by Karen White
Taping her note to the foyer mirror, she left the house, letting the door slam behind her.
In the dim overhead light in the kitchen, Suzanne stared down at Maddie’s album, at the soft blue linen and gold-embossed name, and smoothed her hand over it. She was done. The story of Maddie’s life, from before her birth to the present, was done. There was still her high school graduation, and all the wonderful things in her future to be placed in the empty pages in the back, but Suzanne’s job was done.
It thrilled her and saddened her at the same time. Harriet would have been proud of the work Suzanne had done, of the story she’d continued, of the woman Maddie was becoming. She hoped that Maddie would treasure the album, adding pictures to the pages like days in the year, each one contributing to the story.
But now that the album was finished, she knew she had to make a decision. The minutes of her borrowed time were flitting away, irretrievable movements on the clock. Cassie was right—sooner or later Anthony would find her. It would be better that, when he caught up to her, she was no longer in Walton. She could not bear to see the look of disappointment on the faces of the people she’d grown to know and love. She could give it all up if she knew they would never know the truth.
But the squeeze on her heart that she felt when she thought of Joe was nearly more than she could bear. He had shown her that she could feel, that her heart was big enough to allow another person in. And she loved him for that, and for the way he touched her, and the way he had let her into his life.
Whatever happened between them, she wanted him to know this. In the days, weeks, and months to come, it would be important for him to know this.
She stood abruptly, and without stopping to brush her hair or pull on a jacket, she bolted down the stairs two at a time and ran out of the house. She almost didn’t see him standing on the other side of the gate and would have run into him if he hadn’t reached out for her and called her name.
“Joe,” she said, breathless.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he said, his voice thick as if holding back more words he was afraid to let go.
“Me, neither.”
His hands slid down to her waist as he moved her closer, and the stars seemed to burn more brightly in the sky.
“I was thinking how I didn’t want another night to go by without you. And then I realized that I didn’t have to.”
She pressed herself against him, laying her head on his chest, and felt his heartbeat beneath her jaw. “Funny. I was just thinking the same thing.”
He kissed her then, his lips soft on hers. “I can’t pretend anymore. I know you think this is completely out of your ballpark, but I want to be with you.”
She held her breath, not wanting him to go on, not wanting him to say the words she knew he would.
“I was lying in bed tonight, thinking about how much I had changed since you came to town. Remember when we talked out by the creek, when we told each other the things we wanted the most in life? And tonight, just lying there in bed, I realized that there were a few more things I needed to add.” He touched her cheek. “That I want you next to me at the dinner table, at church—at the Piggly Wiggly, strolling down the frozen-food aisle. I know you can’t see it, but I wanted to know if you could at least try it on for size.”
She put his head in her hands and saw it all, saw it all with such clarity that it sucked the air from her lungs. She stared into his eyes in the bright moonlight, and all the hope and longing that she felt in her heart were mirrored there. Then the angry tears came, hot and blurry, and she knew without a doubt that a lifetime of not having could never equal the pain in this single moment of impotent wanting.
She kissed him to hide her tears as she blinked them away, then pulled back. “I love you, Joe Warner.”
He kissed her eyes, taking away the tears, and when his mouth touched hers again, she could taste the salt. It tasted bitter and left her wanting.
She held him tightly. “Come upstairs with me.”
He pulled back and stared in her eyes for a long moment, and she knew he was thinking of the words she had omitted, of the answer she had not given. She remembered Cassie telling her that she wouldn’t make it easy for Suzanne by telling Joe. Nor would Joe make it easy for her by asking her to stay. Something moved in his eyes, and she knew he was making his own compromises, envisioning a night spent in her arms but a lifetime of not having her.
As he had done on the day she’d come down with chicken pox, Joe lifted her in his arms and carried her upstairs to the bedroom, leaving all promises and untold secrets outside in the cold night air.
CHAPTER 22
Joe kicked the door shut behind them, then set her down on the bedroom floor.
