Unbroken

by A. J. Matthews

  Nate came up beside her and slid his arm around her waist. Together, they watched as the detective and patrolman got back into the cruiser, started it up, and drove away. The sound of their tires scuffing on the driveway was loud in the sudden stillness of the day.

  “Jesus, that was something,” Nate said after the cruiser was out of sight. He looked at her and smiled.

  “He thought I did it,” Kiera said, feeling too stunned to be relieved.

  Nate’s eyes widened as he sawed his top teeth over his bottom lip.

  “He actually thought I forced Robbie off the road to kill him.”

  “It was an accident,” Nate said, but Kiera wasn’t convinced by his mild manner. She could sense that he was holding something back. She felt a jolt when the terrible thought occurred to her that maybe Nate had done what Fielding had suspected her of doing. Narrowing her eyes, she studied him.

  Would Nate ever do anything like that? she wondered.

  Was he capable of murder?

  Time seemed to freeze as she looked at her husband’s face bathed in bright sunlight and wondered what secrets he might be hiding from her. If his past was any indication, there might be things she would never want to know, but she twisted with guilt, knowing the terrible secret she had kept from him all these years. More than ever, Kiera was once again aware of the gulf between them. Even with him standing so close to her, she had to admit that they were no longer together. Maybe they had never been. Even if Nate didn’t have anything to do with Robbie’s accident, she knew as clearly as if it was written on his face that he was keeping a secret about something.

  Nate gave her a quick hug and then moved away from her.

  “This is gonna be really hard on Trista,” he said.

  “Go ahead.” Kiera spoke so suddenly her voice sounded like a bark. “Say it.”

  “Huh? . . . Say what?”

  “Tell me the truth.”

  “The . . . truth? What are you talking about?”

  “Admit that you’re glad this happened, too. Say it out loud, because I’m not afraid to. I’m happy Robbie’s dead. You hear me? He was bad for Trista. He was taking advantage of her. And I don’t care how or why it happened. I’m thrilled that son of a bitch is dead so he won’t be pestering our daughter anymore.”

  Stunned by her outburst, Nate stared at her for a long time. It seemed to Kiera as though her words echoed and reechoed from the house and the woods out back. She wasn’t proud about saying what she’d said out loud, but she had to admit that she did feel better.

  “We have to be honest with ourselves . . . and to each other,” she said. Her voice was lower now, almost broken because something deep inside her was telling her that it was already too late. Whatever she and Nate might have shared once upon a time was gone now. Ultimately, it didn’t matter what Nate did or didn’t admit, because their relationship was irreparably broken.

  “Jesus, Kiera,” he said, shaking his head and frowning at her. “I can’t believe you’d say something like that.”

  Kiera shot him a hostile look and started to say something, but then she inhaled sharply and exhaled as she lowered her head. The feeling of defeat and loss was total. There was nothing left to say. Without speaking a word, she walked back into the house, leaving him standing there alone.

  3

  “There’s nothing you can say!”

  Kiera stood in the doorway of Trista’s bedroom, leaning against the doorjamb and wishing her daughter would at least invite her into the room so they could talk.

  “I know there isn’t, baby.” Kiera took a step forward but then pulled back. “It’s just that I . . . I want you to know how sorry I am for you.”

  “Yeah, sure.” The sarcasm in her voice was raw and heartless. She was lying on her bed with her back to her mother, but she turned just enough to glare at her with eyes that glistened like quicksilver with tears.

  Kiera took a sharp breath, wishing she could say just the right thing, but words failed her, and she knew she couldn’t fake remorse.

  “You were always saying how much you hated him, that you didn’t want me to see him. I would think you’d be happy he’s dead.”

  “I’m not,” Kiera said, cringing at the lie. Her voice twisted off, and she couldn’t continue. Trista’s shoulders quaked as another wave of grief washed over her. Kiera wished she could comfort her, but the distance she felt between them kept her rooted where she stood.

  “Just leave me alone. Please . . . ?”

  Kiera swallowed hard. Every word was like a razor cut.

  She’s lost to me, she thought. And nothing I can do or say can ever repair the damage that’s been done.

  But who had done the damage?

  She had always done what she thought was best for her daughter. If that wasn’t enough, it wasn’t her fault. Of course she had made mistakes. What parent didn’t? She was human, after all. It’s what you did after you’d screwed up that mattered.

  But as hard as she tried, Kiera couldn’t say any of this to Trista. Her daughter was so consumed by grief she would twist anything she said the wrong way. All she could do was let her know she loved her and would be there for her when and if she was ever ready to talk. Her heart felt like a cold, dark weight in the core of her chest as she closed the door, turned, and walked away.

  Tears blurred her eyes as she walked down the hallway to her bedroom, and all she could think was, When? . . . When did we lose everything we had?

