The Murderer’s Daughters

by Randy Susan Meyers

  “And pretty. Right, Aunt Merry?” Ruby preened in the soft velvet dress she’d insisted on wearing, despite the casual clothes the rest of us wore. She matched the opalescent china with which Drew had set the table. Red wine for adults and cranberry juice for the girls shimmered in Irish cut crystal glasses, wedding gifts from Drew’s relatives.

  “Pretty is as pretty does,” I reminded Ruby. I worried that my younger daughter thought she could skate through life on prettiness and winning swim meets. “How you treat people is more important than how you look.”

  Ruby swept back her silky hair, looking not at all convinced. “What are you grateful for, Mommy?”

  Not being dead.

  I sipped my wine, troubled by my thoughts. “I’m grateful for having a wonderful husband, two wonderful daughters, and a wonderful sister.”

  “You sound like Aunt Merry,” Ruby complained. “You can’t copy. Everyone has to come up with something different.”

  “Who said?” Cassandra asked.

  “It’s the rule. The new rule.” Ruby stuck her chin out. “Otherwise it’s not real.”

  “Okay,” Drew said. “I’m grateful the turkey is delicious, Mommy’s stuffing is perfect as ever, and Aunt Merry made cherry pie just so I don’t have to eat pumpkin.”

  “No, Daddy.” Ruby looked like she might cry. “We need to do this serious! Like at school.”

  “What did you say at school?” I steered the conversation from family and Thanksgiving at the Cohens’, which could lead to Thanksgiving at Duffy. Duffy, where canned cranberry sauce sat upright in chipped bowls, the can markings visible on the red towers. The only girls who ever ate the tinny-tart stuff were the girls so fat, so desperately trying to fill themselves, they’d lick the can if allowed. Scraping our plates clean of the thin servings of turkey and watery mashed potatoes, we looked only at our food, as though ashamed to be seen celebrating in such poor company.

  Ruby puffed up with importance. “I said I was thankful for my family, of course, because they love me so much. And I was thankful no one I knew died at the 9/11 World Center. And that Osama Laden didn’t come to Cambridge.”

  Maybe Cassandra’s fears had nothing to do with me or my subconsciously poisoning her mind. Maybe 9/11 was our problem. All children waited for disaster now. It didn’t have to be born of our front yard.

  “That’s lovely, Ruby,” Merry said.

  “What are you grateful for, Daddy? And don’t say food,” Cassandra warned.

  Drew put down his knife and sat back. “Everything I’m grateful for is right in this room. Copying good things is okay, Ruby.”

  “Daddy got it perfect. Now, let’s eat this meal we’re all so grateful for,” I declared. I love you, Drew. You rescue me.

  Cassandra forked up a small mound of stuffing. Her quivery look presaged sentimental tears. “Do you still feel like an orphan, Mommy? Do you think about your mother and father all the time?”

  Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, rescue me from my past. Give us this day our daily future. Make me know what to say, God. Grant me a peaceful past. I want to rest.

  “I think about them sometimes,” I managed to say. “Not always.”

  Cassandra tilted her head to the side, her eyes alive with some understanding that thrilled her, more of the Doctor Johanna wisdom coloring our lives, no doubt. “Does it hurt to talk about them? They live in your heart, though, so you always have them with you. Right? So you’re okay. Right?”

  I drank half a glass of water to pass words from my dry lips. “Of course I am.”

  “So, we’re all okay, right?” Cassandra pressed.

  Ruby bit down on a roll in slow motion, crumbs falling to the tablecloth as she waited for my answer. Despite any fights they might have, the girls lived in the world of emotional primogeniture, and Cassandra’s judgment ruled.

  Drew pressed his hands flat, keeping his fingers splayed and firm. “We’re okay. We’re all sad Mommy and Aunt Merry’s parents died, but that was a once-in-a-lifetime tragedy. We’re fine.”

  Drew’s last words came out with more firmness than he probably intended. The girls jumped like twitchy kittens.

  Drew grinned to offset his dour message and heaped stuffing on his already full plate. “We’ll celebrate Christmas soon, and you’ll get a million presents from Grandma and Grandpa Winterson. No more past. Let’s concentrate on what will happen, okay?”

