It didn’t take too long.
“I failed that girl,” Jenkins said, his shoulders slumped. “She needed someone. And I let her down.”
“You did not,” Becky argued, and she was ready for this. She’d known it was coming. “You did everything in your power to help her. You were a friend when she needed it the most.”
“She’s still dead, Beck,” he said, and he felt so very sad. His chest felt hollow when he pictured Gen’s face. “She was troubled. And no one could fix her.”
“There!” she announced. “You said it. No one could fix her. You couldn’t, her husband couldn’t, her family couldn’t. It’s tragic and it’s god-awful, but you couldn’t make it right, Simon. No one could.”
Jenkins sat next to her, trying to relax, but his fingers drummed a rhythm on the arm of the sofa. “Her sister wants to meet with me tonight. I don’t know what she wants.”
“It’s hard to say,” Becky said carefully. “But no matter what you think of her, please remember that you only got Gen’s side of things. And now we know...her view wasn’t always, um, accurate.”
Jenkins started to protest, but Becky wouldn’t hear it.
“Besides, no matter what else, that girl just lost her sister.”
Jenkins couldn’t argue with that, and Becky knew it.
“So be compassionate,” his wife added. “As I know you will be.”
“Well, I’d better git,” he said, standing up. “May as well get this over with.”
* * *
He met Meg at the coffee shop, and to his surprise, Thad was there, as well. He almost turned around and left, but something in Meg’s sad eyes stopped him. He hesitated, then sighed.
He sat at the table.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he told Thad. Thad looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, which were red in the corners.
Thad nodded. “It is a loss,” he replied. “I know you probably think I don’t feel like it is, but I do.”
“I’m not here to judge,” Jenkins told him. “I’m here because Meghan asked me to come. I don’t know why I’m here.”
“I know that Gen hired you to investigate my affair,” Thad told him. He almost physically winced, as though the words were poison. “It’s something I’ll never be proud of, but also something I can’t take back. The past haunts us like that.”
“That it does,” Jenkins agreed.
“But Meg wants you to know, and I guess I do, too, that my marriage to Gen was over long ago.”
Jenkins stared at him hard. “Then why were you still sharing a condo with her? Why did she think she was married to you?”
“Because she was,” Thad said. “We are still technically married. Well, I guess I’m a widower now. I just... It’d been a long time since we really connected.”
“She would often call me and tell me about amazing nights she’d spent with Thad,” Meg said, staring out the window, but Jenkins could tell she was seeing the past instead. “And Thad would confirm that none of it was real. Their marriage was empty—but yet, she’d imagine passionate nights and marital bliss.”
“It was her writer’s mind,” Thad added. “She imagined the life she wanted, and then she believed it, rather than just confront what our life actually was.”
“If she wasn’t happy, why didn’t she just fix it or leave?” Jenkins asked, confused.
Meg shrugged. “She didn’t know how, I guess.”
“So you’re wanting me to not judge you for your affair,” Jenkins said. “Okay. It’s not my business. Although, I should point out that your marriage to Joe seems quite real, yet you stepped out on him.”
Meg swallowed.
“Yeah. I did. I’m not proud of that.”
“But that’s between Meg and Joe,” Thad interrupted. “We’re here to tell you the truth about me and Gen.”
“I don’t understand why you weren’t forthcoming about all of this from the get-go,” Jenkins said. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“I didn’t want to hurt Gen,” Thad said. “I worked such long hours anyway that staying in a marriage that wasn’t awful wasn’t really a hardship. It wasn’t awful. It just wasn’t good. But to her, it was wonderful. In her mind. So I went along with it.”
“Gen forced his hand, though. She found out about the affair, and she demanded a divorce. Thad gave her everything she wanted, even offered her money, but in her journals, she concocted an elaborate scheme to drag things out. We think that deep down she didn’t want the divorce, but she also didn’t want to stay.”
“So she concocted the whole thing to make herself less culpable about having a failed marriage?” Jenkins postulated. Meg shrugged.
“We’ll never know.”
“We’ve read through the book she was working on,” Thad said. “And there’s a lot of parallels there, between real life and this book. One of them was a character named Jinx.”
“She called me Jenks,” Jenkins said. Thad nodded.
“In her book, she loved Jinx a great deal,” Meg told the older man. “Jinx made a great impact on her. He touched her deeply. All the while, he never tried to take advantage of her. She said, in fact, that sometimes people took advantage of his kindness. He apparently worked for abused women who couldn’t afford to pay him.”
Jenkins listened without acknowledging.
Meghan took out her phone and read a few passages. “‘Jinx’s house was small and tidy, but it was apparent that many of his well-loved treasures had seen better days. Georgia itched to help him, but she knew he was too proud to accept it. She loved him with her whole heart. He was one of the few who had ever looked at her for who she was, instead of who her disease defined her to be.’”
Jenkins cleared his throat and looked away. Meg touched his hand.
