“But you and Mirabelle were friends; you’d known each other for years. Didn’t you confront her? How could she do that to you?”
“I guess there are some things girlfriends just don’t talk about, Cara. And this was one of them. Mirabelle and I went way back. We had been friends as long as I could remember. Just like you and Melanie.” Her words caught Cara like a punch to the gut, quick and hard. She was standing on Mel’s front steps again, listening to her friend confess about the affair she’d been having with Garin.
“I’m sure his wife thinks so . . .”
Mel’s words mocked her, laughing.
“When I caught them, I told Mirabelle that I’d be happy to let the entire town know about her relationship with Dermott. See, I knew he wasn’t the prominent doctor her husband was, and that he didn’t have anywhere near the money that her mama and daddy had, and that he didn’t run in the social circles that she did. And I knew that letting her little secret out would hurt Mirabelle more than anyone else. She had a reputation to protect, an image to keep up. And Dermott didn’t figure into that any way you cut it.”
Cara took a deep breath, absorbing what she’d heard. Mirabelle? And Dermott? Implausible, crossed her mind. Impossible, even. She watched Bea carefully, every move she made, the meticulous way she stacked and shuffled the cups just so. She didn’t figure Bea had any reason to lie about the past, especially with Dermott gone. But it was almost too unthinkable to believe, too unrealistic to imagine.
“Dermott didn’t take too well to my butting in, of course. He never blamed Mirabelle for leaving him; he blamed me for breaking up his little fantasy. But I had my daughter and a roof over my head, and well, hell, I could endure pretty much anything beyond that. As for Mirabelle, we found our way back, somehow.”
Cara took a deep breath, stunned. She leaned against the countertop and shook her head in disbelief.
Even now, all these years later, you could hear it in Bea’s voice, how much she must have hated Dermott for doing this to her.
“But what happened, Bea? What made you finally leave?” Cara placed a hand on Bea’s arm, quite near her wrist. The older woman jumped, startled.
Bea stared through the partly open door, into the sterile hall where a few people were still milling about. Most had come from Bea’s work, a paper mill on the far side of town where Bea handled the office administration. They didn’t know Dermott, had met him only once or twice before his cancer had become so debilitating that Bea had to cut her hours down to twenty a week just so she could take care of him.
Her eyes appeared dead, lifeless. “I’m not sure when, really, that they started seeing each other again. Dermott was drinking a lot then, and you know Mirabelle always liked to tie one on. It was a tough time for her, her marriage had really begun to unravel, her mother had died suddenly, things weren’t as easy as they’d been. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. The fact of the matter is that they were together again. At first I didn’t believe it, you know. I had forgiven Mirabelle; we had moved on. But I was wrong. I was always wrong about these things. Mirabelle did everything she could to hide it from me, but in the end even that was impossible.
“He wanted a divorce, Cara. He came to me one day and just told me straight up that he was in love with Mirabelle and that he wanted me to give him a divorce. He thought he’d finally convinced her to leave her husband and he’d gotten an apartment and he wanted me to just sign away my life with him. I mean Dermott wasn’t perfect, far from it. But he was all I’d ever had, all I’d ever had to count on. You know, Mel’s daddy was gone before I even had the chance to tell him that I was pregnant. And here was Dermott telling me that he was done, too.”
Bea’s voice was unsteady and shaky. Cara listened to her and thought of her own life, her own situation with Jack, the way he’d discarded her for someone else.
“I couldn’t, of course. Not willingly. I was angry with Dermott, angrier still at Mirabelle. Furious, actually. I was sick to my stomach to think about the lies that woman had told, one lined up right after the next. I told him the answer was no; that I wouldn’t give him the divorce he wanted and that I wouldn’t make it so easy on the two of them. I told him I wouldn’t go down without a fight. A fight for every stinking dollar that he had and then some of Mirabelle’s, too. I didn’t care. I tried everything, Cara, really I did. I would have given anything to make sure that those two didn’t end up together.”
