Eliza Starts a Rumor

by Jane L. Rosen

  Who will believe you?

  My good name, my austere life,

  My word against yours, and my place in Hollywood.

  Between the play and the real-life drama at Thanksgiving, Carson was overwhelmed by the need to right his wrongs. When the applause subsided, he pulled Amanda aside. She was anxious to find Pippa, but it looked like waiting a minute for the crowd to disperse might be prudent anyway.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  Carson had prepared a monologue as well.

  “I’m going to head back to LA in the morning. You’ve tolerated me long enough. I’m beyond sorry for the pain I caused you and the girls. I don’t deserve you, Amanda. I don’t deserve them either, but they are stuck with me. I will give you a divorce, even the house if you want it. I hope that you do. I’m sorry.”

  He was right in that she had tolerated him long enough. The rest was suspect—typical remorseful words in Carson’s cycle of abuse. She was proud of herself that she had gotten to a place to question that. Pippa bounded up full of love for both of them. Flowers and accolades were exchanged, but nothing more was said.

  That night, back at his hotel, Carson called each one of his accusers and apologized. He was open and honest and said simply, “I am very sorry for what I did to you. I now realize that consent is not viable when there is such an unequal division of power. I hope that my apology gives you some form of peace.”

  Some of the women just hung up on him, some said thank you and hung up, but one of the women, Cathy Lingstrom, whom he imagined had suffered the greatest betrayal on account of being their close family friend, made a public statement about it.

  She began by saying:

  Carson Cole called me last night to apologize and to take responsibility for his actions. Today I feel as if I have set down a weight that I have been carrying around for years. There is a reason it is called the burden of proof. I am thankful to be relieved of that burden.

  As Amanda sat at her father’s kitchen table reading Cathy’s words, she wanted to put down that weight, too, but she still felt skeptical. Her father entered the kitchen and, as if reading her mind, said, “You read it, I see. Do you think he’s sincere?”

  “Possibly. But he always acts remorseful for a period of time. I hate to say it, but it’s more likely a great big public manipulation.”

  He kissed her on the top of her head. “I’m happy to hear you say that. The fact that you are questioning him and not taking him at his word, that makes me know you are going to be OK.”

  “Thanks, Daddy. I am.”

  The girls scampered into the kitchen. Amanda pulled them toward her and added, “We are.”

  “We are what, Mommy?” Sadie asked with a smile.

  “We are going home. What do you think about finishing up the semester here and heading back home before Christmas?” Amanda asked.

  “I would love that,” Sadie said. Amanda knew she missed her room and her friends.

  Pippa did as well, but added with a maturity that surprised Amanda, “If it’s OK for you, that would be nice.”

  “It is. I miss home, too.” Amanda hugged them both and added, more for Sadie than Pippa, “Daddy won’t be living with us, but you will see him as much as you want. OK?”

  “OK,” Sadie said, hugging her again.

  * * *

  —

  The next day Amanda and Luke drove Eliza up to a residential treatment program specializing in overcoming trauma and anxiety. Eliza had found it herself and jumped when they said they had an empty bed. She knew it would take her longer than the twenty-eight days that insurance pays for to unpack thirty years of baggage, but she wanted to begin with an intense program. She couldn’t bear the fear she saw in the eyes of Luke and her kids and was determined to ease their burden. While a cloud had been lifted, the fog was still very much there. She was still filled with fear when attempting to leave the house—so the fact that she had left the house to get better was already a bigger step than she could have imagined taking just a week earlier.

  Before leaving, Eliza asked Olivia to take over as moderator of the Hudson Valley Ladies’ Bulletin Board. Olivia protested.

  “But it’s yours. I will just fill in until you come back.”

  Eliza had other ideas for her future. “I’m hoping to be able to do something outside of the house, maybe catering.”

  Olivia agreed. Actually, she happily agreed, but just for the time being. She knew she had a long healing process in front of her as well and would have to learn how to navigate dealing with Spencer and his family. Running the bulletin board would supply a much-needed distraction.

