The Secret Between Us

by Barbara Delinsky

  Finally, she righted her head, only then realizing that Tom had stepped back. She looked quickly around. He stood at arm’s length, as drenched as she was. Dark hair streamed over his forehead, his shirt stuck to his skin. Despite it all, he retained a certain authority.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  Wet was one word, but that was pride speaking. Free was another. She went with the third, though, because it was the most surprising. “Cleansed.”

  It was also the most absurd, but that didn’t keep her from thinking it again as she drove home a short time later in that same gentle rain. She didn’t know how she could feel cleansed now that she had a whole other secret to keep. Grace would flip out if she saw Tom, and that, totally apart from Deborah’s friendship with him—and that, totally apart from the fact that Tom’s sister-in-law was suing her.

  Bad timing? Horrendous timing.

  But still she felt cleansed, which made an important point. Rain didn’t make things messy. People did that all on their own.

  Chapter 22

  Greg returned the children to Leyland himself on Sunday afternoon, for which Deborah was infinitely grateful. Given what they had to do, having Greg there would make things easier.

  First came a meeting with Hal. Greg set it up, and Deborah was grateful for that, too. Confessing to a lie was difficult, but even more so when the one deceived was a friend.

  Once they were settled in the living room, Greg laid out the truth about the accident, and if Hal was disappointed in Deborah, he didn’t let on. He barely looked at her, barely looked at Grace. Greg’s presence modulated him, as Deborah had known it would.

  “So,” Greg finished, “how do we proceed? Clearly, we have to talk with John. What are the possible consequences for Deborah and Grace?”

  Hal looked concerned. “Deborah filed a false police report. She could be charged with that.”

  “Penalty?” Greg asked.

  “If she had a record, she could see jail time.”

  “Mom,” Grace cried.

  Deborah took her hand. “I have no record, Grace. Please, Hal.”

  He relented. “Likely probation. Maybe a fine.”

  Deborah could deal with that. “Who determines what happens?” she asked.

  “The local police have jurisdiction over the issue of the false report, but not over a civil suit.”

  Deborah thought of Tom, but Greg rescued her with an impatient question for Hal. “I want to know what happens now. If we go to John, say, tomorrow morning, what are the consequences for Grace? Would she be charged with leaving the scene of an accident?”

  “Possibly. Again, in this case, a misdemeanor. Likely probation.”

  “What does probation mean?” Grace asked in a nervous voice.

  Hal’s tone softened—but then, Deborah had never doubted his affection for her children. “It means, basically, that you go about your life as usual as long as you don’t break another law, in which case there’s trouble.”

  “She didn’t do anything wrong,” Deborah put in. “It was me. I sent her home. She wanted to stay.”

  “That would be taken into consideration,” Hal replied. “Did she violate any permit requirements?”

  “No.”

  “I was drinking,” Grace reminded her.

  “That’s another issue,” Hal said. “I’m not sure you need to tell John that.”

  Grace stared at him. “But I was drinking.”

  “We may have to tell him,” Deborah said quietly. “Grace needs him to know.”

  Hal didn’t like being contradicted. “Fine, but trust me, his main concern is the other issues. I know John—”

  “Knowing him doesn’t justify special treatment,” Deborah cut in. “Isn’t that what the civil suit is about?”

  Hal made a face. “Christ, Deborah, do you want him to throw the book at you simply because he likes you?” He turned back to Greg. “As for Grace, if there were no permit violations—and no civil infractions, like speeding—the RMV wouldn’t impose sanctions. She’d keep on driving and be able to get her license. The danger is still the civil lawsuit. If you go to John now with full disclosure, he’ll be required to tell the D.A. That’ll complicate things.”

  “How public will it be?” Greg asked.

  “That depends on how public the D.A. wants to make it. Actually, it depends on how the victim’s family reacts. Grace is a minor, so her name would be kept out of the papers, but Deborah’s would be there.” He held up a hand. “This is all speculation. But you have to understand that there will be repercussions if you tell John everything.”

