The Color of Light

by White, Karen

  Not bothering to shut the door behind him, he walked over to Jillian and handed her the letters. Slowly, she sat on the bottom step and placed the stack on her lap.

  “Where did these come from?”

  “I found them in a hidden compartment in Lauren’s bedroom.” He cleared his throat. “Gracie told me. She said Lauren wanted me to look there.”

  He stood quietly and watched her open each envelope and unfold and read each letter. When she was done, she calmly laid her hands over the scattered letters in her lap and looked up at him, her eyes bright.

  “How long have you had these?”

  “A few weeks, maybe longer.”

  “And you didn’t show them to me or anyone else.”

  His eyes met hers. “I might have if it came down to me facing prison. But I would have left that up to you.”

  “Why, Linc?”

  “Because he’s your father. Because I was trying to protect you in the same way you tried to do for me by keeping Lauren’s box a secret. I didn’t want him to hurt you any more than he’s already done.” He took a deep breath and stared up at the plaster medallion under which a chandelier had once cast a brilliant light over the now ruined foyer. It was in the shape of a star, each tip pointing toward unknown destinations. “And because I think I love you.”

  She stood, the letters sliding to the dusty floor. “So you’re admitting that we have a relationship?”

  His arms slid around her waist. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  She closed her eyes, and he watched her chest rise and fall. When she opened them again, she said, “Great. Then you’re coming with me to give Mason these letters. But we will definitely finish this conversation later.”

  She moved away from him, but he tugged her back. “Aren’t you even going to ask?”

  “About what?”

  “About the baby.”

  “No, I wasn’t. It doesn’t matter to me.”

  He let her go and watched as she put the letters in a single pile, then picked them up. “My hands are shaking too badly. You’re going to have to drive.”

  After locking up the house, he opened the car door for her, then slid behind the wheel. They were silent as he made his way through road construction and narrow alleys that defined Charleston’s historic district and headed toward the highway. He didn’t speak until they were headed north on Highway 17. “I never slept with Lauren. It’s not that we both didn’t want to. It’s just that I could never risk doing to my own kid what my mother had done to me.” He gripped the wheel tighter. “I never even knew she was pregnant.”

  He heard her expel a deep breath. He turned to look at her, and saw her head resting on the seat back and her eyes closed. “What was that for?”

  “It’ll be a lot easier to make Mason look at other suspects if you’re not the father of the baby. I didn’t need convincing.”

  His heart skidded in his chest, and he couldn’t find any words. Instead, he reached out a hand to touch her cheek, and she smiled into his hand.

  It was nearly six o’clock by the time they returned to Pawleys, and Jillian’s breasts were full of milk and aching. She held the seat belt strap away from her chest to prevent any undue pressure or unfortunate wet spots on her blouse.

  “We need to stop at Martha’s first to get Ford. I left a few bottles with her so he won’t be starving, but I need to feed him as soon as possible.”

  Linc glanced her way and saw her adjusting her bra and just nodded.

  She closed her eyes to escape the turmoil of her thoughts, but found her mind straying to a summer night on the beach long ago when she’d been fifteen. She could hear Lauren’s voice as if she were speaking from the backseat. I thought your dad and I could have a reasonable conversation over a little drink. He’s agreed that you can stay another week.

  Jillian covered her face with her hands, then turned to stare out the window, unable to meet Linc’s eyes. Oh, Lauren—what did you do? She let herself doze, imagining she could still smell the suntan oil and stale beer.

  When they arrived at the Webers’, Jillian was relieved to see Mason’s Jeep and the chief’s car parked in front. They walked around the porch to the kitchen door and rapped on the screen door. Joe, Martha and Mason were sitting at the kitchen table, and all three stood and motioned for them to come in.

  Joe offered his hand to Linc to shake. “Good to see you again, son. Didn’t get a chance to say good-bye last time I saw you.”

  “No,” he answered, shaking Chief Weber’s hand, “I didn’t. All those people breathing down my neck wasn’t conducive for good manners. I left in a hurry.”

