And there was something else. In an unlit corner of Maddie's heart was the fear that an investigation might come too close, scorching them all with its intensity, like an asteroid that brushes a planet. It might even score a direct hit, taking them all down in flames.
So she sat in a state of hushed ambivalence, wanting to know the truth, afraid of what the truth might do to her and the ones she loved.
She read the letters over Dan's shoulder, but mostly they were mundane—stuff about conferences and seminars and glowing referrals for bright students. Once in a while a letter to a news editor would scroll up: some wry and indignant blast over a zoning variance or proposed tax increase. Those letters she liked, because they were written in her father's voice—crusty, honest, candid.
Who was this cuckoo Joyce?
Dan broke the silence just once to ask, "Was your mother possessive of your father?''
"Somewhat," Maddie said pensively, "but not wildly so. In any case, it didn't bother my father at all. He accepted that women were jealous and possessive of their mates. He was an awful chauvinist that way."
And that was their only substantive exchange until the telephone rang at 2:00 a.m.
*****
Maddie wanted so much to believe them both, but by morning she was forced to admit the obvious: both her daughter and her ex-husband had conspired to lie to her.
Maddie felt utterly downhearted. She and Dan had spent their first night together in twenty years, and she'd blown it by brooding in his arms for the greater part of it.
Tired from her sleepless night, she propped her cheek on the palm of her hand as she stirred extra sugar into her coffee. "Why didn't I just go along with the don't ask, don't tell philosophy? I'd be so much happier now," she said, sighing.
"Are you that certain they weren't telling the truth?" Dan asked as he dropped two slices of bread in the toaster.
"Tracey's a rotten liar, and Michael's a great one. If you'd heard either of them last night, you'd know," Maddie told him. "She was out late at a party."
She watched him as he moved easily around the kitchen, filling his coffee cup, tending the eggs, searching the cupboards for dishes and jam. It was a small thing, his wanting to make breakfast, but she loved him for it.
"I don't deserve you," she said with a wistful smile.
"Hell, who does? But you're stuck with me anyway," he quipped.
They heard a thunk, the unmistakable sound of a newspaper being bounced off the front door. Dan grinned and said, "A night with you, and there's the Times. I can die happy now."
She watched him pad barefoot toward the hall to retrieve the paper. On his way out of the kitchen, he grabbed his T-shirt—undoubtedly to slow down the gossip. It was another small thing, but it was another reason to love him.
I feel as if we've been together all our lives. As if like Rip Van Winkle, I've awakened from a long nap and am picking up where I left off.
She loved him so much, trusted him even more. He was the only one, she realized with a jolt, that she could trust. No, that wasn't true. She was being unfair. But Michael ... Tracey ... even her father. ...
She looked up to see Dan entering the kitchen with an altogether sheepish look on his face. In the next instant, she saw why: Norah and Joan were tiptoeing in behind him.
"Good morning," said Norah, giving Maddie a sly smile that only she could see. "We just happened to be in the neighborhood."
"Don't you two ever knock first?" Maddie asked, amazed at their tenacity.
"Puh-leeze. We tried that once and you barred the door," Norah reminded her.
"Yeah," said Joan, pulling out a chair. "From now on we ransack first, get permission later."
Behind them, Dan winked good-naturedly to Maddie as he said politely, "Can I get you ladies something?"
"Coffee, thank you, black."
"Coffee, two sugars. Cream if you've got it, otherwise milk."
Norah seated herself with languid grace. She looked smartly turned out, as always, this time in nubby white linen shorts and a silk tank in impressionist pastels. Maddie admired her—as always—and yet for the first time, she noticed something missing, something wanting, in her friend's strikingly beautiful face.
Joy? Maddie knew that she herself must look like hell in her oversized T-shirt and Levi cutoffs, and yet she felt pretty. More than pretty. She felt sexy. Surgery scar, puffy eyes, unset hair and all.
Sounding brisk, Norah cut through her reverie. "I really do have a purpose here, other than catching you two barefoot." She glanced at Dan and added from under lowered lashes, "Although I have to say, stubble becomes you."