“Bea?” Cara stopped her suddenly. “Did my mother know? My God, did Joan know about all of this?”
“Truth be told, Cara, I have no idea. But I don’t think so. Not right away, anyhow. But then Dermott moved out. In the end, you know, he made his choice. He picked her over us and he left. You might remember Mel telling you about that. He had rented an apartment and he packed up his things and he left. Oh, I don’t think Mel ever realized why he’d gone, or who he wanted to be with, but one day we came home to an empty closet and a note with his new number, no explanation, no apology. Just a note and his new number.”
“God, Bea, I had no idea. All these years and none of us ever knew.”
“I moped around for a week or so. I never left the house, that whole time. All I remember, really, was crying. That and Mel coming in and out of the house every now and then, to and from school, sort of surviving on her own. She didn’t get it, really. She kept good watch over me, but she didn’t have much to say about the whole thing. She never really had a lot to say about it.
“I knew there was really only one thing I could do to make sure that Dermott and Mirabelle wouldn’t be together. There was no way Mirabelle would take Melanie. She’d barely wanted Leah, and, Christ, compared to Leah, Mel was like a wild animal. She was untrained, unrefined, unkempt. I loved her to death, but she certainly wasn’t Mirabelle’s cup of tea, and she’d certainly put a crimp in her style. It was a gamble, but I had to take it.
“I left one morning just after Mel had gone to school. I packed everything I could, every stitch of clothing, every pair of shoes, just to make a point. I figured that Mel would call Dermott and Dermott would be forced to come home. And I figured that once he got home, he’d come to his senses and call me. It was cruel and selfish, I know that now, but it was all I had. And by that time, well, I was a little out of my tree, anyway.”
“But Dermott never called you,” Cara whispered, her eyes distant and focused on the past. They had been in ninth grade, the start of their freshman year, when Mel had come to school, devoid of makeup or any signs of life, really. She was pale and sorrowful, fear and worry washing over her in giant waves.
“No. Dermott never called. I knew he could hold a mean grudge. And I knew he had to be very, very angry with me for leaving. But still, I figured Dermott didn’t want to deal with a daughter on his own, especially one that wasn’t really his in the first place. At least with me around, there was someone to take care of Melanie. He had to call eventually, I figured he just had to.”
“It was hell for Melanie then, Bea. It was pure hell living in that house,” Cara said, not willing to let Bea off the hook. “Dermott got really, really mean, really, really fast.”
“He was mad, Cara. Mad at me for leaving. Mad at Mirabelle for turning her back on him. I had been right about Mirabelle; she didn’t want anything to do with raising another child, certainly not someone like Mel. There wasn’t any way she was going to get all wrapped up in the problems he had at home. He thought he’d finally won, that he was going to finally get her to come and live with him, and in the end she never moved out, she just wouldn’t do it. My plan worked; they wouldn’t be together.” She heaved a sigh then, relief pouring out even now. “But I never realized the toll it would take. I never counted on Dermott holding out for so long. Or what he might have done to my girl.”
“He was drinking a lot then. Mel used to tell us that he’d come home from one bar or another drunk every night. Dermott had women over all the time, crazy sluts who would follow him home and treat Mel like she was a seco
nd-class citizen. God, those were some bleak days, really, really dark.”
“It wasn’t easy for me, either, Cara. I had no job; no place to go. I shuffled from one place to the next trying to figure out what I could do, where I could go to start over. I kept thinking that if I could just settle down in one place and save a little money, I would send for Melanie. And then Dermott could have whatever he wanted with Mirabelle; they could live whatever life they decided worked for them. By that time I’d realized how foolish I’d been, and how badly I wanted my girl back. Dermott and Mirabelle could go to hell. Melanie was all that really mattered to me then. I never should have left her; never.”
“What happened?”
“By the time I finally got settled, Mel had left; she’d moved in with you. I felt like such a failure. Your mother was the one to tell me, actually. Dermott wouldn’t take my calls. He told me to fuck off, that I’d dug my own grave. And to be honest with you, he wasn’t half-wrong. I’m the one who walked out; I’m the one who left. It was what Dermott did to Melanie that drove her away, but it was my fault for leaving in the first place.”
