“This won’t be too bad.” Brianne headed away from the Kilbourn farm. “I can talk about baseball and basketball, and I’m a decent football fan.”
“With everything you’ve done for us, I’m willing to chat about men and the opera if it makes you happy.”
Brianne held a hand up. “Please. No.”
“Tell me what you think the chances are this will help.”
“That’s hard to say. The brain’s complicated. What I don’t want you to do is try and force the memories. That gets into a dangerous area. People are capable of creating memories that feel as though they’re real. What we’re interested in is what actually happened that night.”
“With the trial later this week, I’m feeling a lot of pressure.” He started digging at the hem of his shorts with his fingernails. “But I think I understand what you mean.”
“Try to relax and just experience what’s around you.”
He unrolled his window halfway and tilted his head to the outside.
They drove through the twists and turns. Caleb said nothing as they passed the site of the accident. Even as they pulled close to the restaurant, he remained silent.
“How are you feeling? Is this all okay for you still?”
“I recognize roads and places, but only because I’ve been through Darlington a hundred times before.” He rubbed his palm on his forehead. “How could I forget doing something so wrong that I’d lie to my wife about it?”
“Remember what I said before? You can’t make assumptions about what happened.” Brianne parked the car and grabbed her purse.
It was still early in the day, before any lunch rush, and there were hardly any other cars in the lot. In the daylight, the exterior of the restaurant looked shabby, in need of a paint job.
A poster advertising the night’s entertainment hung in a display case. Caleb stopped there. He tapped his finger on the plexiglass.
“Does that look familiar?”
“Yes and no.” He blew out a hard breath. “It’s like I’ve been here before, but so long ago that everything’s changed. Let’s try inside.”
The lounge was the hue of blood from the little bit of light reflecting off the velvet interior. A man stood behind the bar, pouring a drink for a customer who slumped as if he’d already gone past his limit.
Caleb clenched and unclenched his hands, and Brianne watched the line of his jaw tighten.
“What are you feeling?” she asked.
“Anger. I don’t know where it’s coming from, but I’m angry.” He stepped farther into the room.
Brianne flinched against the scent of beer and too much aftershave. It hung like smoke used to in places like these, before city ordinances prohibited smoking inside.
Caleb slipped into a booth in the corner, Brianne following suit. He tipped his head back. “That ceiling tile.”
“What about it?”
“The remnants of a water leak,” he said. “I’ve seen it before. I’ve been here.”
“Oh, Caleb.” Brianne couldn’t imagine what was going through his mind.
The bartender approached. “Can I get you two anything?” His voice was gruff and impatient.
Caleb rambled off the name of a drink Brianne had never heard of. “I’m not much of a drinker,” he explained, “but my father saw drinking as a rite of passage, and that was his favorite. Unappealing as it is, on the rare occasion I order it as a way to honor my roots . . . the men who came before me.”
The bartender raised his chin. “Yes. You mentioned that when you were here before. I don’t have much of an eye for people, but I remember their drink orders. Glad to see you have company with you this time.” He glanced at Brianne. “And what can I get you, ma’am?”
“Lemonade would be great. And can you tell us anything about the last time my friend was here?”
“All I remember is he ordered the same thing—actually two—during happy hour. You’d have to ask Squirrelly if you want to know more than that. He’s the one who would have been on the floor.” The guy sauntered away with a slight lean to his left.
Brianne eyed Caleb.
“I wasn’t lying about seldom drinking. It seemed like the thing to do when he asked—like I was on autopilot, I guess. But I’d never order two.”
“Apparently that’s what you did that night. I think we’re getting somewhere.”
Caleb laced his fingers together and set his hands on the table, leaning forward. “All I know is I did drink then. And I know it must have been for a reason.” He stretched his shoulders. “I think I’m building a case for the prosecution. They’ll have a slam dunk in court.”
Brianne leaned back in her chair.
