She seemed to forget that Jenna belonged to several of the same social organizations, though she hadn’t attended any of the meetings since Zach’s death.
Clarissa waited until Jenna proved she was paying attention by looking directly at her. “It would be nice to have dinner together several nights a week. Goodness, that was always important to us when Zachary was a child. It’s what families do.”
Bill had not yet uttered a word, and Jenna silently begged him to stand up for her. But Clarissa droned on with patronizing talk about how important it was for Jenna to clean up after herself in the kitchen and keep her room tidy. When she reminded Jenna to wipe her feet before walking on the expensive living room carpeting, that was the last straw.
“Clarissa, I am not a child!” She held up a hand, as much to calm herself as to apologize for her outburst. “I have no plans to trash your house or track mud on your precious carpets.”
“Of course you don’t.” Clarissa’s expression turned contrite. “I just thought we should go over the guidelines so we’re all clear on what’s expected.” She looked at Bill as if to get his approval. He had scarcely moved since Jenna sat down and didn’t budge now except to nod briefly at his wife.
Jenna tested Clarissa, scooting her chair back an inch. The older woman’s hand shot up. “Just a minute. There’s something else we need to discuss.”
In a flash of insight Jenna understood what this was really about. Bryn. Of course. All these rules and regulations were merely an introduction to what Clarissa really wanted to say. Moving her chair back up to the table, she braced herself, physically and mentally.
“I’m afraid Bill and I are going to have to insist that as long as you’re living under our roof, you avoid Bryn Hennesey.”
Jenna started shaking her head.
“No, Jenna. Hear me out. You can surely understand how difficult it is for us to have her living in the same town, let alone camped out on our doorstep.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, that’s exactly what it will be if we give our approval for you to run around with that girl.”
“I’ve been running around with ‘that girl’ for months now. I don’t see what difference it makes that I’m living here.”
Clarissa’s jaw tensed and the irises of her eyes turned to steel. “Then let me put it more succinctly. If you choose to remain here, you will have nothing to do with Bryn Hennesey.”
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” She almost laughed at the absurdity of it—like an echo of an argument she’d had with her own mother when she was thirteen. “First you want to know my whereabouts twenty-four/ seven, and now you’re going to dictate who my friends are?”
“Call it ‘dictate’ if you like. We’re simply saying that if you choose to remain friends with that woman, you are, in essence, choosing to live elsewhere. I should think the reasons are obvious, but in case they’re not, in case you can’t defend the memory of your husband, then let me remind you that your so-called friend was responsible for the death of our only son!” Clarissa’s voice cracked on the word. She pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Then I guess you’ve made my choice for me. I love you and Bill, but you are not going to decide who my friends are.”
Clarissa pressed her lips into a firm line, and Jenna watched the color drain from them.
A flash of memory came, and for an instant she saw Clarissa as she’d been the day of Zach’s funeral. A mother who’d lost her son. Her only child.
Something close to compassion tugged at Jenna’s heart, but she forced herself to look away. She couldn’t let anything distract her from what she needed to do right now. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry.”
Clarissa’s shoulders slumped and she gripped the back of the chair, seeming to need it for support. “Fine. Then I’ll need to ask you to pack your things and get out. Right now.”
“Tonight? You’re not serious?” Jenna stole a glance at the oversized clock on the mantel. “It’s almost nine thirty! Where would I go?”
“That’s something you’ll have to figure out, I guess.” She folded her arms and planted her feet. “Either that, or simply agree to distance yourself from that girl.”
Jenna looked at Bill, but he refused to engage and sat silent, coming to neither of their defenses. For a fleeting moment she wanted to say whatever Clarissa wanted to hear. Just say the right words so she could go to her room and go to sleep.
But all at once things came into focus, and for perhaps the first time, she saw clearly that from the day she’d met Clarissa, she’d been acting out a script Zach’s mother had written for her—a script she’d been handed the instant Clarissa realized she couldn’t talk Zach out of marrying the girl from the wrong side of the tracks.
It had only gotten worse after Zach’s death. But Jenna had been too busy pretending to be a grieving widow, and worrying about how to fund the comfortable life Zach—and Clarissa—had carved out for her.
She wasn’t blameless by any means. Zach had offered her an escape from a life of near poverty and she’d grabbed for it. Being Bill and Clarissa Morgan’s daughter-in-law had given her a position in society that she’d never dreamed she could have. For the first time in her life, she didn’t feel invisible. Her Brookside home was admired—even envied—by her friends. She enjoyed being fussed over at the beauty salon and the civic club meetings. Never mind that all of it was a lie.
She’d grown accustomed to the perks of her social position in the Falls—even addicted to them maybe. Yet, after twelve years living as a “somebody,” her nightmares were always about the same thing: being back in that shabby trailer in the Shady Groves Trailer Court with her mom and sister, and Mom’s current boyfriend, some faceless man in a long string of losers. In her dreams a snarling rottweiler chased her down the alley while a man laughed at her terrified screams. Sometimes her mom’s laughter mingled with the man’s.
