Dark Redemption

by Charlotte Byrd

  Mom and Jacqueline remain in place, debating the merits of Philip Roth's early work and comparing it to the work of the less-known Beatniks writers, friends of Jack Kerouac, but the ones that I have never heard of.

  "Are you okay?" I look over to Marguerite, who finishes loading the dishes and comes up for air in a little bit of a huff.

  Her stomach is starting to weigh her down considerably, and I notice that she has to catch her breath now almost after every simple exertion.

  "I just can't believe that your mom likes Jacqueline so much," she says a little bit under her breath, turning herself away from the two of them, sitting by the bay window. "She doesn’t like anyone."

  "I know. I'm shocked, to say the least."

  "You are?" Marguerite asks, her eyes getting big.

  "Of course. I mean, I was so certain that she was going to hate her, or at least be incredibly cold to her. But for some reason, last night, they just struck up this conversation and Mom was in a good mood, or ... I have no idea. And she even caught us almost doing it out on the patio."

  The words just slip out, and the expression on Marguerite's face changes. Suddenly I see how unfair my mom has been to her and how much that has hurt her.

  "I just tried to be her friend and have an actual mother/daughter relationship with her for so long, and it's all to no avail. She doesn't care. I'm not saying that there's anything wrong with Jacqueline. She's nice and I like her a lot, but why doesn't your mom like me? Why has she hated me all this time? Why does she always try to make things so hard for me?"

  "I have no idea." I shake my head, rubbing her back and bringing her in for a little hug.

  "Marguerite, are you okay?" Lincoln yells from across the room, and everyone turns to look.

  She cringes.

  "Yeah, I'm fine. Just started to feel a little dizzy," she lies, glares at me, clearly annoyed by her husband's denseness.

  I wish there was something I could do.

  Not that I want Mom to not get along with Jacqueline. I just wish that she was nicer to her real daughter-in-law, the one that's been there all this time, trying to be her friend.

  But that's the thing about Mom. She doesn't like things that are too easy to have. The men that always went after her and showed their interest in her and promised to be good husbands, those weren’t good enough.

  The ones that she has always wanted were the ones that would break her heart: the ones that didn’t need her approval, the ones that stood on their own two feet and weren’t impressed by her wealth or her family's history.

  Is that what Jacqueline is doing different?

  Is that why Mom likes her?

  Because she has to work hard to impress her?

  Because Jacqueline is so different from Marguerite?

  Not only is she her own person, but she tends to live life on her own terms, and I wonder if that's exactly why I'm so attracted to her as well, and that maybe Mom and I aren't that different after all.

  26

  Jacqueline

  Somehow I had managed to make quite an impression on Adele. I feel bad when I see Marguerite sitting in the corner and Adele not engaging with her at all and I try to include her in the conversation.

  I ask about her pregnancy and even ask her if she had read any of the books that Adele and I had talked about, but it doesn't seem to work. After a little while, Marguerite just excuses herself and walks away, leaving the two of us alone.

  I feel bad for her, but I like the connection that I'm forging with Dante's mother. Despite what anyone says, you always want your potential mother-in-law to like you and not add to the conflict and I'm surprised that it's actually happening.

  After breakfast, the four of us head out to the beach and Adele stays behind to catch up on her reading.

  I can feel the tension emanating from Marguerite and I apologize before she can say anything.

  "I'm really sorry," I say as we walk down the path, carrying our towels, already dressed in bathing suits and cover-ups.

  "I just can't believe that she likes you so much," she says.

  She's wearing big sunglasses with an elaborate design around the corners but I can tell by the way that her lip trembles that she's about to cry.

  "You can't pay attention to what she says," I tell her. "Adele seems to be enticed by people who aren't impressed by her. You have to act more aloof.”

  "I can't do that. I just want her to be happy for us, you know? I want her to celebrate this baby, her first grandchild."

  "I know, I know you do.” I put my arm around her.

  Lincoln and Dante walk ahead of us carrying the majority of the beach supplies, the cooler, the umbrellas, and the chairs.

  Dante turns briefly to look back and gives me a little smile when he sees me holding Marguerite.

