The new regime.
Jack’s kingdom.
He walked around, picking each one up, staring at it, putting it back down. At the far end of the room, on the bookshelf beside the porch door, were two with just Jack and Katy: one beach scene with the two of them sitting on the sand, digging a sandcastle together, the second an indoors shot—at the kitchen table. Katy was sitting on Jack’s lap, wearing a Lobster Pot T-shirt that swamped her, pulling a funny face for the camera. And there was Jack, looking like he’d won the fucking lottery. Proud Jack, the proud father of a daughter who wasn’t his.
The smug fucking bastard.
He whacked the photo back down on the shelf so hard, the glass broke.
Oh, shit. This is all I need. Jack coming back to find his photo smashed. Holly going berserk. Oh, shit.
Picking up the pieces of glass from the shelf and putting them in the palm of his hand, he carried them into the kitchen.
Get rid of the evidence, bozo, then get the hell out of here and hope Jack and Holly don’t notice the frame is broken.
He found a roll of paper towels on the kitchen counter, wrapped the shards of glass up in wads of them and then hunted around until he discovered the garbage can underneath the sink. Lifting a used coffee filter from the top of the garbage, he hid the wrapped-up glass underneath, put the filter full of grounds back on top of it and went to wash his hands in the sink. As he was drying them, he noticed a cellphone lying on the kitchen table.
It wasn’t right, but then what was right any more? Was Jack right to have rushed Holly so quickly into marriage? Jack, Billy’s instinct told him, had been the one to get rid of the photos of Holly’s parents and past. How right was that?
He picked up the phone, flipped it open.
Jack’s or Holly’s?
When he punched the key to bring up the contact list, Holly and Figs were the only names listed. So that question was answered.
Not one other name? Jack had no friends, no family whatsoever?
Clearly not.
He hit the “Messages” button.
Zero.
While he was at it, he decided he might as well check the “Recently Dialed” list. There were four calls to the same local number—he assumed Holly. But there was also one international one. So Jack did still have one tie to home. But what tie? With whom? Billy was about to look for a pencil and a piece of paper when he heard the porch screen door open. Immediately he memorized the international number, flipped the phone shut and replaced it exactly where it had been on the table.
“Jack, it’s our wedding day,” he heard Holly saying in a pleading, tearful voice. “Can’t we sit down and talk about it? I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ve apologized. I don’t know what else to do.”
There was no escape from the kitchen, no back door. Billy stood, holding his breath, hoping they would go upstairs so he could sneak out the front; at the same time he wanted to hear what Jack’s response to Holly would be.
He didn’t get a chance to do either. Jack walked straight into the kitchen.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Jack’s face looked as though it should have a bubble above it with the word “Snarl” written in it.
“I came to congratulate you two. No one answered my knock and then I had a coughing fit and I came in to get a glass of water.”
“Where’s the glass, then?”
“I was just about to get it when you walked in.”
“Oh, no.” Holly stood at the threshold. “Billy. What are you doing here?”
“I told Jack. I wanted to congratulate you and I had a coughing fit so I came in and was about to get a glass of water.”
“You mean you broke in. You mean you trespassed on private property.”
The snarl had turned to a sneer of contempt and disdain.
“Look—I’m sorry.” He held up his hands. “I’ll leave.”
“Bloody well right, you’ll leave. You have no business here. I don’t want to see you in this house again.”
“I have some rights, Jack. I am Katy’s father.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“And what does that mean?”
“It means . . .” Jack walked to the threshold, took Holly’s hand, and led her with him until they were standing opposite Billy, only a few feet away. “I want to adopt Katy.”
“Jack?” Holly looked up at him.
“Yes.” He let go of her hand, put his arm around her. “We’re a family now. I want to adopt her.”
“You won’t be able to. I haven’t gone to lawyers yet out of respect to Holly. But if you push me, Jack, I will.”
