The Night Olivia Fell

by Christina McDonald

  “Olivia.” His mouth, pressed against mine, went suddenly flat. “Olivia.” Both his hands pushed against my shoulders, and suddenly I stood a few feet away from him, my head spinning.

  “I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have. . . .”

  He walked a few steps away, his shoes denting the sand.

  “You don’t like me?” I asked softly. It sounded childish, and it wasn’t how I meant it. I just meant he didn’t feel the same about me that I did about him. Now that I knew I loved him, how could I ever go back to pretending I didn’t?

  Derek took two long strides back to me, looking almost angry.

  “That’s not true. Don’t be silly. I do care about you, but you have a boyfriend.”

  “You care about me?”

  Derek smiled, put a hand on my cheek. “Of course I do. I’ve cared about you for as long as I can remember. It’s torture knowing you have a boyfriend. Why do you think I was so pissed off when I first got back from New York?”

  A delicious warmth unfurled in me, a loosening of happiness in my chest. I’d never felt this way with Tyler, this deep connection on a visceral level.

  “I’ll see Tyler on Sunday. I’ll break up with him then.”

  My phone rang then, jangling in the space between us. The screen flashed with Kendall’s information.

  I held the phone up for Derek to see.

  “What do I do?” I asked.

  “I think you already know the answer to that.”

  20

  * * *

  ABI

  november

  Later that evening I pulled up to Anthony’s house. I peered at it through the thickening twilight. Nestled amidst a row of Cape Cods, painted a bright robin’s-egg blue that was cracked and peeling, it looked like it was in desperate need of a lick of paint, and maybe a bit of gardening. The grass was short and waterlogged; a handful of scraggly rhododendron bushes clung to the front steps.

  I stepped out of my car and tugged at the soft pink cashmere sweater I’d pulled on over my skinny jeans. I smoothed my hair, wondering fleetingly if I looked okay, then hating myself for caring.

  It wasn’t like this was a date. But what if he thought it was a date? Shit. I dove back into my car, breathing hard. What was I thinking? The urge to ask Olivia if this was okay swelled inside of me, and I realized that not only had I lost my daughter, I’d lost my best friend. I clawed a tissue from my purse and swiped fresh tears from my eyes.

  I just wanted my girl to come home.

  I was already fifteen minutes late, so I took a shaky breath and got out of the car. At the door I inhaled deeply and knocked. It swung open right away.

  “Abi! Come inside!” Anthony looked delighted to see me. He pulled me into a warm and beautiful living room. Light-stained hardwoods glistened under my feet; small oil paintings were hung through the room, indistinct splashes of color. To the left was a homey sitting area with an L-shaped couch and wide-screen TV. To the right was an open-plan country-style kitchen with a breakfast nook and french doors leading to a deck. It had the cozy feel of a much-loved home, a stark contrast to the exterior of the house.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I mumbled.

  “No problem,” he said easily. He was probably the most laid-back person I’d ever met. He pulled a chain across the door behind me and ran a hand over the thick stubble on his chin.

  “Sorry, I have to lock my mom in so she doesn’t wander.” Anthony crossed the room to an elderly woman who sat on the overstuffed couch. Her eyes were glued to an episode of Jeopardy! on the TV. Anthony set a large hand gently on her shoulder. “Mom, this is Abi.”

  The old woman looked up at me, her blue eyes clouded with confusion. “Laura?”

  “Not Laura, Mom. Abi.”

  “Hello, dear.” Her gaze traveled back to the TV.

  Anthony tilted his head toward the kitchen, and I followed him.

  “Who’s Laura?” I asked.

  “That was my sister.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “How’s your mom doing?” I asked tentatively. It felt like prying but right to ask.

  Anthony ran a hand through his hair. He looked exhausted, smudges of purple stark beneath his eyes.

  “Last night she went ballistic because I wouldn’t give her the car keys. I couldn’t get her to go to bed. But today she’s been really calm. So, you know, good days and bad.”

  “It must be hard.”

