Underwater

by McDermott, Julia

  “You thought? What were you thinking, Hel?” Monty knew she hated it when he called her that. “I can’t imagine what was going through your mind. Did you think that Queen Candace would email you back? Or call you? She won’t even talk to me! And why did you think it was up to you to tell her about the baby?”

  “What do you mean? Did you call to tell her?”

  “I just said, she won’t talk to me! I had to leave a voicemail—”

  “Monty, listen. I—”

  “No, you listen. You are not to email her. Or that motherfucker who works for her. I’m the one busting my butt trying to get the house finished, the one who has to deal with the two of them. You don’t. So, fucking don’t.”

  Helen kept her voice low and even. “I can email her if I want to, Monty, and I can call her if I want to.”

  “I forbid you to. How’s that? She’s my bitchy sister, not yours. She’s not Dawn. Dawn the bitch, just a different kind—”

  Helen’s eyes narrowed and her jaw set. “Leave Dawn out of it!”

  “Ah, but you’ve called Dawn, haven’t you? What did the Smart One say? Huh? Did she tell you to write to Candace, to request a meeting?”

  “No!”

  “Right,” said Monty. “I really believe that. You know, I don’t much care anyway. She and Frank can go screw each other in married bliss, and never get a kid—”

  “I said leave her out of this!”

  “How did she take the news? Was she jealous? Why don’t we just let her have this one? We don’t need another kid anyway, that’s for sure.”

  Helen backed away. “I can’t be around you. I’m going to go take care of our daughter.”

  He grabbed her above the elbow, holding onto her, his large hand closing around her bony left arm. “Let me go,” she said quietly, her eyes filling with hate and fury. Then she pulled away slowly, but he tightened his grip and drew her back toward him in a snap. Her side was to him now, and her tender breast of early pregnancy hit against him slightly, just enough to evince pain. She let out a small gasp.

  “Where were you this evening?” he asked in a low tone. “Why didn’t you answer my text?”

  “My phone died.”

  “Bullshit. Tell me where you were.” Now he had both of her upper arms in his grip as they stood facing each other. “Tell me.”

  Helen took a deep breath. “The bank.”

  Monty’s voice was harsh and menacing. “That’s not true. The bank closes at five.”

  “I wasn’t at our bank.”

  “Memorial, then? Where that cunt Whitney Jamison works? The loan officer?”

  “No,” Helen said. “American Trust Bank. I opened an account.”

  “Why? Why did you open an account?” Monty let go of her, pushing her back. “Did you switch ours?”

  “No. I just—Monty, I make the money, and I’m going to manage it, from now on.”

  “What are you talking about?” He was staring at her now, his eyes wide.

  “I’m taking over our finances. I’m having my paychecks deposited in my own account, and I’m paying our bills out of it myself, online. You don’t have to do it anymore.” She sucked in a breath, waiting.

  “Well, this had to be Dawn’s bright idea. Dawn, who couldn’t stand me from the get-go.”

  “It doesn’t matter. When you start bringing home an income, when you come clean with me on the house and the finances, we can talk about being a team again. Meanwhile, I’ve gotta manage the money I make, and this household’s budget. I’m gonna start paying the bills. At the very least.”

  Monty gritted his teeth. “Whatever, Helen. We’re still a team. We’re in this together, like it or not. You paying the bills isn’t going to change anything. However, the money we make belongs to both of us, not just to you—”

  “You don’t make any money!”

  “Not currently, but when I sell the house, I will, and that money will belong to both of us. If we’re still married, that is. What we need right now is the funds from my sister to get the damn place finished, so we can sell it! You’re such a goddamn idiot. But then I always knew you were a stupid cow.”

  “Go ahead and insult me, if it makes you feel good—”

  “And you go ahead and have your little meeting with what’s-his-fucking-name. David. See if you can get them to be reasonable—being pregnant should help. I’ve already dealt with Whitney, and she’s been in touch with them. All she needs is for Candace to sign off on it. So you go on Monday, alone. I have all of them where I want them. Candace will agree to pay the bank and sign the loan. I’m not going to lose any sleep over it.”

