“I wanna go to the water,” Crew said.
Jeremy grabbed his wallet and his keys. “Go tell Harper to get her shoes on. Your mom will take you. I’ll be back before lunch.”
I turned around and faced him. “Where are you going?”
“Groceries,” he said. “I told you this morning.”
He did say that.
Crew ran upstairs, and I sighed. “I’d rather do the shopping. You stay and play with them.”
Jeremy walked up to me, wrapping an arm around me. He pressed his forehead to mine, and I felt that gesture go straight to my heart. “You haven’t written in six months. You don’t go outside. You don’t play with them.” He pulls me in for a hug. “I’m getting worried about you, babe. Just take them outside for half an hour. Get some Vitamin D.”
“Do you think I’m depressed?” I said, pulling back. That was laughable. He was the depressed one.
Jeremy set his keys on the counter so he could hold my face with both of his hands. “I think we’re both depressed. And we will be for a while. We need to look out for each other.”
I smiled at him. I liked that he thought we were in this together. Maybe we were. He kissed me then, and for the first time in a long time, he kissed me with tongue and very little grief. It felt like old times. I pulled him to me and lifted onto my toes, deepening the kiss. I felt him harden against me, without coercion this time.
“I want you to sleep in our room tonight,” I whispered.
He smiled against my lips. “Okay. But there won’t be much sleeping.”
His tone of voice, his heated eyes, that grin. There you are, Jeremy Crawford. I’ve missed you.
After Jeremy left, I took his damn children to play by the water. I also took the last book I’d written in my series. Jeremy was right, it had been six months since I’d written anything. I needed to get back in the groove. I already missed a deadline, but Pantem was lenient, thanks to the tragic “accidental” loss of Chastin.
They’d probably be even more lenient on my deadline if they knew what had really happened to her.
Crew walked out onto the dock toward the canoe. I tensed, because the dock is old and Jeremy didn’t like them being on it. But Crew didn’t weigh much, so I relaxed a little. I doubted he could fall through.
He sat down at the edge of the dock and stuck his feet in the canoe. I was surprised it hadn’t floated away yet. It was hanging by a threadbare rope.
Crew doesn’t know it, and maybe he’ll find out one day, but he was conceived in that canoe. The week I lied and told Jeremy I was pregnant was the most prolific week of sex we’d had to date. But I’m pretty sure it was the canoe that did the trick. It’s why I wanted to name him Crew. I wanted a nautical-themed name.
I missed those days.
There were a lot of things I missed, actually. Mostly I missed our lives before we had children. The twins, anyway.
Sitting on the shore that day, watching Crew, I wondered what it would be like to only have him. It would be another adjustment if Harper were to pass, but I figured we’d get through it. I wasn’t much help after Chastin died because for a while, I was grieving too. But if Harper were to pass, I could be more help to Jeremy during his recovery.
This time, there would be very little grief on my part since all my grief was reserved for Chastin.
Maybe most of Jeremy’s grief was reserved for Chastin, too.
It was a possibility.
I used to assume that the individual deaths of a person’s children would be equally difficult for them. Losing a second or even third child would hurt just as much as the first experience.
But that was before Jeremy and I lost Chastin. Her death made us swell with grief. It filled every crevice inside of us, every limb.
If the canoe were to capsize with the children in it—if Harper were to drown—Jeremy might not have room for more grief. Maybe he was at full capacity.
When you’ve already lost one child, you might as well have lost them all.
With no room for more grief and Harper no longer around, the three of us could become the perfect family.
“Harper.”
She was several feet from me, playing in the sand. I stood up and wiped the back of my jeans. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go for a ride in the canoe with your brother.”
Harper jumped up, unaware as she stepped foot onto the dock that she’d never know what the earth felt like beneath her feet again.
“I get front,” she said. I followed her to the edge of the dock. I helped Crew climb in first, then Harper. Then I sat down and carefully lowered myself into the boat. I used the paddle to push away from the dock.
I was in the back of the boat, and Crew was in the middle. I paddled us out to the middle of the lake as they leaned over the edge, running their fingers in the water.
The lake was calm as I looked around. We lived in a cove with 2,000 feet of shoreline, so we didn’t get much of the lake traffic out here. It was a quiet day.
Harper sat up straight in the canoe and wiped her hands on her leggings. She turned around, her back to me Crew and me.
I leaned forward, close to Crew’s ear. I covered his mouth with my hand. “Crew. Sweetie. Hold your breath.”
I gripped the edge of the canoe and leaned all my weight to the right.
I heard a small yelp. I wasn’t sure if it came from Crew or Harper, but after the yelp and the initial splash, I heard nothing. Just pressure. The silence pressed against my ears as I kicked my arms and legs until I broke through the surface.
I could hear splashing. Harper’s scream. Crew’s scream. I swam toward Crew and wrapped my arms around him. I looked toward the house, hoping I could make it back to shore with him. We were farther out than I’d realized.
I started swimming. Harper was screaming.
Splashing.
I continued to swim.
She continued to scream.
Nothing.
I heard another splash.
More nothing.