  4

  The night was warm with just a hint of a breeze to rustle the leaves in the backyard. Soon, Kiera knew, the leaves would be changing color and falling. The knowledge that autumn was just around the corner filled her with deep sadness. She knew she was being foolish, as young as she was, but for the first time in her life the approach of cold weather made her reflect on her own life, and how sad—no, not sad—pathetic it was that so much of it had passed her by, and she felt as though in so many ways she had never really experienced it, much less appreciated it.

  Is it all because of what happened to Billy?

  Is that what’s ruined my life?

  Or were there other, more immediate problems, like the fact that there was nothing left of her marriage—if there had ever been anything to begin with—and what (if anything) she was going to do about it.

  Why was she still married to Nate?

  Why hadn’t she left him years ago when she first found out he’d been having an affair? It was the first—and only—affair she found out about and the first one he admitted to, but she had always suspected it hadn’t been the first or last.

  Ever since she met him, Nate had always seemed somewhat emotionally aloof. Maybe that was just the way he was, and she should have gotten used to it after all these years married to him . . . or maybe he’d been hiding something from her all these years, that he couldn’t help himself . . . that he had to have relationships with other women . . . that she wasn’t enough for him!

  Like tonight . . .

  Where was he tonight?

  If they really had a loving, caring relationship, shouldn’t he be home with her right now?

  Instead, he was out somewhere. She didn’t even know where. He hadn’t said anything about meeting up with some of his poker buddies or having a meeting at school. For all she knew, he might be with another woman right now, and she’d be none the wiser.

  Kiera considered calling him on his cell and asking where he was, but when she was honest with herself, she actually preferred it when he wasn’t around.

  “Has it gotten that bad?” she asked herself, sighing and shaking her head.

  Did they have so little left between them that, even when she was feeling as terrible as she did now, when she was scared to death about her mental and physical health, she would rather deal with it on her own than share it with him?

  What good is a marriage if I can’t share with my husband everything, even my darkest thoughts? she wondered.

  And a relationship is a two-way street. W
hy did he never seem to want to share with her what he was thinking and feeling? She could no longer excuse it as that he was just the reticent type. When she was being honest with herself, she had to confess that she was holding back with him as much as he was holding back on her.

  “So where are you now?” she asked the deep silence within the house as she wandered from the living room into the den, where Nate did his schoolwork, correcting papers and preparing lesson plans.

  She considered going for a drive, maybe checking the school parking lot and a couple of the bars downtown to see if she could find his car, but she was too tired to go out. She sighed as she sat down at the desk and noticed that Nate’s computer was still on. He’d minimized a window and then must have forgotten to turn the machine off. Kiera had no idea what—if anything—she expected to find when she moved the cursor to the small box at the bottom of the screen and brought up the window.

  It was a list of names, and it didn’t take her long to realize it was his class and homeroom lists for the new school year. But something caught her attention right away, and a rush of anger and trepidation went through her as she scanned the screen. The name Katherine Burroughs in Nate’s homeroom list immediately jumped out because, although it was in the same font size as the other entries, the home phone number was highlighted in red.

  “Interesting,” Kiera muttered as she leaned back in the chair and stared at the number.

  She recognized the name, of course. Katie was a senior, like Trista, but Trista and she weren’t friends . . . not anymore, at least. Back in elementary school, they had been best friends, but once they entered junior high school, they had drifted apart as they sought out other peer groups. From what Kiera knew, Katie had gravitated to the “smart” kids, the college-bound students who were on the honor roll and active in sports and extracurricular activities. Trista had gravitated to the less academic crowd . . . the “losers” and “stoners,” as they were called.

  A sense of lost opportunity and regret filled Kiera as she faced the fact that somewhere along the line, she had lost touch with her daughter. Or maybe, more honestly, her daughter had lost her way. Even now with Robbie Townsend dead, Kiera knew there would be more Robbies in the future. She didn’t see how she could get Trista off the path she was now following, not without something major happening.

  Until junior high, Trista had been a bright and accomplished student, but the older she got, the more detached and hostile she became. She had threatened to move out of the house and move in with Robbie but, for whatever reason, she had come home last night . . . the night Robbie died. Kiera knew without being told that they’d had an argument, but she had no idea what it had been about. Trista certainly wasn’t talking to her.

  As she leaned back in the chair, her eyes kept being drawn to the highlighted phone number on the screen, and she kept asking herself, Why is it highlighted? She was half tempted to call it and ask if Nate was here.

  And then another thought hit her . . . a thought that, at first, she wanted to dismiss as being totally ridiculous; but the more she thought about it, the more it made a twisted kind of sense.

  Was it Katie’s mother Nate was seeing, or was he having an affair with one of his students?

  What if he’s been dating Katie Burroughs?

  “No . . . that’s just . . . wrong,” Kiera whispered as she shook her head in adamant denial. She knew that Katie’s parents, Roger and Teresa, were getting a divorce. If Nate was fooling around, it made a lot more sense that he was trying to get something going with Mrs. Burroughs. He wouldn’t . . . he couldn’t be having an affair with someone the same age as their daughter . . .

  Could he?