  Deborah was thinking that they might not have a choice, when the doorbell rang. Puzzled, she left the room and went to the door.

  Karen stood there, clearly upset. “Is my husband here?”

  “Yes.” Deborah drew her inside. “What’s wrong?”

  “He said he was coming, but lately what he says has nothing to do with what he does.” She was shaking. “I had a surprise visitor a few minutes ago, an Arden Marx. She wanted to return some of my husband’s belongings. A pair of monogrammed cuff links. The engraved Montblanc fountain pen I gave him last year.” Her voice rose. “Arden Marx claimed he had given them to her. She wanted to return them now, since it appears he’s dumped her for someone named Amelia, another associate in his firm, which means,” she was fairly shouting now, “that everyone in his firm knows he’s been screwing around behind my back.”

  “Karen,” Hal interrupted from the living room arch, “you’re not yourself.”

  Karen turned on him. “Meaning that I’m not my usual deny-it-all patsy?” She gestured angrily. “How can I deny it this time, when it’s shoved right under my nose? How could you, Hal?” she cried. “You’re the first one to criticize clients who cheat on their wives. Did they give you lessons, or did it just come naturally?”

  “Arden Marx has an axe to grind,” Hal said, still calm. “She’s just been fired.”

  “According to her, she quit,” Karen argued, “and—here’s something we can check out—she says she just signed on with Eckert Seamans, which is a more prestigious firm than yours, so if you’re going to claim she was fired for poor performance, no one will believe you. She also says Amelia Ormant botched a case and got a sizable bonus for ‘effort.’ And what about the cuff links and the pen, both definitely yours. She might have taken the pen from your desk, but cuff links?” She was breathing hard. “And what about Amelia Ormant, who is married, for God’s sake.”

  “She’s leaving her husband,” Hal corrected.

  “And that makes it all right? Hal, you have a wife. You also have a daughter, who’s noticed all on her own that you’re coming home late freshly showered or ‘soaked by the rain.’ Our daughter is seventeen. She isn’t a child. She doesn’t believe for a minute that you’re playing racquetball, even though I defend you when she asks.”

  Hal was beginning to look uneasy. “This isn’t the time or place, Karen.”

  “I think it is,” she said. “If I don’t say all this when I’m rip-roaring mad, I may lose my nerve, because we both know that part of me loves you enough to keep on denying the truth rather than risk losing my marriage. And Deborah and Greg have known us forever.”

  Hal looked from Greg to Deborah, waving a dismissive hand at his wife.

  “That’s exactly why I’m here,” Karen argued. “I knew you’d try to make me out to be delusional. But Deborah and Greg know me. They know I’m right. Three years ago—three years, Hal—I got a call from our credit card company wanting to verify certain charges. When I asked you about the one from the Four Seasons downtown, you said it was for lunch for a large group, all eight hundred and fifty dollars of it, and I believed you. But there were other bills from the hotel on days you told me you’d be in Rhode Island or New Hampshire. Arden claims she was only with you for a year, and if it ended three months ago, like she says, that means you were with someone else before then.”

  “I think we should go
home,” Hal said, opening the door.

  Karen followed him, but only to the threshold. “Did it start when I got sick?” she asked with a hand to her chest. “Were you turned off after my surgery?”

  “I’m leaving,” he said. “Either come or not.” He glanced back at Deborah and Greg. “You got your free advice. If there’s a civil case, I’ll recommend someone to represent you.” Leaving his wife at the door, he strode down the walk.

  Karen stared after him.

  Deborah waited, giving her a chance to follow, but Karen didn’t take a single step as Hal got in the car and drove off. Only then did Deborah put a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

  Suddenly, all Karen’t rage and bravado crumbled. “What did I do?” she cried softly and dissolved into deep, gut-wrenching sobs.

