“About this letter nonsense?” She cocked her head to the side and stared at her with unblinking eyes.
“I thought Rosemary might have some ideas about what happened.”
Her mother’s hands shook. She folded them around her wine glass. “Did she?”
This is impossible. “She did.” Liz bought time by taking a sip of wine.
“What does she remember?”
Liz stared into her glass. How could she say this? Never before, in all her cases, had finding the right words been more important to her than now. “What do you remember about that night?”
“I’ve told you before. Nothing.”
“Do you remember being in the bathroom with your mother?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
“Think hard.”
She closed her eyes. “I remember when they told me she’d died. I was in my bedroom. Tucked in for the night already. I had a little pink blanket I used to sleep with that smelled like our old house in Oregon. My father and grandmother came in. They brought me hot chocolate, which was strange because my grandmother was strict about sugar.” She paused as she pressed her fingers into her forehead. “They told me Mommy had been very sick with the flu and that she passed away. The doctors tried to save her, but it was too late. She was too sick. At the time, I was confused because I knew she was just in the bath, not in bed. I asked them why was she in the bath if she was sick?”
“What did they say to that?” Liz asked.
“I don’t remember.”
“Do you remember being in your mother’s bathroom? How did you know she was in the bath?”
Liz’s mother stared at her for a good thirty seconds before she spoke. “I knew she was in the bath because I went to her bedroom to tell her I was ready to be tucked in. But my father was there. He was mad at me for some reason. He told me that she was taking a bath and that I was old enough to put myself to bed.”
“Did she normally tuck you in?”
“Yes. Always.” Her mother’s eyes fluttered. “I remember feeling sad. And ashamed. I cried when I got back to my room.”
“But you never saw her in the bath?”
“No. Definitely not. Why are you asking me that?”
Was it possible that the story they’d told Rosemary was a lie? “Mother, Rosemary told me that…she told me that you dropped a hair dryer into your mother’s bath tub. She said you accidentally killed her.”
All color drained from her mother’s face. “Why would she say such a thing?”
“Is it possible you don’t remember? Maybe you blocked it out or repressed it somehow.”
“I was eight years old. Surely I would remember that.” She drank a large portion of her wine. “Did Rosemary actually see it happen?”
“No. She said her mother told her what happened. Great-Grandmother Josephine never wanted you to know. Rosemary left home right afterward. She couldn’t stand that they lied to you. She was very fond of you. She said you were her little shadow.”
“I don’t remember Rosemary ever living there. I can barely recall her face,” her mother said. “So much of my childhood is like that—just this abyss. Memories are on the edge of things, like trying to break through, but then they don’t.” She stared into her lap, turning the wine glass around and around between her fingers. “It seems impossible that I wouldn’t remember such a thing. If I’d killed her, surely, I would remember something that traumatic.”
“Do you think it’s possible they lied to Rosemary?” asked Liz.
“But why? What would be their motive for that?”
“If one of them killed her. By convincing Rosemary that you’d done it, they knew she would never look into it further. They knew you were her darling and that she would want it to be forgotten so that you could have a normal life.”
“Is that why Rosemary went away? Because she didn’t want me to ever ask her about what happened?”
“Yes. In part, anyway.”
“I think they lied, Liz. I think they lied to Rosemary. Something about it doesn’t ring true. I would remember killing her. She was my world.”
“Which means one of them did it,” Liz said.
“It’s a long shot, but we could go out and see Warren…my father. Maybe we could get something out of him.”
“If we can’t, we may never know the truth. Will you be all right with that?”
Unshed tears glistened in her mother’s eyes. Her voice shook as she set aside her empty glass and grabbed a tissue from the box on the table. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to think. Or do.”
“You need to know the truth.”
“But why? What does it matter?”
“Because whoever did this, even if they can’t pay the price for it, I want to know,” Liz said. “Because it’s important for you to know what really happened.”
“Why?”
“So you can heal.”
She sighed as she wiped her eyes. “You and your generation…always healing. Sometimes it better to just forget the past and focus on the future.”
Liz’s mother stood and crossed the room to sit at the baby grand piano. With her back to Liz, she plunked at the keys. “One time when you were about four, I found you in the garden. I had lined the pathway out to the lawn with rocks. You’d overturned every rock. They were just sitting in the middle of the pathway with dirt and bugs stuck to them. Everything under the rock, exposed. When I asked you why, you said, ‘Because I just had to know if a frog lived under one of them.’ I asked you, ‘Why a frog?’ You said, ‘Because I heard one croaking, and I want to know where he is. A frog turns into a prince, and I want one of those to keep in my bedroom.’ That’s how you are, Liz. You can never leave anything alone if you think there’s something to be found or understood. If you want something, nothing gets in your way. It’s what makes you so good at your job. On the other hand, sometimes all you do is leave a mess for someone else to clean up.”
Liz sat next to her mother on the piano bench. “I’m sorry, Mother. I didn’t mean for it to be a mess.”
