Indian Summer

by lanie love

  “Why is it Jane’s fault that her mother died?”

  “Died?” The word comes out in a nasty hiss. “Is that what they told you she did? They told you she died?” He pours another drink, this time, with an unsteady hand. “That makes it sound so peaceful, so tranquil, so… mundane, even, compared to what really happened to her.”

  “What the hell happened?”

  “It was Rose’s birthday.” He spits out her name. “We were having a party. Barbara was so excited. She spent weeks going over every detail. She made Rose a dress. It was one of those pretty princess fancy ones like they wear at Disneyland. I told her to just go buy one of those damn regular ones they sell in every store, but no, that just wouldn’t do. It had to be special for her little girl, and she was right, it was a beautiful dress. The party was about to start, so Barbara went to her bakery to get Rose’s cake. She was afraid that if she’d brought it in any sooner, it would ruin the surprise. I remember that moment so clearly now, right before she left. She said something to me before she walked out the door, but I couldn’t hear what it was. She was drowned out by Nate and that record player he insisted on blaring at full volume. She blew me a kiss and then turned around and left.”

  “Did she make it back in time?”

  “I kept calling the bakery, but there was no answer.” His stare is far away, reliving what happened more than telling it. “It was closed that day because of the party. I knew something was wrong after an hour had passed and she didn’t return. Our neighbor was a cop, so he sent a car over to check the bakery, taking the route she always took. I thought maybe her car broke down or something. It was an Edsel. The damn thing was so unreliable and the gas pedal would stick. I tried to make her get rid of it, but she loved it so much. It was the first thing that came to mind when she didn’t come home. That’s usually what you think, right? No big deal, just some type of car trouble.”

  “But that wasn’t the case, was it?”

  “They found her in the back room. She had been robbed, raped, and beaten to death.” He chokes on his words, covering his mouth to keep in a sob that wants to escape his throat.

  “Dear, God.” My heart aches for Nathan and Jane and even a little for him, but my question is still left unanswered.

  “I understand now how Bernadette weaseled her way in. She’s good at preying on the vulnerable. What I don’t get is why you allowed her to torture Jane.”

  “Because it was her fault I lost my Barbara Rose.”

  “You blamed Jane for her mother’s tragedy?”

  “Yes, I blame her. If it wasn’t for that spoiled little brat, my Barbara would have just had a nice simple homemade cake. She wouldn’t have had to go to the bakery that day. She would be here today.”

  “You don’t know that. And even if that is the case, how in the hell do you twist a mother trying to do something special for her little girl’s birthday into something so horrible?”

  “She was horrible. She was a rotten child who needed to be taught a lesson and Bernadette was just the person to do it.”

  “Are you telling me that you allowed Bernadette to torture Jane? You wanted to punish her for her own mother’s murder?”

  “You’re damn right I wanted to punish her. I wanted her to suffer as much as I was suffering because of her. I wanted her to feel every ounce of pain she caused me.”

  “Good Lord, Dick, you are a sick bastard.” I’m trying to keep myself from throwing up in disgust at the sight of him.

  “I love my daughter.” He says, with a shake of his head, not being able to stand himself. “A part of me knew I was wrong. When she would cry for me to comfort her, I wanted to, Lord knows, I did, but every time I looked at her, all I saw was her mother and what she’d done to her. I would get so angry that I’d hand her over to Bernadette.”

  “My God.” I get up from my chair to walk the room. It’s taking everything in me not to bash that bottle over his head and finish him off.

  “I was torn.” He’s talking more to himself at this point than to me. “One day I had a moment of clarity. Rose ran to me and I picked her up in my arms. She told me about some bug that scared her. She said that she’d been calling for me to help her all night. ‘Why didn’t you come, Daddy,’ she asked me. ‘You used to come and get the scary bugs all the time to make me not scared. Why didn’t you come, Daddy?’ She wanted me to take her away. I told her I was sorry and I was. I told her that Daddy would make it all better.”