  Greg and Grace had tactfully disappeared. Clasping her friend tightly, Deborah moved to sit on the stairs.

  “He’s gone,” Karen said brokenly and pulled a tissue from her pocket. “I knew he would leave me.” She pressed the tissue to her nose.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Deborah reasoned gently. “He was embarrassed in front of us.”

  “He was caught,” Karen said over the tissue.

  “That, too. He’ll lick his wounds and think about what he wants to do. The more important question is what you want to do.”

  Karen took a shuddering breath. “I don’t know. I’ve asked myself that dozens of times. I can’t keep on going this way. But will Hal ever change? I don’t think he’ll agree to counseling.”

  “He may, if he wants the marriage to last.”

  “That’s a big if. He’ll probably say that he can’t stay with me after I’ve humiliated him in front of you. You know, I’ve fantasized about embarrassing him in public, because he’s done it to me. Maybe that’s why I came over today. Maybe I’ve deliberately goaded him to get him to file for divorce because I don’t have the guts to do it myself. I don’t want to be alone. But I don’t want to be married to someone who would prefer to be with someone else.” She sagged against Deborah. “I just don’t know. I don’t know what I want. I wish I had a crystal ball and could see where I’ll be in ten years. Between the cancer and Hal, I feel like I don’t have a future.”

  Deborah smiled sadly. “If it weren’t cancer and Hal, it’d be something else. We all want a blueprint that spells out what’ll happen to us.”

  “I just want to know where it ends.”

  “So do I, but we can’t know. Dylan said it. It’s like going through fog, feeling your way along until what’s in front of you finally appears.”

  “That implies you do nothing at all along the way to determine your own future.”

  “But you get my point. Sometimes we just can’t see far. People like you and me want to plan. But we can’t. Not long-range.”

  “Then what do I do now, right at this moment?”

  “Drive home. See if Hal’s there. Talk with Danielle. Does she know about Arden?”

  “She was listening. I didn’t know it until Arden left. Dani heard every word.”

  Grace heard every word, too. She was in the living room, not hiding exactly but unable to leave. By the time Karen left, she was remembering the way Dani had crouched down beside her in school. Something’s going on with my dad. I really need to talk, Gracie. Please?

  Grace had refused, so obsessed with her own problems that she hadn’t seen that her friend was in pain. And if Dani had been hurting before, it would be worse now. Grace knew what it was like to have her father jump ship—knew the creepy feeling thinking of him with another woman, knew the sense of betrayal.

  Pulling her cell phone from her back pocket, where it had been tucked for the better part of two weeks, she pressed Dani’s number. It wasn’t like she knew what to say, especially when Dani picked up after a single ring and burst into tears. But this was a friend who was as close to a sister as Grace would ever have, and even if she could only sit there and listen, it was more than she’d done last week.

  I’m not a good person for anyone to need, she had told Dani then, and it wasn’t that she was suddenly a better person now. But she wanted to be.

  Grace kept telling herself that. Still, she went back and forth all night, needing to tell John Colby the truth but terrified. Once it was out, there was no taking it back. It could totally change her life, just like that instant on the road in the rain.

  Unable to sleep, she curled up in bed with her mother. Deborah wasn’t sleeping either. They lay together for a while, staring into the darkness. Grace couldn’t be sure what her mother was thinking, but her own thoughts didn’t stray.

  “Are you sure we can’t talk to Chief Colby here at the house?” Grace finally whispered. There was a jail at the police station. That made her nervous.

  But her mother shook her head. “We’re better off going there. That way no one can claim we’re pulling strings. Don’t try to predict what will happen, sweetheart. Imagination is often worse than reality. Tell me about Vermont.”

  “I can’t think about Vermont.”

  “Your father came through, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you feel better?”

  “A little.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  Grace did, but it was awkward. “Do you really want to know that Rebecca’s a great cook?”

  There was a moment’s silence. “Is she?”

