The China Doll

by Deborah Nam-Krane

  "No, Mom. I’m like you in that I’ve learned how to lie and shut myself off from the people I’m supposed to be the closest to." He seemed like he was going to choke. "And now I’m going to end up just as alone as you are because of it."

  "I’m sorry about Zainab. I know you love her."

  "What good does that do? Ah, God!" Richard grabbed the chair in front of him. "Jessie pointed out what a bastard I was last night, and she’s right. Emily told me that everything before doesn’t excuse what I did, and she’s right too. And Miranda told me that I knew exactly what I was doing when I did it, and that I did it on purpose. And they’re all right, Mom. It doesn’t matter what you feel—it matters what you do. And it doesn’t matter if you’ve always tried with other people, because you don’t get to carry over that credit with someone else." He was crying now. "Well, you shouldn’t. But Zainab let me. She knew. She knew how hard everything was with Michael, with Jessie. She knew how lonely I was." Lucy felt her chest tighten. "And she loved me for all of that. She never asked me to do anything for her. She saw something that no one else ever saw, and she liked it. I made her happy, just as I was. And she made me happy. She’s the one who went above and beyond the call for me. She trusted me, even when she knew she shouldn’t. But I just can’t handle a good thing because I’ve never had it, so I had to go screw it up on purpose so it wouldn’t get ripped away from me. And now here we are Mom." He wiped his nose. "Any words of advice?"

  "You hurt her, Richard," Lucy said gently. "But it’s something you can fix."

  Richard snorted. "Miranda said that too."

  "Miranda’s not as foolish as she lets on then."

  "We can’t choose whom we love, Mom. You should know that better than anyone else."

  "Oh, Richard." He looked away. "How long did you know?"

  "I always knew," Richard said tersely. "You lit up whenever she was around in a way you never did for Dad or for me. I hated her whenever she was here because I was so jealous of how happy you were around her."

  "I tried so hard, I really did."

  "He worshipped you, Mom."

  "Should that have made things easier?" she asked. "Because it only made things worse. I was never going to be what he thought I was, much less what he wanted." She put her hand on his back. "But you did make me happy, darling. You have to believe that. You were such a sweet little boy, and so bright. I’ve always been so proud of you."

  "Is that why you couldn’t stand to be around me?"

  "I felt so awful about what happened with your father, and I knew you held me responsible. I just didn’t know why," she said.

  "You got sloppy, Mom. It’s one thing for me to know, but did you have to let him find out?"

  "I never...Richard, I never flaunted anything in front of him."

  "But you couldn’t stop yourself, could you?"

  She took a deep breath. "He never suspected anything, I swear to you." She looked away. "And does it make you feel any better to know that it ended as soon as he died?"

  "Too little, too late."

  "I’m sorry for that too."

  "No." He shook his head. "You got sloppy. He found out, and that’s why he shot himself. He was fine when he woke up that morning, but he was heartbroken that afternoon. You did that. He found something, he must have."

  "There was nothing to find, ever."

  "Then what?" Richard demanded. "How did he know then?"

  Lucy narrowed her eyes. "Tommy must have told him," she said at last. It was the only thing that made sense.

  "Why would he do that? What did he have to gain?"

  "I loved him, but Tommy was a bastard."

  "Then how could you be so awful to Josie?"

  "Richard, you didn’t see her clearly."

  "Jesus Christ!" Richard shouted. "After everything your precious Joanna said, you still can’t wrap your head around Uncle Tom being a wife-beating rapist? I saw what he did to Josie and Jessie that night, and I saw how terrified Josie was of him every time he was around her. How could you not have seen that?" Lucy didn’t say anything. "But you did, didn’t you? Because we both see what’s right in front of us. And you didn’t do anything."

  Lucy closed her eyes. "My father wasn’t like that. My mother never touched us. Tom was always a little bit mean, but…" She looked away. "He used to beat me up when we were little, but I fought back so he stopped. He was easy to stop. Why couldn’t she make him stop?"

  "Josie was at least a decade younger and tiny compared to you. And he raped her—obviously she couldn’t stop him."

