“After what I found rotting in my desk, gotta see everything. Won't feel safe if you and I don't control the checkbook. Don't want any possibility of her getting her hands on money without knowing about it.”
“All right, but I have one provision. We use the Bank of America main branch downtown.” I looked Whip in the eye.
“My Wells Fargo branch is closer.”
“The president of my bank is a personal friend.”
Whip shut up. We transferred everything that afternoon. Our actions, belated though they were, at least would prevent additional financial hemorrhaging.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The atmosphere in the house grew more toxic each day. Merry hid in her locked bedroom and refused to eat with the family or even speak to us. Most of the time she was passed out. We'd ceased to be part of her world.
Emilie moped around and looked physically sick, while Alex once again wandered around like a kicked puppy. Whip was a bundle of fury. All I wanted to do was get the heck out of Dodge, if only for a few days.
No matter how I tried to justify leaving for a week, I couldn't. Merry was volatile, and I didn't want the kids to be alone in the house with her while Whip worked. When Darla called, she proposed we take Emilie and Molly to the salon the next afternoon. Saved by the bell.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you, Darla.” Relief overcame the desire to run away.
“I need to get my roots touched up, and Molly wants a manicure and a pedicure. She also needs a haircut before school starts.”
The spa wasn't as good as going home, but at least we'd be out of the house for a few hours. “Em's going to be psyched. You're today's hero.” I wanted to hug her.
“I'll take the girls overnight too. They can have a sleepover.”
With one weight lifted from my shoulders, I told Emilie about the spa day.
“Terrific. Can I get pink highlights? How about a massage?”
We'd spend the entire afternoon away from the house. Now what do I do with Alex?
“Why don't you ask Mrs. Wheeler? Maybe she could take Alex and some of the boys to the paintball course.”
This proves she read my mind. I looked into the most absurdly innocent brown eyes I'd ever seen. I tugged a lock of purple hair and went to call Mrs. Wheeler.
Only one thing marred a perfect girls' day at the spa. In the middle of her massage, Emilie had another of her feelings about her mother. All she'd say was I needed to talk to her father because the confrontation was ugly. I hugged her newly pink and purple head and sent her off with Darla and Molly.
I returned to an empty house. Even without Merry inside, the house stunk of anger. Whip's meeting with Merry in the family room had been confrontational. An upset glass was on the floor next to Merry's chair, liquid soaking into the Berber carpet. I wet a rag and sopped up the mess.
A brown stain on the white wall looked like Scotch. At the base of the stain was a shattered crystal highball glass.
We weren't going to get through this without someone getting hurt.
I found enough fresh veggies for a salad, so I didn't have to go to the grocery store. Whip wandered in just as I chased the last radish around my plate.
“Mind if I join you?”
“Sit. Get yourself a glass.” Time for another Cher moment.
“Where's Em?”
“Darla took her home.”
“Alex called. He kicked ass at the paintball range. He's over at Ben's tonight.”
Whip took a large swallow of wine. I winced because this Zinfandel was too good to gulp. It deserved to be savored. Whip didn't look like he was in a savoring mood, though. “Reminded me you promised to take him to paintball. True?”
“Phooey. I forgot. I did earlier this summer. I'll do it soon.”
“Doesn't know you can shoot, does he?”
“Not a clue. It'll be fun to beat the pants off him.” Until that moment, I'd forgotten Whip knew I was a damned decent shot. “If I tell him I can shoot, he'll be all over me. He'll want to prove he's better.”
“I talked to Merry.”
“Kinda figured as much.”
“She's impossible.”
“Em warned me it didn't go well.”
“Man, that girl knows how to understate something.” Whip actually smiled. “Yelling and screaming was more like it.”
“Who threw the glass? You?”
“You found it?”
“And cleaned it up. I figured the spilled drink was vodka and tonic. The lime slice kinda gave it away.”
“She lied. She told me she was out with Darla Wednesday. She didn't like it when I laughed in her face.” Whip's eyes narrowed and a muscle in his jaw tightened.
Merry told Whip what she did was none of his business. She'd do what she wanted. He could go to hell.
“Told her I knew she was fucking another guy. When she denied it, I picked her up by her blouse and ripped it halfway off. Neck and breasts were covered with dark-red hickeys and bite marks. Made me want to puke.”
“I've never been through what you're going. I get your anger, though. Most of the time, I want to hit her. I haven't since she was thirteen and sassed me. Then I slapped her across the mouth.”
“Tried to blame me for her affair. My fault because I was never home. All the usual guff about how wronged she was, how this other guy made her feel special.” Whip searched for answers in his wineglass, but there weren't any. “When I asked where the money was, she told me it was none of my fucking business. I'd never find it.”
“That's when you threw the Scotch glass?”
“Not quite. Called me pathetic. Said she never loved me. That's when I threw the glass.” Whip hung his head, his shame at losing his temper overwhelming his normal stoic exterior.
“That's a lie.” I wanted to put my arm around him, but Whip wasn't much of a hugger.
“Yeah. Hurt anyway. Took my truck and went down to the diner. Had to get away. Still can't figure out why she turned to Hunter.”
