The Stepchild

by Joanne Fluke

  Harry flushed. Doug’s words were partially teasing, but there was an undercurrent of sharpness that made him wince. He thought about the reports that had come in on Kathi Ellison. She was still registered as living in the dorm, but Harry’s investigator had discovered that she’d moved most of her things into a third-floor apartment a mile from campus. The apartment was rented in a boy’s name, David Carter, a psychology major at the college. So far, Harry didn’t think there was anything to worry about. There was nothing wrong with having a little fun as long as Kathi was discreet about it. He could always run up there and talk to her if it looked like she was getting careless.

  Of course, Harry had immediately ordered reports on David Carter. They were favorable to Harry’s way of thinking. He came from a good family, mother and father retired—she a former teacher, and he, an Army Corps engineer. No brothers or sisters. David’s scholastic record was excellent. He’d been on the dean’s list for three consecutive semesters, and he was up for some sort of graduate fellowship next year. He was active in the honor society on campus, and he had several recommendations from his instructors that were downright complimentary. At least Kathi had chosen a nice guy to shack up with. As long as the two kids were careful, Harry didn’t anticipate any problems from that quarter. It would bear watching, though, and Harry intended to do exactly that.

  Harry looked up to see Doug watching him expectantly, then he remembered Doug’s question. He bet he could tell a few things about Kathi that Doug didn’t know, although there would be no sense in mentioning anything about Kathi’s new living arrangements to her father. From the irritated expression on Doug’s face, it wouldn’t be wise to mention that now.

  “Kathi’s fine,” Harry muttered, turning on his heel and marching back toward his temporary office in Doug’s suite. He stopped in the doorway and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. His stomach was rumbling. “Are you going out for lunch or having something sent up?”

  “How about a corned beef on rye?” Doug suggested, knowing that Harry hated his favorite choice in sandwiches.

  “Sounds fine,” Harry mumbled absently. “Order me one too, will you? I’ve got some calls to make.”

  Doug chuckled as the door to Harry’s office closed. His good humor restored, he called in the order for one corned beef and one ham and cheese. Then he leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head, his eyes resting on the photograph of Vivian displayed prominently on his desk.

  Vivian had objected when Harry demanded she pose for an office picture.

  “That’s trite, Harry,” Vivian laughed. “I thought the only men who had pictures of their wives on their desks were the ones going around pinching secretaries and taking dips in the office pool.”

  Doug remembered Harry’s grin as he had nodded in agreement.

  “That may be true for executives, ” Harry conceded. “This is different. The press will pick up on your picture like hotcakes. Just go do it, will you, doll?”

  Harry had been right, as usual. Now Doug was known as a family man to any reporter who had been allowed in his office. Harry knew his business.

  Doug stared at the portrait critically. It was damn good. The photographer had picked up the highlights in Vivian’s rich brown hair, and her deep green eyes sparkled. Vivian was a remarkable woman. She hadn’t aged at all. She was every bit as beautiful as she’d been when she walked into his small law office in Little Falls and applied for the job as his secretary. That was over twenty years ago and, yet, Vivian appeared unchanged. A few more lines on her face perhaps, and a streak of gray in her hair that made her mutter to herself in front of her dressing table, but Doug thought the slight signs of her aging had made her look more sophisticated. Obviously, other women thought so too.

  Doug’s mouth turned up in an amused grin as he remembered Vivian’s best friend, Mary, appearing one day with a streak of gray in her hair, carefully applied by her beautician in an attempt to copy Vivian. As the wife of a politician, Vivian was now considered a trendsetter. Doug supposed that half the women in Los Angeles would streak their hair when Vivian was the newly elected senator’s wife.

  Thinking about Vivian made Doug reach impulsively for the phone. He could call her and see how things were on the home front. No . . . she probably wasn’t home. Vivian was quite popular at bridge games and women’s teas. He wouldn’t disturb her now. Even if she were at home, she undoubtedly would be getting ready for one of her afternoon groups.

