by Nicola Marsh
For now, it’s enough.
Seventy-Two
Frankie
Despite imploring Ruston to take me to Luna immediately, the police interviewed me on the beach for forty minutes, so it seems like an eternity later when I reach the cottage, the last one at the end of the street, and I’m ready to ram the front door and burst through it to get to Luna. But as we pull up in the driveway, a well-dressed woman in her late forties comes out to meet us.
“That must be the social worker the police mentioned,” Ruston says, and I turn to him, wanting to thank this man for standing by me in a way I never expected.
He must see a look in my eyes because his smile is self-deprecating. “I know. I surprise myself sometimes. Who knew I can add hero to my CV?”
I smile for what feels like the first time in forever. “Thanks, Ruston. You’ve been amazing.”
“I try.” As the woman approaches the car, he says, “Go. Do you want me to stick around and take you back?”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll be here for a while. I’m not sure of protocol but the police may want to get the girls examined, then there’s the custody issues for Violette.” I grimace, hating how much that poor girl will go through now her mother will be locked up. “Best you head back.”
“Okay.” He slips something out of his back pocket and I see it’s my cell. “You left it in the car. Andre has called a hundred times so I texted him where we are and he left immediately.”
I can’t imagine what our first confrontation will be like but I’m too bone-deep exhausted to worry. All I care about now is Luna and Violette.
“At the risk of sounding like a broken record, thanks again.” I take the cell, a quick glance at the screen confirming Andre has called. A lot. I may hate him for sleeping with Saylor but he’s Luna’s father and he must be beside himself with worry too. “Does he know Luna’s been found?”
He nods. “Yeah. I texted him that too.”
“You are definitely one of the good guys,” I say, flashing him a last grateful smile as I get out of the car and walk toward the woman.
“That’s not your husband?” she asks, an eyebrow arched in surprise.
“No, a neighbor. My husband was with the police in Brooklyn when I hightailed it up here. He’s on his way.”
She’s obviously a woman used to assessing the unsaid and not asking unnecessary questions, because she nods and holds out her hand. “I’m Marisa, the social worker from the Gledhill Help Centre. The police call me when there are children involved in cases like this.”
I shake her hand, somewhat comforted by the firmness of her grip. “Thanks for being here. I’m desperate to see my daughter. Is she okay? How’s Violette?”
Her smile is reassuring. “Both girls are fast asleep. I think they’ve had quite the adventure but I’m glad you’re here. It’ll be nice for them to wake to a familiar face.”
I’m not sure how to broach the subject of what happens to Violette from here, but I settle for the direct approach. “Celeste Reagan, Violette’s mother, asked me to look after her daughter. She doesn’t want her to be placed in foster care. She’d rather Violette stay with my family and she’s willing to sign whatever documentation to support this.”
Marisa appears confounded for a moment. “This is highly unusual. Is she mentally capable to sign legal documents?”
“I think so. She was perfectly logical when we spoke, just… resentful and caught up in wrongs of the past.”
I leave out the part about Celeste talking to a dead Walter because I want to do what’s best for Violette.
“Okay then. I can call a private attorney we use and get the ball rolling—”
“Can I see Luna please?”
“Of course.” Marisa briefly rests a comforting hand on my shoulder. “For what it’s worth, this is a good outcome. Not all parents are so lucky.”
I don’t want to contemplate for one second what could’ve happened to Luna if Celeste had been seriously unhinged or what those other unlucky parents have been through.
“Take me to her.” It comes out a soft plea. I can’t wait one second longer to see for myself Luna is okay.
The moment we set foot inside the cottage I want to run to the bedrooms and fling open doors until I find my girl. But I follow Marisa as sedately as possible as she heads down a short hallway, to a room with the door partially ajar.
She glances inside and, apparently satisfied, steps aside so I can look in.
When I see Luna curled up on her right side with her shoes poking out from beneath a blanket, I almost lose it. She looks so innocent, so peaceful, and the fact Celeste obviously carried her in from the car and took the time to cover her with a blanket, makes me want to do the best for her daughter despite what she put mine through.
When I glance across at Violette in the single bed opposite, I’m surprised to find her sleeping position mirroring Luna’s, like two halves of a whole, and my chest aches for what this poor child will have to endure.
Marisa touches my arm and points to a doorway I assume leads to a kitchen, and I nod and back away from the door. I follow her and when we reach the kitchen, I see a note propped up in the middle of it.
“Celeste left the girls a note in case they woke,” she says.
“Because she didn’t want them to be afraid,” I murmur, not wanting to like anything about that woman but grateful her maternal instincts were strong.
“Yes. Now, I have a lot of questions. Shall we start?”
* * *
By the time Andre arrives I’m exhausted after a lengthy chat with Marisa, who’s outlined a lot of the legalities regarding taking custody of Violette, and another interrogation by the police. I want to hate Andre but the moment I see his face, and the ravages stress has inflicted while worrying about Luna, I relent a little.
“Is she really okay?” he says, practically falling into my arms.