  CHAPTER 46

  Eliza & Amanda & Alison & Olivia

  28 DAYS LATER

  As the first snow dusted Hudson Valley, Eliza Hunt sat in the lobby of Crossroads Village, the treatment facility that had been her home for the past twenty-eight days, waiting for Luke to pick her up. He was due to arrive at eleven, but she was eager to go home and had been sitting there waiting since ten. She was excited to escape the monotony, the food, and the same faces day in and day out. She was also nervous—nervous to reconnect with Luke and deconstruct the wall that had grown between them. Thankfully, that process was well under way for both of them.

  She had learned so much about herself over the past month. She learned why she was hyper vigilant and startled so easily that her kids nicknamed her Jumpy, why she tensed up if Luke looked at her a certain way and got nervous if she ever felt sexy. And of course, all of the reasons behind her cutting herself. It was mostly textbook stuff—she checked nearly every box on the checklist for survivors of sexual assault and trauma.

  Luke had come to visit for four days during “family week” and it had been tough for them both. Being forced to talk about the ugliest things in her life in front of strangers was very heavy and extremely uncomfortable. Talking about them in front of her husband felt even worse for Eliza. The pain she saw in his eyes when she described what had happened to her was not something she would soon forget. While they both felt they had been rubbed raw, it was a necessary step toward her recovery.

  The process had seemed to work well for Eliza. The doctors put her on an antidepressant that tapered both her lows and her highs, allowing her to examine her issues in neutral. She was by no means cured, if such a thing were even possible, but she’d been given the tools to live her best life, as they liked to call it in rehab. The psychiatrist there connected her to a local therapist whom she had already met and bonded with over Skype. She was set to see her twice a week to start.

  She also felt physically healthier, which went a long way toward feeling good about oneself. The forced walks outside and daily yoga classes were beneficial in more ways than one, and she committed to continue exercising at home.

  The clientele at Crossroads was partially made up of women and teenage girls with anorexia. Eliza saw so much of her mother in these women. It brought her new ways to understand her and put a different lens on her childhood.

  Luke arrived a few minutes before eleven and she could see from his face that he was nervous as well. It made her wonder, would they still fit together? He didn’t really know the real Eliza—neither did she; she’d been gone for so long. He hugged her tentatively and she responded longer and stronger than she ever had before. It surprised him, and he responded with tears—lots of them, more than she had collectively seen come from his eyes in their lifetime together. She knew from that quick display of emotion that their particular love could mend anything—even layers upon layers of anything. She was excited to begin a journey that felt much more promising than the one she had left, both hers and theirs.

  The first question Eliza asked when they pulled off the exit for home was, “So, is there any food in the house?”

  Luke answered sheepishly. “Well, yes, if by food you mean six different kinds of cereal an
d ramen.”

  It was oddly satisfying to hear that he suffered in that department. Everyone likes to feel needed, she thought when she felt bad for feeling that way.

  “Do you mind if I drop you off and head over to the Stop & Shop?”

  “We could go together,” Luke volunteered. She could tell he was worried about leaving her alone. That would never work, she thought.

  “No thanks. I want to go on my own, test out my sea legs.”

  As soon as she dropped Luke at home, she called Amanda. She had spoken to her briefly during her stay, begging them to let her make a call to check on her. Amanda and the girls had been settling back in in LA, and things were quiet, which was exactly what she had hoped for. Carson had continued down the remorseful path, treating Amanda with respect and coming to terms with his accusers. He was one of the few men to really speak up about the culture he subscribed to and take responsibility for his actions. It didn’t negate what he’d done at all, but it did teach his children the power of forgiveness.

  * * *

  —

  Amanda was thrilled to see Eliza’s number pop up on her phone.

  “Eliza!” she shouted. “Did they spring you loose, or did you escape?”

  “I’m out! Good to gallivant through the real world on my own.”

  “That’s great! How are you feeling?”

  “I’m really excited to be home. I feel strong and more empowered, for sure. How are you guys doing?”

  “All good. You won’t believe it, but I’m coming from an audition.”

  “That’s amazing. How did it go?”

