Ashling smiled at me. “Don’t worry, Brit. It’s only for a few minutes. That’s cool if we let them know you’re okay. Luke and I will talk to his mom.”
“Yeah,” Luke said. “She’s gonna get this taken care of.”
“She does family law,” I said.
Taylor nodded. “I know.”
“So don’t worry,” Luke said.
“Everything is cool.” Ashling reached out her hand. I took it and let her pull me to my feet. She hugged me, holding on for a long time. “Your life is going to get a whole lot better,” she whispered.
“We gotta go,” Luke said. “I’m looking forward to you telling everyone, cops included, that I’m not a pervert and that I expect an apology.”
Taylor started toward the front door, weaving among the three of us as if she were herding us out of the house. Luke and Ashling promised his mom would be in touch as soon as she got home from work. I felt better, but I was terrified when I thought about what my parents were going to say. And do.
47
Taylor
If I’d ever fantasized about Brittany showing up at my door, giving me the chance to deliver her back into Moira and Alan’s arms, it would have given me satisfaction that I couldn’t put into words. But that was before I knew they’d abducted her, before I knew they’d kept her a virtual prisoner, before I knew Moira might have drugged Brittany to keep her artificially childlike, and before I knew they might go too far in keeping Crystal from disrupting their fantasy world.
It felt like a betrayal of Brittany as I walked down my front path toward Moira’s. Brittany was beside me, the sound of her shoes emphasizing that she was walking as slowly as possible, defeated and anxious and scared about what she might be facing.
I had no idea what to expect from Moira and Alan. Brittany’s story was disturbing, and I had no solid reason to doubt the truth of it, but a part of me simply could not believe it. Who would do something like that? She could have given her daughter lifelong health problems. And for what purpose?
Luke and Ashling, but especially Luke, seemed to pressure Brittany to tell that fantastical story. It had the ring of truth when she spoke, but there was a made-up quality to it. I couldn’t sort out what I truly believed. It sounded like something from a soap opera, and I wondered if the heightened emotional drama of daytime TV shows had been Brittany’s diet when she was staying with Ashling.
I didn’t have a good read on what kind of person Ashling was. She seemed nice enough, but to allow a runaway girl to remain missing, to keep a child from her family, to allow them to live with the torment of not knowing whether or not she was dead? No wonder Ashling and Luke couldn’t wait to get out of my house. They needed to talk to Nicole about other legal issues besides family law. What they’d done was essentially kidnapping, wasn’t it? I wasn’t sure how the police would view their silence.
And then there was Crystal. There was no doubt she’d been sitting in the front seat of Alan’s car. Who else could it have been? So Moira had lied about that.
My finger shook as I pressed the Cushings’ doorbell. While Brittany and I waited for someone to open the door, I wondered whether I should have called Officer Carter. But that would make things more complicated. First, no matter what she’d done wrong, Moira deserved to know that Brittany was safe. I also wanted to find out about Crystal. It might be too soon to drag the police into it. What if Brittany’s story was a lie to cover her slipping out to party with kids who were completely inappropriate for her? And if there was a reasonable explanation for why Moira didn’t want me to know Crystal was in her house, waiting was the right thing to do. It wasn’t a good idea to rush to a conclusion when I didn’t have all the pieces of the puzzle in my hand.
The door opened.
Moira’s mouth opened, and her face spasmed through an array of emotions. She screamed and lunged toward Brittany, nearly knocking her over.
I took a step back to give them space. Tears filled my eyes as I listened to Moira’s sobs.
She stroked Brittany’s face and hair, pressing her fingers gently into her skin as if to reassure herself that Brittany’s flesh was solid.
“Oh my poor baby. Poor, precious baby girl.” She dropped her hands from Brittany’s face and held her close again, burying her face in Brittany’s hair. “I thought we’d lost you forever. Your father and I… I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe you’re okay. I wanted you to be safe, I wanted to believe he’d let you go, that you’d be returned to us, but I was so scared. I haven’t slept. I couldn’t eat. And here you are.” Her voice trembled and became shrill as she spoke, frantic to express everything she’d held inside since that moment she’d discovered Brittany’s empty bed.