  “I don’t get it right all the time,” he admitted. “But I love her. You don’t have to be right one hundred percent of the time to show you love someone. And she doesn’t have to be perfect to be well loved.”

  A sleety rain started to fall, pattering against the skylight in the kitchen. I sat at the kitchen table and Anthony slid a piece of pizza from a Domino’s box onto a plate and handed it to me. I stood and reached for it, but my fingers missed and I fumbled the plate. Anthony moved to catch it, but accidentally grabbed my hand instead. I felt a jolt of electricity in my fingertips and stepped back as the pizza plopped, facedown, onto the floor.

  “Oh God, I’m sorry! Let me clean it up!” My face warmed with embarrassment.

  Anthony smiled and waved me away. “Honestly, don’t worry about it. At least the plate didn’t break. I think I’ve broken about five this year. I only have three left!”

  He wiped up the mess and handed me a fresh slice of pizza, then started cutting a wedge into small, precise pieces.

  I sat down and looked around. There were plants and paintings everywhere, a large fern in one corner and spider plants hanging from a shelf above the sink. A copy of Barack Obama’s memoir sat on the table next to me.

  “I called a friend of mine who works in Portage Point,” he said as he got to work dicing the second slice. “He said both Samson and McNally are strong detectives with a solid solve rate.”

  “Then why wouldn’t they investigate Olivia’s fall?” I asked.

  “I guess if they were told not to, they’d focus their energy elsewhere.”

  “But why would they be?”

  Anthony ate a quick bite of pizza, chewing as he thought.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Let’s think about what we do know. One, Madison wasn’t talking to Olivia. Two, Olivia knew that her father was Gavin Montgomery, and she’d met her half sister, Kendall. And three, Tyler lied about meeting up with Olivia after the barbecue.”

  “Actually,” I interjected, “Tyler told me he got that text from Olivia saying to meet him at the barbecue, but she never showed up.”

  “What else do we know?”

  “She had some texts on her phone from somebody listed as D. They were romantic, signed with kisses. I think the father of Olivia’s baby has a name that starts with d.”

  “Can you think of any friends Olivia had with names starting with d?”

  “Not in her group, but I’m sure somebody at school does.”

  My phone rang from my purse on the island, and I stood to get it.

  “Hello?” There was no reply. A few seconds later the beep-beep-beep of an empty line echoed in my ear.

  “Another hang-up?” Anthony asked.

  The phone rang again before I had a chance to answer him. “Hello?”

  “Abi!” Sarah’s anxious voice filled the line. “Don’t hang up!”

  “Sorry,” I murmured to Anthony. “I just need to . . .”

  “No worries. I’ll take this to my mom.” Anthony grabbed the plate of diced pizza and headed toward the living room.

  I turned toward the wall. “What do you want?” I murmured.

  “Abi! Thank God you answered. Look, we need to talk, I want to—”

  “I can’t do this right now. I’m at Anthony’s house.”

  “Abi, listen—”

  “Not right now!” I pressed End and stared at my phone. If only she’d told me the truth. . . . I shut the thought down.

  I felt shaky all over, my body swaying
as a wave of emotion fizzed in my bloodstream. My earlier urge to speak to Olivia, to see her one last time, rushed over me again.

  “Are you okay?” Anthony’s voice from behind me made me jump.

  “Yes. No. I mean, I need to get going. Thanks for . . .” I waved at my untouched pizza. “This.”

  I felt suddenly as if I were trapped inside an hourglass, the sand trickling onto me, the weight bearing down on me. Thirteen weeks until the baby was born. Thirteen weeks, and I was sitting here eating pizza, being all buddy-buddy with a virtual stranger.

  I was running out of time.

  I grabbed my bag and brushed past Anthony. My hands fumbled with the lock on the front door. A surge of emotion heaved through me. I had to get away before I fell apart.

  The rain had eased and a full moon gleamed through racing, white-rimmed clouds. My shoes clipped harshly against the sidewalk.

