The Almost Wife

by Gail Anderson-Dargatz

  An hour or so later, I heard the rifle shot ring out in the forest. When evening fell and I still saw no sign of my father dragging a deer back to the cabin, I followed his path into the woods and found him dead.

  Now, fifteen years later, I shook the image from my mind. It was time for everyone to know the truth. My biggest secret.

  “I shot at him,” I told Olive. “But I missed. He knew I meant to hurt him, and it broke him. He killed himself. He killed himself because of me. That’s what I have to live with, Olive. Believe me, you don’t want to carry that sort of guilt with you forever.”

  Aaron, rising from the cabin steps, did a slow clap. “How touching,” he said. “You don’t want Olive to kill dear old daddy like you did. And here I thought you didn’t care.”

  “Shut up,” Madison said.

  Despite her father’s crude interjection, Olive slowly dropped the muzzle of the gun, and I thought for a moment that she was about to hand it to me. But then she tipped the rifle and pressed the muzzle awkwardly under her chin—something she must have seen in a movie, like she was acting. But I didn’t doubt for an instant that she would pull the trigger. I understood. I had thought of taking my life many times, even before my father’s death.

  Madison, clutching my baby to her chest, uttered a desperate “No.”

  I couldn’t let this happen again. I held out both hands as I faced Olive, trying to keep my voice level. “You say you don’t want to feel scared anymore. You want it to end. Olive, all this, your father’s abuse, it’s over now. He made a big mistake firing that rifle at me, threatening to kill us, hurting Nathan. He’s going to jail for a very long time.”

  “You’ll live with me now,” Madison said.

  “Bullshit,” Aaron said, taking a step forward.

  “He’ll just talk his way out of it,” Olive said, but she lowered the gun a little.

  “No, he won’t,” I said. “Not this time. Not with all three of us working together to stop him.”

  Madison nodded. “That’s right, honey. He kept us isolated from one another. He told me your mother was dead—”

  “And he kept me away from Maddy,” I said.

  “So we wouldn’t talk to each other,” Maddy added.

  I held out one hand for the gun. “Because he knew that if we did, we’d end up working together, and we could bring him down. And we will.”

  Aaron scoffed and moved quickly toward us. I thought, at first, he was trying to grab the gun from Olive, but he went for Evie instead and easily pulled her from Madison’s grip. Blood from the knife wound on his hand streaked down Evie’s arm.

  “Who cares?” he said, gazing at Evie as though he was a loving parent, not the monster who had tried to drown her. “Go and live with your junkie mother if you like. You’re all welcome to each other. I have Evie, and she’ll live with me. Then the rest of you can do what you like. But my girl stays with me.”

  Everyone looked at me. My heart was hammering. I knew there was only one thing I could do, one thing I could tell him that would make him give her back, something I had learned just that morning at the house, when I checked the mail. It might also make him hurt her, but it was the only thing I could think of.

  “Aaron, Evie isn’t yours.”

  “What?”

  The stunned look on Aaron’s face was so satisfying that I rubbed salt into the wound. “She’s Nathan’s. I wasn’t sure, so I ordered a DNA test. And now I know. We can walk away from you, and she’ll never even have to hear your name again.”

  “Evie’s not my sister?” Olive asked, and the gun dropped in her hands. She looked, bereft, at Evie in her father’s arms.

  “She is your sister,” I said, getting closer to her. “Even if she’s not related by blood. You love Evie, and she loves you. That makes you family. Olive, I promise, you’re not going to lose her. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “You fucking bitch,” Aaron snorted. “So you were just after my money. I should’ve known.”

  I kept my eyes on Evie in his arms, his hand near her throat. “No, it wasn’t like that,” I said. “Aaron, until today, I had hoped she was yours.”

  “I should have drowned her this morning.”

  “Jesus, Aaron.”

  Olive aimed the gun unsteadily at her father. “Dad,” she said, her voice trembling. “Give Evie back to Kira.”