  "Because Joanna said so?"

  "Mom! You think Josie married him because he was so charming?"

  "He was very wealthy."

  "You know what? Grandpa Gerald was right—you and Dad were perfect for each other. You saw what you wanted to see too. Anyone who didn’t hate her could see that she wasn’t a gold-digger. There was only one thing she cared about, and that was Jessie. Oh, who cares!?!" He threw up his hands. "She did fight back, Mom. Do you approve now? She had no friends, she was in constant danger and that monster was hurting Jessie. She did what she had to do."

  "Oh my God—"

  "No, don’t. Don’t be shocked, don’t be sad, don’t be angry. You—and Alex, and Dad and everyone who had two eyes—might as well have watched while he beat her. And you would have watched while he killed her too—and Jessie. What was she supposed to do?"

  Lucy felt sick, but she didn’t waiver. "He was my brother."

  "Then you should have stopped him."

  "I tried to stop Michael."

  "Don’t you dare!" Richard shouted. "They are not the same. Michael almost did something unforgivable, but I stopped him. Because when it comes to family, you have to get your hands dirty sometimes. But he didn’t beat up little girls and their mothers because it was fun."

  "Didn’t he try to hurt your friend after that?"

  Richard was silent for a moment, seething. "I didn’t know about that until after Alex sent Michael away."

  "Because you can’t be there all the time."

  "Then you have to work that much harder when you are."

  "I couldn’t do anything with Michael. Alex tied my hands. He went to rehab a few times—that was my idea, and I happily picked up the bill. But it didn’t do anything. And you saw what happened when I tried to go to the police."

  "Then let’s hear it for Alex accidentally doing something right. Which corrupt cop were you planning on paying off to screw Michael?"

  Lucy sighed. "So the punishment for wife-beating is death. What’s the punishment for murder?"

  Richard threw up his hands. "You didn’t have to work so hard—someone did the job for you, and just the way I’m sure you would have liked."

  Lucy was indignant. "Have you been thinking all these years—"

  "Right—that’s beneath you. Letting her sit in prison for years—a constant reminder of a family scandal..." He scoffed. "I think you’ve proven what you’ll do to preserve your reputation."

  "I did not have Josie killed, and I never asked Detective Teague to either. I wanted him to investigate my brother’s death after the police concluded it was an accident. I’m sorry now I hired him, but he was the original officer and I thought it would be easier."

  "And he needed the money."

  "He needed the money. And I promised him more if he could bring charges against her—not if she ended up dead."

  "Congratulations anyway. You got your pound of flesh—and you created another monster."

  Lucy sighed. "Is Jessie alright?"

  Richard shrugged. "I think she hates me now. That’s good, right?"

  CHAPTER 29

  Miranda was at her desk at ten-thirty when her phone rang. She sighed. It was Michael. She hit the Ignore button and went back to work.

  He called again. She ignored it. Again. Finally, her work phone rang. She glared at it, then picked it up.

  "Michael, I can’t do this right now."

  "Please don’t
hang up."

  "Fine." She tightened her fingers around the phone cord. "But let me just cut to the chase. Yes, I went home with Alex last night. Yes, he still wants to marry me. And yes, I’m thinking about it—seriously."

  "We’ll talk about that later," he said stonily. "That’s not why I called."

  She looked at the receiver. "Then what?"

  "You can’t see Doctor Wolfe anymore."

  "Oh, so you get to see a therapist but I don’t? I think you’re underestimating how messed up I am now."

  "This isn’t a joke!" Miranda was used to Michael’s urgency, but this sounded different. "When did you last see him?"

  "Yesterday. After I ran into you."

  "And what you said last night—about closing your eyes—did he say that to you?"

  "What? Who?"

  "Doctor Wolfe!"

  "I don’t…" Miranda remembered. She swallowed. "It’s none of your business. Don’t I get a little bit of privacy?"

  "Okay, you were talking about me," he said quickly. "About what?"

  "It wasn’t about you!"