“My sister loved you.”
He nodded, unable to speak. He didn’t trust his voice not to crack.
“As you know, in Gen’s delusions, she was trying to frame Meg and me for a few things. She wanted to make it appear that I took out a life insurance policy on her. The thing is, that policy is actually in effect, and I am still the beneficiary. Normally, in the event of a suicide, insurance does not pay out. But Gen wasn’t in her right mind, so we’ve appealed. When that money comes in, I’m going to send two million of it to you.”
Jenkins choked now.
“She’d want you to have it, so that you can take even more cases on, for the women who can’t help themselves, for the women who can’t pay.”
A tear slipped down Jenkins’s face now, and he didn’t even try to hide it.
“I’m going to use the rest to fund research for mental illness,” Thad said. “What we overlooked as mercurial and dramatic was something far more. We just didn’t know it. My wife was a beautiful soul. She didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
Jenkins nodded, and his eyes were still welled. They all stood up, and Meg stepped forward.
“May I hug you?” she asked softly. He nodded once, and she wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you for loving my sister,” she whispered.
He nodded and turned, thinking they wouldn’t see the rampant tears. They did.
Meg smiled softly, watching him go.
“I’ll miss you,” Thad said quietly. His hand was on Meg’s arm.
She looked up at him. “I’ll miss you, too.”
Thad walked out of the coffee shop and into the breeze. He lifted his face and stood still on the sidewalk for a moment before he walked away.
Meg walked away without looking back.
When she opened the door to her home, she walked straight to Joey’s bedroom, where he was napping peacefully. She stood over him, watching him rest, so very thankful for him. Joe loomed in the doorway, and he smiled at her, ever so slightly. There was sadness in that smile.
“Can we tal
k?” he asked her.
She dreaded it, she yearned for it, she was terrified of it. But it needed to be done, so she nodded. They sat in the living room, inches apart, and Joe held one of her hands.
“We tried,” he said simply. “We really did. You tried. I tried. But it’s never going to be the same now, Meggie.”
He looked deep into her eyes, and his were so kind. She cupped his cheek with her hand, and he leaned into it.
“I love you,” she told him. “I am so very sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Joe answered. He wasn’t angry. He was resigned. “I love you.”
They sat still for the longest time.
“I’ll move somewhere close,” Joe said. “We’ll split time with Joey equally. We’ll be good co-parents. I respect you, and you respect me. We’ll make it work.”
He smiled bravely. Meg smiled back.
“We’ll make it work.”
They leaned their heads together and sat for the longest time.
56
One year later
“Joey!” Meg called, leaning out the back door. “Come inside!”
Her son bounded indoors, kicking off his shoes by the door. Meg kissed his cheek.
“Go wash the playground off your face. Your dad’s here.”
Joey trotted off obediently, while Joe stepped into the kitchen. “Do you want me to fix that gutter for you on my way out? It’s hanging down on the corner.”
Meg smiled. “You already spent an hour fixing the air-conditioning filter last night. It’s okay, Joe. I’ll just call someone.”
He met her gaze, and he knew she was saying that she was okay.
He smiled at her, and then jogged after Joey, who was already running out the door.
“Love you, Mama,” the little boy called over his shoulder. Meg shook her head. He was a mile-a-minute.
“Good luck!” she called to Joey.
He stuck his tongue out at her as he got into the car.
She was still laughing when she went back inside. She and Joe had settled into a comfortable rhythm—a set of good friends who shared a son. After all that had happened, they were surprisingly healthy.
She sat down at her desk to work on the bills. Joe had always taken care of that before since Meg worked such long hours, but it didn’t bother her at all to take care of it now.
She clicked into the bank website, paid a few things, then drifted into her email.
There was one from her mother.
Meg,
We’re leaving for the cruise in the morning, so I wanted to tell you a couple of things: the extra key is in the metal turtle by the back door, and our wills are in the fireproof safe in the closet. I’m sure you won’t need them, but I want to be prepared. Also, just as I always do, I wrote a letter for you to open only in the unlikely event that something happens to us. You know the rules—no opening it unless I’m gone. Also, I found a good picture of you and Gen I thought you might like. It’s attached.
Have a good week,
Love,
Mom
The corners of Meg’s mouth tilted a bit. Her mother always did this when they traveled. So melodramatic, yet so prepared. And she was completely lying—she meant for Meg to read the letter now. She always did, and Meg would comply, and they would just both pretend that it didn’t exist and go back to pretending that Ginny didn’t have feelings. It was their thing.
She clicked open the document.
Dear Meghan,
My beautiful baby.
If you’re reading this, I’m gone. I want you to know that I love you. I hate that you doubt that, that you think that we loved Gen more. We never did, baby girl. Gen needed our attention. She couldn’t function like you could. You were so perfect, so efficient, always. You were born being able to ride a bike, I think. Haha.