  Oh god. She had the gun pointed at him, and he was still holding Evie. “Olive, no!”

  Aaron looked for a moment like he might challenge her, but then he turned to the road as we all heard the sound of approaching sirens. “Shit,” he said. “Here, take your kid, then.” He shoved Evie roughly into my arms, then yanked the rifle from Olive’s hand and pointed it at me. “Take her with you to hell.” He aimed the gun at the other women, first Sarah, then Madison. “You can all go to hell.”

  “Do you really intend to shoot us all before the cops get here?” Madison asked. “Are there even enough bullets left?”

  Aaron’s eyes shifted back and forth as he considered that. Did he know how many cartridges the magazine held? Likely not, though, of course, I did.

  “If the gun is in your hands when the cops arrive . . .” I left the rest unsaid. The police cars had already stopped at the head of the hunt camp road. I could hear the officers talking as they made their way down the overgrown road.

  Aaron looked briefly back at the forest, as if he was thinking of fleeing, then at the gun in his hands. He nodded as if he’d made a decision. “Who is it going to be, then?” he asked, pointing the gun at each of us in turn. “Huh? How many of you can I take with me? Should we find out?” He trained the rifle on Madison’s head.

  “Daddy, no!” Olive ran up, butting him from the side. Surprised, he swung away as he fired, and the bullet skimmed Sarah’s arm. She fell to her knees, holding the wound, wincing in pain.

  As Madison ran to Sarah, Evie, scared by the noise of the blast, started crying again. I bounced her, in tears myself, holding her close as I pressed kisses to her head. Up the road, I could hear the cops shouting in response to the shot as they ran our way.

  “I’m all right,” Sarah said, inspecting her wound. A rivulet of blood trickled down her arm. “It’s only a graze.” She looked up at Olive. “I’m okay,” she assured her, though her face was ashen with shock.

  I faced Aaron. “Why do you have to keep hurting everyone?” I demanded. “Does it really make you feel better?”

  He slid the muzzle back to Evie and me, and I took a step back, pressing my baby to my chest, instinctively turning to protect her body with my own.

  “This is all your fault,” he said. “You shouldn’t have said you were going to leave me. You ruined everything.” His brows furrowed and his eyes watered as if he were fighting tears. I once again felt I was seeing the boy inside him, this dangerous child. He was hurt, I realized, and scared—terrified. Fear had driven his rage. “You ruined everything,” he said again, and his finger pressed into the trigger.

  I closed my eyes a moment and listened to my heart thunder in my chest as if I was nearing the end of a marathon. But hearing the shouts of the police, now only yards away, I looked him right in the eye. “You’re out of time,” I said. And cartridges. He pulled the trigger, but there was only a click. “It’s over,” I said.

  One of the officers shouted, demanding that Aaron drop the rifle as he drew his own firearm. Aaron hesitated an instant longer, the muzzle of the gun hovering in front of my face, then finally dropped the rifle to the ground.

  39

  I sat on the concrete steps outside my summer house with Evie suckling at my breast. The oxytocin had kicked in and, especially after the turmoil of the day before, I felt exhausted but also blissfully at peace, like a cow lazily chewing her cud as her calf yanked a teat.

  Teresa, seeing me through her living room window, opened the screen door of her house and joined me on the steps. “You used to sit out here when your parents argued,” she said as she sat beside me.

&n
bsp; I glanced back at the house, hearing my mother’s and father’s angry voices ringing across the years, but that seemed so long ago now, and the echoes faded away.

  “Madison and Sarah are talking to the social worker,” I explained, “hashing out what happens next with Olive. I’m just giving them some space.”

  “Sarah’s all right?”

  “She only needed a few stitches.” I hesitated. “And Nathan?”

  “They kept him in the hospital in Sudbury overnight for observation. His doctor wants to run a scan, so I’ll pick him up this afternoon. We should be home around suppertime.”

  “So soon?” I had planned to visit Nathan in the hospital later in the day. “I guess that’s a good sign.”

