by S. F. Kosa
She smiles. “Well, she’s obviously not from New England, now, is she? You know how it is.”
“I’m not sure she’s so out of place here. She’s pretty good at keeping things close to the vest.”
“More like she distracts from them with all her flouncing around.” Sharon covers her mouth. “That wasn’t nice,” she mutters. Her second beer is half-empty.
“You don’t like her.”
“That’s complicated.” Her eyes narrow. “Because I loved her, Alex. I really did. I loved her and Scott and Mina like they were family. But then…” A shuddering sigh. “I don’t know if it was because she was lonely or that she and Scott were having problems or because she couldn’t stand not to be the center of attention. I’ll never know.”
Oh boy. “Are you saying…”
“That she slept with my husband? Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”
Now I’m the one gulping my beer. “I can see why you’d be mad at both of them.”
“You have no idea. And poor Scott…”
“Amy told me that she overheard her parents talking about how Scott had asked Andy about renting one of his cottages way back when.”
“Can’t hardly blame him, can you? I mean, I don’t know what he knew and when, but it knocked all of us off-kilter. Not least of all poor little Mina. I think that whole thing did lasting damage to her,” she says with a slow shake of her head.
My brain is doing cartwheels, trying to link everything up. But no part of me is a gymnast. “So when people describe Mina as withdrawn, this was why? Because her parents were having problems?” Could this really be the cause of all Mina’s distress, or were Scott and Rose having problems for another reason? Maybe one closer to the chilling explanation outlined in the chapters of her book.
Sharon dabs at her eyes with her napkin. “It was terrible. You see, Mina’s the one who caught them. And Rose…well. She’s determined to keep up appearances, isn’t she?”
“Jesus,” I whisper. Now my beer is empty. The waitress brings over our food, and I order another one. “So she walked in on Rose and Phillip. Did she tell Scott?”
She shakes her head. “She didn’t tell anyone. It was Phillip who told me. He confessed. He was just wrecked over it. And even then, he knew Rose well enough to know…well. That it would be difficult for Mina. Rose is that iron fist in a velvet glove.” She snorts. “Or maybe one of those rhinos that stamps out forest fires. Don’t they do that? She suffocates any little secret that might reveal that she’s not quite as saintly as she tries to look.”
I already know I’m not going to be able to take a single bite of my food. “So Phillip told you he’d had the affair after Mina caught them. But if Mina didn’t tell anyone, did Rose tell Scott about it?”
“I’m almost certain she didn’t.” She swallows a bite of her crab cake. “And I didn’t either.” She looks around and lowers her voice. “To be honest, I was afraid he would kill my husband. Or Rose. They made a mistake. I didn’t want… I was worried about everyone.”
“But Scott must have found out, right? Why else would he be wanting to rent out a cottage for himself?”
Sharon looks out the window. “There were rumors…about Scott. He might have been out there at that cottage before the affair. I mean, Rose was lonely. And those cottages are all empty in the winter. Most of them aren’t even fit to inhabit in the cold months, but some have woodstoves.”
“It’s a private place, in other words.”
“A place one can go without being watched. This is such a small town. Everyone in everyone else’s business. Especially in the cold months.”
“You think he was having an affair, too?”
She shrugs. “He was doing something. I don’t judge. Mina once told me the place just had a bed and a table. She said it was freezing inside and the mattress smelled funny. She didn’t like it.”
A chill runs through me. “He took her there.”
“Well, sure, he was living there, for a time. He was so quiet about his comings and goings, but it’s hard not to notice. Rose…she was beside herself. She wanted so badly to put it in the past, to pretend nothing had happened. And there was Mina, a reminder of her guilt. Phillip and I certainly decided never to mention any of it for that reason. She was over at our place a lot. We wanted to protect her. Maybe Scott was protecting Mina, too.”
Or doing something else entirely. “Sharon, does Scott play chess?”
“Hmm? Oh. Yes! He used to play with Mina all the time, and he and Phillip would even play sometimes, before Scott became more distant.” She clucks her tongue. “Rose never really thought her daughter needed to play chess. I remember she thought it was just a way to get attention from the boys. But then Mina lost interest, of course.”
I push my plate away and welcome the arrival of my second beer by ordering a shot of Macallan, which the waitress informs me they don’t have. I ask her to bring me whatever single malt they happen to stock. She comes back with Johnny Walker a second later, and I don’t complain. “They really messed her up, didn’t they? Both of them.”
Sharon sighs. “I can’t tell you exactly. Mina changed, though. She went from being a happy, outgoing little girl to a sad, sullen thing. Phillip dealt with a lot of guilt after that.”
“You stayed married to him.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, during which she twists the rings on her fingers. Finally, she says, “We’d both been through a lot, losing a child. And I’m not perfect either. I guess, sometimes, it’s worth it to forgive and forget.” She winces. “Or I tried, at least.”
I think of Mina and her book and Maggie. “Maybe some things are unforgivable.”
Sharon looks into her empty glass. “I certainly agree with that,” she murmurs.
“You never forgave Rose.”