Dan reached for his chin and actually blushed, which prompted Maddie to step in. "Suppose you tell us why you're here, then, because right after that we plan to kick you out again."
Joan and Norah exchanged a ritual raising of eyebrows. Joan turned to Maddie with comically pruned lips and said, " 'We?' 'Us?' Excuse me, but when did you begin making decisions in tandem?"
Dan glanced at Maddie. Now? his look said. Are we going to tell them now?
Yes, Maddie decided. Why not? She gave him a look that said just that.
His face lit up like a high-school band. It gave Maddie incredible pleasure to realize how much he loved her, how much he wanted the world to know that he loved her.
Grinning like a dope, she blurted, "We're getting married!" She meant to sound dignified. She failed so badly.
There were squeals and screams, giggles and hugs. Three women, all of them entering middle age—and they sounded like teens hiding in the bathroom during their first social.
Norah said, "The wedding will be at my house, of course."
"It will not," Joan said, instantly getting her dander up. "It's got to be at Rosedale!"
"We haven't even talked about where we're going to—"
"Uh ... how about the lighthouse?"
"It might be on rollers and in transit soon; the money's pouring in for the move. When is the wedding, by the way?"
"Waitamminit! Where's the ring?"
"We haven't decided on a date ... have you, Mad?"
"Obviously I'd like it at Rosedale. But things have to smooth out with my family first."
"So what else is new?"
"I do not see a ring."
"We'll be your bridesmaids, of course. And Tracey will be a junior bridesmaid."
"Omigod. I'll have to lose twenty pounds."
"My little girl, a bridesmaid. That's amazing to me."
"I know a divine caterer. Just don't let him roll over you, Maddie. They can be petty dictators—"
"It's true that I'd love to be married in the garden. ..."
"What's wrong with my garden?"
"It's lovely, Norah, don't misunderstand. It's much more organized and striking than mine. But mine is—well, mine. And it's fragrant."
"The ring?"
"When does honeysuckle stop blooming, anyway?"
"Oh, y'know, Dan—that's a problem. I think the maple next door starts shading our garden in late summer, and the honeysuckle hardly ever flowers on the second bloom."
"Maybe we should get married while it's in the first bloom."
"I need more time than that! And if you two even think of eloping, I swear, Maddie, I'll have you dragged behind a buckboard all the way back from the chapel."
"That's what I told her. I said, no way will we elope. I want a band."
"You'll never get Duchin at this late date. Although, I heard a fabulous band at an affair last week. Not well known, but they can play anything, from swing to Strauss. They might have a shorter cancellation list. I'll make a call."
"I hope you're not going to be one of those modern couples who refuse to wear rings—"
"Do you suppose your neighbors'd let us cut down their maple? I feel fairly adamant about the honeysuckle."
"Dan, a minute ago you were willing to have the wedding at the lighthouse, where there's no honeysuckle at all."
"Yeah, but now that I t
hink about it."
"Ooh, their first fight, and here we are to see it! Norah, is your video camera still in the trunk? I think we should record this for—"
The phone at Joan's elbow chirped and she reached for it automatically. Still grinning, she answered with a cheery, singsong, "Rosedale cottage!"
And then her grin dropped away, replaced by a forced little smile. "Oh. Michael. Sure. She's right here."
Chapter 26
Maddie said quickly, "I'll take this in the other room," and left the three of them standing around in sudden, awkward silence.
Behind her she heard Norah speak first. "I came here to pick up the lighthouse slides that Maddie used in her presentation."
"She's just remembered some new photos; ask her about 'em."
And then Maddie was out of earshot, left to deal with a call that seemed out of the Twilight Zone.
Michael got straight to the point. "Well, well. It sounds like you're having a merry old time over there, so I won't keep you. I just wanted to 'fess up. Last night I had business that ran over schedule. I wasn't able to pick Tracey up from her party until much later than I'd planned, and then when she told me she'd promised to call you, well, I panicked. I told her to fudge the time we got back. I'm sorry. But I didn't want you getting your nose out of joint the way you always do—"
"So it was your idea? You got her to lie to me?"
