18
Truth or Dare
Diver opened the door even before Caroline could knock. She was wearing a pink dress, something frilly that Marquez would never have been caught dead in. When she sashayed past him into Austin’s living room, she left a flowery scent in her wake.
“You might want to close the door,” she advised, settling on the couch, feet demurely crossed at the ankles. “I assume we’re alone?”
“Austin’s at work.”
“Sit, sit. We have so much to discuss, Paul.”
Diver leaned back against the door, arms crossed over his bare chest. “Just say it, Caroline.”
“Jeez, you’ve turned into such a sourpuss. ’Course, you always were a little…odd.” She batted her eyelids. “Still, who knew you’d fill out so nicely? I might have paid more attention to you if I’d known.”
“What do you want from me?”
Caroline tapped her finger on her chin. “Not a man to mince words, are you? Like my daddy. He’s a lawyer, did you know that? I had one of the clerks at his office do a little fishin’ for me—bein’ the boss’s baby girl does have its advantages—and I came up with the juiciest little tidbits about you, Paul.”
“Such as?”
Caroline pulled several pages of faxes from her purse. “Well, for starters, there’s an outstanding warrant for your arrest, but then you knew that.” She glanced up at him. “Arson, murder, you name it. And here I always thought of you as an underachiever.”
“I didn’t do it, Caroline.” His voice sounded distant and hollow, as if someone else were saying the words in a far-off room.
“Hmm. That’s going to take a little convincing, isn’t it, Paul? What with the flammable liquid all over the place—”
“What liquid?” Diver demanded.
“The police found traces of a solvent that could have been used to start the fire.” She consulted her papers, biting her lower lip in concentration. “Nothing conclusive, apparently, but still…” She shook her head, smiling sympathetically. “It doesn’t look good.”
“He was refinishing some furniture on the porch,” Diver murmured. “Maybe that was it.”
“Could be. But then there’s the other matter of your history.”
“What history?”
“You know. All those pesky domestic calls to the house.” Caroline put her hand to her chest. “I can still remember police cars showin’ up at all hours. My mama would look out the window and say, ‘Paul’s daddy’s havin’ a bad day again.’” She lowered her voice. “And that time your mama went with the police, her eye as black as night—I tell you, I will never forget it till the day I die. We were just little kids then. Maybe you don’t even remember.”
Diver clenched his hands. He remembered, all right.
“But then, even after she died, the way your daddy would take his hand to you! My Lord, he had a temper.” She set the papers aside. “It’s only natural he would come to a sorry end. Frankly, I don’t blame you one bit.”
“I didn’t kill him,” Diver said, but even as he said it he had a flash of the fire behind him, receding from view as he ran like he’d never run before, his feet bare on the dewy lawn, his head bleeding. Running away. His father’s screams had been drowned out by the sounds of the fire devouring everything in its path.
What he should have said was, “I don’t remember killing him.”
“Paul? You look a little pale.”
Diver went to the kitchen and splashed water on his face. He wondered if he was going to be sick.
As he dried his face with a paper towel, Austin’s phone rang. “I’ll get it,” Caroline volunteered sweetly.
“Don’t!” Diver cried, lunging for the receiver. But it was too late.
“Hello?” Caroline said. She looked over at Diver. “Yes, he’s here. Just a moment.”
Diver grabbed the phone away.
“Diver? It’s Summer.”
“This isn’t a good time, Summer.”
“Who was that? The accent sounded familiar. Is that Caroline?”
“Yeah. She was just leaving.”
Summer paused. “Look, I need to talk to you about Marquez. She says she’s not going to counseling tomorrow. I thought if we got together—”
“Maybe later.”
“Diver,” Summer said sternly, “I know you aren’t thrilled about having me in your life. I’m not thrilled about it either. But you’re the one who said we had to work together to keep an eye on Marquez.”
“I know.” Diver glanced at Caroline. “Why don’t you come over in half an hour?”
“I can’t. I might run into Austin.”
“Fine. I’ll meet you at Surfin’ Sam’s, that little restaurant on the water. Half an hour.”
“Good. Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah. Never better.”
He hung up the phone. “Your sister?” Caroline inquired. “I’ve been meaning to get together with her. I’m sure she’d love to hear me reminisce about you as a kid. All the time she missed…it’s a real tragedy, your being kidnapped and all. What a life you’ve had.”
“How do you know about that?”
“Blythe told me. She heard it from someone at work who knows Marquez and Summer. It fit together nicely, once I had all the pieces.” Caroline clucked her tongue. “Very movie-of-the-week, really. At least you had the good sense to be kidnapped by someone with big bucks.”
“What are you talking about? They didn’t have any money.”
“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Paul.” Caroline waved her faxes in the air. “Mind if I get a drink? The heat here is just wilting me.”
She poured herself a glass of water and drank it slowly, letting him wait. “See, it turns out your mean ol’ daddy had a big stash of money. Guess there was a lot of insurance on your mama—what did she die of, anyway?”
“Cancer.”