  Mason stepped forward. “I’m surprised to see you back. Thought you’d be hiding out in Charleston a while longer.”

  Before Linc could respond, Jillian stepped in between them and handed Mason the stack of letters from her father to Lauren. She was surprised at how easy it was. “I think you and your father need to see these.”

  He glanced at them and opened one, quickly scanning the to and from lines. “Who’s M?”

  “My father—Mark Parrish. I recognize his handwriting.”

  “Are you saying that Lauren and your father had a relationship?”

  She felt Linc’s hand on her shoulder. “Yes. I have reason to believe it was an intimate one.” I thought your dad and I could have a reasonable conversation over a little drink.

  Mason’s eyes narrowed slightly as he took in both Linc and Jillian. “I see,” he said, glancing down at the letters. “I’ll look into this. And while your father’s in town, I’ll have a talk with him.”

  “He’s here—now?”

  “Yes. They arrived around noon. They came to the station first thing, and I told them what you said about getting a room at the Pelican. They said they’d wait for you at the house.”

  Jillian looked at her watch. “That’s wonderful—just what I need right now. I suppose Rick is back there already with Gracie. I’m going to go up and feed Ford, and let Rick stew there for a while with my parents. It’s the least he could do.”

  “Ford’s not here, Jillian.” Martha frowned. “Rick and Grace came by around four o’clock. I’d just fed the baby and he was in a good mood, so Rick asked if he could take him back to the house. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “No, I don’t mind—I’m just a bit surprised. But that’s fine. And I thank you for taking him this afternoon. I hope he behaved.”

  Martha smiled. “He’s a lovely little boy. No trouble at all. I only hope you call me more often to babysit.”

  Martha began packing up the diaper bag Rick had left behind, but Jillian felt an urgency to leave the house, to see her children. To make sure they were safe. “Don’t worry about the bag—I’ll come back to get it. I need to go.”

  Without waiting to hear anybody’s farewells, she left through the door they’d come in, letting it slam shut behind her. She heard Linc shout, but she didn’t slow down.

  He caught up to her. “What’s the rush, Jilly? I’m sure Rick is taking good care of the children. He might have been an awful husband, but he seems a capable father.”

  She shook her head, taking long strides down to the beach where the sand was packed flat and she could walk faster. She thought of her son and felt the letdown of her milk, feeling it soak through her nursing bra, but she didn’t stop. “It’s not that. I just . . . have a feeling. I need to get home. Go ahead and take the car. It’s just as quick for me to walk.”

  He didn’t answer but took her hand and continued to walk with her, and she was glad. They reached the part of the beach that lay directly below their two houses, beneath the scarred dune and the two shrugging houses. Jillian breathed in deep gulps, sustained by the salty taste of the ocean on her lips. Her gaze traveled to the part below the dunes near her own house, and spotted Rick and Gracie.

  She moved forward and started to wave but stopped suddenly, watching Gracie walk purposefully toward her father. It was there in the way her back arched and her
feet splayed as she struggled through the deep sand. All that was missing was Baby in her carrier. Janie.

  Linc touched her arm. “What is it, Jilly?”

  She shook her head, her vision blurred. “I don’t know yet. I’m trying to figure something out.” She met his dark gray gaze. “Stay with me, okay? I need you with me.”

  She broke into a run until she reached Gracie, and the little girl threw herself into her mother’s arms. “Mommy! I beat Daddy at golfing, and he said I could have an ice cream. I spilled some.”

  She stretched out her yellow T-shirt, which was now covered in varying shades of chocolate ice cream. Jillian tugged on Grace’s sun hat, one she didn’t recognize with the words DADDY’S LITTLE GIRL on the brim. “Nice hat, sweetie. Guess Daddy doesn’t want you getting sunburned again, huh?” Rick walked up to them, clutching a red Frisbee. His forehead and shins were peeling, and he wore white sunblock on his nose.