  “Yes,” Grace said, “but she freaks out at the sight of blood. She cut her finger chopping veggies and nearly fainted. I had to put the Band-Aid on.”

  “Was she appreciative?”

  “Totally.”

  “Is she good with Dylan?”

  “I guess. He spent all his time with the pups.”

  “I may lose that battle.”

  But Grace didn’t want to talk about Dylan, or her father, or Rebecca. “What do you think John’ll say?”

  Her mother was quiet. “He’s fair. He’s compassionate. He cares about us.”

  “That’s favoritism.”

  “It’s fact. He’ll do what he feels is best.”

  “That’s no answer.”

  “What can I say? I wish I had answers for everything, Gracie. Clearly, I don’t. Clearly, I make mistakes.”

  “I drank. I drove.”

  “I lied.”

  Grace knew her mother was tense, could hear it in her voice. But Grace was the one urging them to confess. Maybe she was wrong. “Maybe going to John is a mistake, Mom. Maybe we should wait.”

  Her mother sighed, seeming resigned. “The outcome won’t change if we wait, and the longer we do, the harder it will be.” She stroked Grace’s hair. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t realize the effect my lie would have on you.”

  “I won’t try to shoplift again,” Grace promised. “That was really dumb of me. Like, I didn’t even want the shoes.”

  “You did. Just not enough to steal them.” Deborah tucked a long curl behind Grace’s ear. “I try to protect you, but there are limits. That’s one of the things I’ve learned from this. I can say you did nothing wrong driving that night. The state investigators can say the same thing. But what happened is part of you now. You need to own it.”

  Chapter 23

  Deborah was having second thoughts of her own by the time they left the house Monday morning. The drive into town was too short and every face at the police station too familiar. She was feeling totally awkward. When John closed the door to his office, there was some relief, but it lasted only until the chief lowered himself to the chair behind his desk and sat frowning at the papers there.

  Deborah cleared her throat. “I need to correct something on the crash report I filed,” she began.

  But John had his own confession. Without looking up, he said, “A funny thing happened last week. I drove Ellen home from school, only she’d forgotten to have me stop at the market on the way, for salad or whatever for dinner. We agreed she’d go back there herself, so I got out of the car. She walked aro
und and got in my side and leaned forward to adjust the seat.” He raised troubled eyes to Deborah. “Seeing her do that, I remembered the night of the accident when I asked you for your registration. You slid in behind the wheel, but you had to adjust the seat.”

  Yes, Deborah would have done that. Grace’s legs were still shorter than hers.

  Grace was one step ahead. “You knew?” she asked John in a half whisper.

  “No. I didn’t question it at the time. Your mother had to reach across to the glove box. It would have been natural for her to want more room for that.” He shifted a paper or two around on his desk. “Then things started going wrong for you, Grace—school, track—and I knew it could be guilt. I also knew it could be nothin’ more than a reaction to the accident. But when the D.A. started talking cover-up, I had to take a close look at my part of the investigation.”

  Deborah held her breath. She guessed that Grace was doing the same, because Greg was the one who had to ask, “What did you find?”

  “Holes,” John said. “Actually, only one. But it was gaping.” He turned to Deborah. “I never asked if you were driving. I assumed you were. We all knew you. We knew you were a good driver. We just assumed…” His voice trailed off.

  Deborah finished the thought. “You assumed I’d tell you if Grace had been the one at the wheel.”

  “No. It wasn’t your job to tell. It was my job to ask, and I didn’t do that. Yes, I assumed. Would I have assumed if it had been someone else? Someone I didn’t know? Probably not. So maybe the widow was right. Maybe I did give you a free ride because I know you so well.”

  Impatiently, Greg said, “But isn’t that what it’s supposed to be like when you live in a small town? You know everyone. You trust everyone.”

  “I abused that trust,” Deborah broke in, but turned at the bold sound of Grace’s voice.

  “I was drinking,” she said, staring at John.