“She’s been trying to convince me to for years, hasn’t she? All those cakes and pies, all those invitations and favors. She’d tie herself into a knot if she thought it could make me forget. She doesn’t understand how every single thing only reminds me.”
“But you and Phillip are still friends with them.”
“You know what they say about keeping your enemies close,” she says. “I cared about Mina most of all. It would have felt like abandoning her if we had made a big deal out of all of it. And you know what? I’m glad I didn’t. Because when she came home after being gone for so long, when none of us knew where she’d been…”
I sit forward. The waitress comes by and asks me if my food tastes all right. I reassure her that I’m just not hungry and ask her to box it up, knowing I’m going to toss it as soon as I get back to the cottage. “I was wondering about this.”
“You know she was…”
“Pregnant.”
Sharon squeezes her eyes shut. “I found out by accident. Just like I did the other night, I wandered over in search of raspberries, and there was Mina in the backyard, hair chopped up to a mess, obvious bun in the oven. I did what I could for her. Rose didn’t want anyone to know. She kept Mina under lock and key. I’m almost sure she didn’t tell anyone at the church. Or the Pooles. Scott asked me to keep it quiet for Mina’s sake, and I most certainly did.”
“Did you talk to Mina? Was she…okay? Was she making her own decisions?”
“Like I said, I did what I could.”
“And Scott?”
“He wasn’t home much during that time.”
The memory hits me—last night, Rose snapping And where were you?
“It was almost as if he couldn’t stand the sight of her,” Sharon continues. “I felt so bad for her.”
I wonder if he felt guilty. “I don’t see how it was healthy for Mina to be in that house.” If even half of what Mina wrote is true, I don’t know how she survived.
“I would have offered my own house,” Sharon says. “Rose wouldn’t hear o
f it. And Mina was so vulnerable. She…she tried to kill herself at least once. We all just wanted to get her through it alive.”
“Did she say who the father was?”
Sharon’s cheeks go ruddy. “Rose had some ideas. And I didn’t ask Mina. It didn’t seem appropriate. I assumed it was some boy from her school.”
But it was Esteban. Or Scott. I doubt Rose will ever tell me. “She did survive, though. She had the baby and gave it up.”
Sharon bows her head. “That was the hardest thing of all. Phillip and I offered to take the child, to adopt him and raise him as our own. But Rose…she laughed in my face. She said it was the most ridiculous idea she’d ever heard.”
“Why?”
Sharon blinks away tears. By the way she’s eyeing my beer, I can tell she’s thinking of ordering a third. “She didn’t want any reminder of her daughter’s shame.” Then she rubs her hands over her face. Her rings clack together on her skinny fingers. “She told me I was being selfish. She said he wouldn’t replace Robbie. As if I didn’t know that.”
“What did Mina say to the idea?”
She pauses as if considering, then says. “Mina was under Rose’s thumb. She just repeated the lines her mother gave her.” Then she scoffs. “Rose dropped her penitent little act, let me see who she really was underneath. I don’t think she ever felt bad for what she did with Phillip. She just didn’t want to lose what she had. She was desperate to hold on to Scott, to her life, her standing, her clubs, all that admiration she feeds off.” Sharon’s voice has taken on an edge. “She doesn’t care about anyone but herself.”
“What about Scott?” I ask. “What did he think about you adopting the baby?”
“Believe it or not, he backed up his wife.” Sharon’s lips twist as if she’s gotten a mouthful of something bitter. “I don’t think he wanted the reminder, either. Wanted to forget it ever happened, just like Rose. Just like Mina. And they all succeeded, didn’t they? The child was sent away to who knows where, for some other family to raise.”
“Sharon,” I say. “What do you think happened to Mina? Not back then. Now.”
“No idea. But if I were you, I’d take another look at those two.”
I pay the check and give Sharon a hug in the parking lot.
“I’m so sorry for all this,” she says to me. “I probably said too much.”
I drive back to the cottage, trying to line up all those things she did say with Mina’s book. The rental cottage, the chess, the baby, and the heartlessness of my wife’s parents. Although all the details might not match, there’s enough there to know that what Mina wrote is true enough. Real enough. They nearly destroyed her.
And as I think about how Mina ended her book, yet another horrifying thought occurs to me. One that gives new credence to the creeping feeling I got last night as I watched Scott and Rose together, the looks that passed between them.
When Mina wrote her book last year, maybe the ending just hadn’t happened yet.
Chapter Twelve
Happy birthday,” Lori said as she welcomed Maggie into her office. “Cute haircut, by the way.”
Maggie touched her hair. The stylist really had done a nice job. Now it was a pixie cut. It looked intentional rather than insane. “It finally grew out enough.” Enough to cover the scars on her scalp.
“Time is often a remarkable salve,” Lori said. “It doesn’t heal all wounds, but it gives you a space…” She chuckled. “I’ve said that to you before.”
“Only about a thousand times.” Maggie paused. “So. Graduation day.”
“I’m not pushing you out. If you want to—”
“No. I meant what I said a few weeks ago. I think this is good. Like a test run.”
“I’m always a call away. You know that.”