“Well, he made a killing, pardon the pun, and you, Paul—Diver, I mean—are the only heir.” She shook her head. “Darn the luck, though. You go to claim the money, and sure as night follows day, they’ll arrest your pretty little butt for murder. Isn’t life funny sometimes?”
Diver sat down. He no longer trusted his legs. He felt he should say something, but there was nothing left to say. He’d been running from the truth for years. The truth always had a way of catching up with you, though.
“So what’s your point, Caroline?” he asked wearily.
“Well, you can see how awkward my position is. I mean, I have to turn you in, Paul. It’s my duty as a citizen.” She tapped her finger on her chin. “Of course, if we went in together and I told them a nice little story about how I woke up that night and looked out my bedroom window, how I saw you try to save your daddy by runnin’ bravely back into the flames…well, you get the idea. I could turn you into a hero, Paul. They’d drop the charges, probably give you the key to the city.”
“And your motivation for this would be…?”
“Eighty percent of the insurance money.” Her voice had lost its southern sweetness. “I was going to take it all, but I’m a good Christian. And I believe in giving even the worst sinner a second chance.”
“This is blackmail.”
“Go ahead and complain to the police. I dare you.”
“They’ll ask you why you didn’t tell them all this earlier,” Diver pointed out.
She shrugged. “Post-traumatic stress, isn’t that what you call it? I’ll tell them I blotted the whole awful episode right out of my mind.”
She sat back against the couch and checked her watch. “So, what’ll it be? The gas chamber or a ticker-tape parade? Seems like a pretty easy choice to me.”
Diver closed his eyes. Sometimes, when he concentrated hard enough, he could still feel the heat of the fire sweeping toward him, enraged, like a living thing.
He opened his eyes. “You’re right, Caroline,” he said. “It’s a pretty easy choice, all right.”
19
True Confessions a
t Surfin’ Sam’s
“Have a burger. It’s on me,” Summer said to Diver as he slipped into the chair across from her. “I’m officially employed. Not only that, I’m overpaid.”
Diver said something, but she couldn’t hear him. Surfin’ Sam’s, a beachfront burger joint that was little more than a large shack, was filled to the brim with tourists and locals. Most were in bathing suits, half were toting surfboards, and all were rowdy.
“What did you say?” Summer asked loudly.
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” She took a sip of her Coke. “Diver, what’s wrong? You look sick.”
“Flu, I think. I’m okay.”
Summer reached across the table and felt his head. “You sure?”
“Positive, Mom.”
“Fry?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“This is totally none of my business,” Summer said, “so you can tell me to back off, but what was Caroline doing at your place?”
Diver tapped his fingers on the table, glaring at her. “Back off.”
“Oh, come on, Diver. You know darn well Marquez will tell me anyway.”
“It’s really not that interesting.”
“Humor me.”
Diver sighed. “Caroline was right, it turns out. We were neighbors way back when. Only it was when we were really little, and she had the place wrong. It was in North Carolina. My folks—my other folks—lived there for a while. So did her family.”
“So who’s Paul?”
“She got the name wrong too. Between you and me, Caroline’s not all that tightly wrapped.” He shrugged. “Paul was this guy who lived down the block from us. A real bully. Used to terrorize us both.” He gave a lame laugh. “She stopped by, we reminisced. I think…you know, maybe she was coming on to me.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me. Every girl at Bloomington High wanted to be my friend while you were going to school there. You made me very popular. Temporarily.” She pushed her plate aside. “You want my advice?”
He smiled grimly. “No.”
“Whatever you do, don’t tell Marquez about Caroline. The last thing she needs to worry about right now is the possibility of losing you.”
“Why would she lose me?” Diver asked sharply.
“To another girl,” Summer said. “There are lots of Carolines out there, lying in wait to prey on naive, unsuspecting guys like you. Why else?”
The waitress buzzed past and handed Diver a menu. “Thanks, he said, “but I’m just passing through.”
“Too bad for me,” she replied with a wink.
Summer rolled her eyes. “I rest my case.”
“Look,” Diver said, leaning close, “I need you to make Marquez understand that she has to take better care of herself. It’s her responsibility.”
“I’ve tried,” Summer said. “I was hoping you could get through to her.”
Diver combed his fingers through his hair. “I’m not the best one to give lectures on responsibility. I have a tendency to walk out when things get tough.”
“At least you leave polite notes behind,” Summer said. “Allow me to quote in full: ‘I’m sorry.’ No greeting, no signature. Succinct, to the point, no unnecessary emotion.”
She saw the pain in his eyes and almost regretted her sarcastic tone. They were there to talk about Marquez, not to reopen old wounds.
“I need you to promise me something, Summer,” Diver said. “No matter how you feel about me, you’ll always be there for Marquez, right?”
“Of course I will. She’s my best friend.”
He leaned back, studying her. “It’s easy for you,” he said.
“What?”
“Sticking around for people. Loyalty.”
Summer gave a rueful laugh. “Not always. Ask Seth.”
“Still, when you say you’ll stick by Marquez and get her through this, I know you mean it. If I said it, it would be just…words.”