Oh, how she didn't want this call!
"All I'm saying is don't blame Tracey. She was doing it for me, Maddie. To protect me."
"And you're telling me this—why? To make me feel better about your parenting skills?"
She couldn't help it. The sound of his voice, the perennial excuses, the candid, whining dishonesty—she was sensitized, no doubt about it.
And now came the petulance. "I said I was sorry," he muttered through obviously gritted teeth.
Mentally, Maddie was throwing up her hands. "What exactly do you expect me to do about this, Michael?"
"Nothing! That's the point! I don't want you taking it out on Tracey!"
"Then why put her in a position to lie in the first place?"
"I told you—! Oh, shit, you're not listening to a thing I say. Never mind."
She could feel her exasperation with him bubbling over. She didn't want to take potshots at him; ideally, she wanted nothing to do with him. Over the last four years she had made an effort, and had succeeded, in letting go of her anger at him. But he was still Tracey's father; she had no choice but to keep engaging in the same weary dialogue, call after call after call. They were prisoners of a failed marriage, bound to one another by the shackle of their child.
"I was prepared for Tracey to wheedle you into letting her stay late," Maddie said, dropping her voice low. "I was even prepared for her to lie about when she did get home. I wasn't surprised when you seemed to back her up. But I have to admit, Michael, it never occurred to me that you'd be the one to force her to lie."
He answered in one of his typical nonsequiturs. "What did you expect her to do?" he said. "Take a cab?"
"Where were you that you couldn't get her back until two in the morning? Obviously you weren't chaperoning the party. God only knows who was!"
She was assuming he'd been with a woman and was surprised when he said, almost eagerly, "I've been working on this project with Geoff Woodbine. It's a big, big deal and it went pretty well last night. The bunch of us went out for a few drinks afterward to celebrate."
"Oh, well! Why didn't you say so in the first place? I feel a lot better now! Geoffrey Woodbine? What in God's name have you got yourself into, Michael?"
The sound of his silence thundered in her ears.
"Calling to apologize was a mistake, I see," he said at last in a wounded voice. "I wanted to do the right thing ... I wanted to be aboveboard ... and this is your reaction. Screaming at me like a banshee."
"Michael, believe me, I'm not screaming." In fact, she was whispering. She'd be mortified if anyone in the kitchen overheard her end of the conversation. "Can I talk to Tracey, please?"
"She went off with a couple of girlfriends to the Common," he said sullenly.
"Michael! You let her go off on her own?"
"For chrissake, why not? It's broad daylight out!"
"That's not the point; she's supposed to be grounded except under supervision!"
"That was your idea. You raise her your way and I'll raise her mine! Damn! Why did I bother calling you? Because I was feeling bad ... feeling bad ... so I thought—"
He hung up. Without a good-bye, without having a clue what Maddie was trying to say, he hung up.
She really had fallen into the Twilight Zone, and now she found herself groping, trying to get out. On the one hand, everything Michael had said sounded more or less reasonable. On the other hand, it all felt desperately false and wrong. Was it her or was it him?
Despite the jarring call, Maddie wanted desperately to salvage some of the happiness she'd been sharing with Dan and her friends, so she took a deep breath, fluffed up her hair, and marched back out to the kitchen.
But it was obvious, even before she entered the room, that the mood had shifted. Norah, Dan, and Joan were speaking in quiet murmurs, the way they would at a wake for someone they didn't know well.
"Hey, sorry about the interruption," she said with a kind of brazen cheerfulness. "Where were we?''
It didn't work.
"Actually, we're going to leave you two lovebirds in peace," Norah said, setting her coffee mug in the sink. "I've invited a couple of fat cats over to my house for lunch, and before I shake them down for contributions, I thought I'd give them a special showing of the lighthouse dog-and-pony show. I'll need the slide carousel?"
