by Lili Evans
“Infidelity?” Rachael was incredulous. She glanced toward the screen door where sure enough, his daughters stood listening. “You think I’ve been unfaithful and my lover has been in contact with my sister?”
“That’s what it looks like to me,” Grant crossed his arms. “If I’m wrong, explain it to me.”
“I shouldn’t have to,” Rachael glared at him. “Is this really what you think?”
“You’re never here,” Grant told her. “You have no time for me. You have no interest in being a mother to my children. And there is clearly a lot of information you’re keeping from me.”
“So I’m a slut,” she stated it calmly. “I’m a slut because I’m a doctor who works long hours. I’m a terrible person because your kids don’t want me to be their mother and because I never wanted kids of my own. Why don’t I want kids of my own? Because I had a terrible mother and I have no desire to do what was done to me to anyone else. That’s why I don’t talk to my family.”
“Why won’t you talk to me? Why do I have to drag everything out of you?”
“This is the way I am!” Rachael suddenly shouted. “And this works for me. How dare you accuse me of cheating on you.”
“Calm down,” Grant ordered.
“No,” Rachael told him. “Dylan and Troy are my brothers. I saw Troy at a conference last winter in LA. Do you remember when I went? I gave him my cell phone number because I was going to be in the area for a few more days.”
“How would I know that if you don’t tell me?” Grant said finally.
“You wouldn’t. But that doesn’t give you the right to accuse me of being unfaithful. I’ve never told you about my family because I don’t want to talk about them. I’m done with it. I used my anger to get through university and med school. I’ve used what happened to me as motivation to help others. And I do. It’s hard work and long hours but I help people. I’m sorry if that’s not what you were looking for. I never claimed to be mother material.”
She was almost at the door when she remembered.
“Which sister called?”
“There’s more than one?” Grant shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Your past is one dark hole.”
“I have two living sisters,” Rachael didn’t even turn to look at him. “One died.”
“Nadia,” Grant said finally. “She said it was urgent and for you to call her immediately. The number is on the table.”
Nadia. The only one who I email with. The only one who has this number. I shouldn’t have had to ask.
She walked through the doors and walked directly toward the kitchen table. Without looking at the time she dialed the long distance number and was surprised when the desk at a Toronto hotel picked up. Nadia had given permission for all calls to be put through and the hotel connected them right away.
“Nadia? It’s Rachael.”
“Thank you for calling me back,” it was obvious that Nadia had been crying.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t call you sooner,” Rachael said over the sound of sniffling. “I just got home and got your message. What’s the matter?”
“This is a bit awkward,” Nadia replied. “Sorry. I just hung up with Marianne and she kind of set me off.”
“It’s all right,” Rachael told her calmly. Behind her she heard Grant step into the kitchen. The light turned on.
“I was just calling to tell you that something happened tonight and I thought you should know.”
Rachael listened in silence as Nadia explained everything. Her cool gray eyes stayed on Grant’s face as she considered what she was about to say.
“I’ll make my arrangements,” Rachael replied after a moment.
“There’s an investigation, so Dylan and Troy want to deal with that here,” Nadia explained.
“That’s not why I’m coming,” Rachael said. “I actually want to come to the funeral.”
“Oh,” Nadia was surprised.
“Can I stay at the house?” Rachael asked.
“Of course,” Nadia replied. “The others are as well. Marianne was reluctant but I told her it would be okay.”
“Well I’m sure that will be hard for her.”
“She sounded all right,” Nadia said. “She sounds a lot more stable than she was before.”
“It’s been a long time,” Rachael replied.
“Yeah,” Nadia mumbled.
“I’ll make my arrangements,” Rachael repeated and hung up the phone.
“Is everything okay?” Grant asked when she said nothing.
“No. My parents are dead.” Rachael ran her hands through her hair. She felt dirty and tired and numb. How was she supposed to feel? What was she supposed to say? She hadn’t spoken to her parents in years and now they were dead. Now she would never speak to them again.
“When? Tonight?”
“Yes, I have to go home. To Toronto. Tomorrow. Maybe later today.”