  “All right. My agent thinks I’m getting calls due to curiosity more than talent. But whatever gets me in the door, right?”

  “Right for you. In my case, it’s out the door!”

  “Exactly.” Mandy laughed, happy to have her old friend back.

  Eliza arrived at the Stop & Shop and the two women hung up, but not before promising to speak with each other at least once a week going forward.

  Eliza pushed her cart down aisle four, sashaying right past the donuts without stopping, and headed toward the produce department. Once there, a McIntosh apple flew past her face, just missing her nose. She picked up the apple and handed it back to the embarrassed mom, pushing the redheaded culprit in her shopping cart.

  “I think this belongs to you.”

  “I’m so sorry,” the mortified mother responded. “I’m at my wit’s end with this one.”

  “He has a good arm. Maybe you should sign him up for Little League. The Pee Wee group always begins in the spring,” Eliza offered.

  “That’s so funny. I posted my troubles on a local moms’ group and that’s what a lot of the women suggested.”

  “Oh. That is funny,” Eliza said, remembering the last time she had encountered a young mother at the Stop & Shop. “Which group was that? Valley Girls?”

  “No,” she said with a hint of disdain. “If you need real answers you have to go to the Hudson Valley Ladies’ Bulletin Board.”

  “I’ll be sure to check it out,” Eliza responded with a smile.

  Before heading home, Eliza took a moment in the car to text Olivia the directive she had thoroughly thought through while she was away. It was time to pass the torch and move on to the next chapter of her life.

  Olivia was thrilled to receive Eliza’s message. She was just up the road at the Café Karma Sutra with Alison when it came through. They were waiting on line to order, each with a receptacle in hand.

  “Look!” Olivia held up her phone. “Eliza is back and wants me to officially announce my position as the new moderator of the bulletin board!”

  “That’s great, Olivia!”

  Eliza’s prior posts, both the original, fictional ones and the heartbreakingly true ones, had changed the tone of the bulletin board and pushed its membership north of ten thousand, spreading to towns on either side. With these growing numbers she would soon need to enlist help. There was an increasingly strong feeling of community and support among the members. Olivia was excited to take it to new heights.

  Alison had news as well, hidden in a folder of legal papers regarding Olivia’s divorce. When they sat down, Olivia opened up the folder with dread, but soon her face lit up.

  “What do you think?” Alison asked, as Olivia studied the words on the page. It was copy for an ad that Alison wanted to put in the local paper. At the top it read:

  Alison Le, Country Lawyer

  “Would you design the ad for me? And my letterhead? And a shingle for my front lawn?” Alison asked with unusual exuberance.

  “You’re staying? For me and Jackie?” she squealed, semi-seriously. Alison and Jackie had been inseparable since Thanksgiving.

  “Ha-ha. You should know me better than that. I’m staying for me and Zachary.”

  “Either way, I love it!”

  Alison was excited to become a small-town lawyer. She would pay her bills with things like matrimonial and estate law while offering herself pro bono for immigration cases. Olivia promised to promote her new venture on the bulletin board, as she was, after all, a very satisfied client.

  That afternoon, while Lily napped, Olivia proudly built her inaugural fire in the living room fireplace. Out the window the first snowfall was gaining momentum. She was looking forward to the panorama of white it would leave in its wake. She sat down and wrote an official introductory post.

  Hello, ladies of Hudson Valley. My name is Olivia York, and I am the new moderator of the Hudson Valley Ladies’ Bulletin Board.

  I have big plans for us all, including book clubs, charitable drives, and meet-ups. Please feel free to comment with any and all suggestions and ideas. I can’t wait to see what the future of the Hudson Valley Ladies’ Bulletin Board brings!

  The fire was slowly dying, and Olivia was out of logs. The rest of the bundle sat outside within sight but would take some wrapping up on her part to get to. She didn’t feel like leaving the warm, cozy house. She looked up above the fireplace, at the painting of her and Spencer—the last remaining remnant of her marriage. She thought back to an art history class at Wellesley, to stories of Impressionists burning the canvases of works they weren’t happy with. She wasn’t happy with this one, that was for sure.