  Kiera wished she could convince herself that she was just being paranoid, but Nate hadn’t always been loyal to her. She should recognize the warning signs by now—the uncommunicativeness, the emotional distance, the perfunctory way he dealt with her even after her surgery. If it wasn’t Katie Burroughs, it certainly was her mother Nate was pursuing . . . and—maybe—had already caught.

  More than ever, Kiera was tempted to call him on his cell or else go out looking for him; but the truth was, she didn’t have the energy to confront him about anything right now. She would wait and watch for more indications that he was fooling around.

  Besides, what if her suspicions were unfounded?

  Worse, what if she was projecting onto him what she was really feeling?

  What if she was at the point where she finally had to admit that she wanted to leave him?

  Putting it so bluntly staggered her, but she had to admit that’s what was on her mind. The question was, how—and when—did she begin to approach it?

  Heaving another sigh, she minimized the window on the computer, got up from the desk, and left the room. The darkness both inside and outside the house seemed to press in on her. As she walked upstairs, she had to fight the impulse to run to her bedroom, slam the door shut and lock it, and hide there.

  “Hide . . . from what?” she asked herself in a tight, trembling voice. “From being honest with myself?”

  She knew that Trista wasn’t home, either, and as she passed her daughter’s closed bedroom door, she considered going into there to have a look around. Maybe she would find something that would clue her in on what was bugging Trista. She hesitated outside the bedroom door, her hand poised to turn the doorknob as she debated what she was considering doing.

  It wasn’t really fair to Trista, she knew, to snoop around in her room. What did she expect to find, anyway, a stash of drugs . . . or something worse?

  What could possibly be worse? Kiera wondered, and she watched as if someone else was doing it as she turned the doorknob and opened the door. Reaching inside, she snapped on the light and then moved slowly into the room. She didn’t want—or dare—to touch anything, because she knew Trista would be able to tell she’d been here, but she wandered around the room, checking things out without touching or moving anything.

  All in all, it was a typical high school girl’s room, with posters of rock bands—at least Kiera thought they were rock bands—on the wall, dirty laundry piled up on the bed and floor, and CDs and DVDs scattered around on the windowsill and the table with the stereo system and TV. A wave of nostalgia came over her when she remembered the cute, loving little girl her daughter had been. She seemed like another person now.

  When she glanced at the things on Trista’s desk, Kiera saw something that made her heart skip a beat. Right out there in plain sight was a home pregnancy test kit.

  “Oh my God,” Kiera muttered as she covered her mouth with one hand and shuddered.

  So this was the “something worse!” Trista thought she might be pregnant. It was no real surprise to learn that her daughter was sexually active. They had talked about it, and Kiera had told her numerous times to use protection for a variety of reasons, but the possibility that she was actually pregnant—and it would have to be by Robbie Townsend—was devastating.

  Is this why Trista was so upset last night?

  Is this why she and Robbie had been arguing?

  Was this why she had come home right after she made such a big deal about moving out of the house?

  If she was pregnant, Kiera wondered what she planned to do about it.

  Had she been pressuring Robbie to marry her so they could have the baby together, and he had refused?

  The side flap of the box was torn open, but Kiera couldn’t tell if the test was still inside the box or not. She was tempted to pick up the test kit and inspect it to see if it had been used yet, but she was afraid Trista would know if she moved it.

  In a way, though, Kiera thought it didn’t matter. Just the concern that Trista might be pregnant was reason enough to worry.

  No, a voice inside her head told her. It’s not really any of your business . . . Trista has her own choices to make . . . her own life to lead . . . and you really can’t influence it . . . not anymore.

  At the same time, another voice in her he
ad was telling her that it absolutely was her business.

  Trista’s your daughter . . . if she’s in trouble, it’s definitely your duty . . . as a parent . . . to talk to her and help her figure out what to do next.

  Her daughter might be about to make one of the most momentous decisions of her life, and Kiera knew she should help her make her decision whether or not she wanted or appreciated her mother’s help.

  At least Trista wasn’t home right now, Kiera thought, so she had plenty of time to think about how she would handle this. After another quick glance around the room, she turned and left, closing the door quietly behind her. As she was turning to go down the hall to her own bedroom, she found herself staring at the closed door to Trista’s bathroom. Without a moment’s hesitation, she opened the door and went in. When she turned on the light, her gaze went immediately to the full-to-overflowing wastebasket. Right there on the top was the pregnancy test.

  “Please don’t let it be . . . Please don’t let it be,” she muttered as she bent down and picked it up. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw two narrow pink lines on the test strip.

  She knew what they meant.

  Trista was pregnant with Robbie’s Townsend’s baby!

  CHAPTER 10

  Breaking Point

  1

  If anything, the next morning things were worse than ever. Kiera was so filled with anxiety, doubts, and fears that she couldn’t even think straight, much less decide which of these feelings were legitimate and which were products of her imagination. Worst of all, though, was the nagging feeling that she had lost some vital part of herself. At times, she was certain some portion of her brain functions were shutting down or gone entirely. She wondered if there might be another growth in her brain, only this time, of course, it would be cancerous.