  “But you left her with Bernadette. Jane remembers that. You handed your scared little girl over to her tormentor.”

  “I left her with Bernadette.” His lower lip starts to tremble, before he wipes it with his hand. “But when I got to work I had my secretary call her brother to come and check on his sister. It’s not my fault it took him so long to get there.” I roll my eyes when he takes some pride in doing that. Like that one act makes up for what he allowed to happen to Jane, for what he orchestrated in some sick revenge against her for his wife.

  “Going to hell would be too good for you, Dick.”

  “You think so, Mr. Self-Righteous?” He takes a folder from his drawer and tosses it on the desk so I can reach it. “Take a look at this and then say that to me again.”

  I open the folder and breathe out a prayer when I see the police photos of Barbara’s crime scene. I turn through picture after picture of her beaten body as she lay crumpled up on the cold floor in a pool of her own blood.

  “Did you ever tell Jane any of this shit?”

  “No.” He says to my relief. “Her brother would never forgive me, so I never told either of them. I just kept it to myself. I love Nate. That boy is my pride. I couldn’t let Bernadette get him. I knew she had a thing for young boys, so I put him away in school.”

  “And you’re proud of yourself for that?”

  “Damn right I am. And I gave him his sister. I didn’t fight him on the custody.”

  “Do you know Bernadette is harassing Jane now?”

  “I don’t talk much to my wife anymore. I don’t know what the hell she’s doing. Last I heard, she was spending her nights with her boss man’s fourteen-year-old son.”

  “You know I have to ruin you for this, don’t you, Dick? You know I have to make sure, the likes of you never hurt Jane again?”

  “I figured that was the case.” He says with a smile. “She’s lucky to have you, Michael. I always knew you’d be something special once you left Bernadette alone.”

  “I wish I could say the same for you.”

  “I’ve been waiting over ten years to make this right. I always thought it would be Rose herself that came to me, but it’s right that it’s you. You can help soften the blow of all of this for her. Now, if you’re smart, and I know that you are, you will never tell her any of this shit. I think I’ve hurt her enough, don’t you?”

  “So now I’m the one to carry your filthy little secret.”

  “And that’s my ‘fuck you’ to you.” He laughs at me, before turning serious again. “Does she need anything else from me?”

  “Just one thing.” I say. “That.” I point to the picture of Barbara Rose. “I know both Jane and Nathan would want it. It will go a long way in righting your wrong.”

  He turns on his shredder and begins to shred the crime scene photos. I wait, ready to attack if he even looks like he’s going to shred the picture of her.

  “I hope it brings them some type of peace.” He says, handing me the photo. “She has done nothing but haunt my every moment.”

  “That’s the least you deserve, seeing as how you’ve nearly destroyed her daughter. But you didn’t succeed, Dick. Jane is strong. She lives and she loves and she has peace in her life. If Barbara Rose was anything like her daughter, I feel sorry for you and what you lost in her, but nothing excuses the horrendous way in which you chose to deal with it.”

  He nods his head unfazed. I move to leave, but as I open the door, the bastard calls to me.

  “Whatever sympathy you fee
l for me is ill-placed.” I hear him say and stop to listen. “You see, I didn’t just allow Bernadette to torture my daughter. I forced her to do it.”

  I leave his office without acknowledging his final words to me, but they are coursing through my veins like poison. I sprint to the car dealership’s main floor where I left Kyle waiting for me. I need to get out of here before I do something I know deep down I won’t regret. Kyle, seeing me coming, gets up to meet me with concern on his face. I shake my head to let him know I left Dick the way I found him. And that’s when we hear it.

  Kyle and I just stand there staring at each other, knowing what that sound meant. The receptionist, the security guard, and a few of his car salesmen that are around, race to his office to investigate. Kyle and I wait for what we know is coming. That gut-wrenching scream you hear when someone discovers something unimaginably heinous.