Her thoughts flashed back to the last time she’d seen her mother. More than a year ago, at Bryn’s sentencing. Jenna’s sister, Becky, had driven Mom to Springfield, all the way from St. Louis, and they’d sat in the gallery with her while the judge sentenced Bryn to community service.
Jenna hadn’t known then that her mother was dying of cancer. Before that day she hadn’t been in contact with Mom or Becky in six years. She hadn’t seen Becky since, and she’d only seen her mother one other time before she died last March.
Jenna wasn’t sure she’d have had the courage to walk into that courtroom by herself, given Clarissa’s stance on the matter. She’d always been grateful Mom and Becky had showed up to be with her that day—in spite of the fact they’d both hit her up for money before heading back to St. Louis.
“Well? I’m waiting?” Clarissa’s shrill voice broke through her tortured thoughts.
She would not betray Bryn. She scraped her chair back from the table. “I can’t fit everything in my car in one load, but I’ll come back for the rest later.”
Trembling, she forced her feet to carry her down the hall to the guest room. She opened dresser drawers and emptied their contents into the cartons that were still scattered about the room.
She hauled the boxes out to her car, then came back for more. Bill and Clarissa had disappeared, but she heard the TV blaring from the media room.
She packed the Volvo as full as she could and still see out the back windshield. She did not want to have to come back here any sooner than necessary. She tossed her laptop on the passenger seat and threw a tote bag containing her hairdryer and makeup in the backseat on top of the pile of clothes.
Backing around on the wide driveway, she shifted gears, turned 180 degrees and followed the lane to the entrance, then to the street beyond. She had no idea where she would go, how she would pay for a place to stay. Rooms were at least $150 a night at the two hotels in the Falls. She had enough gas in her car to drive to Springfield, but even fifty dollars for a fleabag room there would put her credit card over the
limit.
She picked up her phone to call Bryn but quickly disconnected when she imagined the conversation—in which it was Bryn’s fault that Jenna had been banished from the Morgans’ home. She couldn’t do that to her friend. She would have to know eventually, but Jenna didn’t want Bryn offering her a bed for the night out of guilt. And besides, she’d have to sleep with one eye open with Sparky there. She shivered at the thought of that dog jumping up on her in the middle of the night.
But going down the list of people she knew well enough to call, she was shocked to realize that, except for Bryn—and now Lucas—all her friends were the Morgans’ friends. And she couldn’t very well call Lucas about a place to spend the night.
The streets of Hanover Falls were dead at ten thirty at night. She drove slowly through Ferris Park, trying to figure out what to do. A teenage couple sat on top of a picnic table, huddled together, their breaths mingling into a single cloud of steam on the night air.
She turned onto Main Street and drove past the city limits where the pavement turned into a dirt lane. Susan Marlowe lived out here somewhere. She remembered driving out here one day, scouting out the location from the directions on one of the many invitations Susan had sent.
Clarissa had discouraged her from attending those meetings. “You don’t want to become a band of merry widows.” And on that, at least, Clarissa was right. It took too much energy to feign grief, especially around those who might detect her deceit.
She slowed, watching for the driveway, unsure what she intended to do when she found it. There it was, on the left, the yard light hitting a grove of trees, and a small spot aimed at a rustic sign carved with “Marlowe” and the house number. She turned onto the wooded lane, her tires crunching the gravel drive. It was too late to turn back now.
But when the house came in view, it was dark. If Susan was home, she was already in bed. What had prompted her to come out here anyway? She didn’t even know Susan that well. Dimming her lights, Jenna turned the Volvo away from the house, hoping she hadn’t wakened anyone. She retraced her route down the lane and headed back to town.
She meandered through the streets of Hanover Falls for the next hour, until she noticed the fuel gauge slipping below the Full mark. This tank of gas might have to last her a while. She couldn’t waste it driving aimlessly.
She turned onto Grove and made herself look the other way as she passed the homeless shelter. But not before she noticed the lights in the building painting each window a warm shade of yellow. Smoke billowed from the furnace stack in welcoming puffs.
No way. Not even a possibility. She may not have a place to stay tonight, but she was not homeless. She’d find a place tomorrow—an apartment. Find a job and figure out a way to put down a deposit on a place of her own. She glanced at the shelter again. She was not about to lower herself to that.
She took a left turn at the next street and punched the accelerator.
Another half hour of aimless wandering and she drove back through the iron gates of Clairemont Hills. Jenna still had her pass card and she swiped it, waiting for the gates to part. For one awful moment she was tempted to go back to the Morgans’ and grovel. Betray Bryn.
Rounding the first curve, she spotted a grove of trees and pulled off the narrow road beneath the overhanging branches, crossing her fingers that the ground under her tires wasn’t so soft she’d get stuck. She parked the car but left it running while she rummaged through the boxes in the backseat for sweaters and extra socks. She pulled on layers of clothes until she could scarcely move.