“We love you so much. We were dead without you. Where were you? What did he do to you? Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?” She clung to the slender girl in front of her, words falling over each other, hardly pausing to make room for a response.
Despite vision blurred by my own tears, I saw everything clearly. Although Brittany returned Moira’s desperate hug, her body remained stiff. She didn’t melt into her mother’s arms. She seemed to have no sympathy, no feeling at all for her mother’s flood of emotions.
Moira moved into the courtyard, pulling Brittany beside her. “I have to call your father. Oh, Brittany, you have no idea. We missed you so terribly. We were so worried. Scared to death. I’m…what happened?” Moira started to pull the door closed.
“Can she come in with us?” Brittany asked.
Moira pulled back and frowned. “Why? That’s not necessary.” She stared at me, unblinking. “Has my daughter been at your house this entire time? If you had anything to do with this…if you—”
“She didn’t,” Brittany said.
Moira went on as if she hadn’t heard. “What happened? How did you find her? What’s going on?” Her voice rose to a hysterical pitch.
“I’m fine,” Brittany said, a note of disgust in her voice. “Nothing happened. I’ll tell you, but I want her to come too. Luke said—”
“Luke? So he had something to do with this after all. What did he do to you? I’ll kill him. I mean it. Seriously, I will kill him with my bare hands.” She pawed at Brittany. “Are you okay, baby?” She put her hands on Brittany’s cheeks, turning her face, studying her eyes.
“He didn’t do anything either. Please don’t call me baby.”
Moira gave her a soggy, watery smile. “Of course not, honey. Whatever you want. Come inside. Sit down.” She didn’t look at me or suggest it was okay that I join them. She left the door open and I went in.
I found myself inhaling deeply, wondering if I’d notice an unfamiliar scent, something that told me Crystal was there, or had been there as recently as that morning.
In the living room, a plate sat on the coffee table. Slices of apple were arranged in perfect precision around the outer edge of the plate. A block of cheddar cheese sat in the center, a few pieces lying next to it, and the knife resting against it. A cup of tea sat a few inches away. Maybe she’d offered it to Crystal? Then why lie to me that Crystal hadn’t been there?
I chose the armchair by the window so Moira could sit close to Brittany on the couch. She settled back and tried to pull Brittany onto her lap. Brittany wriggled away.
“I need to hold you,” Moira said. “Like I did when you were a baby.”
Brittany repeated the words. “A baby? Why would you say that? You never—”
“Just let me look at you. That’s all I need.” Moira reached out and stroked Brittany’s cheek with the back of her hand.
Brittany looked at me, pleading for something.
“Ms. Stanwick knows,” Brittany said. “I know, and she knows what you did to me.”
Moira laughed. “What are you talking about?” She glanced at me.
I saw the fear in her eyes, around her lips. Brittany’s words could mean anything. It occurred to me that she might think Brittany was talking about Crystal.
�
�We’re together,” Moira said. “You’re home. You’re home with us and that’s all that matters.” She pulled Britany close, pressing her cheek against the top of Brittany’s head, looking as if she were on the verge of squeezing the life out of her. Maybe that was what she wanted.
“Where’s Crystal?” I asked.
“I can’t think about that right now. I want to drink in my daughter. I’d gobble you up if I could.” She giggled. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I thought I would die thinking about what you might be going through.”
Brittany peeled Moira’s arms away from her. She stared, opening her mouth slightly.
I looked out at the backyard. I had no idea what to do. I still wasn’t sure about Brittany’s disturbing story, and I wasn’t sure what Luke was expecting from Nicole. Would she be willing to interfere in a family that would violently oppose anything she wanted to do? Brittany was a minor. Unless there was an official report of abuse…
A crow swooped into the yard. It hopped around madly, cawing as if it had found the most delicious meal of its life. Another crow dove from the top of a tree, landing beside it, joining the other’s raucous cries.