“I deserve the court’s judgment. But my wife and kids? How can I pay the debt I owe without them taking a huge chunk of the punishment? That’s not fair to them.”
A dark-haired man approached the table with a tray holding two full glasses. He slid the whole tray onto the table, then placed a drink in front of Caleb.
“Are you Squirrelly?” Caleb fingered the glass of amber liquid.
“Clyde. They call me that ’cause I squirrel away my tips. I don’t party or anything like that.” He pressed his hands into his pockets. “Ms. Demanno . . . it’s nice to see you again.” His gaze seemed magnetically pulled away from Brianne.
Caleb dipped his finger into the drink and touched it to his tongue. He grimaced. “Do you remember seeing me in here before?”
“Sure. I’ve got a good memory for those things. At least I seem to, now that I’m clean.” He shook his head as if pronouncing judgment on himself.
“Was I with anyone?”
“No. You sat down right here and ordered two of those.” He pointed to the glass. “You said someone was meeting you, but they never showed. I remember that well because it was also the night the talent skipped out. People had come to watch, and we had no band.”
Clyde Tanger stood waiting as Brianne watched Caleb lift his glass, letting it brush his lips but not drinking. “What are you feeling, Caleb? What are you remembering?”
Caleb closed his eyes. “Frustration. Irritation. Utter disappointment at my . . .”
“Say it.”
His eyes opened wide. “The other drink. It was for my brother.”
BRIANNE WATCHED COLOR rise in Caleb’s cheeks. He was remembering, but she couldn’t tell if what he felt was relief or another blow.
Brianne looked at the man who still stood beside their table. “Mr. Tanger . . . thank you so much. Would it be possible for me to talk with you sometime about your daughter?”
Tears flushed his eyes. “There’s nothing more to say. It’s time to let Amanda rest in peace.” He walked away with the tray in his hand and exited out an employee door at the side of the lounge.
Everyone said the same thing: “Let well enough alone.” But if that was right, why did the possibility of Clyde’s innocence nag at her soul?
Caleb slapped a twenty-dollar bill on the table. “I’m ready to go.” The tone in his voice had dropped to a depth that warned her not to interfere with whatever was happening in his mind. He’d walled himself off, separating himself from her and the surroundings. Was he frustrated with his brother?
They drove toward home in near silence, the day turning to afternoon as they entered the stretch of highway that connected the two communities. This time, when they emerged from the curves, Caleb held up his hand. “Stop. Please.”
She pulled to a safe shoulder once the road straightened.
He jumped from the car and stood on the white line staring toward the mountainside that bordered the opposite side of the road.
No trace of the accident remained as far as Brianne was able to tell. A sedan sped by, honking its horn as it passed, a welcome breeze following in its wake.
Caleb remained still, his gaze not straying, his body so near motionless that he seemed like a movie image frozen on the screen. Until that one tear.
Brianne lowered her head, process
ing the emotions that must be assaulting the heart of her best friend’s husband. In a moment of bad and careless decisions, Caleb had made a huge mistake. And that had cost a woman her life.
Even in the late-summer heat, a chill washed over Brianne’s skin. Where were grace and mercy in the face of justice?
43
Addison twisted the flip-flop she’d found sticking out from under the couch. Brianne’s car was making its way down the drive, Addison’s hopes and fears riding in the passenger seat.
Flinging the shoe into the basket by the door, she stepped onto the porch.
The dust settled, and Caleb maneuvered his way out.
Without any words, Brianne waved and pulled away.
Even the air was heavy with humidity and dread. The look on Caleb’s face said the trip wasn’t a waste, but it also looked so much like the grief he’d worn after his father’s death.
They stood, facing each other, only the haze of pollen and distant wildfires separating them. Addison eased down onto the top step.
Caleb dug in his back pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. He hobbled up to the porch and pushed it into her hand.
“What’s this?” An unfamiliar name was scrawled in handwriting she didn’t recognize. She handed it back to him.