She nodded. “I might take you up on it.”
“It’s not a failure to struggle sometimes,” Lori said as they sat down, her in her usual chair, Maggie on her usual couch. “For anyone and especially someone who endured what you did. You’ve come so far, Maggie. And fast. You tackled this with such strength and determination.”
“It was that or go completely crazy.” She’d stayed in the hospital for a full week after Lori admitted her. She’d asked that her mother and Lawrence not be allowed to visit. She’d learned to breathe again.
She’d learned to dwell inside her own mind. And day by passing day, the knowledge of what she needed to do had grown like an amaryllis flower, the naked bulb shooting up a thick, green stalk, the bud appearing, pushing its way into the light. Now it hovered at the edge of every thought, red and undeniable. Beautiful but terrifying.
“They’re going to miss you at the resort, I’ll bet. Have you given your notice?”
“What? Oh. My last day is December 31. That’s when they close for the season. I leave for Amherst on the first.”
“You’re moving on the holiday?”
Maggie shrugged. “My lease is up at the end of the month.” She would miss the tiny cottage on the bayside of Truro, far enough from Yarmouth to keep her from worrying about running into them, furnished but empty in the low season, cheap rent courtesy of an acquaintance of one of Lori’s colleagues, and the first space she’d ever occupied that had been entirely her own.
“Working right up until the last second, huh?”
“It’s good for me to be busy, especially during the holiday. And I need the money.”
“You made arrangements with the school for your tuition? Can you get financial aid?”
Maggie sighed. “It’s complicated. You can’t just tell them that your parents are unsupportive.”
“If they understood that your parents abused you…”
“I did the research like we talked about. I might be able to get what they call a ‘dependency override’ if I can prove it, but there’s no record of any of it. And I’m not sure I want to get into it, you know?” They’d already decided that there would be no legal involvement. Maggie had insisted, and she was an adult. She got to decide. She could tell Lori didn’t like it, but this time, Maggie was calling the shots.
She had her reasons.
“I’m more than happy to write a letter,” Lori said.
“Which would only be what I’ve told you. For all you know, I’m a lying liar who lies.”
Lori’s gaze was steady on her. “I believe every word you’ve said.”
Maggie looked away. “I know.”
Sometimes she hated Lori’s belief in her because it confirmed that this was all real, that it had happened, and that it had been exactly as horrifying as it had felt.
Sometimes she hated Lori’s belief in her because she really was lying.
Not about everything. Just some things. To protect the innocent.
“Maggie, have you talked to either Ivy or Lawrence about confirming in writing that you’re independent from them? I know I said you shouldn’t see them or talk to them right now, but—”
“I can take out unsubsidized loans.”
“Do you need to get yourself a lawyer? I know some people who do pro bono work.”
“I’m going to work it out,” Maggie said firmly. “Being in Amherst will help. I’ll get a job. It’s not so expensive there, especially in the summer.”
“You should be in school,” Lori said. “You deserve to be in school.”
“I will, eventually. I’ll figure it out.”
“That’s something I don’t doubt for even a minute. And I can refer you to a therapist there should you need some support.”
“Maybe.” She met her therapist’s eyes. “I’m not in denial, okay? I just want to do things on my own for a while.”
“I think that makes complete sense. Sometimes you need a little space to let things settle and gel. The road to recovery and acceptance is a long one.”
Maggie didn’t argue
. “What about forgiveness?” She needed some but probably didn’t deserve it.
“That one’s up to you. What I’d love to see you reach is peace.”
“Me, too,” Maggie murmured. “I’m working on it.”
“So,” said Lori, clasping her hands. “Last session. What would you like to do to celebrate?”
Maggie smiled and looked across the room. “How about a game of chess?”
She arrived in New Bedford around six, though it felt much later because it had gotten dark just after four. It was a Wednesday night, and the street wasn’t too crowded. The Tavern was only a block up from the whaling museum apparently. She trudged up the street through an icy mist, pulling her jacket closer around her while her heart beat double time.
Probably, this was a huge mistake. But she had to try.
She had called earlier to make sure he was working that day. She’d said she was a friend who wanted to surprise him. She’d been flirtatious enough in those moments that the guy on the other end of the line had told her what she needed to know. She’d hung up and rocked in place until the nausea faded.
Now it was back in spades as she pushed through the front door and into the dimly lit, musty-smelling place, with a few people at the bar and one or two couples at high tops along the wall. Not a big space. Narrow but deep. Esteban was typing something into a screen that lit the side of his face with blue light, washing out his olive skin.
She remembered the look he’d given her as she drove away in August. Eyes narrowed, jaw set. When he turned and saw her, she could tell he didn’t recognize her at first, because the look he gave her was so friendly. Open and relaxed. She approached the bar.
But as she sat on the stool, he blinked. Looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on her hair. And there it was, the tightening around his eyes, his mouth.
“Hi,” she said. “How are you?”
He gave her a cold look. “What can I get you tonight?”
“What’s on tap?”
He arched one eyebrow. “Let’s see some ID. And I’ll know if it’s fake.”