I felt frozen in time. “Where’s Alan?” I asked.
“He had to go out to meet with a client.”
I nodded. Why didn’t I believe her? He rarely went out, most of his work seemed to be conducted by computer and phone, just like mine. I thought about the Facebook page. I should post that Brittany was home…but Officer Carter… I closed my eyes, too tired to think.
Moira continued cooing and chattering about her love for Brittany and her delight at having her home. Brittany was silent.
After a moment, I opened my eyes. The crows were gone. The gate that led to the open space preserve moved, swinging into the yard. A woman with tangled blond hair and a large bruise on her cheek stepped into the backyard. She sauntered toward the sliding glass door, an air of fury coming off her as if it were a visible aura.
Crystal.
I let out a huge sigh, realizing for the first time that I’d feared she was dead.
48
Moira
Taylor was staring into the backyard, a strange expression on her face. I wished she would just leave. I didn’t need her there anymore, but she was apparently obsessed with watching me reunite with my daughter. I hoped she wasn’t thinking about telling the police about Crystal.
Taylor had gone from slightly helpful to on the verge of destroying us. She refused to understand how absolutely awful Crystal had been, how desperately Brittany clung to us, needing us to rescue her. Crystal never would have come crawling out of her filthy lair if Taylor hadn’t posted those pictures on the Facebook page and stirred up all kinds of activity around the page, drawing attention to it.
Although I wanted to put every cell of my heart into welcoming Brittany home, I was distracted by Taylor, worried that Alan might have to find a way to take care of her as well. A thought that sickened me.
I turned to see what had grabbed Taylor’s attention.
Crystal stood at the far side of the yard, alive, as if the injection had been nothing but saline. She was breathing and moving, back from the dead. A triumphant smile beamed on her face.
Where was Alan?
A scream rose inside me, but I managed to stuff it into my knotted stomach. I pushed Brittany away from me. “Go to your room, Brittany. You need to rest after the ordeal you’ve been through.”
“You don’t know—”
“You need to rest. Please go. Now.”
“Luke is coming over with his mom. She—”
I stood. “I asked you to go to your room.” My voice was sharp and loud, so I kissed her temple gently and put my arms around her. “I hate letting you go, but you need to rest. And I need to speak to Taylor.”
As I nudged Brittany toward the hallway, my hand on her shoulder, Crystal moved slowly across the yard. She stared straight into the living room, in no hurry to reach her destination.
Brittany stepped into the hallway, and a moment later the bathroom door closed. I sighed. One problem dealt with. I simply needed to face each immediate issue one at a time, like preparing the parts of a meal. Thinking of the whole effort overwhelmed me, but one piece at a time was manageable. It kept my thoughts clear and my heart beating steadily. That was the most important thing right now. I couldn’t think about the dark pool spreading inside me, knowing that something was very wrong if Crystal was here without Alan.
The screen door moved along the track, followed by the glass door. Crystal stepped into the room. “Surprised to see me?” She thrust her upper body forward, grinning maniacally. “I bet you didn’t expect me back from the dead.” She cackled. “You’re not as clever as you think, Moira. I’ve been trying to manage my pain for years, remember? You should have considered my tolerance level.”
“Where’s my husband?”
Taylor sat down in the armchair, sprawling her legs in front of her. “I’m so glad to see you,” she said. “I was so worried when I didn’t hear from you.”
Crystal ignored her.
“Where is Alan?” I asked.
“You’re such a clever woman, why don’t you figure that out?”
“If you did something to him…” Alan was tall. He wasn’t bulky, but he was strong and in good shape. I couldn’t imagine… “Where is he?”
“Do I really need to spell it out?” Crystal laughed, her laughter turning to a shriek. “You left me in the trunk with a weapon. You should see how white your face is! You knew the minute you saw me what happened to your husband.”