  “Abi!” I wanted to get in my car, but Anthony was suddenly in front of me.

  “Are you okay?” Soft moonlight slid over him, turning his eyes a silvery green. In his face was nothing but honesty and kindness.

  “I’m fine. I just need to go home.”

  I tried to move past him, but he didn’t budge.

  “You aren’t in any condition to drive,” Anthony said. “Let me drive you.”

  I stared at him in shock. He’d been in court all day, then in a support group helping other victims of crime, and then he’d come home and cared for his ailing mother. It was what he did, I was noticing. Tried to fix all the wounds of the world.

  “Are you kidding?” I snapped, suddenly, inexplicably angry. “You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

  “I’m not as emotionally strung out as you. You’ve had a difficult time. Let me drive. I can get a taxi back.”

  “Your mom.”

  “She’s safe. I’ve locked the door, and her night nurse is on the way.”

  I huffed out a harsh breath. “I didn’t ask for this.”

  I meant his concern, but he misunderstood. “No one does.”

  I tried again to move past him. I was just another problem to fix. I didn’t want to be some fucking damsel in distress. I didn’t need him.

  “Abi. Let me help you.”

  “Why? Why do you even want to?”

  He looked surprised, a shadow crossing his face. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love, to feel powerless to know why. My sister was killed, and most of my life I didn’t have any answers. Her case was only solved four years ago. The detective . . .”

  He swallowed hard and looked like he wanted to say something, but he shook his head.

  “I can’t tell you how much the detective helped me. Laura was just another cold case. A file in a box. When they solved her murder, I felt years of anxiety slip away. It didn’t bring her back, but it mattered to me how the pieces fit together. So I know what you’re going through.”

  A current of understanding cut through my resistance. He saw it and moved toward me.

  “Come on.” He held his hand out for my keys. “Let me drive you home.”

  I wavered, then finally gave him my keys and climbed into the passenger side. Suddenly I was tired to my very core. I felt like a stuffed animal that had been cut open and had all its insides scooped out.

  “Fine.”

  I told myself I was agreeing because I was too exhausted to argue. But the truth was, deep inside, I didn’t want to be alone.

  Outside my house Anthony turned the engine off. He got out, the car dipping to release his weight, and came around to open my side. He guided me up the stairs, took my keys from my numb fingers, and opened the front door. He turned on a lamp and pulled a cover over me as I sank into the pillowy softness of my couch. Then he headed for the door.

  “Thanks,” I whispered. My voice stretched with tiredness and sadness and so many other things.

  “It won’t always be this hard, Abi. Get some sleep.” He smiled gently, then locked the handle, and pulled the door shut behind him.

  As I drifted off, I realized something: as much as I liked to think that I was better off on my own, maybe it wasn’t true. There were people who wanted to help me, people who cared about me without any agenda. Like Anthony. Like Lizzie and Kelly. And Sarah.

  21

  * * *

  OLIVIA

  july

  Derek’s and my footsteps echoed in the mist as we crossed the ZigZag Bridge, heading from his house to mine. The air smelled of damp soil after last night’s rain, and I inhaled the rich scent.

  “What time’s Kendall going to be there?” Derek asked, tucking me tighter under his arm. When he did it, I felt treasured, not trapped.

  “She said noon.”

  “Do you think she’ll show?”

  I thought back to last week when she’d bailed on me at Starbucks. I was totally ready to write her off, but then she’d called me in tears. She said she was scared of her dad finding out about me during an election year when the media could find out. She’d offered to drive out to meet me. It sort of made sense, plus, if she didn’t show up, at least I’d already be home.

  “I hope so, but who knows?” I shrugged.

  My phone pinged.

  Kendall: We still on for today?

  “Hold on,” I murmured to Derek. I hefted myself up so I was sitting on the bridge’s low concrete barrier wall and typed a reply: Yeah. My house. You still have address?

  Kendall: Yeah. Driving to you. Be there 12ish.

  Kendall: Soz again about last week.

  Me: It’s ok. See you later.