  Helen gave him a cold stare, then turned toward the bedroom.

  “Just remember this, though,” Monty said. “If you fuck everything up, I won’t be the only one who suffers. That’s for goddamn certain.” He picked up his glass and swallowed the last bit of the liquid, then headed over toward the kitchen for a refill as Helen made her way to the bedroom and to Adele.

  She caught me off guard, that’s all. It’s just a different checking account. There’s got to be a way I can access it. He added a slice of lime to his drink, took a sip, and leaned back against the cheap countertop, his eyes closed. He was the one who needed a separate account, not Helen. Well, he would just have to talk her into changing her new account into a joint one, to replace the one they already had. He couldn’t let her have total control of the monthly income—or worse, permit her to give him an allowance.

  But first he would have to undo the damage he had just done. Once Adele was finished with her bath and was in bed, he’d start the process. Maybe he’d even get her to blow him.

  “Darling, I hate to stand by and watch you deal with this,” Rob said before he took another sip of Scotch. “I know you can do it, and you will, but it’s got to be awfully distracting. At a minimum.”

  Candace’s ice-blue eyes glistened. She reached for her glass of sauvignon blanc and glanced around the restaurant. Chez Vincent was an Atlanta favorite of hers and her fiancé’s. “David helps a lot. Truth told, I don’t think I could manage it without him.”

  “Well, I’ll have to thank him personally when this is all over. Which it will be soon. He’s a good man, a very good man, to represent your interests.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Candace said, nodding. “He understands me. The way I obsess, I guess, and the way I tend to micromanage things sometimes. He knows my background, and how I think about money.”

  “That’s the kind of advisor to have.”

  “Something’s bothering me, though, Rob. Something Monty could be right about.”

  Rob raised his eyebrows and set down his drink.

  “That he and I may not be related,” she said. “I mean, perhaps we aren’t. Perhaps, at least, we only share one parent.”

  He cocked his head.

  “I don’t want to believe it,” Candace continued, “but then I also don’t want to believe that I’m related to Monty. He’s so unlike me—”

  “That’s for certain.”

  “We’ve always been so different. Always.”

  “Love, that’s obvious. To everyone. You’ve absolutely nothing in common with one another.”

  “Well, whether we share a father or not, Mother gave birth to us both. What if, in some weird way, some recessive or random way, a future child of ours might be like him? I couldn’t have that.”

  “But our child won’t be. Don’t fret about it. And we’ve talked about this. You know I don’t care whether we have any children—it’s totally up to you. It’s you that I want. Having a family is something we’ll be open to only if it’s your wish.”

  She looked straight into the deep blue of her intended’s eyes, gauging his honesty. Satisfied, she exhaled. Why couldn’t she have found this man a long time ago?

  “I don’t know if I do, though.
Not yet,” she said.

  “We’ve got time.”

  “Not that much. In any case, I can’t have a child like Monty. He’s not just lazy and selfish. He’s a pathological liar. He’s evil. He inherited none of my father’s qualities, nor my mother’s good ones.”

  “Perhaps he was switched at birth.”

  Candace laughed. “Except, Adele clearly favors Mother, and so does he.”

  “A child of ours,” said Rob, “if there is one, will inherit our qualities, not Monty’s. You have my word.”

  “That’s just it. We don’t know what a child of ours would really be like, Rob. Dad probably never thought he’d have a son like my brother—”

  “But he had a daughter like you.”

  “Still, our child would be who he or she is. What if there are issues that we can’t anticipate right now, that we couldn’t handle?”