“I know you didn’t, sweetheart.” Tears ran down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry I’ve made you sad,” Liz said as she handed her another tissue.
Her mother sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Sad isn’t the right word. There’s not a word for what I am.”
**
The next morning, they went to the nursing home. It smelled of chicken soup and bleach. Her grandfather had a private room that overlooked the lawn. Tastefully decorated, the room was small, with a twin bed and desk. A television hung on the wall opposite the bed. Warren Bingham was dressed and sitting in the recliner. When the nurse announced their arrival, his expression did not change.
“I’ll leave you two alone to visit with him,” said the nurse.
“How has he been?” Her mother asked.
“About the same. He has moments of lucidity, although they seem to be further and further in between. But you never know. A visit with you might stimulate him. But if he becomes agitated, ring the bell.”
Liz watched the old man. His army photograph was on the desk. Liz picked it up and examined it closely. There was nothing of this young man in the old man that sat before her. His rheumy eyes stared at the wall. Her mother went to him and took his hand. “Dad, it’s me. Your daughter. Karen.”
His gaze shifted to look up at her. “Karen?” he repeated.
“Yes, and I brought Liz with me today. Your granddaughter.”
He turned to look at her. For a moment, something akin to recognition came over him. “Marcia?”
“No, I’m Liz, .”
His eyes grew wide. His knobby hands clutched and unclutched. “Marcia? You’re supposed to be dead. Have you come back to haunt me?”
“No, it’s Liz, Daddy. Your granddaughter. She looks like my mother, your wife, but this is Liz.”
He continued to stare at Liz. “You’re here to harm me? To make me pay for what I did?”
“What
did you do?” Liz whispered.
“It was an accident. We were fighting. You wanted to leave and take Karen with you. I was angry. But I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s just that you wouldn’t stop. You just kept pushing. You could never just leave well enough alone. Most women would’ve been content in my family’s mansion. Not you. You just kept talking about that stupid farm and your sister.”
Liz backed away. Her legs shook. She leaned against the wall for support.
Her mother stared at him. “Daddy, what did you do?”
But the moment had passed. His eyes had gone blank once more. He stared up at her mother with vacant eyes. “What are you doing in my room? Are you a nurse?”
“No, Daddy, it’s me.” She put her hand up to her mouth. “Nevermind.” She turned to Liz. “We need to go now.”
“Could I get some extra pudding?” Warren asked.
“Yes, I’ll go find you some,” Her mother said as she reached for Liz.
As they walked from the room, he shouted after them. “Vanilla, please.”
**
Her mother gripped Liz’s hand as they walked across the grass toward the parking lot. My fingers may snap in two. “I need to sit,” her mother said.
Liz led her over to a bench under a tree. They both sank into it. Liz reached into her purse and grabbed her water bottle. “Here, drink this.”
With glazed eyes, she brought it to her mouth and took a dainty sip. “He killed her. It had to be him. Grandmother didn’t want anyone to know, so they made up the story about the bathtub and me.”
“Rosemary said she suspected they bought off the coroner.”
“If they did, it must have cost my grandmother dearly to do something illegal. Not financially, but emotionally. She was rigid and determined that she was right about everything. I can’t remember her ever deciding to do something she didn’t feel was morally righteous. She wore her righteousness like a badge. She had these impossibly high standards about everything and everyone. I felt immense pressure to be perfect. I believe she did too. My father reacted to the pressure by rebelling. At the end, none of it mattered. We were all unhappy. And my mother ended up dead.” She leaned the back of her head against the bench and looked up as if something was written in the sky. “What do we do now?”
“Nothing. We know the truth about what happened. No one’s left to prosecute.”
“What would it matter anyway? I grew up without a mother. There’s no changing that.”
Liz slipped her arm into her mother’s. A bird landed in the tree, singing merrily. “I’m sorry I pushed.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s best to know what really happened. I’ve always been more comfortable with my nose in a book than dealing with the real world. When I think back on my childhood, I realize how lonely I was. Books were my escape. But at some point, we all have to put our heads up and see what’s really happening.”
“Still, I don’t want you to be hurt, and I’m afraid I’ve done just that. It’s true what you and Grant say. I’m like a dog with a bone. Or a girl looking for a frog.”
“Grant? Grant Perry?”
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
Her mother released her arm from Liz’s and scooted to the other side of the bench. “No. Just no. Please don’t say it.”
“I’m saying it.”
“Isn’t he married?”
“Divorced. We reconnected when we worked on the Murphy case. We’ve been spending time together. In fact, he’s been in Oregon with us.”
“In Oregon? Liz. After everything he put you through?” Her mother squeezed the bottle and water shot out of the opening, splashing on her blouse. She seemed not to notice. “What about Joel?”
“I declined his proposal. I would never have been able to marry him.”
“He’s perfect, Liz. Perfect for you. For our family.”
“I don’t love him. I love Grant. I’ve never stopped loving Grant.” She hesitated. Should she tell her everything? Was it best to do it now or wait until after they’d eloped? Yes, best to do it now. “We’re going to get married.”
