I have up other things. Like lights. My neighbors would hang me if I didn’t dress up my house. It would interfere with all the light lookers. They drive through every evening, just to look at the lights. But my mom has a tree. All girls are supposed to have trees.”
“I hear ya. But you’ve just met a girl who doesn’t. Now back to the present. You got me those cashmere gloves. They’re awesome. I wore them home.”
“Well, I’m glad you like them. This is just something I saw and wanted to get it for you.”
Under the red tissue paper was a blue velvet box. Her stomach dropped. She still had her suspicions after Collette told her he only pecked a kiss on her cheek that night. Albeit, he was fun and charming, but a little “distracted,” she had reported.
“Open it. Go on.” He hiked up his leg on the seat and watched her intently.
A heavy sigh escaped her. “Dane, why did you do this?”
“They were giving them out and I thought ‘what the hell.’”
She smiled at him. “Yeah, right.”
She slowly opened the box. It was a crystal heart pendant, surrounded by a thin edging of gold. It looked delicate, hanging from the thin gold chain. She held the crystal in her hand and with the other, she stretched out the chain. “It’s absolutely the most beautiful necklace I’ve ever seen. In fact, I’ve never seen anything like it. I love it, Dane.”
She put it on her lap and gave him a hug. He was wearing the same cologne as the night they danced at Jake’s. The strength of it was getting mixed in with his own smell. Something she found herself liking. His beard brushed her cheek when she pulled away.
“Here, I can put it on you.” He took it from her and undid the clasp.
She turned around and held up her hair.
***
Her neck was flawless, almost angelic. Soft and white, with tiny curls at the nape. His hands began to shake and he couldn’t fit the clasp together. He moved in for a closer smell while she was unable to see what he was doing. It was faint, but it drew him in for a better whiff. He closed his eyes, imagining he was able to do more than just inhale her.
“Are you having trouble?” She turned her head sideways to ask him.
“No, I got it.”
She turned back around and showed it off. “How does it look?”
His eyes never left hers when he answered. “Simply beautiful.”
He must have said something wrong because she kept quiet and walked to the mirror. “Thank you again. I really love it.”
He shouldn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve. He never used to have a problem with that. In his younger days, he rotated women—he didn’t even know their last names or occupations. But Rachel was different. A different class of her own. She didn’t let him get by with anything. He grew to like it. By the time he knew he loved it, along with her, she was engaged to his best friend.
“Well, I’m glad. I guess I’ll get going. Do you have any plans for tomorrow? It’s Christmas, Rach.”
She put her hand in her back pocket and leaned against the wall. “I know that, Dane. I don’t have anything pressing, no. I’m sure Mom will call and put me on speakerphone for the family to all wish me Merry Christmas.” She raised one of her fingers. “Which brings me to a favor.”
“We are all caught up on favors, Rachel. No more dates.” He was at the door, pulling up his boots. He figured she still felt uncomfortable with him hanging around, and the snow was coming down pretty hard.
“No, it isn’t a date. It’s a mission of mercy. I have to go home for New Year’s and Mom is planning to parade all the single men in the fifty-square-mile radius to our house. She promises she’s not, but I’ve been fooled before by her.”
“How could I help?”
“You could fly with me, all expenses paid, to Savannah, Georgia and pretend to be interested in me.” She quickly added, “Not like wildly interested, just like smile at me and seem fond. No, that’s a better word. Fond of me. That way there wouldn’t be any questions asked later, should you want to hook up with Collette. She’ll be there, too, you know?”
As if that were a bonus bargaining chip. She could keep it; she had him at “fly with me.” He’d go anywhere with Rachel.
Before he could answer, she talked herself out of it. “You know what, never mind. I’ll just tell her I’m not interested. She doesn’t even believe me about therapy. I told her I stopped going because I’m better. It’s like I have to prove myself to her for everything.”
“Rachel.” He held her by the arms, trying to stop her one-person conversation. “I’d love to go. I haven’t been out of Connecticut for two years. And, I’ve never been to Savannah.”
“Okay, but only if you want to.”
He laughed and pulled the door open. “Oh no!”
Rachel went and stood next to him. Her hair brushed his cheek as she pushed him aside to see. “Dane, you’ll never make it out of my driveway.”
The snow had accumulated fast. There was already two inches on her light pole. His sports car would never make it out of her neighborhood.
It looked as if she’d have overnight company. It couldn’t have been a better Christmas present for him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Closure
Rachel opened the back window curtains and turned on the spotlights outside. The snow flurried past the light, piling on the back handrail. Peaceful and quiet. Which was the opposite of what was about to go down on the living room couch, under the covers. Rachel agreed to share the blanket, provided he didn’t hog them. She was chilly from watching the snow outside.
Dane pulled the covers. She tugged back. He pulled more aggressively. “Dane!”
“What?” He asked like an adolescent boy getting scolded from pulling his sister’s hair. “I’m not doing anything.”
At that time, he had the entire blanket on him and she sat exposed to t
he open air.
“Close the curtains if it makes you cold.”
“But I want to see the snow. Now give back the covers.” She pulled at them, but he had tucked them around his body.
She got up and attempted to pull them off, straddling him in the process. He watched, barely moving by her attempts to reclaim her blanket. She stopped and looked at him, suddenly realizing she was on top of him, dangerously close and caught in his stare.
“I’ve got to go to bed, anyway. It’s past midnight.” She pushed herself off and stood up.
“All right, party pooper. Here’s your blanket.” He handed it to her.
“No, really. It’s late and everyone knows that Santa won’t stop if he sees your lights on.” She smiled at him before she went to the kitchen.
“So am I going to bunk out here on the couch, or what?” He leaned on the counter, watching her swig from the orange juice container. “Do you own glasses? Maybe that’s what I could’ve told Michael to get you.”
“Smartass.” She smirked and took another drink.
“Eww…this is definitely a side I’ve never seen. What else have you got? A tattoo? A belly button piercing? Rachel Miller cursing? On Christmas Eve, no less?”
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I pole dance on the weekends, too. That’s why I was against weekend hours at the office. My stage name is Rockin’ Rachel.”
He smiled.
His eyes were telling her something. Something she wanted to know. “No, actually, you’ll have to share my bed. I don’t like people sleeping on the couch—it makes it lumpy.”
He obviously couldn’t read her. Cat got his tongue. She needed to be more playful; she found it to be more fun than she imagined.
“Are you serious?” He began to follow her down the hall.
She turned halfway around. “Sure, but I hope you don’t mind. My washer’s broken and I haven’t got a thing to wear. You have no problem with nudity, do you?” She answered for him. “Of course you don’t. You’re a doctor. You probably see at least five naked women a week, right? What’s one more?”
The Secret He Keeps Page 18