“If I push you?” Jack took his hand away from Holly’s shoulder, stepped forward and pushed Billy in the chest—with enough force to send him staggering backward.
“Jack!” Holly cried out at the same time as Billy said, “Fuck you, asshole,” regained his balance and clenched his hands into fists.
“Stop!” Holly screamed. “It’s my wedding day. Stop! Please don’t fight. Please.”
Billy took a step back, away from Jack.
“All right. For your sake, Holly. But you know something, Jack? You’re supposed to be this perfect man, but you’ve already screwed up big time. I heard her when you came into the house. I don’t know what you did, but you managed to make her miserable. And you’ve been married for what? A couple of hours? I came here to make peace and congratulate you, but I don’t think this marriage will last. I think Holly is smarter than you give her credit for and she’ll come to her senses and get rid of you. But I’ll tell you something, I won’t hesitate to get lawyers involved if I have to. For Katy’s sake. The last thing she needs is a psycho bully father.”
Jack raised his eyebrows and smirked. Billy watched in confusion as he then walked over to the bread bin and opened it.
Please God, don’t bring out a gun.
He brought out a cigarette and matches and proceeded to light up. After two long inhalations and puffs, he leaned back against the counter and shot a haughty look at Billy.
“You don’t want to fight me—fine.” He shrugged. “Can’t say I blame you. You’re a loser, Billy. And I’m warning you now—you’ll lose everything if you try to come between me and my family.”
“A psycho bully who threatens people. And you love this guy?” Billy looked at Holly and shook his head. “What have you gotten yourself into, Holl? What would your parents think?”
“Yes, I love him.” She wiped away her tears and straightened her shoulders. “And my parents would love him too. I know they would. I know they do. You’re ruining everything, Billy. Everything. I knew you would.”
“Let’s play a little game, Bill. I’ll close my eyes and count to ten. Let’s just see what happens if you’re still here when I get to ten and open them.” Jack took another puff of his cigarette and closed his eyes. “One . . .”
“Jesus, Holly—where did you find him?”
“She found me on a bus. Two . . .”
“What station was the destination? Hell?”
“Three . . .”
“I’m going. This is stupid.” He walked over to Holly and placed his hand above her elbow. “I’m really sorry it has to be like this, Holly. I’m sorry you’re upset. I bet you looked beautiful in your wedding dress today.”
As he walked out of the kitchen, he heard Jack’s “Four . . . .”
Well, that couldn’t have gone much worse.
The half-mile hike to his house seemed much longer, as he rewound the tape and played the entire scene over in his mind. Getting caught in the house was dumb, almost fighting Jack yet again was dumber. But Jack had provoked him when he’d shoved him. He’d been looking for a fight.
And what had he done to Holly to make her so upset before?
Your parents would have loathed the man, Holly. Even I can see that. Love has made you blind and I guess loneliness or age or grief has made Henry blind and all Anna can see is how good-looking he is
. I’m the only one who knows there’s something wrong with him. I’m crying wolf and everyone else thinks he’s a puppy.
When he reached his house, he headed straight for the telephone on the kitchen counter, picked it up and dialed the international number he’d memorized. He listened as the phone rang twice in succession instead of the one long American ring. After four of the two-in-a-row rings, someone picked up and a female voice answered with a name. Eliza McCormack.
“Hi, sorry to bother you, but I was looking for Jack Dane. Do you know him?”
“Excuse me?” A clipped English accent. Like some woman in a BBC adaptation of a Jane Austen book.
“Jack Dane. I’m a friend of his and I was trying to get in touch with him.”
“I have no idea who you’re talking about. You have the wrong number.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. You have the wrong number.”
“OK, well, thanks anyway.”
“Goodbye.” She hung up.
He hung up too, and immediately redialed the number he’d memorized, in case he’d punched in a wrong digit the first time. She answered on the first ring, this time with “Hello.”
“Sorry, it’s me again. I thought I might have dialed the wrong number before.”