“What? Why? You can’t just go.” Grant was startled.
“Of course I can go. I’m not one of your children,” she turned to look at him.
“We have some serious problems, Rachael. I don’t think you’re interested in solving them.”
“Right now, no I’m not.” Rachael told him. “Tonight my concern is going home and dealing with the drama and the upset waiting for me there.”
“So don’t go,” Grant answered. “Stay here and help me fix this.”
Rachael stared at him. “I have to go home. We were estranged but they were still my parents. I can’t just ignore this.”
She turned and left the room.
Upstairs in the shower she let the tears come. She washed her hair thoroughly, massaging the tension in her neck, remembering the headache she’d had earlier. Her parents had been dying while she’d been at the hospital saving someone’s life. It was moments like these that you remembered in your life. She would always remember what she was doing when her parents died.
She rinsed the shampoo from her shoulder length blonde hair. Since the age of eighteen she had experimented with hair dye. Her natural color was the same as her mother, a dark brown that was almost black. She’d shrank from being anything like her. She’d changed her hair, she’d dressed differently, and she’d been a doctor, not a socialite.
And now her mother was dead and all of the things that had gone wrong between them could not be fixed.
In the bedroom she found Grant’s pillow was gone. There was no apology. There was no offer of support.
****
Marianne was still awake at one o’clock in the morning when her doorbell rang. She dragged herself up off of the floor and shuffled barefoot to the hallway. When she threw the door open Nick stood there looking angry and worried.
“You haven’t been answering your phone.” He strode into the house not giving her a chance to shut the door in his face.
“I have caller I.D,” she retorted.
“And you don’t want to talk to me?” Nick turned to her. “We were fine when I picked Daniel up.”
“We were,” Marianne told him. She looked at him with irritation. “I know Daniel is safe with your parents and I spoke to him earlier. He’s having a blast.”
“Something could have been wrong.”
“Your mother would have called me.”
“I didn’t mean something had to be wrong with Daniel,” Nick told her. “What if I needed you?”
“You’d call me?” Marianne scoffed. “I may be the mother of your son, Nick, but we aren’t a couple.”
“We were,” Nick replied. “I’d still call you if something was wrong.”
They stood in silence. The hallway was small, cramped, and badly lit but Nick studied her face regardless.
“Something happened,” he said at length. “And you didn’t call me.”
“I didn’t know I was supposed to.”
“You could have,” Nick told her quietly.
“I don’t know what we are, Nick,” Marianne ran a hand through her long red hair. “But I don’
t really want to find out tonight.”
“Okay,” Nick replied carefully. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?”
“Sure,” Marianne answered dismissively.
They turned into the living room and stopped suddenly. The small room was usually cozy but Marianne had opened all of the curtains to let in the night. The patio doors were open letting in a cool breeze. She had lit candles and turned on lamps which cast an eerie glow. Across the floor were photo albums and loose pictures. Marianne turned to Nick. Her eyes were over-bright and defiant, as if she expected to have to justify herself.
“I needed to see her.”
Nick swallowed the lump in his throat. “Why did you need to see her?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking a lot about her. You know it’s been five years.”
“I know. When I spoke to you two days ago you said you were handling it okay.” Nick turned to her. He looked concerned.
“I was. I am. Mostly,” Marianne took a deep breath. “I want wine but I can’t have wine. So let’s have tea.”
“Sounds great,” Nick lied. What he wanted was a shot of whiskey.
“My younger sister called tonight,” Marianne replied conversationally as she boiled the kettle. “Nadia. Do you remember when I told you about her?”
“I remember,” Nick sat at the kitchen table. His stomach was uneasy. He didn’t like the strain he saw on her face or the calmness she was trying for.
“I haven’t spoken to her since I left.”
“But she called you?” Nick asked softly.
“She called me,” Marianne prepared the tea cups. “My father’s sixtieth birthday was today. They had a big party. I always thought it was sad that Dani’s body was found on his birthday.”
“It is sad,” Nick agreed. He watched her move slowly around the kitchen. He noticed how she kept her hands busy.