Suzanne spoke against his mouth. “Why’d you do that? There’s nobody else here.”
“Habit,” he said, then moved his hands up under her sweater and paused. “What’s that?”
“A slip.”
He breathed heavily into her ear. “What color is it?”
“Red.”
“Wow.” His hands removed her sweater and skirt and she stood there in only the red silk slip. “Don’t turn on the light. I don’t think I could last long.”
She held her arms out to him and he came into them, pushing them both backward onto the bed. Their lips touched and held, and their hands worked the buttons on his shirt and the zipper on his pants until Joe’s clothes joined Suzanne’s in a heap on the floor.
He pushed his weight off her, leaning on his elbows and staring down at her in the pale moonlight from the window. His face was all dark planes and shadows, but his touch was real and sure, a part of her and of this new life she didn’t want to part with. He touched her cheek and breathed deeply. “You’re beautiful in your skin.”
She sighed in the darkness, not wanting to break the spell spun by his words, and she pressed up against him, feeling the red silk move against her skin. She reached for his hands, letting his weight fall on her, and pressed their arms over her head. She needed to feel him, to feel his weight, knowing that his inevitable absence later would crush her even more. He lifted the gold heart from her chest in an unspoken question.
“My mother gave it to me.”
Their eyes met in the dim glow of the moon. “Why?”
“Because she loved me. I just never realized how much. It took my coming here and finding Miss Lena to figure that out.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Nothing happens by chance, you know. There’s always a reason.”
“I know,” she whispered. She thought of the beautiful moonflowers and of the moths that pollinated them in the anonymity of the night. She stared up into Joe’s face, wanting no more secrets between them.
“My real name is Suzanne Lewis.”
He kissed her neck, his breath soft and warm on her skin. “Why ‘Paris’?”
“Because I always wanted to go there.”
He lifted himself up on his elbows so he could look in her eyes. “What else do you want that you haven’t told me?”
I want you forever. “I want you. For as long as we have.”
He kissed her then and all she could think of was how much she wanted him, and how much they needed each other, and how it could never be enough for either of them.
The phone rang, shrill and loud in the darkened room, and Suzanne picked it up before the third ring. She felt Joe’s chest behind her as she moved the phone to her ear.
It was Lucinda. “Suzanne? I need to speak to Joe. Right away.”
Suzanne didn’t stop to think how Lucinda would know Joe was with her, and handed over the phone. “It’s Aunt Lucinda.”
Joe nodded and took the phone. “It’s Joe.”
Suzanne heard Lucinda’s voice but not what she was saying, but she could see Joe’s knuckles grasping the phone tighter and tighter as he listened.
Finally, Joe spoke. “Do you know where she is? Okay. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Suzanne took the phone as Joe leap
ed out of the bed. “What’s wrong?”
He hopped on one foot as he put his underwear on while reaching for his jeans. “Somebody stole Charlie Harden’s PT Cruiser. The good news is that they found it. The bad news is that they found it in the middle of the Walton High Cafeteria. On its back.”
“Why are they calling you? Isn’t that more the sheriff’s job than the mayor’s?”
He stared at her for a moment without speaking.
Her eyes opened in realization. “Oh my gosh. Maddie.” Suzanne jumped out of bed and flipped on the light, doing her best to find the discarded clothing and put it on. “I’m coming with you.”
As she was putting her arms into the sweater, Joe grabbed her and led her out of the house. When they reached the sidewalk, Suzanne had a hard time keeping up with Joe’s long stride. She ran to catch up to him. “She couldn’t have done this, Joe. I can’t imagine that she’d know how to hot-wire a car, break into a school without setting off the alarm, and then flip a small car on its back. There’s no way.”
He didn’t stop to answer. “She had help. And I have a pretty good idea who.”
“Rob? Oh no. He wouldn’t do anything like that.”
Joe looked grim as he kept up his grueling pace. “Not unless he had good reason. Something must have set her off.”