  Without much thought, Olivia took the painting down from the wall. She placed it on the floor and pummeled it with both of her feet, ripping right through the canvas itself. It was liberating. She pressed all her weight on one side of the frame while lifting up the other, snapping it in two, then she snapped those pieces in two again. With each snap she felt calmer and more collected. Within a few minutes, the anniversary present was unrecognizable. Though not completely worthless, she thought, as she tossed the pieces into the fire. She felt oddly at peace as she watched the colors dance through the flames. It was beautiful, like some sort of sacrificial celebration.

  “The Rebirth of Venus,” she said out loud with a smile, as the fire caught her marital image and slowly curled it to ash.

  She looked back at the bulletin board. Comments were pouring in. Her first post was on its way to becoming an epic thread. She heard Lily on the baby monitor and scurried to her room to get her. As she scooped her up in her arms, she told her, “It’s you and me, baby girl. Everything is going to be all right.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to my agent, friend, and greatest ally, Eve MacSweeney. Your brilliance, thoughtfulness, and hands-on approach have me counting my blessings daily. Thank you as well to Christy Fletcher for always lending your ear and expertise, and to Anita Zabludowicz for the wonderful introduction.

  To my smart, talented, and visionary editor, Amanda Bergeron, thank you for believing in me so wholeheartedly. There are no words to describe what that means to me. And to Claire Zion and the rest of the team at Berkley, Jin Yu, and Diana Franco, for welcoming me aboard so g
raciously and for all of your hard work on my book.

  To my sister-in-law Andrea Levenbaum for never letting my participles dangle and, more importantly, for always having my back.

  For Linda Coppola, thank you for allowing me to fill your commute with the sound of my reading and rereading and reading again. How lucky am I that my husband chose you as his best friend all of those years ago at Camp Roosevelt.

  For Phoebe and Valerie Cates, I feel so fortunate to be on the receiving end of those intuitive, confident, and creative Cates genes. Thank you for being there for me from the first draft to the final touches.

  There are some difficult topics discussed in this book. A few amazing women shared their stories with me, giving me great insight into the pain and recovery associated with both sexual abuse and infidelity. Thank you for your strength and courage. I hope my readers will benefit from your journeys.

  To my own personal sisterhood, many of whom have been by my side for life. I’m afraid if I list you all I will leave someone out, but I think you know who you are and how much I count on your love and laughter and support. I am blessed to have you in my life and hope I am a blessing to you in return. And to all of my family, friends, and readers who showed up for me before and I know will again: Thank you. I loved sharing my last book journey with you and look forward to doing it all again this go-round.

  For all of the women throughout the world who have embraced online forums with candor, support, and humor, I salute you. At times it may have seemed like I am making fun, but believe me, I am laughing with you, not at you, and have often benefited from your advice, bravery, humor, and introspection.

  A special shout-out to the fabulous collection of Bookstagrammers on Instagram: Your talent, dedication, and selfless love and support of the book community is extraordinary.

  And last but certainty most, my family. To my very fit (argh), very loving husband, Warren—you are my heart, soul, and very best friend. To Raechel, your dedication to your art and beliefs inspire me daily. I am so proud of the delightful and beautiful woman you have become. To Talia, courageous, funny, and wise beyond your years, you fill my heart with hope and pride. And to Melodie, your help with this project has been immeasurable. Your editing, insights, and remarkable ability to do just about anything has been invaluable. To me, you are perfect. Collectively, to the whole lot of you: I see you gingerly trying to escape out the porch door in Fire Island before I shout, “Wait, how does this sound?” Or, “Look at this sentence, does it need a comma?” Or the dreaded, “What’s that word that I’m thinking of—you know the one?” Yet you always stop, think, and thoughtfully answer, barely ever rolling your eyes. Thank you for toasting and smiling and congratulating me when I say, “I finished my book today!” even though you know I will make that same enthusiastic announcement a dozen more times. And lastly for the endless love, laughs, encouragement, and most importantly, for all of the dancing!