I kept swimming and refused to look back until I could feel the mud seep between my toes. I gripped at the surface of the lake like it was a life vest. Crew was gasping and coughing, bobbing up and down, clinging to me. It was harder than I thought it would be to keep him afloat.
Jeremy would thank me for this. For saving Crew.
He’d be devastated, of course, but thankful, too.
I wondered if we’d sleep in the same bed that night. He would be exhausted, but he would want to sleep in the same bed as me, hold me, make sure I was okay.
“Harper!” Crew yelled as soon as he cleared his lungs of water.
I covered Crew’s mouth and dragged him to the shore, plopping him down on the sand. His eyes were wide with fear. “Mommy!” he cried, pointing behind me. “Harper can’t swim!”
Sand was all over me, stuck to my hands, my arms, my thighs. My lungs felt like fire. Crew tried to crawl back toward the water, but I pulled his hand and made him sit down. The ripples from the commotion of the water were still lapping at my toes. I looked out at the lake, but there was nothing. No screaming. No splashing.
Crew was growing more and more hysterical.
“I tried to save her,” I whispered. “Mommy tried to save her.”
“Go get her!” he screamed, pointing out at the lake.
I wondered then how it would look if he told anyone I didn’t go back out into the water. Most mothers wouldn’t leave the water until they’d found their child. I needed to get back in the water.
“Crew. We need to save Harper. Do you remember how to use Mommy’s phone to call Daddy?”
He nodded, wiping tears from his cheeks.
“Go. Go to the house and call Daddy. Tell him Mommy is trying to save Harper and he needs to call the police.”
“Okay!” he said, running up to the house.
He was such a good brother.
I was cold and out of breath, but I trudged back out into the lake. “Harper?” I said her name
quietly, afraid if I called too loudly, she’d get a second wind and pop up out of the water.
I took my time. I didn’t want to go too far and risk touching her, bumping into her. What if there was still life in her and she clung to my shirt? Tried to pull me under?
I was aware I needed to be out here when Jeremy showed up. I needed to be crying. Cold. On the verge of hypothermia. Bonus points if I was taken away in an ambulance.
The canoe was upside down, closer inland than when it flipped. Jeremy and I had flipped the canoe a couple of times before, so I was aware there were air pockets when it was positioned like it was. What if Harper had swam to it? What if she had clung to it and was hiding under it? Waiting to tell her daddy what I had done?
I worked my way to the canoe. I moved carefully, not wanting to touch her. When I reached the capsized boat, I held my breath and went under the water. I popped up inside the canoe.
Oh, thank God, I thought.
She wasn’t there.
Thank God.
I heard Crew calling my name from far away. I ducked under the water and popped up outside the canoe. I screamed Harper’s name, full of panic, like an actual devastated mother would.
“Harper!”
“Daddy is coming!” Crew yelled from the shore.
I started screaming Harper’s name even louder. The police would be here soon, before Jeremy.
“Harper!”
I went under several times so that I’d be out of breath. I did that, over and over, until I could barely stay afloat. I screamed her name and didn’t stop until a police officer was pulling me out of the water.
I continued to scream her name, throwing in the occasional, “My daughter!” and “My baby girl!”
One person was in the water looking for her. Then two. Then three. Then I felt someone fly past me, onto the dock. He ran to the end and jumped in head first. When he popped up, I saw that it was Jeremy.
I can’t describe the look on his face as he yelled for her. It was a look of determination mixed with horror mixed with psychosis.
I was crying real tears at that point. I was hysterical. I wanted to smile at how appropriately hysterical I was, but I didn’t because part of me knew I had messed up. I could see it in Jeremy’s face. This one would be even harder for him to recover from than Chastin.
I didn’t anticipate that.
She’d been under water for over half an hour when he finally found her. She was tangled in a fishing net. I couldn’t tell if it was green or yellow from where I sat on the beach, but I remembered Jeremy losing a yellow fishing net last year. What are the odds that I tipped the canoe in the exact spot it was tangled beneath the surface? Had the fishing net not been there, she probably would have made it to shore.
After she was untangled, the men helped Jeremy lift her onto the dock. Jeremy tried to perform CPR until the paramedic made it to the edge of the dock. And even then, he wouldn’t stop.
He wouldn’t stop until he had no choice. The dock began to cave in, and Jeremy rolled right off the edge of it, catching Harper in his arms. Three other men remained on the dock, reaching for her body.
I wondered if that moment would haunt him. Having to catch his dead daughter’s body as she fell on top of him in the water.
Jeremy wouldn’t let go of her. He found his footing in the water and carried her, all the way to the shore. When he reached the sand, he collapsed, still holding her. He pressed his face into her sopping wet hair, and I heard him whispering to her.
“I love you, Harper. I love you, Harper. I love you, Harper.”
He said it over and over as he held her. His sadness made me ache for him. I crawled to him, to her, and I wrapped my arms around them both. “I tried to save her,” I whispered. “I tried to save her.”
He wouldn’t let go of Harper. The paramedics had to pry her from his arms. He left me there, with Crew, while he climbed into the back of the ambulance.
Jeremy didn’t ask me what had happened. He didn’t tell me he was leaving. He didn’t look at me at all.