  “Candace. Having a baby would be wonderful, if and when we’re both ready. Our child would likely inherit our qualities. However, we both know there are no guarantees. We’d have to be open. We can only do so much as parents—”

  “I agree with you, but I wonder about nature versus nurture, and the degree to which one trumps the other. If it’s nature, then whatever we did to raise our child—the best nanny, the best schools, the most attention—would it make that much of a difference? My college roommate Elizabeth doesn’t have kids, and she’s very judgmental of her sister, and critical of her sister’s teenagers. Elizabeth says she made mistakes raising them and that’s why the kids have drug and alcohol issues. But from what I know about it, their parents did everything right.”

  “Darling, we’re getting way ahead of ourselves. Some people like to judge others when they haven’t walked in their shoes. Of course we don’t want such problems, and I’m sorry that they have them. Let’s go back to the nature thing, though. I think we are all born as who we are. Our brains are what they are, from birth. Our personalities are basically set. Parents can only do so much—raise their children with love and acceptance, and do their best.”

  “I agree. And I know we would.”

  “Don’t fret, love. We’ll handle whatever comes our way, together.” Rob reached for the goat-cheese-and-date appetizer the waiter had just set between them. “Now, have a bite of this.”

  Candace gave a gentle smile. “Will you always be like this?”

  “Always. Now, I know you aren’t fond of surprises—”

  Her smile disappeared. “But?”

  “But I have one for you, anyway.” He reached into a pocket. “I took the liberty of purchasing something for you. Let’s call it an engagement gift.”

  Candace looked down at the turquoise box Rob had placed next to her wineglass. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “Ah, but I did. And I felt that I should have. Open it.”

  A moment later, she held two gorgeous diamond hoop earrings. Not too big, but definitely not too small and exactly what she would have picked out for herself. She removed the pearl earrings she was wearing and put the new ones on. “They’re lovely. Thank you, Rob. I love them, you, and the surprise.”

  He sipped his Scotch, a twinkle in his eye. “Not in that order, I trust.”

  Candace smiled and sipped her wine. She fingered one of her new diamond hoops, then touched her lobe, as she often did when anticipating being alone, naked, and in bed with this man. She did love him. He was the only person with whom she could share her deepest fears and innermost feelings. Soon, when the time was right, she would share with him the one thing that so far she had kept to herself.

  Three hours later, feeling very satisfied, the two of them lay together, legs intertwined, her head resting on Rob’s broad shoulder as she fell asleep in his arms.

  Adele was fast asleep in the dark bedroom. In her loose pajamas, Helen tiptoed into the bathroom and peed, then crept into the kitchen for a glass of water. The living room was dark except for the computer and television, which was turned on and playing at a low volume. Monty lay sprawled on the sofa. Helen turned on the faucet, her back to him.

  In two seconds, he was behind her, one arm wrapping itself around her waist. She turned with a start, gasping. “Jesus, Monty! You scared me! I thought you were asleep!”

  “Baby, I’ve been waiting for you,” he whispered, taking her hands.

  Hairs on the back of Helen’s neck stood up. “You’ve been drinking. Let me go to bed. Please.”

  He looked into her eyes. “I’m so sorry. Will you forgive me?”

  His eyes were red; the streak of a tear stained his cheek. Had he been crying? “It’s not that easy. Let’s just go to sleep. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

  “No, baby. We’ve gotta talk now. I need you. I’m nothing without you. I don’t know what got into me. I was hurt, and I lashed out. I didn’t mean anything I said. If you won’t forgive me, I won’t be able to forgive myself.”

  Don’t answer him. Address the issues. “Monty, we’ve got to face our situation. We’ve got to figure out what to do. We don’t have a choice. We are in this thing together, but if you don’t face it with me, I’ll have to do it alone.”

  “You don’t have to. I am with you—I will be, from now on. I promise.”

  She braced herself, stiffening. “How am I supposed to trust you?”

  He moved one hand up her left arm, caressing it. “I’ll do whatever you want me to. I’m glad you emailed Candace about meeting. It was the right thing to do. I was wrong about it.”

  Stay strong. “Then why were you so angry at me?”