  Bastard that he was, left me with the burden of being the last one he spoke to before he ate his gun. Knowing him, I’m sure he planned it that way. Then the realization of what he’d said hits me cold. All of the strength leaves my legs and they buckle, sending me to the floor.

  He didn’t plan for it to be me. He was waiting for Jane.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Indian Summer 1968

  Michael

  Kyle and I stay until the police arrive. Being the last person to see Dick alive, I knew I would be a person of interest. I answer their questions honestly and to their satisfaction. Seeing as how I was standing in a room full of witnesses when the gun was fired, they allowed me to return to LA with the understanding that I would come back to San Francisco should the need arise. The investigation delayed me and I had to reschedule my flight, but it gives me time to say hello to some old ghosts that have been haunting me recently.

  “Hello, Bernadette.” I say, as she yells through her door for me to state my business. “Are you going to let me in?”

  “Have you come here to hurt me?” She slants her eyes skeptically at me through the door she cracked open at the sound of my voice.

  “Do I have a reason to hurt you?” I push the door open, knocking her out of the way.

  “It was all Dick’s doing.” She says, her eyes are wide, matching her dramatic demeanor. She’s worse than the soap opera actresses that Mom loves to watch so much. All she needs now is the suspenseful music to go along with it.

  Ignoring her, I walk into the small living room. It’s modest and drab. A far cry from the estate she once shared with Dick in Beverly Hills when I knew her then. The same can be said for the woman standing before me. Gone is the beauty I thought I was so devoted to not so long ago. Now, she is just a tired, run-down version of who she once was. Time has not been kind to her.

  “I am aware of that. But do you expect me to believe that you received no enjoyment out of torturing a small defenseless child?”

  “None.”

  “Bull.”

  “It’s true. I had no use for her. I had you and all the others.”

  “Jane was locked away in that house while you and I...” I stop when I feel myself losing control. “Was she there the whole damn time you and I were together?”

  “It wasn’t long before her brother came and got her. I swear.”

  “And the men you let hurt her?”

  “Dick wanted her to suffer. He was a sick son of a bitch. I didn’t have the stomach for it any longer.”

  “So, you let them do it for you.”

  “I had no choice.” She says. “Dick threatened to tell them what I was doing to you. I couldn’t go to jail, Michael.”

  “You are a sick, twisted bitch. You disgust me. Why the hell shouldn’t I end you right now?”

  “Look at me.” She says in fear, thrusting her arms out away from herself so I can see her better. “Look around you. I have nothing. I’m a shadow of who I once was. You can’t hurt me anymore than my life already has.”

  “Your life hasn’t stopped you from torturing Jane.”

  “I haven’t been in contact with her since she’s been with her brother. Dick never told me where she was and I didn’t want to know. If anyone was torturing her, it was Dick. He is obsessed with her. He will do anything to get her to see him again. He’s probably beckoning her to him.”

  “He’s dead now, Bernadette. Did you know he was going to kill himself?”

  “I’m the one that bought him the gun.” She grins, then goes into the kitchen and brings back a bottle of champagne. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this day. That bastard’s worth more to me dead than he ever was alive.”

  “Enjoy your new-found wealth. But I’m warning you. If we even get a postcard that looks suspicious, the devil himself won’t be able to save you from me.”

  She stops fumbling with the champagne cork to look at me. My stomach turns in a wretched flip-flop when her eyes roam over my body. God help me, I need to get the hell out of San Francisco before I do commit murder.

  ****

  Kyle and I get a Pan Am flight out early morning. The car ride home is spent with me trying to think of the best way to tell Jane about her father. Should I bear the brunt of his confession and never tell her the truth? What if I tell her, will she be able to process it and then move past it? If she finds out some other way, will she ever forgive me for keeping it from her? How do I tell her that her father sent her that package to try and lure her to him so that he may do God knows what to her? As I fling the front door open, I’m no closer to the answers I seek.