  I’d take Drew’s words to heart. Live for today, be in the present. Who cared if it sounded like New Age hoo-ha; I needed to stop passing on fear and horror, unknowingly or not. Maybe I’d been subconsciously feeding the girls Zachariah grim fairy tales. I would retrain myself. No more watching for bogeymen at the door.

  For two weeks, I managed to keep my vow. I whistled a happy tune. I woke before Drew, bringing him coffee, then waking the children with newborn lighthearted mother vibes. I ran in circles to avoid being alone with Merry, not able to face the knowledge that I shouldn’t leave her by herself, not caring, so great was my need to be away from the nightmare of my father getting out.

  Merry had respected my warnings to let me tell Drew in my own time, but I hadn’t yet told her that I’d told him. That would have made it too real.

  I pushed my father out of my mind and lived in a land of cookies and milk.

  On the third Monday morning in December, I crumbled. Everyone woke in the throes of anxiety. Ruby had a book report due, and she hadn’t yet colored in the back or front cover, or stapled it together. Cassandra needed a birthday present for a party she’d be attending the next day and feared we wouldn’t remember. Drew had a client meeting, a possible chance to illustrate a new series by a semifamous children’s book author. He’d spent the entire weekend sketching versions of some magical tribe of environmental warrior chipmunks. I thought they looked terrific, but he repeatedly added and subtracted one more blade of grass, one more acorn.

  As for me, Audra had suffered a heart incident and spent the weekend in and out of intensive care. Her children had besieged me with calls, hounding me for predictions on which they could count, wanting me to be doctor and soothsayer. Denton had been out of town, and no oncologist on call would make the decision to stop the cancer drug, a decision that could simultaneously save and kill her. You know her best, the last oncologist had said.

  “Did you hear me, Lu?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t forget you’re picking up the kids today.” Drew looked nervous. “I’ll call and remind you.”

  “Do you really think I’d forget to pick them up?” I watched the girls slurp up their cereal. Ruby’s expression said she believed anything bad was possible, while Cassandra maintained her Doctor-Johanna-says-it’s-all-fine face.

  “I need to finish my report cover,” Ruby said.

  “I’ll set my watch to give you a reminder call, Lu,” Drew said.

  “You’ll be in the middle of a presentation, for goodness’ sake,” I said. “Girls, hurry. It’s almost time to leave.”

  “I can put the watch on vibrate. It’s not a formal presentation.”

  “I haven’t finished my cover,” Ruby shouted. “No one is listening to me!”

  “No one can help but hear you. Now listen to me. Everyone.” I pointed at Cassandra, who’d opened her mouth—no doubt wanting to make sure her needs were on the list. “Quiet. Drew, I’ll pick up the children. Concentrate on selling yourself. Ruby, march into the living room right now and finish; Daddy will be in to help you in a minute. And Cassandra, we’ll stop at the CambridgeSide Galleria on the way home from school.”

  “Me, too?” Ruby asked. “Can I get a toy?”

  “Anything you want, sweetheart.” Buying happiness for my children sounded like an excellent choice today.

  Audra’s youngest daughter, Traci, smelled of stale cigarette smoke. She clutched my arm as I tried to back away from her mother’s bed. Audra’s vital signs had plummeted in the last few hours. The family waited for the on-call oncologist, a man they’d met onl
y once before.

  “Please, Doctor.” Traci pinned her light blue eyes to mine. “Stay until he comes. He’s so difficult to speak with; he intimidates everyone. You’re the only one Mom trusts.”

  “Stop, Traci,” Audra’s reedy voice broke in. “You’re being rude.”

  “I’m not being rude, Ma.” She wrapped her hands around the steel bed railing. “You tell her, Owen,” she said to her brother.

  Audra’s children visited in rotation. She had so many I hardly remembered their names, but I remembered Traci, the intense one.

  Owen rose from the molded plastic chair he claimed on each visit. Owen resembled his father as I imagined he’d been before the cancer. Ruddy. Widely built.

  “Calm down, Trace.” He put an arm around his sister. “Doctor Winterson, it would mean the world to us if you saw your way clear to help us speak to this new oncologist.”