“So they had a party,” Marianne continued. She looked out the window, over her backyard with its flowerbed and vegetable garden. She had planted them herself, with her bare hands. She had made something here out of nothing. “Something went wrong and um,” Marianne turned sharply when the kettle finished boiling.
“And what?” Nick prompted quietly. He wanted to go to her but knew she wouldn’t let him.
“They’re dead. My parents. Nadia called to tell me. My brother must have given her my number. Dylan, he’s the only one I’ve spoken to since I left, you know, every once and a while,” her voice trailed off.
“What happened, Marianne?” he stood now, slowly, and began to move towards her.
“They found them in the library. It wasn’t really a library, more of a study,” she babbled. “My father used it as his office. He had a heart attack they think. They’ll know after they do an autopsy. My mother,” she trailed off, closing her eyes hard to hold the tears back, “my mother was killed.”
“Marianne,” he put his arms around her, tightened his grip when she resisted.
“I’m fine, really, I can handle this.”
“I know you can. But you can take just a few minutes and do this instead.”
“No, I can’t,” she pushed against him. “They expect me to do that. You should have heard how Nadia side-stepped around the news. She was afraid to tell me. Afraid of what I’d do.”
“They don’t know the person you’ve become. They only remember the way you were.”
“I was twenty!” Marianne exploded. “Twenty!” The tears came in a wave of sobbing.
“It’s okay,” Nick tried to hug her again and was slapped away. “Jesus! It’s okay to be upset, Marianne! Let yourself grieve. They were still your parents. And today of all days, when you were already worked up about Dani. You’re allowed to be upset!”
“It’s okay to be upset,” she said angrily through her sobs. “But I cannot fall apart again. You know how much therapy and rehab it took to fix me in the first place.”
“And you got better,” now he did grab her arms, digging his fingers in when she tried to slink away. “Marianne, if you weren’t stable, if you weren’t a good mother, I wouldn’t share custody with you. I would have taken Daniel away from you. And I would have been able to prove it in court.”
She glared at him, her eyes turning into angry blue slits.
“You know I’m right,” Nick told her before she could speak. “That’s a testament as to how stable I think you are. I wouldn’t risk Daniel. You being upset tonight doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you.”
He released her and watched as she walked about the kitchen, composing herself. She blew her nose and wiped her face. Finally, she turned to him.
“I’m worried it’s happening again. And if it happens again I have to be able to handle it this time.”
“Why would you assume it’s happening again?” Nick was confused.
She shot him a look that made him feel stupid. “My father’s sixtieth birthday. On the anniversary of when Dani was found. My mother is shot, my father has a heart attack, and the police don’t know if he killed her. They don’t know why he would have if he did. All of this happens in such a way that it may or may not be connected to Dani. That’s convenient.”
“It might have nothing to do with Dani,” Nick said delicately. “Your father might have fought with your mother. He might have shot her and then had a heart attack.”
“On today of all days?” Marianne shook her head. “I find it a bit odd. It’s quite the coincidence. Dani’s killer was never found and now there’s been another murder.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Nick told her. “Leave that for the police.”
“I’m going to tell them what I think,” Marianne replied bitterly. “Maybe they’ll get it right this time.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I go home for the funeral, I’ll most likely be asked some questions,” Marianne was completely calm again. “I’ll be able to see my parents one final time. I’ve made my peace in therapy that our relationship was beyond repair. I’d still like to say goodbye.”
“You would?”
“I would,” Marianne began to pour the tea. “I can say goodbye to the house. I can visit Dani in the cemetery. I can put it all behind me, properly, once and for all.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Nick told her.
“Why not?” Marianne passed him his tea. Her hand was steady.
“You still have nightmares about that house. You still have nightmares about the woods where Dani was found. Five years later and you still have nightmares.”
“I know,” Marianne looked into his eyes. “I’ve accepted that I probably always will. But I left in such a hurry, Nick. I want to say goodbye.”
“I hope it is goodbye,” Nick answered.
“It has to be,” Marianne said.
Part two of The Halingsford Murders, can be found here: The Blood in the Pool.