Summer gazed at her brother. Diver was talking in riddles. He was good at that. Of course, he was also good at talking to pelicans. He was like an onion: peel away one layer of mystery and there was always another one waiting.
“Diver,” she said softly, “are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m always okay. You know that.”
Against her better judgment, she reached across the table and squeezed his hand.
“Have you forgotten you hate me?”
“I don’t hate you, Diver. You just…disappointed me is all.”
“It’s a habit of mine.”
“That’s water under the bridge. The real problem is Marquez. I’ll talk to her, make her see how worried you are. Maybe I can get through to her with a guilt trip—I’ll say you’re a wreck and that she owes you.”
“She doesn’t owe me. I owe her. She’s the first person I’ve ever really let myself love since…you know. Since I was little.”
“Since Mom and Dad,” Summer said softly, waiting for the inevitable clarification, the “Jack and Kim.”
But Diver simply nodded. “And since you.”
The moment hung suspended in time, floating between them like a fragile soap bubble. Neither moved or spoke for fear it would burst.
At last Diver pushed back his chair. “Well, I need to go.”
“I know you’re worried about Marquez,” Summer said. “But she’ll be fine. You love her, and I love her. And she can count on us, right?”
“Right,” Diver whispered, speaking not to her, it seemed, but to some secret part of himself.
20
It’s Always So Nice to Get Mail
When Summer got back to the apartment, it was empty. There was a note from Seth on the counter:
Hi, Summer—
Marquez is at work, Diana’s at her volunteer thing, I’m out ring shopping. Back from Woolworth soon. I love you.
Summer smiled. She went to her room and changed into a pair of cutoffs and a T-shirt. The room was a mess. Apparently Diana had been on another reorganizing frenzy. There were boxes everywhere, papers on the floor, clothes on her bed and on Summer’s.
Summer sighed. Maybe the problem was that Diana had grown up with a maid to clean up after her. Summer had to clear off a place on her bed just to sit down.
She felt like napping. She wasn’t tired, really, but she wanted to sleep away the images that kept coming back to her, haunting her mind: Austin the night before, drunk, depressed, in pain because of her. Jared that day, trapped in a mangled body, willing to pay a stranger to be his friend. And Diver just now, unreachable as always, trying nonetheless to say he loved her.
At least that was what she thought he’d been trying to say. With Diver, it was difficult to ever really know.
She thought of Seth, out buying a ring at Woolworth’s, and smiled. Sweet, reliable, solid Seth. Sometimes she didn’t realize how lucky she was. At least with Seth she always knew where she stood.
She pushed back her sheets, tossing aside more of Diana’s stuff. She should have known better than to share a room with her cousin. This bedroom was the size of Diana’s old closet in her former house. One of her closets.
Summer grabbed a box of postcards and odds and ends off her pillow. Underneath it was a letter. She tossed it in the box and shoved the box onto Diana’s side of the room.
With a sigh, she crawled under her sheets and closed her eyes.
Her eyes flew open.
Seth, the letter had said. The name had been written in Diana’s careful, perfect handwriting.
Why would Diana have been writing Seth?
Summer climbed out of bed and went over to the box. She fished out the note and began to read.
1/14
Seth:
This is my fifth letter to you. You haven’t received any of them because I haven’t sent any of them, and I probably won’t send this one either. I’m not used to embarrassing myself, and I’m not used to being the one doing the chasing. Face it, I’m used to guys coming after me. This is a new exper
ience. I’m sure you’re smiling to yourself right now in that smug way you sometimes do.
But anyway, here goes. I know you think what happened between us New Year’s Eve was a terrible mistake.
Summer paused. She went over to her bed and sat down on the edge, clutching the letter to her chest. New Year’s Eve.
What happened between us New Year’s Eve.
She plunged to the letter’s finish, like a reader who just had to know how the story ended.
The point is, I’ve always been in love with you, Seth, and I just never had the nerve
That was it. No signature, no finish.
Summer read the letter again, this time taking in each word. When she was done, she did not cry or tear up the letter or crumple it. She put it back in the box.
She went to the closet and pulled out her battered old suitcase. Carefully she packed: tops, jeans, shorts, a couple of skirts, underwear.
She went to the bathroom and got her brush, hair dryer, shampoo, and conditioner. Toothbrush, floss, Tampax.
She zipped up the suitcase. Her hands were not trembling. Her lip was not quivering. She felt strangely, eerily calm, the unnatural quiet in the eye of a hurricane.
She got a phone number from her purse, then found Diana’s cell phone and dialed.
“Juanita?” she said calmly. “It’s Summer Smith. I’ve changed my mind about the live-in position.”
When she hung up, she found a pen and a notepad. The first note was to Marquez.
Marquez—
I am at 1304 Naples Avenue in Eden Shores.
Please come see me. Promise you’ll go to counseling tomorrow. Diver is really worried.
Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.
She got a fresh piece of paper. She thought for a while. At last she wrote:
Seth and Diana—
I know everything. Do not try to get in touch with me.
Summer
Succinct, to the point, no unnecessary emotion. It was a note to make Diver proud.
21
Summer Returns
Tan Lines Page 21