“But what? I saw her yesterday and she was fine.” She jogged a bit to catch up, her thoughts clearing in the cold air. She stopped, and Joe did, too.
“Oh no. Did she get the photography contest results today in the mail?”
“I don’t think so. It wasn’t with the rest of the mail.”
“How was she acting when you got home from school?”
“I didn’t see her. She beat me home and left a note that she was at Clarissa’s, which is why Lucinda was watching the kids.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “Oh no,” he echoed.
He grabbed Suzanne’s hand and began to walk faster.
A feeling, dark and sinister, crept around the base of Suzanne’s neck. Maddie had been prepared to lose. She’d wanted to win, but she had spoken openly about her plans if she didn’t. Something was really wrong. Another thought struck her. “But how would either one of them have gotten past the alarm at the school? And how on earth did they get it through the doors?”
He shook his head, his breath coming out in fat white puffs. “She’s always asking to play Angry Birds on my phone. All my codes and passwords are on it. She’s the kind of person who would store information like that for future use.” He clenched his teeth, and she could see his jaw working furiously. “And I’m assuming she used the loading doors in the back. They’re wide enough that a small car could fit through them.”
As they approached his block, she tugged on his arm, making him stop again. “Joe, take a deep breath and calm down. Whatever this is about, Maddie feels deeply about it. Find out why first. It might help you control your anger. She’s not the kind of person to do something like this without good reason.”
Joe took his hand back and raked both hands through his hair. “She could have just cost me the election. This is really, really bad.”
He turned toward the house, and she called him back. “She’s your daughter, Joe. Don’t forget that. She’s young and vulnerable and prone to rash behavior. Be gentle with her. Her disappointment in you could never be worth winning an election.” She kissed him gently on the lips. “Things have a way of working themselves out.”
“Thanks. I’ll try to remember that.” He held out his hand. “Come on. I need you with me.”
The feeling of dread continued to press on her as she took his hand and followed him past the parked sheriff’s car, Joe’s SUV, Sam’s pickup truck, and Lucinda’s pink convertible.
The porch lights were on, as was every light in the downstairs. For a fleeting moment, she wondered why she didn’t feel the need to pull away and run back to the quiet aloneness of her house.
Joe opened the front door and held it for her, then led the way to the kitchen, in the back of the house.
The small room was crowded to overflowing, with the large bulk of Sheriff Adams taking up one corner of the room, while Sam, Lucinda—wearing bright pink curlers in her hair—and Maddie sat at the table with dripping iced-tea glasses weeping onto the table in front of them. Robbie and Clarissa stood behind Maddie’s chair, and Suzanne could tell the two girls had been crying, and Robbie looked as if he wanted to.
All eyes turned to them as they approached the table and Maddie stood.
“So, Daddy. Looks like we’ve both screwed up again.”
He dropped Suzanne’s hand and moved closer to the table. Suzanne could see him working to control his temper. “What do you mean? I’m not the one who’s been picked up by the sheriff. You’ve got a lot of answering to do.”
Maddie reached across the table for a large manila envelope. “You’re sleeping with her, right? Take a look at this and tell me which one of us has done the worse thing.”
She pulled out a magazine and slapped it on the table in front of her father. There was a stunned silence in the room as everyone caught sight of the front-cover picture of Suzanne and Joe. It looked like a picture taken in the afterglow of sex, and the ethereal light from behind their faces made it even more obvious.
Suzanne started to shake, her world slowly spinning off its axis.
Joe picked up the magazine. “So you didn’t win. But that’s no reason to vandalize somebody’s car.”
Maddie stood, her chair almost tipping over. Her voice rose a degree. “Look who won first place.” She stabbed a finger at Charlie’s name on the cover.
He looked, his forehead furrowed in confusion, then turned back to Maddie. “Charlie took this picture?”
