Blue Midnight (Blue Mountain Book 1)

by Tess Thompson

  Without sharing the details of our encounter (I’m not my mother, after all), I have to confess, making love at our age, with all our internal scar tissue and external sags and dips and imperfections, wasn’t quite like something depicted at the movies. Instead, we did our best with our creaky parts and our middle-aged fumbles, knowing that love was made in moments of vulnerability, not flawlessness. And so our lovemaking unfolded tender and imperfect, like our souls, which cannot be seen, only perceived. Afterward, he held me tightly against his chest and I heard the beating of his rapid heart, and a feeling of humility overcame me until I was nothing but my own beating heart. I’d given myself to him, as he had to me. Despite our battered and beaten hearts, we’d chosen to love again. What greater act of courage is there?

  Kevan and I fell briefly asleep. I dreamt of him. He stood before me, naked. A deep red scar like a burn victim’s disfigured his torso from shoulder to chest, ending just south of his heart. I placed my lips against the hardened, scarlet skin; my salty tears soaked into the damaged tissue and were absorbed like drops of rain on parched soil. How many kisses, how many tears until the scar disappears, I wondered? And then I awoke.

  ***

  We lay together on the bed. I pulled the sheet up over my chest, feeling self-conscious about the rolls of puckered skin on my stomach from having grown two babies, and turned on my side to gaze at him. He was on his back, looking at the ceiling. He turned his head to look at me and kissed my forehead. I told him of my dream.

  “It’s you, healing me,” he said. “Of all the wounds left behind.”

  I nodded and remained quiet. Some statements do not require additional words.

  “I’m going to tell Rori the truth when she comes home,” he said.

  “I’ll be here when you’re done.” I kissed the sides of his face and his neck, pouring all the love I had into him.

  ***

  Rori didn’t come home that afternoon. By four o’clock, Kevan decided he would go out to Blake’s home and get her. While I waited for him to return, staring at the walls, unable to concentrate on my book or any of the magazines on the coffee table, I thought of nothing but Rori and Kevan. Would they weather this storm? Could they? How much more could either of them take? After an hour, I started pacing. Then, I rummaged through the desk and found a pen and a yellow legal pad. I spent a few minutes jotting down everything I knew thus far. For some reason, Michael’s voice came into my head as I was writing, as if he were there. “Playing detective, Blythe? Don’t you think you’re a bit out of your league?” It was said in that same indulgent tone in his voice when he talked about my photography. To drown his voice, I decided to call my sister. She didn’t answer so I left a voicemail. I was about to call the girls when my phone buzzed with a call. It was a local number. Moonstone?

  “Blythe, it’s me.” Indeed it was Moonstone. Of course she would introduce herself as “me” as opposed to saying her name. Did she think I was psychic as well? “I talked with Robin about the note.”

  “Did she know who left it?”

  “Yes. It was Doctor Sloane.”

  Doctor Sloane. Just as I thought.

  ***

  I stood in the kitchen, leaning against the sink. A shadow crossed in front of my window. I opened the door, expecting Kevan.

  But it was Rori. “Can I come in?” Red eyes, puffy from crying, peered up at me from behind her bangs. She wore no makeup. Had she cried it all off?

  I opened the door wider and stepped aside so she could come inside.

  She sat on the couch, hands folded on her lap, appearing so young and small and vulnerable that I thought she might break in half. “Dad says you know.” She began to cry, with her shoulders hunched over and her face buried in her hands. I moved across the room and sat next to her, drawing her to my chest and letting her cry into my blouse, as her father had done earlier, his dry tears mixing with her wet ones within the woven fabric. I soothed her as I would one of my children until her tears were cried out. When she finished, she looked up at me. “I’m so tired.”

  I let go of her for a moment and walked to the closet where I’d seen an extra pillow and set it on one end of the couch, patting it with the palm of my hand. “Rest your eyes for a moment.”

  “Snuggle up here for a bit?” Then, as if she called out to me, I remembered Belinda Bear. This was a job for a stuffed bear if ever there was one. I grabbed her from where she sat on the bed, staring at me with her shiny eyes. Rori was on the couch, lying on her side. I held out Belinda Bear. “She’s good company, trust me.”

  Rori held open her arms and pulled the stuffed bear to her chest. “She’s so soft. And smells like you.” A few tears slid down her cheek but Belinda Bear caught them with her fur.

  “Take a little rest?”

  At first I thought she would refuse but without a word she did as I asked. I covered her with the blanket. Within minutes, with her arms around Belinda Bear, she fell asleep.

  I sat on the edge of the coffee table and watched this motherless girl sleep for some time, resisting the urge to move a piece of fallen hair from her cheek. I’d grown protective of her already, perhaps because I’d once loved Finn or perhaps because I loved Kevan or perhaps just because she was a motherless girl and I was a mother. There’s always room for one more love, I thought. The space inside us where love resides merely expands instead of pushing one love out to let another in. I loved my girls in the all-consuming way I did and yet there was still space for another little girl. Rori Lanigan, come inside. There’s room, I said, silently. While I watched her face, peaceful in slumber, I thought of my own little daughters. They were with Liza at this very moment and I was with Meredith’s daughter. Were all the women of the earth meant to mother all our daughters? Didn’t they belong to all of us, really? Whichever of us was closest, we must step forward and hold out our arms and love them, affirm them, protect them. I’m here. I’ll take care of you.