“He's been playing her since the day they met. Feeding her shit with chocolate sauce and raspberries on it. She gobbles up everything he suggests.”
Then it hit me. Merry's blond hair. Hunter's comment about thinking she'd be a blonde. He warned us he had his own agenda from the very first meeting. We didn't hear him.
Whip sat at the counter in the diner over a cup of coffee and a burger. He came up with a plan on how to move forward no matter where it led him. He pushed a stained napkin across the table with two fingers. He refilled our wineglasses and sipped the velvety red wine this time.
Whip wrote out a four-step plan. First, find the missing two hundred thousand dollars. I could help there. Maybe my friend at the bank could offer some advice.
Second, get copies of all medical bills. If Hunter submitted falsified records to the insurance company to get paid, they could sue him for fraud.
Number three, a family council.
“You come, too, Max. The kids gotta think we're united in trying to help their mother.”
I tapped the stained napkin. “I love this last thing. Ruin Hunter. How are you going to do that?”
“Already sent letters to Chaminade and the state medical board. Violated his Hippocratic Oath when he had an affair with Merry while she was still his patient. Gonna do everything I can to make him lose his license.”
“That's good. Make him lose his reputation and his livelihood.”
“Coulda done something to prevent this mess from happening. Shoulda gone with her every time she went to see Hunter. Not that you didn't, but she saw him too many times alone. Woulda been able to stop his nonsense if I'd been home.”
“Shoulda. Woulda. Coulda. Crappa.”
What Whip said was true, but we couldn't turn back the clock and undo our actions.
“Too bad the PI only shot up his car.” I put my plate in the dishwasher.
“Don't you start thinking that too.”
Too?
CHAPTER THIRTY
I settled down in the family room to listen to a new CD and read. Whip continued with his forensic accounting in the den. He obsessed over the missing money. It never dawned on me Merry would actually come home. When I heard her at the door, I was surprised. I was shocked when she came into the family room, poured vodka and tonic, way more vodka than tonic, and sat in the chair where she'd spilled her drink earlier.
“I need to talk to you.” Merry reeked of booze.
“I'm sure you do.” I set my book upside down on the end table, folded my hands in my lap, and composed my face.
“Whip and I had a fight. He threatened me. He threw a glass at me. He tore my blouse.” Merry whimpered.
“What did you expect?”
“He accused me of having an affair.”
I almost doubled over with laughter. “I love it. Whip's been home what, barely two days? He sees what the kids and I've watched for weeks. You're running around all hot and horny after that sleazebag doctor. You're disgusting.”
“How did you know?” Merry tossed back the last of her drink. She wanted more but for the moment was too disoriented to move.
“Dear God. You're out every Wednesday. You come home late and hide in your bedroom. You stink of sex and booze. Do you think I'm blind and stupid?” I walked over to my daughter and invaded her personal space when I stopped a foot away. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“Huh?”
“Don't play dumb with me.” I refused to back down. “Are you out of your mind? Did you honestly think you'd get away with it? Did you think Whip would look the other way? Ignore what you were doing?”
Beads of sweat dribbled down Merry's forehead.
“You don't know what it's like.”
“You're right. I don't.”
“Whip called me a whore.”
“Aren't you? You're cheating on him. I hope you're happy.”
Merry gulped air. “I need to lie down.”
“I'm not done. What're you going to do?”
“I have to talk to Andy. See what he wants me to do.”
“Listen to yourself. ‘I have to see what Andy wants me to do.’” I mimicked her like I did when she was a little girl. She hated it then; I hated it now.
“You're putting your future in Andy's hands? I don't get it.” My voice rose and my face burned. “You've ruined a wonderful marriage. You had a good life, two great kids, and a mother who loved and respected you. I have no respect for you.”
“How dare you!” Merry'd reached the end of what she was willing to hear.
“I dare because I'm your mother. I dare because you're wrong. You're going to be very, very sorry.”
“You don't know shit about who I am or what I want.”
Merry never saw my hand, but she felt its aftermath. For the first time since she was thirteen, I slapped her across the mouth hard enough to bring tears. I watched Merry gulp again and dodged. She ran to the sink and bent over. I left her to her misery.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Whip picked T.G.I. Friday's, one of the kids' favorite restaurants, for the family council. We arrived ahead of the crowd, so the usual din wasn't yet in full voice. Emilie and Alex were silent until we were seated at a table in back.
Alex started by saying he knew Merry was meeting Dracula in secret.
“It's yucky.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.” Alex clammed up.
“Do you hate Mom?” Emilie asked.
The question seemed to catch Whip off guard. “No. Why?”
“I mean, look what she's doing to us. I hate her.”
“Me too,” Alex chimed in.
“I don't like the way she's acting.” I didn't like where this was heading. “I don't think any of us really hates her.”
“What do you feel, Dad?”
“Worried. I don't want Mom to hurt you two.”
Whip leaned over to chuck Emilie under the chin but pulled back with less than an inch to spare. Just in time he remembered the unwritten ban about parent-originated public displays of affection.
“It's too late. She already has.” Emilie wouldn't let the matter rest.