“You did dial the wrong number before. And you’ve dialed the wrong number again.” A very upper-class, exasperated voice. He couldn’t place an age—but she wasn’t young or old. Maybe in her forties.
“OK, sorry.”
“I suggest you find the right one and don’t bother me again.”
“OK, sure. Goodbye.”
She didn’t bother to say goodbye, obviously desperate to get rid of him. Which made sense if he’d dialed the wrong number twice and she didn’t know Jack Dane. Still—he was sure he’d memorized it correctly. Maybe someone else lived at that number. And that someone was the one Jack had called.
Billy took his own mobile phone out of his pocket, scrolled down his list of contacts and hit Daniel. As he waited for an answer, he stared out across the bay; a huge tanker was making its way down the canal looking ancient, rusty and tired.
“Hello?”
“Daniel? It’s Billy Madison.”
“Hey, Billy. How are you?”
“Fine. Listen, I was hoping you could help me with something. You spent your junior year abroad in London, didn’t you?”
“I was in Manchester, actually.”
“Right, well, maybe you won’t know this, but I have an English phone number. If I give it to you can you tell me where it’s based, if you see what I mean? Whether it’s a London number or whatever.”
“I know some of the codes, but it’s like area codes—there are tons of them. I know Manchester and I know London and Oxford. Anyway, try me.”
Billy reeled off the number.
“That’s a mobile number—a cellphone. Not a landline.”
“Really?”
“Mmm-hmm. I guess that doesn’t help you. Sorry.”
“No, that does help, thanks, Dan. I’m in a hurry but I’ll give you a call soon and we can catch up with each other.”
“Sure.”
After they’d said their goodbyes, Billy grabbed a beer from the fridge, went outside and sat down on the wicker chair Anna had lounged so seductively in when she’d come over.
A cellphone was personal. Jack Dane must have called the McCormack woman personally. And she, for whatever reason, was pretending she didn’t know him.
He had no proof, though. And his theory would hardly stand up in a court, much less in the minds of Holly and the people around her. Besides, how could he admit he’d surreptitiously looked at Jack’s phone?
As his thoughts were churning away, he found himself staring at the dike, at the tiny beach three-quarters of the way to the lighthouse; but not until he’d finished his whole can of beer did he realize that he’d been unconsciously focusing his gaze on the exact spot where Katy had been conceived.
Holly had been a sweet, shy, seventeen-year-old girl. To this day, he couldn’t explain to himself why he’d had sex with her. He was feeling hurt and rejected by Anna, and Holly was there; sure. Boys will be boys. But it had never really made sense to him—because Holly had been a friend and he’d never had one sexual thought about her. There were other girls he could have taken advantage of, more obviously attractive ones.
Yet he’d just said, “I bet you looked beautiful in your wedding dress.” He hadn’t expected to say it; it just came out.
What confused and surprised him was that he’d meant it.
Billy Madison stood up and headed back to the kitchen for another beer.
Chapter 15
Henry took the Ping-Pong net off the dining-room table, put it in a chest in the hall and went to his living room, where Katy was lying on the rug in her pajamas, curled up alongside Bones. She looked so adorable, he hesitated for a few seconds before telling her it was time to go to bed.
“Can Bones sleep on my bed with me?” she asked.
“I don’t see why not. But go and brush your teeth first. Bones and I will come up after you’ve finished.”
She scrambled to her feet and ran off toward the stairs. He heard a thud and then “Ouch!” and when he ran to the hallway, he saw her little body sprawled on the floor.
“Katy!”
“I tripped,” she said, as he picked her up. “I’m sorry, Henry.”
“It’s not your fault, bumblebee. I’m sorry you tripped. Does it hurt?”
“I promise I won’t cry.”
He carried her back into the living room, sat down with her on his lap.
“You can cry if it hurts.” She was rubbing her knee; her mouth was quivering. “Go ahead. Cry. Let the hurt out.”