  Meredith, I thought, wherever you are, I’m looking out for her. I won’t let her go.

  Finally, I rose from my watching perch. I grabbed my new camera and walked out into the yard, aiming to take a photograph of the outside table in the dimming light. I shot several angles from a distance. Afterward I took several close-ups of the lantern on the table and then of the back of one of the chairs.

  When I looked up, I saw Kevan sprinting toward me, his brow wrinkled. “I thought Rori came to see you after I brought her back from Blake’s.”

  I rushed to reassure him. “She’s inside. Having a nap. After a good cry she fell asleep on my couch.”

  He sighed. “I’m grateful she went to you and not back to that idiot Blake.” He stood slightly hunched over, like a broken doll.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “Telling her was harder than burying her mother.”

  I put my camera over my shoulder and reached for him. He took me in his arms and held me, with his face in my hair. He kissed me lightly on the mouth and then pulled away. “Carol found the hard drive in my mother’s office. She’s going to overnight it so that it’s here first thing in the morning. I called Cole. He’s going to come out and help do whatever people do to computers to find stuff.”

  I chuckled. “You sound old.”

  “I am.”

  I saw Rori standing at the window, watching us. I waved to her but she disappeared from sight. “I’ll go check on her. Will you go into town and get some groceries? I need a whole chicken, garlic, fresh oregano and bags of carrots, and potatoes. And ice cream.”

  He cocked his head to the side, studying me. “Minnie’s here. She has a dinner planned, I’m sure.”

  “Let her cook for your mother then. I’m cooking for Rori tonight. And you. We’ll eat at the guesthouse.”

  “Fine.” He smiled. “Thank you.”

  After we said a hasty goodbye, I headed inside the house. Rori sat cross-legged on the couch, gazing into her phone. Belinda Bear sat next to her with her head tilted to the side. �
��I’ve just been sitting here trying to figure out what to do next,” she said without looking up.

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Scream.”

  I sat next to her on the couch and gently took her phone, placing it on the coffee table. “Well, that would be okay.”

  “My mother knew all that time and she hid it. How does someone do that?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “She came from nothing. Did Dad tell you that part?”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “She was in and out of foster homes as a kid. There were bad things, he said, that happened to her, and that she must have felt scared that he wouldn’t want to marry her if he knew the truth. I never knew that about her. She was beautiful. And she used that beauty to get what she wanted. My dad loved her. He said he’s devastated to learn that she lied to him but that we shouldn’t dwell on only that. He talked like she deserved his forgiveness. And I sat there listening to him defend her and I wanted to shout at him, ‘Stop and listen to yourself.’ He’s pathetic.” Tears slid down her face. I grabbed some tissue from the box on the desk and handed it to her. She wiped her face and blew her nose. “He says he’s my father in all the ways that count.”

  “Do you agree?”

  “Yeah. Of course. It’s not like I can think of him any other way.”

  “He loves you very much. That will never change.”

  “I know.”

  I paused, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I had your father run to the store. I’m cooking dinner for you tonight.”

  “Blake texted. He said he wanted me to meet him out by the river. There’s a party.”

  I drew her chin up with the tips of my fingers. “Rori, you don’t want to do that.” I spoke firmly, like I would have to one of my own daughters. “You don’t want to ever meet him again. As a matter of fact, I forbid you to meet him ever again.”

  Her bottom lip trembled. “You can’t forbid me.” Her voice was petulant and sad all at once. “You’re not my mother. You’re no one to me.”

  “Well, your mother isn’t here. And I’m telling you. You’re not going out to meet Blake.”

  “I’m eighteen, you know. I can do what I want.” She jutted her chin forward.

  “You’re staying for dinner. And you’re going to eat a whole plate of food. And ice cream for dessert.” I raised my eyebrows and crossed my arms over my chest, pretending I had every confidence in the world when really I was shocked at my own words. Who was I, after all, to order this girl around?

  She wiped her eyes again with the soaked tissue. “Fine.”

  “Good.” I stood on shaky legs. “You want some juice?”

  She put her hand on my arm. “I have something I need to tell you. I don’t know who else to tell.”

  I sat, my stomach making a flip-flop. What secrets did she harbor? Was there no one in this Lanigan family without secrets?

  “I know that the car accident wasn’t an accident. There was another car that drove them off the road.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because Blake told me. And I know who was driving the other car.”

  “Who?”

  “My father.”

  “Kevan?” She nodded, and my heart pounded in my chest. “Why do you think this?”

  “Because Blake was there. He saw it happen.”

  “What was he doing there?”

  “He was walking to town from his dad’s place. He saw the whole thing from behind a tree.”

  “If this is true, why, then, hasn’t he told anyone?”

  “He kept it secret. For me. So that my dad doesn’t have to go to jail.”