When Gen died, I thought my world ended. I never thought I’d really live again, because the part of me where Gen resided was gone. What I didn’t understand is that she’s not gone. She’s still there. She’s still there when I read a book or examine a butterfly. She’s still there when we dream, because that’s where she always existed—in dreams.
I know you messed up. You and Thad made a bad decision, but know that I forgive you. And no, you don’t need my forgiveness, but my point is, I forgive you and I know Gen would, too. She knows the situation, honey. Wherever she is now, she knows. She knows that you spent your life protecting her. She forgives you.
You, my love, are my pragmatic genius. You’re whom I turn to when I need levity, when I need depth, when I need life-altering decisions. I trust you with that. You are the very best of me, and the very best work God ever did. I love you, a million times.
Please forgive me for not always making you feel that way.
All my love,
Your mom
Damn it. Meg reached for a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed to hear those words. She’d spent the past year trying to forgive herself for everything, for every bad choice, and now, in this moment, she decided that maybe she had.
Maybe she didn’t need to hate herself anymore.
She opened the picture her mother had attached to find her and Gen when they were around twelve and thirteen. They had their arms wrapped around each other while they stood on the beach. They had skinny arms and chicken legs, tanned from the sun. Their smiles were wide, their faces innocent.
In that moment, neither of them knew what the future would bring. She wondered what they’d have done differently, if they could’ve done anything at all.
Her cell phone, her modern-day tether, buzzed and she answered it, expecting the hospital since she was on call.
She didn’t expect to hear Hawk’s deep voice.
“Meg?”
Her stomach dropped and butterflies spilled from their cages in her belly.
She’d thought about him a million times during the past year, had reached for the phone a hundred times to call him. But she was sure he looked down on her, that he thought she was a monster.
“Yes. Hello,” she managed to say. “How are you?”
“I’ve been okay. I’m sorry I haven’t checked in on you. I should’ve. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” she told him honestly. “Better than I thought I would be.”
“Have you heard from Thad at all?”
“Not for a few months. He’s handling it as well as can be expected. His sister is in a group home now, where she has a bunch of friends and is supervised.”
“That’s good,” Hawk said.
There was an awkward silence.
“I haven’t been able to get you out of my head,” Hawk confessed quickly, before he changed his mind. “I kept thinking it would pass, and it didn’t.”
Meg’s mouth went dry.
“And I was wondering if you’d let me buy you dinner? Maybe we can start off on a normal foot, one where I’m not investigating you for a crime.”
Meg laughed, nervous. “That would be lovely. But I’m not planning on being in New York anytime soon.”
“That’s okay, because I’m in Chicago,” he said, and Meg’s heart took off like a rocket. “For the weekend. I had a business thing.”
“I’d love to,” Meg answered quickly. “We’ll be just like normal people.”
“Or as much as we can be,” Hawk amended. “Seven o’clock. Tonight?”
“It’s a date,” Meg replied.
It’s a date, she repeated in her head as she hung up. She was going on a date with the detective who’d investigated her. Life was weird.
She looked at the photo again, at Gen’s sweet young face. Her eyes sparked with life, her muscles were flexed in strength and her smile was her armor against the world that would eventually hurt her.
Meg couldn’t men
d the past. But, going forward, she could do everything possible to be a better person, the kind of person Gen would’ve wanted her to be.
“Sisters forever,” she whispered.
It seemed as though Gen watched her from the photo, and Meg remembered a line from Gen’s book, a book that had since been published and the proceeds were going to women’s shelters.
Was madness, in fact, freedom?
Meg wasn’t sure. Probably. But it was also the exact opposite. Gen’s madness had lied to her, made her believe things that weren’t true, and those things kept her in anguish. Because of that, her madness was also a prison.
Meg hoped she was free now.
EPILOGUE
Madrid, Spain
A woman sat in the corner of the restaurant, sipping her drink and laughing at the music that surrounded her. Madrid suited her. Everyone ate late, stayed up late and loved all through the night. She could unleash her emotions and no one noticed, no one cared.
She had a notepad with her, and she scribbled a book idea. She had a new name now, so she had to establish a whole new fan base, but her talent showed through, no matter what name she used.
Her latest book was about a woman who staged her own death.
It was something she had experience with.
She thought of her old life sometimes, of her parents, her sister, her husband. She missed Meg. She missed her parents. And sometimes, she even missed Thad. He’d loved her, and she had loved him. For a while.
She had forgiven them for what they had done.
She knew she wasn’t an easy person. She knew she could be a challenge.
But she also knew that she deserved to be happy. She deserved to not have anyone stare at her in pity, or lust after her husband.
She could possibly find that here.
She could rebuild. She could become the person that she always wanted to be. No one would ever know who she used to be.
That woman was dead.
And that was okay with her.
She did wonder about Jenkins from time to time, but she searched for him online, and it seemed that he had expanded his practice and was helping more women than ever. He had a soft heart, regardless of his crusty exterior.
The Last to See Her Page 27