“No!” It was a wail, this “No!,” a terrified wail. “I can’t cry.” She wriggled out of his arms and rushed over to Bones, burying her face in the dog’s neck.
“Katy. It’s all right.” He wasn’t sure what to do, how to make her feel better. “Honestly. Come back to me and I’ll give you a hug.”
Her hand went up to cover her mouth, and her body heaved in spasms.
“Katy? Come over here.”
When she didn’t move, he rose from the chair and picked her up again. She hurled her arms around his neck and pressed her face against his chest. Her heart was thumping wildly.
“Katy? Sweetheart. What’s wrong?”
“Jack hates it when I cry. I can’t cry ever again.”
“Jack’s not here, sweetheart.” He patted her back. “He and Mommy have gone on their honeymoon. I’m here, though. And I say it’s fine to cry.”
Lifting her tear-stained face and looking up at him, she said, “I’ll stop now. It doesn’t hurt any more. Don’t tell Jack I cried. Please. Promise?”
“I won’t.” He frowned. “I promise. Let’s get you up to bed.”
He carried her upstairs to the bathroom, watched as she brushed her teeth and then took her hand and led her into her bedroom.
“Hop into bed,” he said, and when she did, he pulled the covers up and tucked her in.
“I want Bones.”
“Bones will come.” He sat down beside her. “But first, Katy, will you tell me why you’re so afraid of Jack finding out you cried? Is he mean to you when you cry?”
“He leaves.”
“Leaves the house?”
“Yes. He hates noise.”
“I see.” Henry paused. “Are you frightened of him?”
“Only when I cry. It’s my fault he leaves.”
“And the rest of the time. When you’re not crying. What’s Jack like then?”
“He’s fun. He’s good at games. Like you are.”
“What kind of games?”
“Like catching games and hide-and-seek games. Fun games.”
“No scary games? No games you don’t like?”
“I like them.”
“And you understand them?”
“What do
es that mean?”
“It means are they games you would play with anyone else if they asked?”
“Yes.” Her hair was splayed out on the pillow; her face was pale and questioning. “Why are you asking about our games?”
“Does Jack tell you to keep any of the games you play a secret?”
“Only the catch game—so we can show Mommy how good we are when we get up high enough.”
“Right.”
“Can Bones come up now? I’m tired.”
“OK. I’ll bring him up.”
Henry trudged downstairs, mulling over what Katy had told him. Jack wasn’t used to children crying—that made sense. But to leave? And to make Katy so damned terrified of her own tears? It wasn’t right. And these games they played. He’d asked the leading questions and had no responses which pointed to the unseemly, but there was still that image of them on the beach in the moonlight in his mind. He’d gone down a few nights since then to check and the beach had been empty, yes. But he’d been remiss about following up: he should have asked Jack if he’d told Holly about his sister dying. He should have found out if Holly knew about the late-night game of catch.
The wedding had taken his mind off Katy; he’d been concentrating on Holly, and her happiness had been so contagious, he had allowed himself to bask in it with her.
I’ll have a word with him when they get back. He has to understand he can’t scare Katy like that. Poor little thing was in a state. It’s not right. He just has to get used to noise, whether he fucking hates it or not. And I’ll talk to Holly too. I’ll talk to Holly first.
By the time he’d led Bones upstairs and placed him on the foot of Katy’s bed, she was fast asleep. He didn’t turn out the light because he knew she liked to have it on. Patting her sleeping head and Bones’s head too, he left them.
It had been an eventful, emotional day. Holly was now no longer only his responsibility. She had a husband to look after her—and that both pleased and saddened him. As anxious as he was for her to move back into the world and find in de pendence, he couldn’t help but feel a loss.
At least they hadn’t moved away: another man might have preferred living in a different place, a different state even. He had to admit that he would have hated not having them nearby.
Tainted Page 16