Don't Believe a Word

by Patricia MacDonald

  Eden nodded, smiling faintly. ‘Thanks for coming out here with Dad. That was so kind of you.’

  ‘It was my pleasure,’ said Gerri. ‘I’m just so glad you’re okay. He has been sick with worry.’

  ‘I know. Where is he anyway?’

  ‘He just went out to stretch his legs and get some decent coffee. The coffee here is terrible.’

  ‘I’ve heard that,’ said Eden.

  ‘Look Eden, while we have a minute, before he gets back, I wanted to tell you something. I probably should wait with this but …’

  Eden frowned, and her head began to hurt all over again. ‘What?’

  ‘Well, your dad told me why you came out here. That you were here to work on Flynn’s book.’

  ‘Yes. I did. How is Flynn anyway?’

  ‘I heard he’s going to be released tomorrow.’

  ‘That’s good. He’s been through a lot. Even though I don’t like the guy. He made me lose my job!’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ said Gerri, glancing at the array of flowers on the windowsill. ‘There’s a bouquet here from Maurice DeLaurier, and one from your boss, Rob.’

  ‘Really?’ said Eden. ‘Wow! That’s … nice. Who else sent flowers?’

  Gerri reeled off a few names. ‘Somebody called Vince?’ she said, a cheerful question in her voice.

  Just then the door to Eden’s room swung open, and Hugh Radley entered, carrying two paper coffee cups. His worried face broke into a smile at the sight of his daughter, sitting up and talking to Gerri. ‘Eden,’ he cried. ‘Look at you!’

  ‘Hi, Dad. I’m much better.’

  ‘I’m so glad,’ he said, handing one cup to Gerri. ‘I would have gotten you one, but I’m not sure it’s allowed.’

  ‘It’s not allowed,’ said a nurse who had come in behind Hugh, and was bustling about the room. ‘I’m gonna have to ask you folks to leave. I have to get Eden ready for X-ray.’

  Goodbyes and promises of later were exchanged all around as Hugh and Gerri took their leave, looking back at her wistfully. Eden smiled until they were out of sight. The nurse unfolded a wheelchair beside the bed and was explaining that they were going down to the first floor, when suddenly Gerri reappeared in the room.

  ‘Did you forget something?’ Eden asked.

  ‘That’s what I told your dad,’ Gerri said. ‘But I just wanted to finish telling you … When you feel up to looking at it, I have forwarded you an email and an attachment that I received several months ago. From your mother. You will definitely want to read it.’ She waggled her fingers. ‘Feel better. Talk to you later.’

  Eden watched Gerri go, frowning. She was undeniably curious and looked longingly at the iPad.

  ‘All right, missy, let’s get you downstairs,’ said the nurse.

  Eden nodded agreement, and did her best to facilitate her transfer from the bed to the chair. It will have to wait, she thought.

  By the time she had been poked, prodded, photographed and tested by every doctor’s team involved in her care, Eden was almost as exhausted as she had been in the preceding days. She saw her father and Gerri again, when they stopped in for a last visit that night. She was quick to thank her father for the new iPad.

  ‘Well, the old one didn’t make it through the fire. Luckily, most of your stuff was packed and on the plane. But I knew you couldn’t manage without one of those.’

  ‘You’re so right,’ said Eden. ‘Really. Thanks.’

  ‘I talked to the doc,’ said Hugh. ‘We’re gonna be taking you home very soon. Just a day or two, they tell me.’

  ‘Can’t wait,’ Eden admitted. She was too tired for much conversation, and they took their leave early. Finally, the room was quiet, and Eden was left alone.

  The thought of sleep was enticing, but ever since her conversation with Gerri earlier in the day, she had been wondering what it was that her mother had said. She felt as if she wouldn’t be able to sleep unless she knew.

  She lifted the iPad from beside her bed and opened it. She reached for the arm of the moveable tray which she had pushed aside after dinner, and set the iPad on it. Then she went to her email and scanned the emails which had accumulated, unanswered. There were get well wishes galore, including one from an address she didn’t immediately recognize. But the name ‘Vince’ was in the address, which gave her a hopeful feeling. She opened it and blushed with pleasure. The email was, as she hoped, from Vince Silver, the proprietor of the Brisbane.