“My mother knew where you were? All that time? But she never told Melanie, Bea. Why didn’t she tell her?”
“I have Mirabelle to thank for that, of course. Mirabelle convinced your mother that someone like me didn’t deserve her child back. Don’t blame your mother, Cara. She had Mel’s best intentions in mind. And she was probably right, anyway. I’m the one who had left; I’m the one who abandoned my daughter. Thank God for your mother, thank God she kept her.”
Cara was speechless. She slumped against the kitchen counter, her legs tired and her lower back aching. It was a lot to digest, the years that had passed them by, and the questions that for so long had gone unanswered. And her own mother had known all along, all this time, where Bea had disappeared to. And yet she’d not said a word. She’d kept Mel safe and sheltered, but she’d never handed her back over.
Cara thought about Katie, the way Mel had taken her in without any hesitation, without any question. She’d known what Katie had needed, automatically, even when Cara couldn’t fix what was wrong for her. Mel had said to Cara, “She’ll be back, Cara, you realize that, don’t you? She’ll be back.”
“Why haven’t you told Melanie, Bea? How could you go this long without telling her? All these years she’s been left wondering, recovering, actually. So much happened to her then, so much of what shaped her life. Dermott raped her. Don’t you understand that? Dermott took all that anger he had for you, all that frustration and poured it into one fateful day. Everything changed for Mel when you left, everything you left in your wake.”
Bea shook her head, turning away. She busied herself at the sink, steam rising from the full blast of hot water she’d forced on at the faucet. She was scrubbing an already-clean pan, a glass dish that a casserole had been brought in. Her back arched, her shoulders set at an angle, she was unmovable, unshakable.
“Bea?” Cara tried to no avail. “Bea?”
Outside the propped door, voices rose and swirled in conversation, people leaving, others arriving, lives carrying on. Cara studied the foyer, on the lookout for Mel.
“Bea, please,” Cara said again, a little more urgency in her voice.
Nothing.
Cara supposed this was the end of their conversation, at least for the meantime. She wondered what Bea expected her to do with the information, the secrets, she had imparted on her. She wondered if it was Bea’s intention that Cara be the one to tell Melanie the truth, to confess all the secrets that she had so carefully tucked away. Cara removed the apron she was wearing, lifting it over her head and folding it into a compact square that she left on the countertop next to the sink where Bea continued to scrub at the pan, determined to work away the very last of the residue.
Outside, humidity hung like a wet blanket and the greasy smell of fried clams from Long John Silver’s drifted into the parking lot. Cara walked the lot, dodging in between cars to find Melanie.
Smoke was swirling around Mel’s head when Cara approached, remnants from the cigarette she was holding in one hand while gesturing wildly. She was on her cell, her voice low and soothing, and Cara figured she must be talking to Garin until she heard her say into the receiver, “Get as much rest as you can; you’re going to need it. We’ll be home on Friday, don’t worry so much about everything. I’ll bet you have a month’s worth of casseroles in the freezer, don’t you? A whole month’s worth.”
Mel clicked her cell phone shut and stubbed out her cigarette against the cement curb. Cara offered her a hand, pulling her to her feet.
“Paige?” Cara asked, surprised because it wasn’t like Mel to spend a great deal of time on the phone with their friend.
“Yeah,” Mel nodded, crushing the last of her cigarette with the toe of her stiletto.
“Is she okay? Is everything okay?”
“She’s fine. She wants us home,” Mel said, linking her arm in Cara’s. “She doesn’t want to have this baby without us there. God, Cara, can you imagine having a baby at forty-two? Your first baby? I barely had enough energy when I was a teenager and she’s going to have a brand-new baby. Seriously, I don’t know what she was thinking. This has got to be the most ridiculous thing someone would do. Forty-two?” Mel looked at her sideways, rolling her eyes.