  "Alex, then?" Silence. "Were you talking about sex with Alex? Hmm. I guess I got that right last night."

  "Just shut up!"

  "Sweetheart, you can’t see him again. He’s a dangerous man."

  "Michael, are you sure?" She was tired of pretending she didn’t trust him. She looked at her watch. Ten-thirty-five. "Oh, no."

  "What is it?"

  "Jessie!" She hung up and flew out of the office without taking her coat. Emily and Carlos didn’t even have a chance to ask her where she was going.

  Miranda had jumped into a cab by the time Michael called back. "What are you doing?"

  "Jessie has an appointment in fifteen minutes."

  "Miranda! Just wait for me, please."

  "Michael, call Detective Teague."

  "You mean the idiot Richard punched a few nights ago?"

  "Yes, that one!" Miranda said angrily. "Just do it!" She hung up and knocked on the glass. "Forty bucks extra if you get there in the next five minutes!"

  ~~~

  Richard was still at his mother’s when his phone rang. "Michael, this is not a good time."

  "Richard, you have to call that Detective."

  "Call him what?"

  "Everyone’s such a God damned comedian this morning!" Michael bellowed. "Teague! Call him right after you give me Doctor Wolfe’s address."

  "First of all, why do I need to call that incompetent bastard, and second of all, is it that hard to find a qualified therapist in Boston?"

  "Richard, he’s dangerous. Jessie’s there now, and Miranda is on her way. Give me that address now."

  "Mom, call Detective Teague, right now." He trusted Michael too, if only because of his concern for Miranda. "Michael, you’re going to tell me what’s going on, but you’re not going anywhere near Doctor Wolfe’s office. If he’s dangerous, we don’t need to make it worse."

  "I’ll just look it up myself," Michael said and hung up.