  He looked at Audra with a sad smile. “You give my mother hope and will.”

  I waited for Audra to tell Owen to stop, let the busy doctor go. Instead, her watery blue eyes pleaded as life leaked from her.

  I bent close to her. “Audra, what is it you want?”

  Audra’s papery palm slipped against mine. With tremendous effort, she pulled herself up, bringing us closer to eye level. “You’re my lifeline.”

  I’d see if Merry could pick up the girls.

  28

  Merry

  I watched Ruby and Cassandra through the window of the courtroom’s child-care center. Cassandra read a Bugs Bunny book to a toddler, giving the girl little kisses on the top of her head as she turned the pages. Ruby rolled a green speckled ball back and forth between twin toddler boys, clapping each time one caught it.

  These girls owned me.

  After picking them up an hour ago, I’d had an unavoidable meeting. To head off my nieces’ complaint that they weren’t babies who needed a playroom, I’d asked them to help the child-care counselors, leaving a box of cheap, sugary donuts, the kind Drew and Lulu never allowed in the house, as incentive.

  The drop-in center had opened only a few months before. Plastic push toys still gleamed, and the jigsaw puzzles were still complete. Community for Peace had fought for the playroom, tired of seeing children watch their mothers and fathers stand, sometimes defiantly, sometimes shamefully, in front of the judges.

  Colin, in a rare display of humanity, hadn’t blocked the playroom once the community cleared the necessary bureaucratic hurdles. Even he hated watching the kids standing still and stiff in their tiny pressed shirts and dresses, as if keeping their clothes neat would help Mama or Daddy. On the other hand, maybe he just hated seeing kids, period. Having the child-care center kept them out of sight. Either way, we got the place.

  I blew kisses through the playroom glass before going in to get my nieces. “Time to leave.” I carefully shut the door behind me after entering. Having children loose in the court wouldn’t earn me any brownie points.

  “Two more minutes?” Ruby pleaded.

  Cassandra glanced up from the book she was reading, giving me a quite-grown-girl expression, which I interpreted as meaning, only a few pages to go.

  I perched on a child-size wood chair and watched the girls, who looked so serious, so lovely, that I wondered if I’d been wrong in nagging Lulu to tell them the truth. Perhaps you could bury the past and live with it. Look at my nieces, so sweet and helpful.

  The girls enjoyed playing miniature grown-ups, but, unlike Lulu and me, they’d never have to face actually living out the roles. Maybe if I stopped worshiping the truth, they could remain innocent. Maybe I hadn’t been thinking of Ruby and Cassandra all these years. Maybe I just hadn’t wanted to be alone with Dad.

  I should take a lesson from Lulu. Compartmentalize. Lock my father in a box. I still hadn’t responded to his letter. Next week I’d go to Richmond County Prison. I’d take care of him, but keep him away from the girls. I’d protect them from the ugliness. I could control my father if I had to. If he wanted my help, he was going to need to give up all this “my granddaughters” crap.

  Cassandra closed her book and lifted the little girl off her lap. “Come on,” she called to Ruby. “Aunt Merry’s waiting.”

  “Just because you’re done doesn’t mean I am.” Ruby shook her head. Her unraveling braids flew around. “I promised we’d play ten rounds.”

  I sent a pleading look to Asia, the center director.

  “Don’t worry, Ruby,” Asia said. “Now’s quiet time anyway.”

  I didn’t want my sister finding us here. Not that I’d make the girls lie. I just didn’t want Lulu having to search for us.

  Ruby handed Asia the ball. “It’s Kenny’s turn,” she said. She picked up her book bag and turned to me. “Can we come here again? Could I get a job here? Not for money, just like a helper.”

  Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Sure, Mom will let you work here.”

  “It’s nice that you want to help, honey, but you’re a little young,” I said. I steered the girls toward the probation department. “Regulations wouldn’t permit it.”

  “Or Mom,” Cassandra said.

  “Speaking of Mom,” I said. “Let’s get back to my office before Mom comes. She promised she’d be here before my next meeting.” I had to appear before the judge with an out-of-compliance client, and I couldn’t worry about the girls during that time. I glanced at my watch, praying Lulu wouldn’t be late. This particular judge was a stickler, and this particular client was a pain in the butt.