  My troubles leave me the instant my eyes land on her lying on the couch. She’s on her stomach, flipping through a magazine, and the pink and yellow flowered dress she has on barely covers her rear end. Her feet are bare and her legs are up swinging in time to Natural Woman. She’s so carefree and light, just how she should always be. My heart skips a beat when she starts to sing along with Aretha Franklin. She turns her head, catching sight of me, and the smile she gives makes every inch of me yearns to keep it on her beautiful face.

  “You’re back!” The magazine goes flying to the floor when she gets up to come running into my arms. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too, Sweetheart.” I lift her up and hold her tight. The smell of her hair and the feel of her body pressed into mine soothes my soul. She barely lets me get settled in before she starts asking questions I’m afraid to give answers to especially, when I hear Nathan isn’t here.

  “So.” She says, looking at me expectantly, after we settle on the couch. She’s wondering why I’m not telling her what I know she’s been waiting to hear. “What did he say?”

  “Jane, I really don’t know how to tell you this.”

  “What is it?”

  “There is news about your father, but I think I should talk to Nathan first, or at least wait until he comes home.”

  “Just say it, Michael.”

  “Your father, something terrible happened to him, Sweetheart.”

  “What?” She says. Her pools of blue eyes search my face for any clue of what it might be.

  “He took his own life.” I say. She jerks her head back as my words hit her.

  “How?”

  “He shot himself in his office, right after I left.”

  “I...” she starts but doesn’t say anything more.

  “I’m sorry, Sweetheart. Are you okay?”

  “I think so. I really don’t know how to feel about this. I know I’m supposed to be sad that my father is dead, but I don’t know if I feel that way.”

  “You don’t have to figure out your feelings right now. There’s really no right way to feel. Whatever your feelings, or lack thereof, is okay.” I pull her into my arms and plant her next to me on the couch.

  “Where is he now? I mean, what are they going to do with him?”

  “I suppose that would be up to Bernadette. If you want me to find out for you, I can.”

  “No.” She simply says. “Did you at least get the answers you wanted.”

  “We talked.” My muscles tense
, holding her tight and kissing the top of her head.

  “Just tell me.”

  “Jane, I don’t see the point in telling you any of this. It was a mistake me going there. You were right.”

  “But you did go and now you know something. You can’t just un-know it. I need to know and you have to tell me, or it will be between us now.”

  “I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but your father was a manipulative bastard and I don’t believe a word he said.” I try and reason, but she’s not having any of it. “It’s only going to hurt you.”

  “I’m sure it will, but it would hurt me more to have this come back and get me later. What if Bernadette knows? What if he planned something to be given to me after his death? It will be just like it was with the roaches. Please Michael, don’t leave me exposed to be hurt again. At least this way, I will have some kind of defense.”

  “You’re right, Sweetheart. I will tell you, but I would feel so much better if we could wait for Nathan.”

  “It’s that bad, huh?”

  “It’s just…”

  “You’re scared I might go all spaced-out quiet on you again. I promise you I won’t. I’m prepared. If it becomes too much to hear, I will ask you to stop. Just trust me.” I nod, giving her a minute to prepare herself before I begin again.

  “Your father, he talked about your mother and the day she died…” I’m racking my brain, trying to think of a way to spin this to make it tolerable, but I come up with nothing.

  “Go on.” She gently prods me as she takes my hand. She’s supporting me through this when it should be the other way around.

  “She died on your birthday.” I say and she frowns, shaking her head.

  “I don’t remember.”

  “She made you a dress. It was a— “

  “A pretty princess dress.” She says. “I remember she took me to her office in her bakery and I tried it on for a fitting. I had to keep my eyes closed so I wouldn’t see it and spoil the surprise. I closed my eyes real tight.” She’s deep in her memory. She tightly closes her eyes now and smiles wide. “I made sure not to peek because she had promised to let me have one of the big oatmeal cookies she’d just made.” Her eyes snap open as she cries. I wipe at her tears. “I’d forgotten all about it. I used to try hard to remember her, but the memories would just cloud over. I can’t even remember what she looks like anymore.”