Stranger in the Lake
Page 29
As ugly as Diana’s episode was, I could relate to a lot of what she said. That her entire world revolves around this beautiful being, a tiny piece of herself she was designed to love and protect. That motherhood changes you, that it leaves behind a ghostly afterbirth you can never quite scrub off. It didn’t happen to my mother, but I can feel it happening to me, this growing fire to give our daughter everything I never had. Security. Three meals eaten together at a table. Love. The things I was so desperate for when I met Paul, before I got blinded by all the glittery stuff.
I look around now, at the thick rugs, the expensive furniture, the sad man standing before me, and I feel nothing but pity.
He wipes his eyes with a sleeve, steps back to let me in. “Make yourself at home. I just have to run upstairs and grab the papers.”
The papers I’m to deliver to his attorney because he can’t, the ones granting me a divorce. Paul signed them without protest.
He takes the steps by twos and threes, his legs still strong thanks to the treadmill shoved against the window where the dining table once stood. Best view in the house, Paul always said, and now all he can do is look.
House arrest. People went nuts when they heard, but somehow that fancy lawyer of his managed to finagle a plea that included twenty-eight months in this glass palace plus a hefty fine to offset the costs of the monitor strapped to his ankle. Agreeing to testify against his mother helped some, but still. Money can’t buy happiness or bravery. It can’t save a marriage or bring a drug dealer back from the dead. But in these United States of America, especially here in the South, it can keep a white man out of prison.
It would have kept Jax out, too, but he pleaded guilty. The judge gave him sixty-four months, but Sam says he’ll be out a lot sooner. Especially now that he’s found religion, though he doesn’t call it that and he never mentions the word God. Jax preaches in his podcasts, The Path from Prison, that every being is divine and that nature is our church. He talks about other things, too, stuff like astral projection and moral diversity. I have no idea what half of it means, but I listen to him anyway. I like the idea he’s pushing, of people being basically good, that we make mistakes, but ultimately, everybody’s in charge of their own destinies.
Just like I am with mine. Twenty-six and pregnant, on the verge of divorce but still standing. Studying for my GED and then, hopefully, college. It won’t be easy with a baby, but Chet will help, and so will Paul. Between the three of us, we’ll figure out a way.
“Can I get you something to drink?” he says, returning with the papers.
“No, I can’t stay. I promised Chet I’d help him out at the food truck.”
Lake Crosby’s first of its kind. We park it every day at the edge of town, where Chet cooks and I serve until we sell out, usually by three o’clock every afternoon. Oh, the irony of us being back where we began—in a tiny metal trailer—but now we own it and it’s chock-full of food.
Paul holds out the papers, but when I try to take them, he doesn’t let go. “I really loved you, you know. Not the way I should have. Not the way you deserved. And I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for not letting you in the way you deserved to be. I’m sorry for hurting you.”
He pauses, and I believe him this time. I’m certain this apology is sincere.
“But I am not sorry for falling in love with you. I’m not sorry for our time together, because those months were the happiest I’ve been in a very long time.” He smiles, and it’s the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.
“They were happy for me, too.”
It’s funny when you think about it, and I’ve thought about it a lot, but I fell in love with Paul not despite his flaws, but because of them. The way they made me feel less alone, the way they fit up snug against mine.
But now that I’ve put a little space between us, I can see his scars weren’t so much a complement but a camouflage. I’d found someone whose wounds overshadowed mine, and he came with a pretty house and a pile full of money. Of course I fell in love with him.
But I’m done being ashamed of our marriage. I’m not to blame for his lies.
Like Jax says, I am in charge of my own destiny.
And so what will I tell our daughter, when she’s old enough to understand? I’ll tell her the truth of what happened here, certainly, because there have been more than enough lies. I’ll tell her the sins of her father are not her burden, and neither are they mine. I’ll tell her that of all my many mistakes, she wasn’t one of them. That I didn’t choose her but she chose me, and for that I’ll always be grateful.
Then I will say, listen: no one ever taught my mother to love her babies, but somehow you taught me. You are the reason I am not like her, just like you will never be me. Every generation is a new life. A new chance to get things right.
Now it’s your turn. Your story begins and ends with you.
* * *
Acknowledgments
Writing is solitary work, but bringing a book into the world is a team effort. Deepest thanks and undying gratitude to everyone who helped guide this book from story spark to finished novel, especially:
My agent, Nikki Terpilowski, who read so many drafts of this book that I’ve lost count. Thank you for being my toughest critic and fiercest advocate. We make an awesome team.
My editor, Laura Brown, for embracing this idea and helping me give Charlotte the story she deserved. My stellar team at Park Row Books, publicist Emer Flounders and all the talented and dedicated folks working behind the scenes in the art, marketing and sales departments. I’m so thankful to be part of the Park Row family.
My early readers and cheerleaders: Kristy Barrett, Tonni Callan, Laura Drake, Andrea Peskind Katz and Annie McDowell. Thank you for your enthusiasm and guidance and friendship.
Authors are some of the kindest, funniest, smartest, craziest, most creative people I know, and I am honored to call many of them friends. A.F. Brady, Emily Carpenter, J.T. Ellison, Rea Frey, Wendy Heard, Amy Impellizzeri, Hannah Mary McKinnon, Mindy Mejia, Kate Moretti, Abbie Roads, Kaira Rouda, Joan Swan, Wendy Walker and so many others, thanks for the cocktails and laughs and brainstorm sessions, for being such amazing and brilliant partners in crime. Y’all make this bonkers business so much more fun.
I am blessed with a network of family, friends and loved ones by my side: my husband, Ewoud, who lets me talk about murder over dinner and still wants to sleep next to me at night; my kids, Evan and Isabella, who talk me up to their friends and face my books out at bookstores around the world; my parents, Diane and Bob Maleski, and brother Mark Maleski, who schlep hundreds of miles to come to my events and buy books I would have given them anyway; my girl gang Elizabeth Baxendale, Christy Brown, Lisa Camp, Nancy Davis, Scarlet Grootens, Angelique Kilkelly, Jen Robinson, Amanda Sapra and Raquel Souza. Your love and support means the world.
And most of all, thanks to you, the person holding this book. Thank you for reading my words and talking about them with your friends, for taking lovely pictures of my covers and posting them to the internet, for writing reviews and Tweets and blog posts. Because of you, I have the best job in the world.
ISBN: 9781488056314
Stranger in the Lake
Copyright © 2020 by Kimberle S. Belle Books, LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
Park Row Books
22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor
Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada
<
br /> ParkRowBooks.com
BookClubbish.com