  Teresa nodded. “He won’t be back to work for a few weeks, though. It was a pretty serious concussion.”

  Oh god. “I’m so sorry I got him into this, Teresa.”

  Evie unplugged and reached out for Teresa, and she hoisted my daughter into the air as I rearranged my clothing.

  “There’s my Evie!” Teresa rubbed noses with her. My Evie, she said, just like she was family. She was family. Evie was Teresa’s granddaughter, though Teresa didn’t know that yet. I would tell Nathan first, something I’d wanted to do as soon as I read the results the morning before. But I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. I had no idea how he would react to the news.

  My kitchen door opened, and Madison made her way over to us barefoot, wearing a clean T-shirt and yoga pants she’d borrowed from me, and took a seat on the steps. Teresa lifted her eyebrows in a knowing look and carried Evie a little distance away, cooing to her, to give Madison and I privacy—while still listening in, of course.

  “What’s the word?” I asked Madison.

  “As we expected, Olive will be back living with me. But I’ve invited Sarah to stay with us in the basement while she heals.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Really? Is that a good idea?”

  Madison shrugged. “She’s committed to staying clean, and she knows she’ll have to take things slow with Olive.”

  “You’re not . . .” I paused, thinking of how to say it.

  “Jealous of Sarah? Worried that I’ll lose Olive?” She shook her head. “It comes down to what’s best for my daughter. Olive needs to know her mother. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t uneasy about the idea of sharing her with another woman. I wasn’t exactly thrilled with you coming into her life at first.”

  “Oh?”

  She offered me a tired smile. “But if Olive wants to spend weekends with her mom once Sarah has a place of her own, I’m good with that.”

  Olive would never live with me again, of course. I had no rights to her. For months I had resented her irritable presence in my home. She could be mouthy, arrogant, a real pain in the ass, but now that I considered a life without her, I felt sick with loss.

  I leaned over my knees, clasping my hands together like Madison did. “Listen, I meant what I said earlier. I really do want to stay in Olive’s life.” I glanced at Evie in Teresa’s arms. “Olive loves Evie, Madison.”

  “I know. I have no intention of wrenching Olive away from you and Evie. Olive is going to need support from all of us if she’s going to recover from this.”

  “She’ll be seeing a therapist, I imagine.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Exercise will help,” I said. “Let’s get Olive off that phone and outside much more. I’m not sure she’ll want to go running with me, but maybe I can take her swimming or biking or kayaking. Maybe you and Sarah can bring her up here to the island after things have settled.”

  “I think she’d like that.” Madison bumped shoulders with me. “But let’s keep her away from the rifles, okay?”

  “Ah, yes.” And the knives and scissors, I thought.

  She took my hand. “Listen, you said something back at the cabin that’s been haunting me: that you were responsible for your father’s suicide. You weren’t, you know. No child could ever be. For him to take his own life like that, he must have been fighting some pretty serious demons.”

  “Thanks for saying that.”

  “No, really, Kira, you can’t keep blaming yourself for his death. Maybe it’s time to let go of that?”

  “Maybe.”

  Madison squeezed my hand, then smiled a little wickedly. “In other circumstances I would have liked you, I think,” she said.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  She let go of my hand. “I guess we don’t have to like each other to do what’s best for our girls, do we?”

  “No.” I grinned.

  “But who knows? Maybe we can be friends, for Olive.”

  “Maybe.”

  Madison nodded, as if that was settled. “So, what about you?” she asked. “What happens now?”

  I glanced at Teresa. “I’ll have to talk to Nathan,” I said quietly, a task I would take care of as soon as he returned from the hospital. “And then—we’ll see.”

  At least I knew I wouldn’t have to deal with Aaron any time soon, hopefully never. He had been caught holding a rifle on us, arrested and hauled away in a police cruiser. We had been told he would face many criminal charges. Once sentenced, he would be in jail for a long time.