I screamed. The cry was long and came from the depths of me, a wail of pain that filled the house, rose through the hairline cracks of wood and glass and up to the heavens. I closed my eyes, not wanting to believe what she’d said, despite the cry coming out of me.
Brittany appeared in the doorway. “What’s wrong?” She looked scared. Even through the tears spilling out of my eyes, I could see that. I didn’t want to believe…maybe Crystal had hurt him, but he was okay. He would be fine. She couldn’t possibly have killed him. Alan was strong. Smart. So much smarter than Crystal with her drug-addled brain destroyed slowly over the years. He would have outwitted her, I was sure of it. I felt myself breathing again. She’d injured him, stolen his car, but she hadn’t killed him. It simply wasn’t possible.
Brittany walked slowly across the room and stopped a few feet from Crystal. They stared at each other. Crystal’s face turned from something hard and mean and stupid into something that might be compared to angelic. She spread her arms, ready to put them around Brittany.
I held my breath.
Brittany took another step toward Crystal. Her expression mirrored Crystal’s. Air seeped out of my lungs and caught in my throat.
Brittany moved into Crystal’s arms and collapsed against her. The room filled with soft crying as Brittany’s shoulders shook, and Crystal tightened her arms around her. She hadn’t hugged me like that. How did she know? How could she remember? I’d done everything to help her forget. I’d done everything I could to give her a good life, to love her with all my heart, to be a real mother. A real mother is someone who offers care and nurturing, not just some bitch who manages to shove a human life out of her body. Not someone who gets high and lies on the couch unconscious and invites all sorts of creepy men into her bed while her little girl goes hungry, crying for affection and attention.
She had no right.
I glanced at the plate on the coffee table, reached down, and picked up the knife. I ran my finger along the blade. A thin red line appeared on my finger. Blood rose into the space and dripped onto the apple slices, soaking them until they looked like wedges of brain matter. I cried out and dropped the knife.
I tried to breathe, tried to make my eyes focus on something. Blood smeared along the length of my finger. I wiped it on my shirt, but more blood came. I shoved my finger into my mouth, sucking hard to make it stop bleeding. Why wouldn’t it stop?
&
nbsp; So much blood. I tasted it on my tongue, in my throat. I pulled my finger out. More blood, running down my wrist now.
I went into the kitchen. I would not watch that phony mother-daughter drama taking place in my living room. I turned on the faucet and ran water over my finger until finally the red flow slowed then stopped. It took a long time.
I pulled the carving knife out of the wood block and studied the blade, my eyes clear and focused on the long wedge of metal and the sharp point, glinting in the sunlight that came in through the kitchen window.
I returned to the living room.
Brittany was still hugging that woman, both of them crying as they clung to each other. Taylor stood behind the armchair. A smile had spread across her face as thoroughly as my blood had spread across the flesh of the apple slices. Her eyes glistened with tears, and she blinked hard every few seconds so she wouldn’t break her trancelike mood by wiping them away.
I walked around the couch and advanced toward Crystal, the knife by my side. The handle was solid and fit into my curved fingers as if it had been custom-designed for my hand. The blade brushed the fabric of my jeans, catching slightly on the seam every few steps.
Crystal was not going to pretend she was a mother. Brittany belonged to me. She was my daughter in every sense of the word.
49
Taylor
Crystal’s arms were wrapped so tightly around Brittany, I expected Brittany to try to wriggle free. She did the opposite. She let her body collapse and turn into something soft and malleable in her mother’s arms. She looked like the child that Moira had insisted she was, young and vulnerable and desperately in need of her mother. A desire for nurturing consumed her face.
It made me wonder what nurturing truly is. Possibly it’s not simply a pair of devoted parents, stability, a good education, superior medical care, and a lovely house. Perhaps it’s far deeper. Perhaps it’s an invisible vessel inside a child that requires filling by an equally invisible liquid.
The Good Neighbor Page 24