His reaction wasn’t quite what I had planned, but I realized he was in shock. He’d adjust. He just needed time.
I’m gripping the toilet as I vomit. I was sick before I even finished the chapter. I’m shaking, as if I had been there. Like I witnessed firsthand what that woman did to her daughter. To Jeremy.
I press my forehead against my arm, struggling with what to do.
Do I tell someone? Do I tell Jeremy? Do I call the police?
What would the police even be able to do with her?
They’d lock her up somewhere. A mental institution. Jeremy would be free of her.
I brush my teeth, staring at my reflection. After I rinse my mouth out, I stand up straight and wipe my mouth. As my hand moves across my face, I can see the scar in the mirror. I never thought this scar would become insignificant to me, but it’s starting to feel that way. What I went through with my mother is nothing compared to this.
What happened between us was a disconnect. A broken bond.
This was murder.
I grab my bag and search for my Xanax. The pill is clenched in my fist as I walk to the kitchen. I pull a shot glass out of the cabinet and pour Crown Royal into it, all the way to the top. I pick up the shot glass, just as April rounds the corner. She pauses, staring at me.
I stare right back as I pop the pill into my mouth and down the shot.
I go back to my room and close my door, locking it. I pull the blinds down over the hole in the window to block out the sun.
I close my eyes and pull the covers over my head as I wonder what the hell I should do.
•••
I wake up sometime later, feeling a warmth travel down my body. Something touches my lips. My eyes flick open.
Jeremy.
I sigh against his mouth as he lowers himself on top of me. I welcome the comfort of his lips. Little does he know that every ounce of sadness his kiss is eliminating is sadness I feel for him. For a situation he knows nothing about.
I adjust the covers, pulling them out from between us so there’s no barrier. He’s still kissing me as he rolls onto his side, pulling me against him.
“It’s two o’clock in the afternoon,” he whispers. “You feeling okay?”
“Yes,” I lie. “I’m just tired.”
“Me too.” He feathers his fingers down my arm, then grabs my hand.
“How did you get in here?” I ask, knowing the door was locked from the inside.
He smiles. “The window. April took Verity to the doctor, and Crew won’t be home from school for another hour.”
The rest of the tension built up inside me somehow seeps out with that news. Verity isn’t in this house, and I’m at instant peace.
Jeremy lays his head on my chest, facing my feet as his fingers explore my panty line. “I checked the lock. It appears, if you slam a door hard enough, it could latch into place.”
I don’t respond to that because I’m not sure I believe it. I’m sure there’s a chance, but I think the chance that it was Verity is greater.
Jeremy lifts my T-shirt—another one that belongs to him. He kisses a spot between my breasts. “I like it when you wear my shirts.”
I run my fingers through his hair and smile. “I like it when they smell like you.”
He laughs. “What do I smell like?”
“Petrichor.”
He’s dragging his lips down my stomach. “I don’t even know what that means.” His voice is a mumble against my skin.
“It’s a word that describes the smell of fresh rain after warm weather.”
He moves until his mouth is close to mine. “I had no idea there was a word for that.”
“There’s a word for everything.”
He kisses me briefly, then pulls back. His eyebrows draw together as he contemplates. “Is there a word for what I’m doing?”
“Probably. What are you referring to?”
He traces my jaw with a finger. �
�This,” he says quietly. “Falling for a woman when I shouldn’t.”
My heart sinks, despite his admission. I hate that he feels guilty for how he’s feeling. I understand it, though. No matter the condition of his marriage or his wife, he’s sleeping in their bed with another woman. There’s not much justification for that.
“Do you feel guilty?” I ask him.
“Yes.” He regards me silently for a moment. “But not guilty enough to stop.” He lays his head on the pillow next to me.
“But it will stop,” I say. “I need to go back to Manhattan. And you’re married.”
His eyes seem to be protecting thoughts he doesn’t want to speak out loud. We’re both quiet as we stare at each other for a while. He eventually leans in to kiss me before saying, “I thought about what you said in the kitchen last night.”
I don’t speak in fear of what he’s about to say. Was he open to everything I had to say? Does he agree that the quality of his life is just as important as Verity’s?
“I called a nursing facility who will take her during the week, starting Monday. She’ll come home three weekends a month.” He waits for my reaction.
“I think that’s the best thing for all three of you.”
As if I see it happen in real time, the grief begins to evaporate. From him, from this house. The wind is blowing through the window, the house is quiet, Jeremy looks at peace. It’s in this moment I decide what to do about the manuscript.
I’m not going to do anything.
Proving that Verity murdered Harper wouldn’t make Jeremy feel better. It would make him feel worse. It would open up so many wounds. It would rip the fresh wounds open even wider.
I’m not convinced that Verity is safe to be around, but there are ways to uncover that with time. I think Jeremy just needs better security. A monitor in Verity’s room, connected to a motion sensor on the weekends she’s here. If she really is faking her injuries, he’ll find out. And if he does find out, he’ll never allow her around Crew again.
And now that she’s going to a facility, she’ll be monitored even more closely.
Right now, things feel okay. Safe.
Verity Page 20