  Sarah opened the kitchen door, and Olive and the social worker followed her out. The Children’s Aid worker was pretty in a wholesome, slightly overfed farmer’s daughter sort of way. She must have seen domestic dramas play out countless times. And she had been kind. Still, it was all so very embarrassing, to have our private lives cranked open to scrutiny in this way.

  I stood, noting that Olive was carrying her bag. “Time to go?” I asked.

  Madison pushed up from the steps. “I guess it is.”

  I stood awkwardly for a moment as the other two women chatted and said goodbye to the social worker and waved as she drove off.

  “Well,” Madison said, turning to me.

  “Yes, well.”

  Sarah held my hand in both of hers. “It was good to meet you,” she said.

  And then we all laughed nervously. The circumstances of our meeting were so very odd.

  “We’ll see much more of each other, I’m sure,” I said.

  Olive threw herself into my arms, and I held her tight, tears stinging my eyes. Then she stepped back and took Evie from Teresa.

  “You’ll visit, won’t you?” she asked me as she hugged Evie. “I’ll see you and Evie?”

  “Of course she will,” Madison said.

  “We were talking about getting you back up here this summer,” I said. “And spending some time on the beach.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “That would be cool.” Olive rocked Evie back and forth. “She is my sister, right?” she said.

  I glanced at Teresa, hoping Olive wouldn’t say anything more on the subject.

  “Yes, she is,” I said.

  Olive held on to Evie a long time, until Madison said, “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but we’ve got to go.”

  I took Evie from Olive, and she hugged us both again. “I love you,” she said, whether to me or Evie, I wasn’t sure. But it made me weep anyway.

  “I love you too,” I said. I pushed the hair out of Olive’s eyes. “We’ll see you soon, okay? Very soon.”

  She nodded and I wiped my eyes and snuffled. “Shit,” I said. Teresa handed me a tissue.

  “Okay,” Madison said brightly, “I guess we’re off.” Then she surprised me with a brief hug. “Stay in touch,” she said into my ear. We both stepped back awkwardly. “You have my number,” she continued. “Text any time. Let me know where you land so we can get the girls together.”

  “I will,” I said.

  Sarah squeezed my arm. “I look forward to getting to know you, Kira,” she said, holding my gaze, and I knew she meant it.

  “You too,” I said.

  “We should go,” Madison said.

  There was a commotion down at the river and we turned to watch as a small flock of Canada geese—parents and juvenil
es—first ran and then flew up the road as if it were a runway. Evie pointed at them as, one after the other, the heavy birds lifted into the air, flying so low as they passed that I could not only hear the whistling of their wings, but feel the rush of air dislocated by their labored flight.

  40

  I left the summer house carrying Evie, feeling nauseous with anxiety. After all the revelations of the day before, I had one more to deal with. I hadn’t phoned Nathan, but I knew where he’d be now. Like other locals, he made a ritual of walking down to the beach in the evening to take in the sunset from the pedestrian bridge, a span connecting the boardwalk over the river.

  I carried Evie there now, holding her hand in mine. Her tiny fingers were so warm, so small, so fragile that it made me ache. I had spent the nearly eight months since her birth wishing for sleep, for a warm supper, for a day without the countless interruptions a baby brings. Wishing for my simpler life before motherhood. Now I greedily stored up the moments with her as if they might never come again.

  Nathan leaned over the railing of the pedestrian bridge, looking down into the water, his hair glowing ginger in the gilded light. His skin had the golden hue of summer. He often worked at his construction sites without a shirt and, on days off, sprawled on the beach without even a beach blanket, his hair full of sand. Teresa had always called him a beach bum.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey.”

  Evie held out her arms to him, and he took her from me. “Look,” he said, pointing to the water below, and she pointed with him. A common merganser, a diving duck, swam underwater through the weeds beneath the bridge, hunting a school of small, silvery fry. The creature looked more like an otter than a bird as it zipped, slippery, through the water, snatching up fish after fish.