  Jillian cupped her hand over her forehead and looked up at him. “Where’s Ford?”

  Rick’s smile dimmed. “Up at the house. He was getting a little cranky, so I changed him and put him in his crib. He fell asleep right away.”

  “Is he alone?”

  “No, your parents are up there waiting for you. They said they didn’t mind listening for Ford while I took Gracie down here to the beach.”

  Linc was already ahead of her, walking quickly toward the house. “Come on. We’ll do this together.” He grabbed her hand, and his skin was warm against hers. It calmed her and gave her the strength she needed to open the door and walk inside.

  They found them on the front porch, sitting straight-backed on two rockers. They were both drinking martinis in the fading light, her mother’s immaculate manicure displayed against the near-empty glass. She drained it as Jillian approached and set it down on a side table, but didn’t stand.

  Her father stood and gave her a tentative smile. He dropped it when it met with no response from Jillian. His gaze slid to Linc, and Jillian saw the recognition flit over his face.

  Jillian crossed her arms, trying to hide the wet spots on her blouse. “What are you doing here?”

  He stuck out his hands, palms up. “I know this is unexpected—I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to reach you for days. I kept leaving messages on the answering machine, but you never called me back.”

  “And it never occurred to you that maybe I didn’t want to talk to you?” Jillian thought she was more amazed than anybody else at her response. Just a mere month before, she would have apologized. And then she would have gone into the kitchen to make something for him. Now, feeling Linc behind her, she felt no compunction to do either.

  His eyes held remorse as he regarded her. Jillian found herself looking at him as an outsider would and realized that he was still a very handsome man. But she knew there had never been any real strength in his broad shoulders. She almost felt sorry for him.

  “I’m sorry, Jillian. When I read about . . . Lauren in the Atlanta paper, I knew I needed to talk to you.” He looked beyond her shoulder at Linc for a moment. “Alone. But when I couldn’t reach you on the phone, your mother and I decided we needed to make the trip to speak with you in person.”

  Jillian hugged herself, drawing strength from Linc’s presence behind her. “There’s nothing you need to say to me that I don’t already know. I know about you and Lauren. I just gave a bunch of letters you sent to her to Chief Weber. He’ll be wanting to ask you some questions.”

  Her father’s lips whitened. “I had nothing to do with her death.” He pointed to Linc. “He’s the one who should be questioned. He was the one who kept stalking Lauren when she dumped him.” He dropped his hand. “She loved me. And Linc couldn’t stand knowing that she loved somebody else.”

  She felt Linc tense behind her and she grabbed his hand, willing him to be silent. “She was only seventeen, Dad. And you were a married man. Did you ever stop to think about that? About the people you’d be hurting?”

  He shrugged, his eyes skittering away from her face. “She loved me.”

  Jillian stared at him for a long moment. “Did you know she was pregnant?”

  He lifted his gaze to meet hers. Slowly, he nodded. “I knew. Nobody else did, though. I was supposed to take her away to a home in Charleston where they would take care of her until the birth and adopt her baby. I was going to have her call her parents to let them know she was okay so that they would think she’d just run away.” He turned back to look at his wife, whose fingers had turned white around the stem of her glass. “Lauren thought we were running away together. I never told her the truth because I knew she’d tell her parents. But then she didn’t show up where we were supposed to meet.” He stared hard at Linc. “And I always knew she would have been there if she could have been. Was she already dead then? Or did you make her suffer first?”

  Linc moved forward. “You bastard. Is that why you’ve driven all the way down here? To make sure that all fingers are pointing at me instead of you? You did that before, remember? But it’s not going to work this time. Too many people know the truth about you. There’s nowhere to hide.”

  Jillian put a restraining hand on his arm as he moved closer to her father, his hands tightened in fists. Her mother stood, wobbling on high heels. She stuck her hands out to support herself, knocking the martini glass onto the ground and shattering it. Glass sprayed in all directions, a final, irreversible act. Jillian smelled the alcohol and turned her head as her mother stumbled forward.