  Doug’s eyes turned back to the picture again, and he felt a slight twinge of uneasiness. Vivian had been pushing herself awfully hard lately, making appearances at women’s groups all over California. She had thrown herself into the campaign, making speeches and holding meetings of her own to help the effort. Vivian had always been interested in politics in the past, but it had taken Doug a long while to decide to take a stab at it. The moment he’d mentioned that he was thinking about running for the senate, she’d gathered information like a squirrel gathering nuts for the winter, signed up volunteers among her circle of friends, and spearheaded the whole campaign aimed toward women voters. Because of Vivian’s efforts, his popularity with women had blossomed and grown to the point where Keith Baxter didn’t even have a chance at the women’s vote.

  The afternoon meetings and late-night campaign planning had taken their toll, though, and Sally had reported that Vivian was tired and out of sorts lately, surviving on a few hours’ sleep and running on her store of nervous energy. Doug would have been worried if Sally had been alarmed. She knew Vivian better than anyone else. Sally was practically a member of the family, the first and only housekeeper they’d ever hired. It was a comfort to Doug, having someone in the house he could rely on to give an accurate report of Vivian’s state of health. He knew what trouble it could cause if a busy politician’s wife got lonely and depressed. And Lord knew he wasn’t home enough to really be much of a husband to Vivian in the past few months. Many a candidate’s wife had ended up taking tranquilizers or drinking to fill up the lonely hours when her husband was out of town campaigning. He was lucky that Vivian had more sense than that. She was a strong woman, perfectly capable of controlling her emotions without any sort of crutch. She’d been a brick when he’d been in trouble. Without Vivian’s good sense, he might have made some disastrous mistakes. At least he had a wife who would could be calm and rational during a crisis. No, there was absolutely no reason to worry about Vivian. She could handle anything that came up, probably better than he could.

  Doug leaned back and closed his eyes. He was exhausted today, probably because of the late meeting last night. First, there had been the flight to Sacramento and the speech there, and then the red-eye special back to Los Angeles and a windup in the campaign headquarters. No wonder he was borrowing trouble, thinking about all the things that could go wrong and make him lose the election. He was just too tired to think straight.

  The swivel chair creaked softly as Doug leaned back a little farther. God, he was tired. It would be so nice to take a day off and spend some time in the mountains with Vivian. They could drive up to Arrowhead and do a little skiing like they used to do. But there just wasn’t any time now, not with the election only three weeks away. The instant he’d got involved with politics, he’d started waving his leisure hours good-bye. At times like this, Doug felt as if he were dealing away his time—time for a comment here . . . a handshake there . . . an interview for this person . . . a meeting with that person. There was no time left for the people he loved more than anyone else in the world, Vivian and Kathi. To succeed in political circles he had to give up something, the same as in everything else. In the city you had to give up nature, in a marriage you had to give up privacy, and in politics you had to give up little pieces of yourself, carefully doled out in meetings and speeches, making your life smaller with each passing encounter. It was almost like bleeding, and Doug sometimes wondered what would happen when he was bled dry.

  “Jesus!” Doug groaned, slamming his hand a
gainst the side of his head to clear his muddled thoughts. This kind of thinking was ridiculous. He didn’t have one reason for being depressed. Jake Roman had promised his support, and everything was going like clockwork, even if Harry did get his goat sometimes with his infernal questions about Kathi and Vivian and his past.

  Doug shook his head like a dog coming in from the rain. He stretched his neck from side to side and then around in a circle to force his tight muscles to relax.

  “Everything’s going like clockwork,” he murmured, as if hearing the words spoken could make him believe that they were true. Then he propped his elbow on the desk, took a deep breath, and reached for the speech he was scheduled to make that night.