“Oh Liz.”
“Nothing you say will change my mind.”
“I can guarantee you—that man is not your prince.”
“Do you remember how you felt about Daddy?”
“Of course. But that has nothing to do with this. My grandmother was wrong about him. He’s a surgeon, for heaven’s sake. Furthermore, he’s never hurt me like Grant did you. He’s never cheated on me.”
“Remember how your grandmother’s disapproval of Daddy changed your relationship with her?”
She nodded. “I do.”
“I don’t want that to happen to us. You must trust me. Grant and I have both grown up since then. He made a mistake, one that I should’ve forgiven him for at the time. He’d just lost his mother. He was crazed with grief.” Liz scooted closer and rested her head on her mother’s shoulder. “Please, be happy and hopeful for me. I want this—him—more than anything else.”
“Are you sure you’ve turned over enough rocks?” Her mother asked.
“I’m sure.”
“If he hurts you again, I swear to God I’ll come after him with a tire iron.”
“Mother!”
“Let him know.”
Liz smiled. “I will.”
**
That evening, Liz sat in the backyard with her father. He was not on call, so he’d opened a nice bottle of wine. Her mother was resting before dinner, giving them a chance to talk. Or, a chance for a lecture. Liz sipped her wine and braced herself.
“Your mother told me about Grant.”
“I figured.”
“It’s going to make it awkward between Joel and me.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Grant? Really, Liz?”
“He’s the only one for me.”
“He’s not he only one. You think that now because you’re blinded by infatuation. Wait a few years and you’ll see how wrong you were.”
“You’re wrong, Daddy,” Liz said.
“I hope I am.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Watch your mouth, Liz.”
“I won’t watch my mouth. I’ll say whatever I please. I’ll marry whomever I please. I’m a grown woman, not a little girl who needs your approval. It’s my life, and I’ll live it any way I choose.”
“When you come back to me after he’s cheated on you with some girl from the office, I’ll remind you of your words.”
“He’s not going to cheat on me.”
“I know you’re not a scientist, Liz, but it doesn’t take much of a hypothesis to look at the prior evidence and come up with a conclusion.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“If only that were true,” he said.
Liz rose from her chair. “Tell Mother I went home to my house and that’ll I see her in the morning. Good night, Daddy.”
The croak of a frog penetrated the icy silence as she crossed the lawn and went into the house. She let the door slam behind her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Grant
THE AIRPORT WAS an hour from River Valley with only two airlines that flew in and out. Grant was there when Liz’s plane from Los Angeles landed around noon. It had only been two days since he’d seen her, but it could have been a year given everything that had transpired since she flew to California. They had spoken on the phone several times during her time away. She told him all about her trip and the heartbreaking truth about her family. He had shared every detail of his past few days. Except for one. He had not shared his desire to move to River Valley. It was best discussed in person. If only Lizzie would agree. He knew it was unlikely she would, but he had to try. Was there a part of him that hoped she’d surprise him? Yes. All morning fantasies had played in his head. Yes, I was thinking the same thing. We have to do it. Let’s look at property.
He wanted her to agree. It was a hunger. Please
say yes. Besides Lizzie, he couldn’t remember ever wanting something as much as he did this. Even admittance to law school hadn’t felt as important, like the difference between life and death. Am I being dramatic? Probably. Who decides something as life-changing as this in a matter of days? Crazy people. Maybe he was insane? He was impulsive sometimes. He didn’t know any longer. All he knew is that it felt like the most important decision he’d ever made.
She was one of the first ones out of the gate and flew into his arms. “You’re back,” he whispered into her hair as he held her tightly against his chest. “I’ve missed you.”
“Me too,” she said.
On their drive back to River Valley, dark clouds moved in, and the air felt heavy with humidity. The forecast had called for thunder storms. “Looks like a storm’s coming,” he said.
“I hate thunder and lightning. Scares me to death.”
“Mike said lightning often starts forest fires.”
“I’m glad I made it back before it started,” she said.
“Me too. I forgot to tell you, I stopped by the restaurant yesterday to check on Peggy. She seemed in the zone.”
“You checked on her?”
“She’s going to be my family now too, Lizzie. Suddenly I have a new sister and two new brothers.”
She leaned over and kissed his cheek.
He squeezed her knee. “We’re going to have it all, Lizzie. I feel like the luckiest guy in the world right now.”
They were pulling up to the lodge by this time. The clouds unleashed angry rain as they crossed the parking lot to the lobby. Soon, they were in her room undressing one another, making love in a heated rush. Afterward, he held her against his chest. It was now or never. He had to present his idea to her. They’d promised to be open and honest with each other. Here goes.
“I’ve been thinking about what I want the rest of my life to be about. I want out of the rat race. I want to live here. Mike has acres and acres of land that would be perfect for a house. Maybe he’d sell us an acre or two.”
“Move here?”
“Yeah. I could open a practice here in town.”
“That’s impossible.”
He shifted so that he could look at her. “Why would you say that?”
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