  ~~~

  Five minutes later, Michael was in a cab. He looked at his watch. Five minutes to eleven. "Fifty bucks if you get me there in less than five minutes!"

  ~~~

  "I certainly didn’t expect to hear from you again," Robert said once Richard got on the phone.

  "Do you want to do your job, or not?" Richard barked.

  "Has Jessie gotten any more notes?"

  "No, but I have reason to believe that her therapist might be involved."

  "Andreas Wolfe? What happened?"

  "How do you—? Never mind. I don’t know," Richard said impatiently. "But she’s there now."

  "And you expect me to do what? Based on what?"

  "Detective, I expect to see you at that office within twenty minutes. And if I don’t, I will call every supervisor you have up to the Mayor, regardless of whatever dirt you’ve found on any of us. And if anything happens to my family or friends that will be the least of your concerns." He hung up and handed the phone to his mother. "I have to go."

  "Richard, what is going on?"

  "Mom, I can’t handle this unusual display of concern right now, alright?"

  "Mother’s prerogative and it’s not unusual. And you’re not going anywhere. Let the police handle this."

  "We’re talking about Jessie. And Miranda. Did I mention Michael’s on his way there? And did you meet Detective Teague?"

  "You have a point," she said slowly. "But I don’t want you to leave like this."

  Richard hugged his mother for the first time since he was eleven. "Mom, I promise. This conversation isn’t over." Then he let go and ran out the door.

  "Be careful," she whispered after he had gone.

  CHAPTER 30

  The snow was just beginning to fall during a 1980 winter night when Alex showed up at Lucy’s door. "Alex?" she said when she opened the door. She wasn’t trying to hide how annoyed she was. And that made his job so much easier.

  "Hello, Lucy. May I come in?"

  "I’m afraid Tom isn’t here," she said pointedly.

  "I realize that," Alex said. "I came to see you." He looked her up and down. "It’s very important."

  Lucy sighed. "Please come in," she said. He walked through and she closed the door. "Unfortunately, I don’t have much time. I have an appointment soon," she said.

  "This doesn’t need to take long," he said as he sat down.

  "Very well," she said. She sat down across from him. "What can I do for you?"

  She didn’t offer him a drink. "I’ll come straight to the point. I came here to talk to you about Jim Hendrickson."

  Her face didn’t change. "I didn’t realize the two of you were close."

  "Not yet, but I hope to see that change. Stephen and Annabelle just announced their engagement."

  "Yes, I saw the announcement. Gerald Hendrickson just sent me an invitation to their engagement party."

  "I hope to see you there."

  "I would like to go, but I don’t want to give anyone the wrong impression. It might not be a good idea."

  "And I am positive it is."

  Lucy smiled. "I’m sorry, but I underestimated the time. I really need to be going."

  "Who are you going to meet, Lucy?"

  "Just some friends."

  "Would one of those friends be Joanna Hazlett?"

  Lucy smiled and tilted her head. Alex knew he was beginning to get her attention. "Yes, in fact. How good of you to remember that we’re friends."

  "She’s quite memorable, isn’t she?"

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Lucy, how much dancing do you want to do tonight?"

  "None with you." Lucy stood up. She began walking to the door. Alex started smiling. He was enjoying this.

  "Right. Because I’m not your type. But Joanna is?"

  Lucy stopped just as her hand touched the doorknob. "Excuse me?"

  "I know about you and Joanna Hazlett."

  "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

  "Oh, you don’t know what I could possibly mean about you and your close friend? Your friend who spends so much time in this cozy little apartment of yours."

  Lucy fixed her steely grey eyes on him. "She’s taking graduate classes now. Sometimes it’s convenient for her to stop here for dinner before she goes home."

  "And sometimes it gets cold, right?" Alex stood up. "So it’s better if she just spends the night."

  Lucy nodded. "Yes, sometimes she spends the night."

  "Wonderful that she has such a good...friend." He stood next to her. Lucy stayed transfixed as if magnetized to her spot. "Wouldn’t it be a shame if someone thought something else?"

  She blinked, then she stood up taller. "I guess I can’t control what people think, or what they say. Talk is just that, and even less if no one listens."

  "And who might someone like me tell; is that what you’re thinking? Stephen doesn’t really gossip, and Annabelle wouldn’t care what I said if she bothered to speak to
me. But you don’t think Gerald might be a little concerned?"

  "Because your friend is marrying his daughter? Because you work for him? I think he’d need a better reason to listen to your idle gossip."

  "He has one."

  "And what might that be?"

  "None of your concern right now."

  "Then by all means, go right ahead. Tell Gerald whatever you want."

  He already knew where her pressure point was. "Because you’re so impervious to anything someone like me might say or anything he might do?" She only smiled. "Bartolome. Leighton. We should all be so lucky." He sighed. "But we’re not, are we? Some of us are Sheldons. Some of us are just Hazletts."

  Lucy snapped to attention. "What?"

  "Don’t worry. What could a Sheldon really do to a Hazlett, or anyone else, really? But a Hendrickson...hmm. You never know. Some things might be beneath them. Maybe."

  Lucy wasn’t breathing. "Why would you—"

  "Graduate school, right? She wants to teach, doesn’t she?" Lucy nodded. "She’d be a great professor, wouldn’t she? Wouldn’t it be a shame to stop her before she got the chance?"

  Lucy turned her head so he couldn’t see her eyes. "Yes, that would be so unfair."

  "And tragic," Alex offered. "Because it would be so easy to avoid."

  "How..." she said, looking at her hands, "…could it be avoided?"

  "You should...get out more," Alex said slowly. "For instance, I think you should go to Stephen and Annabelle’s party."

  She licked her lips. "That’s easy enough."

  He nodded his head. "Good. Very good. And you know what else would be easy? Going with Jim."

  Lucy nodded. He could tell she understood. "That could be arranged."

  "Excellent. And while you’re there, I think you need to take another look at Jim. I don’t think you’ve fully evaluated Jim for his potential as a husband. Or as a father."

  Lucy turned and looked at Alex as if he’d hit her. "Father?" She was blinking very fast. "I think that might be a little bit much."

  "But I think that’s just perfect," Alex said softly, catching her eyes again. "And the sooner the better. I’d say that would be the only guarantee we would have against ugly rumors."

  She waited a moment. "Anything else?"