I stiffen, unwilling to embrace him, but knowing what I have to confess to him shortly means I’m not totally blameless.
I wrap my arms around him for a moment before pulling away. “She’s fine. Both girls are still sleeping. There was concern for a moment they’d been drugged but a doctor has been and reassures us they’re merely exhausted.”
“None of this makes sense.” He collapses onto a seat at the kitchen table, his head dropping into his hands. “Why did she do it?”
I’m preternaturally calm now the moment has come to reveal the truth.
“Because she thinks Luna is Violette’s sister.”
His head snaps up, confusion clouding the eyes I thought I’d gaze into forever. “Why on earth would she think that?”
“Because when you cheated on me the first time, I went to Walter for comfort and we had a one-night stand.”
His mouth drops open and he presses his palms to his ears like he can’t quite believe he’s heard right. When he does the math, he slumps forward, a beaten man.
“Is Luna mine?”
I consider torturing him for a second after all he’s put me through, but I need this ordeal to be over.
“Yes. I have a paternity test to prove it.”
Relief shimmers in his eyes before he blinks, and it’s replaced by shame. “I’m sorry.”
“For knocking up Saylor? You should be.” I snap my fingers. “But turns out, you only have a fifty-fifty chance of being the father, considering she has a loving husband who’s been cuckolded like me.”
Regret renders him pale. “I wouldn’t have paid her the money. I would’ve told you the truth.”
“Lucky me.”
“Frankie, I know I’ve mucked up, again. But we need to present a united front now for Luna’s sake—”
“Violette’s coming to live with us. And you’re right, for now the girls need stability after their ordeal. But beyond that, I don’t know.”
“About us, you mean?”
“About everything.”
“Frankie, I love you.”
It’s a
plea from a desperate man trying to cling to something he ripped apart.
“Sometimes love isn’t enough.”
It wasn’t for Walter and me. If I’d never left him, if I’d never gone back to him for that one night, he would still be alive. Grief crushes my chest in a vice and I want to bawl, but I’ll mourn in private later, remembering our good times, honoring a man who deserved so much more than he got. Sadly, my love for him wasn’t enough and ultimately, it got him killed.
Not that I could’ve anticipated the depths of Celeste’s jealousy and how far she’d go, but this guilt is something I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life.
Epilogue
Frankie
Two months later, the residents of Vintage Circle in Hambridge Heights are gathered in the park again. I’m hosting an impromptu get-together as a way to facilitate healing.
Gossip has been rife for the last eight weeks and I don’t want it following the girls around whenever they come out to play. All it takes is an offhand remark or careless comment and this way everyone can see the girls are fine.
At least, Luna is. She thought Celeste had taken them on an adventure to the beach and she would’ve seen us the next day. When she woke in that cottage and saw Andre and me hovering, she’d flung her arms around us, then promptly demanded what’s for breakfast. Now she’s back to her exuberant best, bossing me around, rolling her eyes at Andre, but interestingly she’s softer with Violette, like she senses she needs to be handled gently.
These days, Violette asks for her mother less. Though shy, she’s laughing more spontaneously and is eating better. When she asks where her mom is, we tell her the version of truth Marisa advised us to say: that Celeste is sad about her dad dying and she needs some help to recover. We don’t mention the J word as jail will terrify a girl who’s already fragile. Violette is seeing a renowned child therapist and I’m hopeful she’ll make progress.
As I watch her now, running around and playing tag with some of the kids from the neighborhood, I can’t help but be optimistic for the future. Luna is close by, protective and intuitive. I love that about her. I like to think she gets her nurturing side from me.
There’s a touch on my arm and I turn to see Ruston balancing a giant store-bought croquembouche. “I come bearing gifts.”
“So it’s true. Size does matter.”
He laughs and does a deliberate jiggle, like he’s about to drop it. “I know it’s over the top but there’s a lot of people to feed. Big turnout today.”
“Yeah. Most are curious, I think.”
“And you wanted to show you’re all okay.”
“There you go again, impressing me.” I’ve already thanked him numerous times for his support the night Celeste kidnapped Luna but I still feel indebted. What he revealed about Andre and Saylor that night in the car on the way to Gledhill has helped me release some of my resentment toward my husband. They hadn’t been having an affair. It had been one drunken, drug-fueled, crazy mistake. Not that I’ll ever completely trust my husband again but Ruston’s insight has helped me work toward forgiveness.
“Don’t be too impressed. I’m no saint.”
“Considering how you’ve been supporting Saylor, I beg to differ.”
To my surprise, he blushes. “I feel bad for how I treated her all those years and it’s tough to see how she’s struggling now. It’s the least I can do, lend a helping hand when she needs it.”
“Whatever your motivation, I think it’s great you’re assisting her.”
He shrugs, his lopsided bashful grin one of the things that probably attracted Saylor to him in the first place. “I like that we’ve finally reached a place where we can be friends.”
“I think she appreciates it. Just go easy on her, okay?”