"Oh ... sure ... it's on the desk in my bedroom. Dan, would you get it for Norah? And I'll run down to the basement and bring up my dad's photo album. I can't believe I forgot about the snapshots there."
By the time Maddie came back upstairs, Norah had the carousel in her arms and was standing with Joan at the Dutch door, acting as if she had a plane to catch. Maddie laid two thick photo albums on top of the slides and said, "The shots of the lighthouse being closed up are in one or the other of these; that year was a two-album summer."
Norah tried to lighten the mood by saying, "Your father was an amazing man. I don't know where he got all the energy—or the film."
Nonetheless, some of the pall that Michael's call had thrown over the group lingered as Norah kissed Maddie on her cheek, and then Dan. She had one hand on the screen door when she turned back to them and said in a pensive voice, "Don't you wonder why we're bothering to move the damn thing? It was in tough shape even before the lightning and the fire... and when you get right down to it, the entire Cape will be washed away in a few thousand years in any case."
After they left, Dan said, "Wow. Talk about mood swings. What just happened here?"
"Two words," Maddie said, whacking one of her hard-boiled eggs on the Formica counter. "Michael. Regan." She began peeling the shell away with tense little jabs. Her hand was shaking.
"They didn't want him to rain on our parade, I guess."
"Well, he did. I swear, the man truly is psychic. He knows exactly when I least want him around. Five'll get you ten that was him calling all day yesterday and then hanging up."
The egg had waited too long in its shell; it didn't want to peel gracefully. Maddie tore at it, muttering, "You sadistic little ovum—!"
"Here, here ... let me," Dan said, lifting the egg from her grip. "Sit down. Relax. You're angry and upset."
"I am, I am!" she admitted. She folded her arms across her chest and gnawed her lip as she stared at the checkerboard floor. "Oh, and I don't want to give in to it. I don't. You don't know how hard I've worked to put him behind me. Every minute I used to spend being angry at him was a minute less I could be happy about something else. I knew that. I know that. So why am I so helpless at times like these? Why do I let him still get to me?"
"Tracey?" Dan ven
tured as he shucked the egg of its shell. He dropped it in a bowl and started on the second.
"Tracey," Maddie agreed with a sigh. "Until she's grown up and making her own decisions. ..."
And then, because it was Dan standing there and not anyone else, she confessed to a truly dark wish. "If I just had total custody of her ... or if his weekend could somehow be supervised ...."
Dan turned and gave her a sharp look. "Is this still about his lax standards, or are we talking about something else?''
"I don't know," she had to confess. "I can't pin it down ... he's just ... different ... lately. Mood swings? It's almost an understatement to describe him. You saw how he was at the fund-raiser. He was that way just now on the phone. He's been plagued by headaches lately ... and he sometimes seems confused."
"So you're thinking ... what? Drugs?"
"I hope not," she said with a grim look as she took the bowl from him. "Here's what's really bothering me: he's involved in something with Geoffrey Woodbine."
"Woodbine! Like what?"
As she poked halfheartedly at her cold breakfast, Maddie explained Michael's lifelong fascination with the paranormal, and his fondness for pursuing different paths to self-discovery.
"His special fascination was with self-hypnosis," she told Dan. "He said it made him fully realize his talent as an artist. It sounded reasonable to me. I tried self-hypnosis myself a few times, but all I ever felt was relaxed. But Michael was into it in a very serious way. He said—"
She felt uncomfortable talking about Michael's private side with someone else, even Dan, and had to force herself to continue.
"Michael said that he could go anywhere when he was self-hypnotized. Into his ... his past lives, as well as to other places in the present. I think they used to call it 'astral projection,' but now it's called 'remote viewing'. "
She expected Dan either to laugh or act alarmed and was surprised when he did neither.
She added, "His—I don't know what to call it—hobby? used to bug the hell out of my father. But then, my dad was a scientist."
"A natural adversary," Dan agreed. "They'd view things differently."
A Charmed Place Page 27