  Eden looked up at the windowsill. That was so … kind of him, she thought. They hadn’t even been on a date together. Obviously she was not the only one who had felt that attraction between them. His note was short, saying that he was concerned about her, and wanted her to let him know as soon as she got back to Brooklyn. She started to compose a reply. She began by thanking him for the flowers, and then began to torture herself with the wording of the rest. She didn’t want to seem needy or pathetic. She didn’t want to seem too eager or hopeful. She didn’t want to make too much of his gesture, as if it implied that there was something between them when, in fact, they scarcely knew one another. She kept writing and then deleting what she had written.

  And then she looked over again at the bouquet of flowers. He had not been afraid to show that he was worried about her. Something wonderful might happen between them, or it might not. But he was saying clearly that he had hopes for them. And in her heart, despite every misgiving about love that she had felt in abundance lately, she found that she was hopeful too. Why not just go for the truth? she thought. And be hopeful. Hearing from you has made me so happy. I will be home soon. I can’t wait to see you again.

  She took a deep breath and pressed send. Then she ran down the list of addresses until she came to the one which was forwarded to her from Gerri. She opened it up, and felt the impact of seeing her mother’s email like a blow to her chest.

  Gerri had written her a note along with the forwarded documents.

  Dear Eden,

  I received this from your mother about six months ago. I never mentioned it to your father, because I was afraid it might grieve him to know about it. She wanted my help, but I was not inclined to be generous toward her, and I only answered Tara’s request in the most perfunctory manner. It seemed as if anything else would only cause more pain. But when I heard about Flynn’s book, I decided it was important to share this with you. Maybe I’m off base. If so, you will tell me.

  Much love, Gerri

  Eden scrolled down, and began to read.

  THIRTY-TWO

  The next morning, despite the fact that she was completely exhausted, Eden was awake and prepared for company. Sitting up in bed, her hair pulled severely back into a ponytail, she glanced repeatedly at the door to her room. She was wearing make-up to try to give color to her face and conceal the dark circles under her eyes. She was wearing fresh pajamas which Gerri and her father had brought for her. Her back was propped up with several pillows. She had her iPad set up on her rolling tray, and her hands were folded calmly in her lap when the door to her hospital room finally opened.

  Her visitor sauntered in, wearing an oversized tweed coat and carrying a backpack over his shoulder. His hair was long, wavy and freshly washed. He moved carefully across the room and stood leaning on the visitor’s chair at the end of her bed.

  ‘The nurse said that you asked to see me before I left,’ said Flynn.

  ‘I did. Have a seat,’ said Eden.

  Flynn lowered himself carefully into the visitor’s chair. ‘Still a little creaky,’ he said with a crooked grin.

  ‘I’m sure you are,’ said Eden. His own mother had shot him. Tried to kill him. How was he able to seem cheerful after that? ‘I want you to know that I’m sorry about … everything with your mother.’

  Flynn sighed, and his eyes became cloudy. Then he faked a jaunty smile. ‘My mother. What a gal, huh?’

  ‘She told me a lot while we were in the house. How her parents pretended she was dead. How … unkind they were to you.�
�

  Flynn shook his head. ‘When she first told me who she was, I actually thought, Hey … it’s my mother. Second chance. I kept her secret. Hell, I confided in her. About Tara’s illness. Everything. So then, I guess she decided that she would do me a favor and kill my wife and son.’

  Eden bit her lip. ‘I know she did. I’m sorry, Flynn.’

  ‘Sorry to you, too. She made the decision for all of us.’

  ‘It’s not your fault. What will happen to her?’

  ‘Don’t know,’ he said. ‘I’m washing my hands of her.’

  Eden could not help recalling that Phyllis had said that same thing about her own parents. It was like a horrible legacy which continued on. ‘And yet, when I talked to you in the hospital that first night, and you knew it was Phyllis, you didn’t say a word against her.’

  ‘That was for Lizzy’s sake,’ said Flynn. ‘But now everyone knows.’

  ‘It won’t be so easy for Lizzy to turn her back on Phyllis,’ said Eden.