  “And you knew about his affair with Lauren—and you didn’t stop it. And you never said anything when she disappeared. Why? How could you be so blind for him?”

  Her mother’s lips quivered. “You could never understand. I love your father, and he loves me. We’ve learned to overlook each other’s faults. Maybe if you had a heart, you’d understand that.”

  Anger erupted inside of her, and Jillian took a step toward her mother. “If I had a heart? Isn’t that a little odd coming from a woman who never once showed an ounce of affection for her own daughter?”

  Her mother’s face paled, and bright spots of color sprang onto her cheeks. “You ungrateful wretch. I fed you and clothed you and took you to the doctor when you were sick. I never got a word of thanks from you.”

  Jillian’s voice was barely louder than a whisper. “You were my mother. You were supposed to do those things out of love, not out of obligation. Don’t you know the difference?”

  Joan Parrish’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. Her voice was low but clear when she finally spoke. “You weren’t the child of my body, no matter how hard I wanted it to be. So you could never be the child of my heart.”

  Jillian’s mouth opened, trying to suck in air, and finally knowing what it must feel like to drown. Linc stepped forward and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Jillian could see his jawbone clenching. “This isn’t the time for family confessions—Jillian needs to feed the baby. You can save it for your chat with the chief. Right now, we want you to leave. You’ve already done enough damage.”

  Jillian felt the clawing hurt and the need for a thousand questions. But her mind shut and all she was left with was the fullness of her breasts and the urgency to get to her son. She turned her back on the woman she had called Mother all her life, and saw the baby monitor Rick had evidently set up on the porch. She noticed it was turned off. “Wasn’t anybody listening for the baby?”

  As she brushed by her father, she had the satisfaction of seeing a chagrined look on his face. “I’m going to go feed Ford.”

  Linc came inside with her. “I’ll go get something to clean up the glass.”

  Jillian took the stairs two at a time and threw open the baby’s door so hard that it bounced off the wall behind it. She cringed, preparing herself for the wailing of a baby suddenly awakened by a loud noise. But no sound came.

  She rushed to the side of the crib and stared inside, her gaze roaming from one end of the baby’s bed to the other, then back again, her brain n
ot really registering what she was seeing.

  The crib was empty except for a balled-up blanket at the foot of the bed—the yellow one that had once covered a turtle egg and now only carried the powdered scent of an absent child.

  CHAPTER 25

  LINC HEARD JILLIAN SCREAM. HE RAN UP THE STAIRS AND FOUND HER next to the crib, clutching a baby blanket. He didn’t need to ask her what was wrong.

  “He’s gone.” Her eyes lacked the light he’d grown used to seeing in the past few months.

  “Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her out the door. She followed him mutely, her hand limp like a child’s. When they got downstairs, he grabbed the cordless phone from the cradle and pushed it into her hand. “Call Mason. Tell him to get here now.” Her breath was coming in short gasps as she took the phone. “We’ll find Ford. I promise.”

  She nodded and began dialing the number. Linc left her and went to the front porch and spotted her parents climbing into a dark blue Lincoln at the end of the driveway. He started running.

  He caught up with them before Mark Parrish had a chance to turn the car around. Linc grabbed the door handle of the driver’s-side door and yanked it open, then stuck his hand in and tore the key from the ignition. Jillian’s mother struck at him, her long fingernails raking his cheek.

  Linc grabbed Jillian’s father by the neck of his shirt, making them almost nose to nose, and feeling for the first time in his life that he was perfectly capable of murdering another human being with his bare hands. “Where is he? Where is the baby?”

  Genuine confusion passed over Mark’s face. “Rick said he was upstairs in his crib, napping. I didn’t go up and check.”

  Linc loosened the grip on the shirt and Mark pulled back, closing the door and rubbing his neck. “He’s not there. Was anybody else in the house?”

  Mark looked annoyed. “No—I swear it. But we were on the front porch. Anybody could have come in the back, I guess, and gone upstairs without our seeing it.”