“Are you and Mom getting a divorce?” Alex finished off his last fry. “Can we share the brownie sundae, Dad?”
I smiled at the workings of an eleven-year-old boy's mind. From divorce to an ice cream sundae without a missed synapse.
“Sure.” Whip waved for the waiter and ordered dessert.
“About a divorce. I don't know yet, Alex.” Whip and I had avoided the word like the plague, and here it was, naked in public.
Emilie didn't say anything. I watched the kids dig into the largest hot fudge brownie sundae on earth.
“If you do,” Alex had ice cream and fudge smeared on his mouth, “we're gonna live with you and Mad Max. We won't live with Mom and Dracula.”
“You've decided?” I was amazed at Alex's flashes of maturity.
“Uh-huh.” Alex shoved another bite of brownie in his mouth.
“Do I have anything to say about it?”
“Nope.” Alex smiled a fudgy smile.
“So, what are you going to do, Dad?” Emilie broke her silence. “We don't want you to get divorced, but if you do…Alex is right. We won't stay with Mom. It's not like she wants us anyway.”
“I'll make sure you guys are safe.”
“We're safe with you and Mad Max.” Emilie. Wise beyond her years. “Make Mom understand what she's doing to us. Please.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Not long after Whip launched his four-step program, I was in yet another unending argument with Merry.
“I need help. I don't know what to do.”
For a nanosecond, I thought she was being rational. “That's a crock! You know what to do.”
“Huh?”
“Do you want to save your marriage?” I was getting dinner ready and turned from the cutting board. I had long since stopped worrying about poking Merry. No matter what I did or said, she went her own way.
“I don't know.”
“Then tell Whip you want a divorce.”
“I'm not sure I want one right now.” Merry wailed and wrung her hands.
“Well, what do you want?” I took several deep-cleansing breaths.
“I don't know. I want a time-out.”
“A time-out! Dear God, you want a time-out? To do what? Continue screwing Hunter?”
“Why can't I take a break? See if what Andy offers is better?” Merry became hysterical.
My uncontrolled laughter didn't help.
“Do you really think Whip will sit idly by while you pick and choose? Get real!” I pointed my cleaver at her. The pork ribs could wait.
“I thought you'd understand.”
“Well, I don't. I think you want sympathy. Look it up in the dictionary. You'll find it between shit and syphilis.”
“It's not like that.”
The more Merry talked, the more she sounded like Emilie trying to convince me she'd study at a school-night sleepover. It didn't work for Emilie and wasn't working for Merry.
“Talk. To. Whip.” I was a stuck record grinding on the same spot over and over.
“He won't stay in the same room with me.”
“Do you blame him?” I put the cleaver on the counter. I was so angry I was afraid to be armed. “What do you expect?”
“I don't know.”
“Whip's not going to sit around doing nothing. You're all but parading Hunter in front of him. You're lucky he hasn't locked you out.” I regained some degree of calm. Years of practice took over. I was once again talking to a rebellious child. “Lord knows, I would have.”
“But…”
“Do you really think you can continue living here?”
“Why should I move? It's my house too.”
“Do you think Whip will quietly go away? Leave the children with you? So you can move Hunter into his bed?” My voice rose on the last word.
“Andy's planni
ng for us to go away.”
“Has he asked you to leave your family?” I pinned Merry like a dead butterfly in a specimen case.
She walked around the kitchen, looking for an out. There was none.
“Has he?”
“Not in so many words.”
“Has he asked you to marry him?”
“Not yet, but he will.”
“Are you sure? How do you know he doesn't toy with women? Ruin their lives and move on to the next victim?”
“I just know. Andy's kind and caring and gentle. He'd never lie or hurt me. He loves me.”
“What about Em and Alex? They know what you're doing. You're tearing them apart.”
Merry didn't answer.
“You need to figure out what's important.”
“I don't know what to do.”
“There's no MapQuest for life, Merry. Look in your heart. Do what's right.”
Dinner could wait. I shoved the ribs back into the refrigerator. I loved dramatic exits. I walked out of the room, back straight, head high.
I'd lied to Merry. Adults could have a time-out. I shut my bedroom door, threw myself on the bed, and ground my teeth. I wanted to be three again, to drum my heels and pound my bed with my fists. I wanted to wail in a full-throated temper tantrum.
For those few seconds, I wanted to go home and forget all about this godforsaken mess. I called Raney.
“A tantrum? You want to have a tantrum?” Raney laughed almost too hard to talk.
“Yes.”
“Well, have one, damn it!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Every time I stood in the doorway of Whip's office-den-bedroom, I started the conversation with “Whip, we need to talk.” Confiding in my son-in-law had become a routine late night activity.
“Yeah.” Whip shifted a pile of papers from my chair to the desk and waved me in. “Still a mess.”
“Do you have ice in the bar?” I sat in my favorite and only chair and turned on the table lamp. The desk lamp threw too small a pool of light to chase the shadows from the corners of the room. Or from my mind.
“Sure do. What's your poison tonight?”
“Jack on the Rocks. Two fingers.”
Mad Max: Unintended Consequences Page 12