  I put the phone away and looked at Derek. His face had gone pale as an envelope. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “You ready to come down from there now?”

  I leaned back and peered over the edge of the bridge to where the ZigZag River gurgled below.

  “Derek, are you scared of heights?” I couldn’t imagine Derek afraid of anything.

  “No!” he denied emphatically. But his face was pinched tight. I knew I was right.

  “Oooh,” I teased. “I’m sooo close to the edge.”

  I laughed and stood up on top of the concrete barrier, walking like a gymnast, arms flung out for balance. Heights had never bothered me, and anyway, if I fell in the river below, I was a great swimmer.

  “Come down from there, Olivia!” Derek’s voice was laced with anxiety, and I realized the joke had gone too far.

  “Okay, I’m sorry.” I hopped down and wrapped my arms around his waist, smiling up at him. “I was just teasing you a bit.”

  He brushed my hair back from my face and blew out a shaky breath. “Fuck’s sake. That wall is too low.”

  “I was safe. Sheesh, I didn’t know you were so afraid of heights.”

  “I’m not afraid. It just makes me a bit nervous when the girl I like is perched on the edge of a fifty-foot drop. I’d prefer you stay safe.”

  I stiffened in his arms. “You sound just like my mom.”

  Derek stepped away from me, scraped a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t want to sound like your mom or anything. I’m scared of heights, but that doesn’t mean you have to be, okay?”

  I moved closer to him, instantly forgiving him. The warmth of his body radiated out toward mine, and I pressed myself along the length of him. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his jaw.

  “I thought we were going to wait until you broke up with Tyler to be all couple-y?” Derek said. I could hear a smile on his lips as they pressed against mine.

  I’d planned to break up with Tyler when he came over before leaving for Seattle, but he’d canceled, saying he was too busy packing. Technically, that meant we were still together. I didn’t care.

  “I know.” I slid my tongue along his teeth and deepened the kiss anyway.

  “We should stop, then,” Derek murmured.

  “Yep.”

  But we didn’t. Instead, I lifted his shirt to touch the hot skin on his back. He cupped my butt a
nd pulled me closer, our thighs pressed together. I wanted him like I’d never wanted anything in my life.

  The sound of a car approaching finally tore us apart. I ran my fingertips across my lips, the imprint of his mouth still burning.

  “We should go,” I said.

  Derek nodded, and we dove into the woods that separated my house from his, holding hands.

  “So, when are you going to talk to Tyler?” Derek asked, holding up a tree branch so I could pass.

  I ducked under his arm and climbed over a downed tree.

  “I should probably do it in person, right? Wouldn’t that be, like, more respectful?” Tyler was already going through so much. I didn’t want to hurt him more than I had to.

  “Hmmm . . .” Derek replied noncommittally.

  “I was going to when he was here. He just left so suddenly.”

  “What a weirdo.” Derek shook his head. “If I were moving away from my girlfriend for the summer, I’d make sure I said good-bye first.”

  “Yeah, but his parents are going through this intense divorce, and it’s really shit for him right now.”

  We emerged from the woods into the sunlight and crossed the street to my house. I could hear the crash of the surf in the distance and smell the sea salt in the hazy summer air.

  Just as I was opening the front door, my phone rang from my back pocket.

  “Hi, Mom,” I answered cheerfully.

  “Hi, sweetie. Just calling to make sure you’re okay.”

  I rolled my eyes at Derek and mouthed that it was my mom. “I’m not a baby, Mom.”

  She laughed and gave me her standard answer. “I know, but you’ll always be my baby.”

  I chuckled a little, but it was kind of getting old.

  “Anyway,” she said, “you forgot to call me at noon, so I was getting a bit worried.”

  “Woops.” I glanced at the clock. It was 12:11 p.m. “Guess I lost track of time. Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. What do you think about Safeway roast chicken for dinner?”

  “Is it okay if I eat at Madison’s?” I asked.

  “Sure, sweetie.” She sounded disappointed, and guilt made my stomach spasm. “Just be home by dark.”