  Flynn looked uncomfortable. He shifted in the chair. ‘If she wants to be with me, she’ll have to adjust to it,’ he said bluntly.

  ‘Does she want to be with you? Now that she knows that you’re her brother?’

  ‘She’s having some problems with it,’ he admitted.

  ‘I’m sure she is,’ said Eden.

  ‘She has to get over worrying about what people will think. Who cares what people think? The hell with them.’

  ‘That’s easier said than done,’ said Eden. ‘Lizzy’s life has been turned upside down.’

  Flynn took a deep breath. ‘Look, is there a purpose to this command performance?’ he asked irritably. ‘’Cause if not …’

  ‘There’s a purpose,’ said Eden.

  Flynn glanced at his watch and sighed. ‘Okay, shoot.’ He shifted in the chair, seeking a comfortable position.

  ‘Okay,’ said Eden. She shifted the iPad so she was looking directly at it. ‘There’s something I want to read to you. It’s an email that was sent to Gerri Zerbo, by my mother.’

  ‘That name rings a bell,’ said Flynn.

  ‘Gerri and her husband owned the bookstore where my mother used to work. The bookstore where you met …’

  ‘Oh right. On that fateful day …’ he said with a hint of sarcasm.

  ‘I’ll read it to you,’ said Eden.

  Flynn glanced at his watch again. ‘I don’t have a lot of time …’

  ‘It’s short,’ said Eden coldly. She cleared her throat and began to read.

  Dear Gerri,

  I’m sure you never expected to hear from me again. I feel a little strange writing this, but I have my reasons, as you’ll see. My life has taken some difficult twists and turns, and I’m not sure how long I will be able to communicate clearly, so I am sending this to you now.

  I know how much you disapproved of the effect my actions had on Hugh and, especially, Eden. I don’t blame you for being angry with me. Whether you believe it or not, hurting them is the greatest regret of my life. But this letter is not about our personal lives. This is about work. I am writing to you because I need your very educated opinion. I want you to know that I always had the utmost respect for you as a book person. You understand books and what makes a good read better than anyone I’ve ever known. Your choices for the store were always unerring, and if you recommended a book, then I would find, almost inevitably, that it was excellent and that I would enjoy it as well. I value your opinion about books more than anyone I know.

  In the last year, when I was not caring for my son, I decided to write a book about all that happened to me. If nothing else, I hope that someday Eden will be able to read it, and maybe understand. Her life was so unfairly ripped apart. I want her to know why I did what I did. I decided to write it as a novel, so that I would have a little distance on it.

  I finished it several weeks ago, and have been trying to decide what to do with it. I didn’t tell anyone else about it, except for my husband, Flynn. He has read it at several points along the way. Frankly, he does not think very much of it, and that’s probably well deserved. He was kind enough to say that it was an interesting effort, which wasn’t very encouraging. I thought, before I put it in the drawer, and got on with my life, wherever it may be leading me, that I would send it to you, the best reader I know. If you like it or hate it, I’d still like to hear your opinion. I know that you do not hold a high opinion of me as a person, but if you could judge the book on its own merits, and overlook the author’s shortcomings as you read it, I would be truly grateful.

  Sincerely yours,

  Tara Darby

  Eden folded the iPad closed and looked at Flynn. He stared back at her defiantly. ‘Anything you’d like to say?’

  ‘About what?’ he demanded.

  ‘I read the attachment my mother sent to Gerri as well. The book you passed off to DeLaurier and your agent as your own. That was my mother’s book.’

  Flynn avoided her gaze, pursing his lips and gazing out the window. His cheeks were stained a reddish-bronze. ‘It’s hardly the same book,’ he muttered.

  ‘Oh, I can see the work you did on it. Added a few things. Tweaked this and that. Took out anything unflattering to yourself.’

  ‘Tweaked?’ he demanded, turning his narrow-eyed gaze on her. ‘I did a lot more than tweak it.’

  Eden looked at him in apparent astonishment, her eyebrows raised. ‘Really? Is that going to be your defense?’

  ‘I don’t need a defense,’ he said.

  ‘You tried to pass this off as your own work.’

  ‘Oh, get off your high horse,’ he said. ‘It’s not that big a deal. Your mother was dead. It seemed stupid not to go ahead and sell the book.’