  “I was frustrated, Helen. It’s not you who made me angry—it was her. She made me furious today. She’s selfish and she’s evil. Somehow she brings out the worst in me, but I can’t keep on letting her. For your sake, for Adele’s sake”—he glanced down, then drew his eyes back up to Helen’s face—“for the baby’s sake.”

  “We’ve got to get on the same page.”

  “We do,” said Monty, his voice tender. He rested both of his forearms on her shoulders. “That’s why I was upset about you opening the new bank account.”

  Helen closed her eyes. Don’t back down. “I have to manage the money I make.”

  “Yes! You do. But can’t we do it together? Do a budget, pay the bills—map out a realistic strategy for finishing the house, together?”

  Helen looked straight into her husband’s eyes, wanting to believe him. “In the past—”

  “The past is over. Let’s just start fresh, tomorrow. Let’s get on the same page. Let’s go to American Trust and change the account a joint one. Let’s go over our budget, like, twice a week. Can we do that?”

  Like a brittle twig bent back to its breaking point, Helen’s resolve cracked, then snapped. “Only if we manage all the money together—not just our living expenses. And only if you find a job. Bring home a paycheck.”

  He dropped his arms around her, pressing into her hips, his hands on the small of her back. “I will, I promise. I’ll start looking tomorrow.”

  No, he won’t! He never fulfills his promises! “Any job, Monty. I don’t care what it is.” Her lungs felt depleted, as if they were collapsing. How was she caving in so easily and so quickly?

  “Right,” he said, one hand moving up to her left shoulder, baring it. “Any job.”

  “Stop—”

  “Don’t stay mad at me,” he pleaded. “I love you.”

  Her eyes glistened. Maybe there was a good man inside of him. The man she wanted him to be. “Then why do you hurt me?”

  “I have no excuse. Let me make everything up to you.” He leaned in to kiss her, then looked down at her breasts. “Do they feel tender?”

  She pushed back, leaning away from him. “Monty, something feels different about this pregnancy—”

  “Maybe because it’s a boy. I’m sure it is, baby.” Gently, he pulled her closer, th
en slowly removed her top, letting it fall to the floor. He looked at her breasts, then at her left shoulder. She flinched for a second, then he leaned down and kissed it. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be careful.” He wrapped his arms around her, picked her up, and carried her over toward the sofa.

  When it was over, she went to the bathroom again, but in the dim light, she didn’t see the blood.

  8

  Two

  David copied and pasted Candace’s questions for her brother into the email draft he had written at her request yesterday afternoon. In light of Monty’s staunch refusal to attend Monday’s meeting, she had changed her mind again and decided that David should go ahead and send the finalized draft, rather than just use it as an agenda at the meeting.

  But Candace had called early this morning with updated instructions: David was to write only an intro and a closing, edit her questions for continuity, and send the draft back to her. She would then proof it and send the final version back to him, which he was to send to Monty today, copying Helen and herself. David was bewildered about why she didn’t just write the entire message herself. Was he no more than a glorified secretary in this instance? He shook his head. Whatever the wealthy wanted, they got.

  He finished his coffee and set the mug beside his computer. He was sure that Monty would never offer up the income and monthly expense figures Candace was requesting, but there was a chance that Helen might do so at the meeting. Hopefully, she would also provide information about the missing vendor invoices, the status of the application for a certificate of occupancy, and the Carawans’ plan to list the property for sale.

  David had a favorable albeit ambiguous impression of Candace’s sister-in-law. Secure in the creative, if unstable, profession of graphic arts, she must possess the talent required in her field. From what David could tell, she had a good work ethic. But on a personal level, she was an enigma. Why had she chosen a scoundrel such as Monty for a husband? She was slim and not unattractive, but her looks were only just above average. David had seen a photo of her with her sister, who was the prettier one by far. Perhaps Helen had been thrilled that a good-looking man like Monty had chosen her, and she’d happily fallen victim to his charms.