“No!” Maddie nearly screamed, and Suzanne wanted to melt away, to die, to do anything to keep Maddie from continuing. But she stood where she was, waiting. It was what she deserved. She could almost hear Anthony’s voice shouting at her. “You always get what you deserve, Suzanne. Nothing ever happened to you that you didn’t already have coming to you.”
She touched the necklace around her neck, hoping to find strength in it. All it did was give her the courage to stay where she was. A life without rain is like the sun without shade. She closed her eyes. Would it ever stop raining?
She opened her eyes and met Maddie’s, and waited for the sharp blow of the ax to fall.
Maddie was nearly screaming now. “This was my picture. I took it and it was on a roll of film I gave to Suzanne to develop. So tell me, now, how did Charlie get it? How? And why would you do this to me?”
She started to cry, great, racking sobs, and Cassie stood and cradled Maddie’s head on her shoulder. Cassie’s eyes met Suzanne’s over Maddie’s head. But they weren’t accusing. Instead, they were opened wide, as if waiting for Suzanne to explain herself, to make it all go away.
Suzanne couldn’t look at Joe but felt him stiffen beside her. She faced Maddie, her voice amazingly calm. “I . . . I didn’t give it to him. I threw it away, and he must have found it in the garbage after I left.”
Maddie cried harder and kept her face buried in Cassie’s chest. It was Cassie who asked, “Why would you throw it away? Surely you could see that it could win. It’s an amazing photograph.”
Suzanne resisted the urge to look away, to run. This is what happens when you don’t change lanes fast enough. She could barely force the words out. “Because I couldn’t risk having my picture plastered across the cover of a national magazine.”
Maddie tore away from Cassie. “But why? Could whatever you’re hiding be worse than what’s happened? I thought you liked me. I could even see you as my stepmother—you were that convincing. But not now. Not ever. I’d rather die than ever see your face again.”
She ran from the room, her feet hard on the stairs and the hallway above them. A bedroom door slammed, and all was silent for a moment.
Suzanne swallowed hard, still avoiding looking at Joe, and feeling all eyes on her. S
he couldn’t face seeing their accusing glares. She already felt as if she were at the gates of hell. The looks on their faces could only push her over the brink.
She turned to leave, then stopped. She couldn’t leave. Not yet. Not that she could make them forgive her, but she could at least make them understand. “I did it because I loved her. And Joe. And the rest of you. That wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did. All I wanted to do was to buy some time because I didn’t want to leave.” She swallowed thickly, not wanting to cry. Not yet. “Looks like my time’s up.”
She turned and ran from the room and out of the house, not stopping until she’d reached the Ladue house. She closed the door and leaned against it for a long time, breathing heavily and forcing herself not to cry. Her fingers found the heart around her neck and she touched it, needing comfort but finding only cold metal. She tried to remember what Miss Lena had told her about being worthy of her mother’s love. She looked up at the ceiling as if she might find her mother there to argue with. I’m glad you’re not here to see this, Mom. I’ve done everything wrong. Maybe Anthony was right. Maybe I did have it coming to me.
She started to cry then, her knees buckling as she slid down the door to the floor. She couldn’t wipe the picture of Maddie’s face out of her mind. It would haunt her for the rest of her life. How could she let Maddie know that the person who had thrown away the negative was not the person she was now? She was stronger. Miss Lena had helped her see that. She could almost believe that Cassie and Joe and the rest would stand behind her and help her fight this. But the look on Maddie’s face told her differently. She could never go back.
Slowly she went upstairs and opened the drawers of the dresser and began pulling out everything that belonged to her. The wind picked up outside, tossing the wind chimes and their music out into the winter night, and it made her cry again as she thought of Joe and all the hopes they had had. After shoving in everything that would fit into her backpack and canvas tote, she went to the spare bedroom and took Maddie’s album. Then she went down to the kitchen and took off the picture of the Eiffel Tower and Amanda’s picture from the refrigerator before leaving the house for the last time.