“It’s the name Wyatt’s using. He was in Darlington the night of the accident. I think I was trying to talk with him, get him to come home and patch things up with Mom. He didn’t show. In typical Wyatt fashion, the guy even ran out on the bar he was supposed to be playing that night.”
Addison covered her mouth. Her chin quivered with the release of repressed emotion. Each muscle in her body ached with the surrender of held tension. They were okay. Their marriage wasn’t the broken frame she’d feared. Her husband wasn’t looking for someone new.
He was looking for his brother.
“I don’t know why I didn’t tell you.” He shook his head. “I should have.”
She lifted her hand and placed it into his.
Caleb leaned into her. His presence soothed her in a way she hadn’t allowed it to during the months of doubt.
“I’m sorry about Wyatt.” She laid her hand on his chest. “Do you know where he went after Darlington?”
“Not a clue, and I’m not going to search for him. I’ve come to the end of that trail. When Wyatt is ready to come home, he’ll get here on his own.”
“What was that?” Caroline stepped from around the corner. “Did you say Wyatt is coming home?” Tears filled her eyes.
“No, Mom. I don’t know where he is. I remember where I was the night of the accident. I was trying to talk with him, but it didn’t happen. I’m sorry.”
She held up a gloved hand, waving it in tiny motions as she stepped back, disappearing again behind the house.
Caleb raked both hands through his hair. “What seems like good news for us is horrible for her.” He tipped his head toward Addison. “When did my not cheating become good news instead of something that’s a given?”
The mother’s heart within Addison crumbled for Caroline. She’d never given Wyatt’s absence much thought. In some ways, she didn’t think of what he’d done as much different than the way she’d walked away from her own mother. But there was a difference: Caroline loved her boys. She cherished everything about them. Addison’s mother had never known how to love. Leaving her was like leaving behind a neighbor with whom you’d shared a fence but no real relationship.
“How could Wyatt not come visit your mom? How could he leave her to grieve your father like this without even seeing if she’s okay?” She squeezed Caleb’s leg, then got up. “I’m going to check on her.”
In the mudroom, Caroline’s garden shoes were slung against the wall, a smear of dirt streaking the yellow paint where one had hit. There was no sign of her in the kitchen. Addison stuck her head into the living room. Nothing.
Something pounded the wall in the hallway.
Addison went to Caroline’s bedroom door and tapped. “Caroline? Can I come in?”
“No. I’m resting.” Her voice sounded ten years older than it had that morning.
“I’d like to talk for a minute. Please.”
“Not now, Addy.”
Addison stepped back until she bumped into the wall behind her. She’d failed her mother-in-law. She had to do better.
BRIANNE PULLED UP to her house and found a rental car parked in her normal spot. She cut the engine and stepped out of her car, carefully skirting the other vehicle.
Sitting at the table on the front porch was her father, in plaid shorts and a blue polo shirt. His head leaned against the side of the house, and his eyes were closed.
“Dad?”
His eyes popped open. “Wow. I must have dozed off. This cool weather is relaxing after an Arizona summer.” He got to his feet and pulled her into a giant hug. “I’ve missed you, sugar.”
“I’ve missed you too, but what are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you.” She unlocked the front door, and Chester bounded out, paying no attention to Brianne or her dad as he lifted his leg to the bottom step, the nearest upright object.
“Your mother’s been worried. She says you seem low, and she wanted to be sure the furnace was in good working order before the cold weather sets in.” He grabbed hold of the stair railing and gave it a tug.
“You don’t have to come all the way up here to check my heater. Really, Dad, I’m an adult.” She grabbed a pitcher of lemonade out of the refrigerator, then retrieved two glasses.
“You’ll never be an adult to your mother. Don’t fight it.” He grinned and held out one of the glasses while she filled it. He nodded toward the vase of daisies on the counter. “So who got you those?” His eyebrows lifted.
“Who says I couldn’t have gotten them for myself?” She poured herself a glass and returned the pitcher to the fridge.