If he hears the underlying warning in my remark—not to let her get too invested in their friendship so she starts hoping for more—he doesn’t say. He nods and glances over my shoulder. “Saylor’s heading this way, so I’ll leave you ladies to chat. I’ll see you later.” He takes a step before pausing. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you and Andre are trying to work things out.”
I don’t correct his misconception. Instead, I smile and turn to see a heavily pregnant Saylor waddling toward me. She’s eight and a half months now, wearing that weary expression of a woman who’s ready to give birth.
“You came,” I say, somewhat surprised.
She’s barely been outside for weeks, not since I had a blunt discussion with her: namely, stay the hell away from my husband and if he’s the father we’ll deal with it when the time comes like mature adults. Lloyd paid her rent for the next six months before he left, thoughtful considering what she did precipitated the end of their short-lived marriage. She’s unprepared to be a single mother so having her next door is convenient; if the baby’s Andre’s, we’ll do our bit. Co-parenting, co-custody, whatever.
“Ruston said it would be good for me to come, to get out of the house for a while. Besides, it seemed right, considering we all met at my gender reveal three and a half months ago.”
She’s pale, without a hint of make-up, and her hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, making her look a vulnerable eighteen rather than twenty-six. But there’s strength in her steady gaze, as if she’s come to terms with what she’s done and the potential fallout on our lives, and she’s dealing with it.
“I’m glad Ruston’s helping you.” I gesture to where he’s chatting with Andre. “Turns out he’s more than a pretty face.”
Her eyes follow to where I point and her smile is soft, that of a woman who’s realistic yet hopeful. “He’s really surprised me, stepping up to grocery shop and take me to appointments and whatever I ask.” Her gaze returns to me and I’m relieved it’s clear rather than smitten. “We’re in a good place as friends.”
“I’m glad,” I say as Luna appears.
“Wow, Saylor, your tummy is huge.” Luna’s eyes are wide as she stares at Saylor’s belly. “Do you have more than one baby in there?”
I’m about to chastise my daughter about the polite way to greet a pregnant woman, when Saylor says, “It’s just one baby. A boy. He’s big.”
“Humungous.” Luna holds her arms wide. “I think he’s going to be as big as this when he comes out.”
“I hope not,” Saylor murmurs, and our gazes meet in mutual amusement.
I don’t hate her. I don’t hate Andre either.
Because I know better than most that nobody’s perfect.
“Mom, can you come and cut the chocolate cake now? Us kids are starving.”
“Sure thing, sweetie.” As she slips her hand into mine and gives a tug, I say to Saylor, “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay.”
As my precious daughter leads me to a long trestle table laden with food, I know it’s true.
It seems like fate that Luna and Violette are united.
Sisters should live together.
I’m glad I lied to Walter about Luna’s paternity and falsified that test. Anything can be done on the Internet these days. The one I sent him looks so real. Even I couldn’t tell the difference between the actual test and the one I forged.
At the time, I knew what would happen if Walt learned the truth. He’d lay claim to Luna. He’d want to be a parent to her. And I couldn’t have my daughter’s life disrupted; or mine.
So I lied.
Perfection comes at a cost and I couldn’t risk being dragged through a custody battle that would put my marriage, my career, and the flawless life I so carefully constructed, at risk.
No one knows the truth but me. It’s why I haven’t kicked Andre out. Because we’ve all done things we’re not proud of and I think my secret outweighs all the ones he’s kept from me.
In a crazy way, I almost hope he’s the father of Saylor’s baby. I like the idea of having a boy as a sibling for the girls. Accepting our blended family has lifted a weight off my shoulders.
I don’t have to struggle with perfection
any more.
My imperfect family has completed me.
Want to read more gripping domestic suspense from Nicola Marsh? When Brooke returns to her family home in Martino Bay, she meets her sister’s new husband and is shocked to recognize him instantly as the man who shares her biggest and darkest secret.
* * *
Get My Sister’s Husband here!
My Sister’s Husband
The sunroom at the back of the house is just as I remember. I can’t taste homemade lemonade or smell oatmeal cookies without thinking of home, of the beautiful cliffs of Martino Bay, and I feel welcomed. But all thoughts of a happy family reunion are destroyed the moment I see him…
* * *
He’s as handsome as I remember: broad shoulders, piercing blue eyes, hair the colour of burnt toffee.
* * *
The man who once meant the world to me. The reason I fled eleven years ago. I’ve never told anyone the terrible mistake I made that night. The secret we share. I’m still haunted by the crashing waves at the bottom of the cliffs, the blood…
* * *
But what is he doing at my sister’s house?
* * *
And then I see her. My baby sister. She smiles, she tips her hand so I can see the ring. And his arm slides around her waist, pulling her close…
* * *
A twisty and emotional domestic thriller for fans of Liane Moriarty, Kerry Fisher and Sally Hepworth from USA Today bestselling author Nicola Marsh. It will keep you turning the pages deep into the night absorbed by every last word.
* * *
Get it here!