Catching a glimpse of herself reflected in the dark windshield, she almost laughed. But the gravity of her situation stopped her short. How was this any better than the homeless shelter? But somehow it was. Thank heaven she owned her car free and clear.
She locked the doors of the Volvo and tried not to think about what animals might be hiding in the woods. At least she’d be safe in the car. The windows started to fog up, and she turned off the ignition and crawled over into the backseat, arranging the boxes into a cardboard cocoon. She fashioned a pillow from several pairs of sweatpants and spread her winter coat over herself for a blanket.
Within ten minutes the cold had breached her fortress and she lay shivering in the cramped seat. Her goldfish necklace hung at her throat like a hunk of ice. She tucked her collar underneath it.
The smell of woodsmoke filtered into the car’s interior, and she imagined the blazing fire in the Morgans’ hearth room. But the thought offered no warmth.
Around eleven o’clock she heard a car coming up the lane. She held her breath until the sound of the motor faded away.
She’d just drifted off when a sharp rap on the window near her head made her sit up with a start. Heart pounding, she swung her legs off the seat and tried to peer through the window.
“Open up! Hanover Falls Police.”
She rolled the window down half an inch. “Hello?”
The uniformed officer bent to look in at her, his eyes the only thing showing above the frosted window glass. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. I’m fine.”
He shone the light around the car. “Are you alone in there, ma’am?”
“Yes.” For crying out loud, did he think she was some teenager out parking?
“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave the property. This is a private residential area. How did you get past the gate?”
“I … have a pass.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m—I was staying with the Morgans on Brighton Way. We … had a disagreement.”
The police officer pulled a notepad from his back pocket and aimed the light at it, reading. “That’s not who reported you. Do you have ID on you? Could I see it, please?”
She started to reach over the seat and then hesitated. “It’s in the front seat … in my purse. May I?”
He flashed the light into the front. “Go ahead and get it.”
She leaned over the seat and rummaged in her purse until she found her wallet. She rolled the window down farther and handed her driver’s license to the officer. Chill air poured in through the gap, but now it felt good on her flushed face and neck.
“You’re a Morgan? I thought you said you were staying with the Morgans.”
“They’re my … they were my in-laws. My husband passed away.”
“I see. I’m sorry, ma’am.” He took a step away from the Volvo. “Do you need me to call your in-laws?”
“No. I’ll leave.”
“You have someplace to go for the night?”
“Yes,” she lied.
He looked skeptical. “I can call the hotels, see if there’s a vacancy. And you know there’s always the homeless shelter over on Grove Street. You can follow me there if you like. They’ve got an eleven p.m. check-in, but I think we can still get you a bed for the night.”
“No. It’s okay. I can go to a friend’s.”
“If you’re sure.” He pointed to her car. “I’ll wait to make sure your car starts okay. It’s pretty cold out here tonight.”
“You don’t have to wait. I’m going.”
But he shook his head. “I’ll wait.”
She shrugged and crawled out through the back door and got back in the driver’s seat. She started the car and waved to the officer as she backed carefully across the shoulder and onto the roadway.
She watched in her rearview mirror as the policeman stood, legs spread wide, arms folded, watching her drive away.
When she and Zach were first married, and the Morgans moved to the Falls—to Clairemont Hills—every time she drove up to the security gates, she’d been terrified she wouldn’t be allowed admittance, that they’d see the girl from the trailer court trying to get in where she didn’t belong, and they’d kick her out.
Looked like her fears had been justified all along. It just took them a few years to catch on to her.
“Oh, God … what do I do now?” Her own whispered words startled her. She
’d never been much for praying, but tonight seemed to be challenging that. “If You’re there, God, please show me what to do.” Her words were not idle. She needed help and God seemed to be her only hope right now.
Where she would go now, she had no idea, but it would not be anywhere near Grove Street. That much she was sure of.
He just wanted to move on to the next chapter of his life.
14
Monday, December 1
Lucas took a sip from the steaming cup of coffee and drove through the early morning streets toward home. He’d barely slept last night, reliving his embarrassment at the firehouse, and then Jenna’s comforting words.
He pulled into the garage, for once wishing that his mom’s car wasn’t still parked inside. She’d been asleep when he went in search of the morning paper and a cup of coffee.
He was hoping she’d have left for work by the time he got back. The last thing he was in the mood for was a heart-to-heart with Ma. Especially with the cheerful attitude she sported lately. She was off-the-charts in love.
And he was happy for her and Geoff. He really was. As hard as it was seeing her with someone who wasn’t Pop, he was glad she’d found the joy of loving again, of having someone to spend the rest of her life with.
But it was hard being around her with all her chirpy talk about the wonderful Geoffrey Morrison. As much as he would miss Ma, he’d be sort of glad when the wedding was over and she and Geoff had moved to Springfield.
He just wanted to move on to the next chapter of his life. Get healthy again and get back to work. He’d lost a whole year, a year when the force could have used him—except he was useless. It was time to do whatever it took to go forward.
HF02 - Forever After Page 9