  CHAPTER 5

  Kathi waited until David left the apartment before she picked up the phone. She called home at least once a week, and Vivian would worry if she didn’t call. Today, there was another reason for Kathi’s call too—some information she had to get for the doctor at the health service. It was going to be difficult, asking questions without giving Vivian cause to worry about her, but the doctor had been very definite about needing the answers to his questions. Kathi wasn’t sure how she was going to bring the subject up. Vivian always seemed to get upset when she asked about the accident, but she had to know how long she had been in the coma after the concussion. Dr. Jackson seemed to think it might have some bearing on her terrible headaches.

  Kathi’s palms began to perspire as she dialed the familiar number. She wished that she didn’t have to bother Vivian at such a critical time, but it couldn’t be helped. Dr. Jackson at the health center was waiting for the information. This was all getting so complicated, that Kathi wished she had never mentioned the headaches and nightmares to David. They might have gone away all by themselves. It was nothing more than strain. David and the doctor were just getting alarmed over nothing.

  * * *

  The phone call came in the middle of the bridge game. Sally knew that Mrs. Ellison didn’t want to be disturbed, but this call was an exception. She hurried across the solarium with surprising grace for such a big woman. Sally never wasted any time when the message was from Miss Kathi.

  Vivian looked up as Sally bustled to her side. Sally spoke softly and Vivian nodded and then stood up.

  “Sorry, girls,” she apologized. “I have to take a phone call.”

  She motioned to Rita, who was sitting out. “Why don’t you take my hand, Rita? I don’t know how long this is going to take.”

  Rita DuPont settled into Vivian’s chair, and Vivian winked at Mary Lewis, her partner. She knew that Mary hated to play with Rita, but it couldn’t be helped. Sally had said that Kathi sounded upset.

  Vivian sighed as she walked toward the study to take the call. It was probably something simple. Sally tended to exaggerate Kathi’s moods, always worrying about her “little lamb.” She clasped her hands nervously every time Kathi called, almost as if she expected something terrible to happen. Of course, it never did. Vivian found it hard to imagine that Kathi was in any trouble now; she had never been in a speck of trouble in her whole life. She was a model child, too perfect, Vivian sometimes thought. It made Vivian’s occasional flash of temper seem black and ugly in comparison with Kathi’s perfect emotional balance.

  Vivian laughed to herself as she crossed the expensively decorated room. She and Doug should feel proud of raising a daughter who stayed out of trouble. Very few of their friends were so lucky. She was always hearing gossip about teenage pregnancies and drug problems. Hardly a day passed that she didn’t hear about this son or that daughter who had got into some sort of trouble. Thank God, Kathi had turned out so well.

  Vivian sighed. She really should be content, but there was something eerie about raising a perfect child. She almost hoped that Kathi had done some minor thing, perhaps cut a class or got a bad grade. It would help to know that her stepdaughter was less than perfect. Perhaps Kathi would seem more normal if she got into a little scrape once in a while.

  “Hello, darling,” Vivian said as she picked up the phone. She listened for a moment, and then she felt her legs growing weak. She slumped down in the Chippendale chair next to the phone and lit a cigarette. This time Sally had been right. Kathi did sound upset.

  “You haven’t been studying too hard, have you, dear?” Vivian asked, noticing that her hands were shaking. Her face felt flushed and then cold. “You sound a little nervous.”

  “I’m fine, Vivian,” Kathi’s voice answered, sounding falsely bright to Vivian’s discerning ear. “I . . . I just called to ask you a question. You’ve heard me talk about my roommate, Bev—”

  “Yes, of course, dear.”

  “Well . . . her sister had an accident, and she’s been in a coma for a couple of days. I told Bev that I’d been in an accident too, when I was little. Bev wondered how long I’d been in the coma before I came out of it.”

  “Just let me think for a moment, dear,” Vivian responded, hoping that her voice sounded appropriately calm. Her mind was spinning at this unexpected question. She didn’t even want to think about Kathi’s accident, much less discuss it with her, but she had to answer.

  “I believe it was four days, dear,” Vivian finally replied. “Yes . . . four days. Is Bev terribly upset about her sister?”

  “Oh, yes!” Kathi answered quickly. “You know, it’s really strange about that accident, Vivian. I know I was four years old, but for a long while I couldn’t remember it at all.”

