“Maggie?” she called. “Maggie, please come home. Please stop this.”
The only light was from the streetlamps on West Street and the buildings beyond, and the further Jane went into the darkness, the slower she walked. As she came to the end of the pier, she saw the apartment building windows across the river reflected on its surface. She stood there for a moment, trying to imagine Maggie here alone years ago, taking in the view and the river breezes. A young woman without cares. What must she have been like?
On her way back along the pier, Jane saw a figure crouched beside a small dumpster and approached, calling Maggie’s name softly. Then she fell on her knees and put her arms out. Maggie’s face touched hers, and they embraced.
“Please Jane, you don’t understand—”
“I understand that I love you. I understand that this is all just nonsense in comparison. Why won’t you give us a chance?”
“It’s too late now.”
“No, its not. Just get up, please, and let’s get out of here,” Jane said. “Please, Maggie.”
“You don’t understand.” Maggie shook her head, pulling away. “What I said before was only partially true, Janey. After I hit Carina and she fell, I didn’t just run away. I dragged what I thought was her dead body and slipped it over the edge into the river to avoid being found out. Later the police told me she had water in her lungs, which meant that she was alive when she hit the river. I killed her, Janey. There is no getting around it.”
Then a new voice was heard on the pier.
“Finally, the truth!”
Jane turned to look behind her and saw Ari standing several feet away with a gun in her hand pointed at Jane and Maggie.
“Ari, what are you doing?”
“What I should have done long ago—only I wanted her to suffer first and tell the truth, but she never could. Until now.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You didn’t think Martha’s code through well enough. Your mother wouldn’t have known about the names Judith or Susan. To her, and to anyone who has read Shakespeare in school, his favorite daughter was surely Ariel, from The Tempest. That’s me. And now we have come to the end of the Diana story. The truth has been told.”
“Maggie’s suffered enough, Ari.”
“No, she hasn’t suffered nearly enough. Now she will end her life as my daughter did, drowning in the Hudson. You’re ready now, Maggie? Stand at the end of the pier. One shot and over you go to your destiny.”
Maggie got to her feet.
“I won’t let you do that,” Jane said.
“It’s what I want,” said Maggie.
“No!”
Ari stepped toward Jane.
“What makes you think I have any intention of sparing you? I’ve killed three people over the past few weeks, including the cop. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life in prison.”
Ari raised the gun, and Maggie sprang between her and Jane. A shot rang out and Maggie hunched over with a sharp intake of breath. Jane wrapped both arms around Maggie, lowering her to the ground and cradling her in her arms. She could feel the warm blood seeping through Maggie’s shirt.
“Maggie? Oh, Maggie, you’re hurt!”
“I love you, Jane. I—”
“You idiot,” Ari screamed. “You’ve ruined everything.”
As Ari raised the gun again, Jane gently held Maggie’s nearly lifeless body, aware of Maggie’s quick and shallow breathing. She waited for the pain of a new bullet to enter her own heart.
Another shot rang out on the pier, but Jane felt nothing. Instead, she heard a body a few feet away fall hard to the ground.
In the darkness beyond Ari’s form stood Smalley. He returned his gun to its holster and walked to Ari. Tenderly, he lifted her up. Her eyes opened just for a moment, and then closed again.
He put her down and went over to Jane and Maggie.
“I think she’s still breathing,” Jane said.
Smalley pulled out his radio and called for an ambulance. Far away, Jane could hear one. Much too far to do any good, she thought.
She bent over and kissed Maggie, whose eyes flickered open.
“I’m so sorry, Janey.”
“You’re going to be all right. You’ll see.”
Maggie just shook her head.
“I wanted so much to be strong, Janey. When I wrote that poem—long before the rape, I so admired Diana.”
“You are strong, Maggie. You always were.”
“No, the Huntress is unafraid. I was a coward. I—”
“You’re wrong. You have to forgive yourself, Maggie. You survived and that was the right thing to do. Our love will heal you if only you will forgive yourself.”
Maggie looked at Jane, and a faint smile crossed her lips. It seemed that she was considering what Jane had said as though for the first time.
“I feel so tired now, Janey.”
“Hold on, Maggie. Just hold on.”
Maggie nodded.
“The truth is that Carina threatened me, Janey.”
“Don’t talk.”
“I have to tell you. She said that I couldn’t make her go away. She said she would let the world know about the rape and the fact that I was a coward and wouldn’t even go after the men who did it. And the fact that I was always a lesbian, and all those sex scenes in the book were the work of a woman who couldn’t stand sex with men. I got angry. I hit her. That’s the truth. That’s the whole story.”
She smiled quickly, and Jane kissed her again.
“I love you,” Maggie said. “Praise her, praise Diana.”
Then her breathing stopped. All struggle ceased. She was finally at peace.
About the Authors
Anne Rothman-Hicks and Kenneth Hicks have been married for a little over forty years and have produced about twenty books and exactly three children so far. At press-time, they still love their children more.
Their most recent novels have been set in New York City, where they have lived for most of their married lives. Anne is a graduate of Bryn Mawr College where, in nineteen sixty-nine, as the fabled Sixties were drawing to a close, she met Ken, who was a student at Haverford College. They don’t like to admit that they met at a college mixer, but there it is!
Together their books include Theft of the Shroud, a novel; Starfinder, a non-fiction book about the stars for children; a series of books on individual names for children (for example Michael’s Book, Elizabeth’s Book, John’s Book, Jennifer’s Book, David’s Book, Amy’s Book); and, most recently, Kate and the Kid and Mind Me, Milady, two novels, and a middle reader/tween novel, Things Are Not What They Seem.
Ken and Anne have a website with the address set out below. There they have links to some of their books and display images that they hope will be used in future efforts. In case you were wondering about the website address, “R” is for Rothman, “H” is for Hicks, and 71 is the year of their marriage. No secret codes or numerology anywhere. Sorry.
Contact Ken and Anne at:
www.randh71productions.com
or on their Facebook author page.
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Praise Her, Praise Diana Page 36