  Eden shook her head and stared at him. Was that really how he saw it? He seemed to think that none of the rules applied to him. Reading her mother’s book last night, as it was written, Eden realized that Tara had come, over time, to understand Flynn, and his limitations. Had she continued to love him? Yes, but her original manuscript made it clear that her rapturous love had been tempered with disappointment as she began to recognize the flaws in his character. Of course he had removed all of that from the manuscript he sold to DeLaurier. ‘Whatever possessed you to ask for me as an editor?’ she asked. ‘Did it amuse you to think that I was working on my mother’s book, and I didn’t even know it?’

  ‘She wanted you to read it. That was one of her reasons for writing it.’

  ‘I’m sure she did,’ said Eden. ‘But don’t pretend that you did this to fulfill my mother’s wishes. After she died you stole her work and claimed it as your own, when she could no longer speak for herself.’

  ‘You don’t get it. It wasn’t about glory for her. That wasn’t her nature. She wanted it to be published,’ said Flynn. ‘I made that happen.’

  Eden shook her head. Did he really believe the words he was saying? ‘You discouraged her when she was alive, even though you realized that her work was good. You had to make sure she would not succeed. Between the two of you, there could only be one writer.’

  ‘I am the writer,’ he said. ‘She only tried her hand at it because she was jealous of me.’

  ‘Do you really believe that?’ Eden asked.

  Flynn ran a hand through his shaggy mane and leaned forward, looking at her earnestly. ‘Look, let’s forget this ever happened. I don’t care if the book ever gets published, frankly.’

  ‘Gideon Lendl is not going to forget. Maurice DeLaurier is not going to forget. This is a disgrace.’

  Flynn waved a hand airily. ‘Obviously, you’re going to tell them. Fine. Enjoy your revenge. I’ll repay them the advance. They’ll be content with that. And the book can go in the garbage for all I care. I wanted to do this for your mother’s memory, but I can see that you have to have it your way—’

  ‘My way?’ she cried. ‘What about the truth?’

  ‘Here’s the truth, Eden,’ he said. ‘I have plenty of money. Hell, I’m a rich man now. The insur
ance, remember? Thanks to you, the insurance company now knows exactly who killed my wife and son. So they have to pay me. Thanks for that. I don’t need this book. It’s been nothing but a mistake the whole way.’

  ‘This was no mistake. This was deliberate,’ said Eden.

  Flynn stood up and slung his backpack over his shoulder. ‘Do your worst,’ he said. ‘I’m getting on with my life.’ He turned his back on her and started for the door.

  This will follow you everywhere, she wanted to shout after him. When word of this gets out, you’ll never publish another word. But she didn’t.

  Flynn banged the door back on his way out.

  Eden watched him go, her anger simmering. She had wanted to shock him. To shake him. But he was not sorry. He would not even apologize for what he had done. He was moving on, and to Flynn, this was just another unfortunate incident in the past. What did you expect? she asked herself. Did you expect him to beg for your forgiveness? Flynn?

  In a way, it made her furious. But as she considered it, she realized that it no longer mattered. She had prevented him from stealing her mother’s work. That was the important thing. In the end, Tara’s book would be published. Eden vowed to accomplish that. She could imagine herself writing a Foreword or an Epilogue to try and put the story into perspective. Judging from that lavish bouquet on the windowsill, she thought that DeLaurier Publishing might just be interested in going forward with this project. Vince Silver would say that it made good business sense. She looked forward to telling him all that had happened over a glass of wine or two. She had a feeling, a hope, one might say, that he would find it all very interesting.

  Despite what Flynn had done, it was impossible for her to wish him more harm. It was painful to think of all the loss he had endured. He had grown up abandoned and unwanted by everyone who was supposed to care for him. He had been betrayed at every turn, and cobbled his character together in any way that he could. Tara had seen the need in him, and felt pity and tenderness. She had assumed that her love would be enough to fill that void. But Flynn’s was an emptiness that no amount of love could ever fill. Lizzy was the latest to try. Now her life was wrecked on the shoals of that desperate effort. Eden felt sure that there would be many others, most likely with the same result.