  Vivian took a deep breath. “The doctors explained it to us at the time, darling,” Vivian replied, forcing herself to stay calm. “You were severely traumatized. It’s not unusual to block out memories that are painful. But you say you remember more now?”

  Vivian heard her voice rise sharply but she couldn’t help it. She gripped the receiver tightly, waiting for Kathi’s answer.

  “Yes, a little more,” Kathi admitted. “I can remember lying in the hospital, and just the other night I remembered the rescuers finding me.”

  Vivian tried to think of something else to say, but her mind didn’t seem to be working. Suppose Kathy remembered more?

  “That’s really all I called about,” Kathi continued. “Tell Dad I’m rooting for him, and I read the San Francisco papers every day. He’s getting good publicity up here. The polls today had him leading with seventy-one percent of the vote.”

  “Wonderful, dear!” Vivian said, trying to concentrate on what Kathi was saying. Did she dare ask any more about Kathi’s memory? Or should she leave well enough alone and pray that Kathi didn’t remember any more?

  “I’m sorry I got you away from your bridge game, but Sally insisted,” Kathi went on. “I know it was a silly thing to call about, but Bev was really upset, so I promised I’d ask. I’m sure her sister’s going to be all right.”

  “Call and let me know, dear,” Vivian insisted. “You know you can call anytime at all, and your father and I are always glad to hear from you.”

  Another few moments and Vivian replaced the phone in the cradle almost as if she were holding a bomb. She finished her cigarette in quick, nervous puffs before she even thought of attempting to get up from the chair. What if Kathi did remember? The doctors had been so sure that her memory would never return, but now Kathi claimed that she had recalled the rescuers and her recovery in the hospital. My God! What if Kathi remembered everything? How could they possibly explain? And the worst thing was, there wasn’t a damn thing they could do to stop Kathi from remembering.

  Vivian ground out her cigarette savagely as all her bottled-up fear turned to anger. Why now? For the first time in her life she had started to relax, to live without the awful fear of discovery, and now it was back again, worse than ever. And coupled with the last tense weeks of the campaign, it was more than Vivian could bear. She’d have to call off the rest of the bridge game now. She simply couldn’t cope with a bunch of silly, chattering women after Kathi’s call.

  “Damn!” Vivian spat out the word forcefully. Somehow, she h
ad to get hold of herself and go back in there to face her guests, to act as if nothing extraordinary had occurred, just a little complication that meant calling off the game early. She couldn’t let her friends know that anything was wrong. She had to play the part of a winning candidate’s wife while she waited for the other shoe to drop, knowing that her whole life would be changed if Kathi remembered just a little bit more.

  It was a full five minutes before Vivian regained her composure. A satirical smile crossed her face. And she had been thinking that Kathi was too perfect! It was ironic, but Vivian didn’t really appreciate that kind of satirical, cosmic humor. She could have lived quite comfortably with Kathi’s perfection, if only she’d known the alternative.

  Vivian’s hand touched the phone again. Doug—should she call him? He could comfort her, tell her not to worry, that everything would be all right. But what about him? Wouldn’t that just add another worry to his growing concern? No, this wasn’t the time to tell him. For all she knew, this might frighten Doug enough to make him back out of the race. And then all of her work would have been for nothing. There was no sense upsetting Doug unless Kathi remembered more about the accident. She would pretend that everything was normal if he asked about Kathi.

  Vivian sighed deeply. At times she felt so much stronger than Doug, although she’d never admit it to him. He had problems of his own right now. There was the campaign and the heavy schedule of speeches that Harry had arranged. She could cope with this by herself if she had to, and Vivian knew she had to. Her instinct to protect Doug was fierce—almost maternal—at times like this. Doug had a boyish quality that he had shown only to Vivian, and it was that innocence which she had to protect now. To everyone else he was strong and powerful, but she knew what depths of anxiety he could suffer when things were not going well, how he turned to her for strength. She would be his rock. She would handle this alone.