  I thought for a moment, trying to figure out what to say next. Something wasn’t right. Rori and Blake being together didn’t make sense. My maternal instincts had told me that more than once in the last week. She loved Cole—this was plain to me. “Rori, is there any reason you can think of that he would lie to you about this?”

  She looked at me blankly. “Why would he do that?”

  “People always have reasons for everything. No one is without selfish motivation. It’s one of the truths of humanity.”

  “Well, I don’t know.”

  “Do you love Blake?”

  Behind those light blue eyes I could see an internal struggle about whether or not to tell me the truth. The truth won. “No.”

  “Are you with him because you’re afraid he’s going to tell the police about your dad?”

  She started to cry again. “Yes.”

  “Are you having sex with him?”

  Nodding, she swiped at her eyes, obviously trying to control the crying. “I do whatever he tells me.”

  Suddenly I knew. Her hair. The tattoo. All of it was because of Blake’s control over her. “Does he make you do stuff you don’t want to do?”

  “Sometimes.” She fiddled with the hem on the bottom of her shorts. “He was always obsessed with me, even when we were kids. He used to follow me sometimes when we were in junior high.”

  “How does Cole fit in with all this?”

  “Blake told me I could no longer be friends with Cole. But I still love him. I’ve loved him since I saw him on the school bus on my first day of kindergarten. He made a space for me on his seat. He always looked after me. But this thing with Blake, he can’t protect me. I’m the one who has what Blake wants. It’s the only way to keep my father safe.” She looked up at me, her eyes filled with tears again.

  “Kevan didn’t have anything to do with their deaths.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I just do. Pretty soon you will too. You have to trust me. Can you do that?”

  “I never know who to trust anymore. It seems everyone has a lie to tell me.”

  “I don’t have any lies to tell you. I never will.”

  She sat with that for a moment. “Your daughters are really lucky.”

  This simple statement brought tears to my eyes. I put both my hands on the sides of her face. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  “I see how you feel about Dad. Maybe you’re not seeing things clearly since you fell in love with him.”

  “Rori, tell me this. If what I say is true, that Blake’s lying to you—what would make a person lie about something like that? Why would he tell you it was your father who ran them off the road? What would he get out of that?”

  “He’d get me to be with him.”

  “I agree. What else?”

  She looked at me blankly. “I don’t know.”

  “What if he saw who really did it and is protecting them?”

  The realization of what I meant crossed her features. “Someone he loves?”

  “Right.” I told her about the emails and the threat to Finn by Blake’s father.

  “So, you’re saying you think it was Dr. Sloane who did this?”

  “I think it’s a distinct possibility.”

  “Blake wants to run away to London. But I don’t want to go. I secretly applied to Oregon State where Cole goes and I got in but I have to do what Blake wants to protect my dad.”

  “You applied to Oregon State?”

  “Yeah, and a couple other schools too. I didn’t tell anyone.”

  “Your dad and I are going to learn the truth. You’ll be free to do whatever you want.”

  “I can’t remember what free feels like. I haven’t felt that since my mother died.” She sighed and put her head on the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling. “I miss her, you know. Every single day. Even though I hate her sometimes.”

  I went to the window and looked out, to hide my feelings from Rori and her tender heart. I did not want her to see that I despised her mother, for her lies, for the deception, for the way she’d played Kevan all those years. But I knew one thing for sure. No matter how despicable a parent might be, their child never stops loving them. So I kept my thoughts stored inside. A cloud drifted partially over the sun and the light shone down in beams, like in a child
’s crude drawing. I looked back to her. “Your grandmother told your father that your mother loved him, no matter her mistakes. For whatever reasons, and you’ll know this as you grow older, she did what she did so she could survive the best she knew how. Your dad loved her and they both loved you. I know it’s hard to understand how or why all this happened but those things remain true. Your Uncle Finn loved you too.”

  “Uncle Finn. Do I keep referring to him this way?”

  “Oh, Rori. I know all this is so hard.”

  She looked at me with eyes she claimed were given to her by her mother, but all I could see was Finn. “Why couldn’t you have been my mother?”

  A lump formed in my throat. “Well, sometimes people find substitutes, fill-ins, so to speak. I can be your fill-in.”

  “Are you in love with my dad?”

  “I think so.”

  “Well, how can that be? You either know or you don’t.”

  “Rori.” I tried to think of something to say that didn’t sound crazy. I’d known both Rori and Kevan for less than a week and already their names were etched in my soul like an intricate carving into glass. Was this explainable to a young woman like Rori? Would she understand?

  “I thought you said you would always tell me the truth.”

  “Yes. I’m in love with him.” I flushed.

  “He’s in love with you too. I can tell. I know you think I’m too young to understand love but I’m not. When you know you know. You both know. There’s no reason to feel ashamed of that.” She paused and brushed back her long bangs from where they fell over her eyes. “But you have to go back to Seattle to be with your girls, don’t you?” The desolate tone of her voice brought forth an image of a black hole, and in it Rori sank deeper and deeper until I could no longer see her in the darkness. She felt terror at the thought of me leaving her. Abandonment issues will follow her all the days of her life, I thought, the pit of my stomach hollow. This is the legacy her mother left behind.