  “Will she be mad if we’re not waiting for her?” Ruby asked.

  “Not mad,” I said. “But possibly a little worried.”

  When we got to my cubicle, I cleared a space at the edge of the desk opposite from where I sat. “Read or do your homework.” I checked my watch. “Mom should be here in ten minutes.”

  “I’m going to draw a picture of Kenny and Sean,” Ruby announced, referring to the twin boys she’d been playing with. “After I finish my homework.”

  I pushed a half-eaten box of ginger snaps toward the girls. “Do me a favor. Wait until the ride home before telling Mom about the playroom.”

  “Weren’t we allowed to be there?” Cassandra asked.

  “She might worry because it’s in a court.”

  “Is it dangerous?” Ruby asked. “Criminals are everywhere, right?”

  “Yes,” I said. “But policemen are everywhere also.”

  “Do killers come here?” Excitement laced Ruby’s question, as though I worked with the glitterati: Murderers! Rapists! Thieves!

  “Poor Mom’s always worried. Probably because your parents’ dying makes her scared,” Cassandra told me in a confidential tone.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t tell her about the playroom, then.” Ruby knelt on the wooden office chair, leaning over her homework sheet.

  “It’s okay not to tell her,” I said. “But you can’t lie.” Explaining sins of omission versus sins of commission seemed a little sophisticated, but I hoped they got the point.

  “Aunt Merry, how much is twelve times twelve?” Ruby asked.

  “Isn’t that supposed to be your homework?” I shuffled through papers until I found the report I needed.

  “I did it. I just want to see if I’m right.”

  I took the paper from Ruby. “You got it, honey.”

  “Hey. Mizz Zachariah.”

  My client, Victor Dennehy, stood in the doorway. “Who are the kids?”

  “What are you doing here, Victor?” I rose to head him off. His date with the judge was in an hour. “You’re supposed to meet me in the courtroom.”

  The moment I got close, I smelled the alcohol. His hooded eyes belied his casual stance. I’d seen Victor earlier in the week, and we’d gone over his awful recent record. He’d missed every session I’d put as a condition of his probation: AA, batterers’ intervention, NA, a parenting course. He’d had two dirty urines. Then I’d received a call from his frightened girlfriend telling me he’d started smacking her arou
nd again. Get him cleaned up, she’d begged. For the baby.

  “Why you got to disrespect me?” Victor spoke in his Boston brand of white-kid-speaking-tough-black. A traditional Irish scally cap covered his rusty brown hair. The guards would have made him take the hat off when he came in. He’d probably shoved it in his pocket, putting it back on the moment he was out of their sight. Last week I’d had to ask him to remove it twice.

  “I have to be to court”—he whacked his right hand into his left— “because of you.”

  “Calm down, Victor. We can talk in just three minutes.” I pointed toward the hall. “Wait in the lobby, okay? Three minutes.”

  “Fuck that.”

  I prayed someone had heard him swear and would call security.

  “Victor, I have children here. Three minutes.”

  “They yours?” Before I could answer, Victor laughed. “Pretty stupid, bringing your kids here. And you say I’m stupid.”

  “I never said you were stupid, Victor.”

  “Yeah, you did.” Victor looked as though he might cry.

  His mood was swinging from one end of the spectrum to the other. Drunk, high, or both? I chose my words carefully. “I said not going to your programs was a stupid thing to do. Not you. You’re anything but stupid. You’re a smart kid. That’s how I know you’ll go wait for me.”

  “Why you wanna send me to jail? I can’t go back.”

  Victor, though wide, was short. I grabbed his eyes with mine. “Of course not. We’ll talk about it. Soon. Like I said.”

  “You should talk to me now.” Victor marked each word by hitting the wall. “Not be babysitting.”

  “I hear you.” I moved left, blocking my office entrance as much as I could.

  He rolled his shoulders and filled his chest. “Did you know I got a court date in an hour?”

  “I know that.” I turned for a moment and saw Cassandra and Ruby standing statue-still. I should have left them in the playroom. “I’ll be with you.”

  “Can’t you make it go away?” he pleaded. “Can’t you make them cancel it?”