They walked back toward the brick building, the streetlights sputtering on one right after the other on the expressway. Gnats danced in the shadows; across the street, bats began to dodge between the trees in an empty field.
“We’ve got to hightail it out of this crap-ass piece of town, Cara. I’m done with it.”
Cara shuddered despite the much-too-warm night. She was done, too. She’d heard enough, been privy to more than what she’d planned for. She and Mel stood outside the main glass doors to the mortuary and stared out at the single-file line of cars on the highway, people leaving town. Commuters going home for the night, passing through Shelbyville without blinking.
“Tomorrow,” Cara said, rubbing her arms, and then turned to look at Mel. “Let’s go tomorrow instead of Friday. We can leave in the afternoon, after the service. There’s nothing to stay here for anymore.”
Mel took a deep breath and let it out in a burst. “There was nothing to come for in the first place.”
As far as Cara could tell, nothing good could come from telling Mel about Dermott and Mirabelle. Just like her own mother, Cara decided to keep Bea’s secret—a secret that could have revealed so much. It was all ancient history now, buried with Dermott, Cara thought as she reached forward to throw a handful of dirt on Dermott’s grave. Good riddance.
On takeoff, Cara studied the ground below. The people, cars, houses, fields, rivers, lakes, all getting smaller and smaller until they disappeared altogether, blurred by distance. Lies left behind.
Instead, she concentrated on her children, her family, the life she had to go home to. All of it came clearly into view when they landed. She thought about pulling Katie into her arms, her daughter stiff and rigid because she was unsure about what it meant to be home again. She thought about breaking up an argument between Will and Luke, a silly spat that would have sent them screaming at each other over Cheerios at the breakfast table. She thought about tucking Claire into bed, the sweet strawberry smell of her just-shampooed hair, and Claire’s endless stream of questions about Jack and Barbie’s new baby. She thought about how overwhelming it had all felt when she left and yet how welcoming it all looked as she was headed for home.
“Do you feel better, Mel? Was it what you wanted?”
“Nah.”
“No? Oh, honey, why not? It was such a long way to go to come back feeling like you hadn’t made your point.”
“I wasn’t searching for vindication, Cara. Not really. I never really believed Bea would be able to stomach the truth, anyway.”
“Why did you go then?” Cara asked.
Mel thought on her question, turning it around in her head. “Dunno
, actually. I really don’t. Something called me there; carried me. Maybe I thought there would be an answer, some sort of reason why. I guess I thought that after all this time, what with Dermott finally gone from all our lives, finally Bea would be able to be straight with me.”
“Would it have mattered?” Cara asked tenuously, careful not to let on what she knew.
“No. Probably not.”
They touched down just before seven. At Baggage Claim, near the carrier that was spewing luggage piece by piece onto the conveyor belt, Garin stepped forward through the crowd and simply said, “Mel.”
Melanie looked nothing like herself. She wore no makeup and her glasses were perched on the end of her nose. Her hair was limp and lifeless and she was dressed in an old, unflattering sweat suit. Lines crept around her eyes, making her look older than she felt, and she already felt ancient. She needed a bath, a long, hot, soak in deep water. And she craved sleep, equally as deep.
But he stood in front of her, clean-shaven and mesmerizing, still and reassuring. He wore jeans and a white oxford, a black belt, sunglasses. His hands were sunk low in his pockets.
Mel took two small steps forward and he caught her in both arms, low at the waist until she collapsed against him.
Cara heard him say to her, “You’re home. You made it home.”
And Cara thought about how much he really must love Mel, in his own way, in a way that worked for them.
They parted after that, Mel and Garin going north to the city, and Cara in a taxi set out for home.
Home. She longed for every aspect of it as if finally being here wasn’t even enough. She’d lived her entire life here, knew the intricate characteristics of neighborhoods that ran into the neighborhoods that bordered others. Every aspect of who she was had been developed here, save for the few years she’d spent in college when she lived in Southern California. Her marriage had started and ended here, her children had been born here.
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