Her dad took a long drink, set the glass down, and folded his arms. “But you didn’t, did you?”
She couldn’t look him in the eye, never had been able to when the topic was guys. She shook her head.
“You know if you told your mother you’re seeing someone, she’d probably worry less.”
“And you?”
“I’ll worry more, but I can be contained.”
The lemonade sent a chill through Brianne’s body. “Do you worry because I’m too sensitive?”
He chuckled. “Why would you think that? Bri, I think you have just the right amount of caring and compassion, and enough good sense and wisdom to make great choices. I have complete trust in you. This boy, however . . . I don’t know him.”
“He’s hardly a boy.”
“At my age, they’re all boys.”
“So you don’t think I’ll get hurt for the same reason I shouldn’t have become a therapist?” She sat her half-full glass in the sink.
Her dad rested a hand on her arm. “Bri, you’re a great therapist. I loved seeing how you glowed in that job. Helping others is part of who God made you to be. Your mother and I pray that you’ll get over this hurt and get back to where you belong.”
Tears rushed into Brianne’s eyes. Her father brought out the soft spots in her, made her vulnerable and weak.
“You’ve been hurt. And that’s okay. But, Bri, you were meant for that job. Your mom says we can’t push you, but enough time has passed already.” He took hold of her by both shoulders. “Pick up your life.”
“I thought you’d be happy that I’m doing something safer.” Chester bounded in, jumping up, with his paws nearly knocking her over.
“Safer? Nah. You’re a tough girl. You’ve got this.”
“But you always said I was too sensitive.” She pushed the dog down.
Dad gave Chester a firm scratch. “You are sensitive. But whatever gave you the idea that I thought that wasn’t a good thing? You’re full of empathy and compassion. I wouldn’t want to talk out my problems with someone who wasn’t those things.”
Brianne knelt, burying her face in C
hester’s fluff. Maybe she’d made her own assumptions, thoughts that gave her an excuse to walk out when the job got hard. Another obstacle blew away on the summer breeze.
“DO YOU THINK we should check on her?” Addison leaned against the cold stove. “She’s been in there an hour.”
“Maybe she’s tired.” Caleb’s mouth pinched in that way that told her he didn’t buy what he was saying.
“The kids will be home in less than an hour. I really think we should talk with her now.” Lilly had barely met Wyatt. Connor and Hannah probably didn’t remember him well. To them, Wyatt was just a guy in some old family pictures, no relationship to go along with the image. Addison and Caleb had made the hard decision years ago to stop helping Caleb’s brother. Wyatt had been a wild teen who turned into an out-of-control adult.
“I’ll do it.” Caleb walked away, leaving her with the feeling that she wasn’t part of this. Not now. She followed her husband into the hall.
Caleb knocked on the door with a firm rap. “Mom, we’d like to talk to you.”
Caroline didn’t respond.
Addison nudged him to try again.
This time, Caleb pounded on the wood.
Again, no response.
He reached his fingers to the top of the doorframe and came away with a key-like tool. Inserting it into the hole in the knob, Caleb popped it open. “Mom, we’re coming in, like it or not.”
Addison cringed. This was a great way to lose their free housing.
A still lump lay along the bed in the darkened room.
Caleb touched her arm. His gaze shot back to Addison.
Each breath Addison took shuddered in her chest. Caroline was far too still. “Caroline? Can you hear me?” Her voice was nearly a shout.
A low moan escaped the older woman’s lips, then silence again. Her breathing had little rhythm, as if the next one might not come.
Caleb forced his mother up, holding her weight with both hands. He winced as his healing arm took the brunt of the movement.
Caroline’s eyes rolled back, her head flopping to the side.
A bottle lay open on the nightstand beside a picture of Caroline, Charles, and their two little boys. The label said OxyContin, prescribed by Caroline’s retired doctor just last week. “How many of these did you take?” Addison held his mother’s head upright. “We need to get her to the hospital. I’ll pull the van around to the back door.”
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