  "I'll put in a good word," I say. "I totally thought that she was going to hate me. But I can't make any promises. She is how she is. But for you, if you want my advice, you have to act like you don't care."

  "Why? Why do I have to be like that?"

  "I don't know. It's like with guys, if you act too eager, you know, to go on a date and you call him right after and you act like you like him a lot, they get turned off."

  "But I did that with Lincoln and we’ve been together ever since."

  "Well, you've seen that in movies, at least, right?" I joke. "When you date, you have to give people space. Otherwise, they start questioning your intentions. They think, 'Eh, maybe this person's too eager,' and nobody wants someone who is too eager."

  I don't know how else to explain it. That's the best that I can do and by the expression on her face I'm not sure she fully understands.

  Everything about Marguerite is written on her face. She is honest like that. Solid.

  That's what I like about her and that's probably exactly what Adele, a woman who likes to play games, who likes to be charmed, who likes to be swept off her feet and who likes to be challenged, does not like about her daughter-in-law.

  Our day at the beach goes well. Marguerite spends a lot of time in the water under a big hat, but enjoying everything nonetheless.

  She's at that point in her pregnancy where she can't stop eating, so she snacks almost the whole time and I join her.

  Lincoln and Dante sit a little bit apart from us talking more about finances and the right investments to make. I overhear part of their conversation, but he doesn't mention anything about Vasko to his brother.

  I wonder why at first, but then realize that that kind of undercover operation he can't even trust his brother with. We stay on the shore for a couple of hours until it gets a little bit too hot, at which point we head back.

  A little bit sunburned and exhausted from all of that relaxation, we stumble into the kitchen, using the back way into the house and find Adele sitting with a morose expression on her face at the kitchen table.

  Her laptop is open before her.

  "What's wrong, Mom?" Lincoln asks.

  "I need to talk to your brother," she says, focusing her gaze on him and just him. "Alone," she adds.

  "Yeah, sure," we all mumble.

  I want to go upstairs and take a shower anyway and Marguerite is due for another nap.

  At the top of the stairs, I pause briefly to try to listen in but their voices are muffled and impossible to hear. But whatever this is that she needs to talk to him about, it's not good.

  27

  Dante

  Still riding the high from the fact that Mom has actually connected with my girlfriend, she catches me a little bit by surprise when I come in after the day at the shore and find her so cold and distant at the table.

  "What's going on?" I ask, taking a seat.

  I'm sweaty and my skin is salty and right after I sit down, I get up again to grab something cold to drink from the fridge.

  Mom continues to wait. She has her hands folded in front of her like a Cobra waiting for the right moment to strike.

  For a second I think that everything
that she's been doing up until now is just an act, a joke, and she's going to tell me something terrible about Jacqueline and forbid me from seeing her again, as if she could.

  But the longer I sit here and the more time she has to gather her thoughts, the more that the tension between us builds.

  "$200,000 is missing from your trust fund," she finally says, glaring at me, her eyes unblinking, steadfast.

  My breath gets lodged in the back of my throat. There it is. I wasn't able to come up with the money in time and she found out about it.

  "You don't seem very surprised," she says.

  I nod.

  "Tell me why."

  Her voice is demanding and clear, but not angry, except that it is. She doesn't get loud when she's angry, she gets quiet, the anger building somewhere under the surface.

  "Borrowed it," I say, "for something important."

  "What?" she says, her back completely straight.

  Her hands are still intertwined.

  She doesn't flinch, she doesn't move. She barely breathes.

  "It's a private matter. I needed the money, so I took it. I'm going to put it back."

  "You had no right," she snaps. "That money's not yours. It's my trust fund. You don't have access to it until you've married someone of appropriate standing."

  "Like Marguerite?"

  "No, the opposite of Marguerite," she says without lowering her voice, not caring whether or not my brother or his wife can hear her.

  "Look, I'm going to put the money back, okay? Don't worry about it."

  "I will worry about it. It's my money that you took and I need to know what it's for."

  I hesitate. She has developed such a good camaraderie and almost friendship with Jacqueline and I don't want to jeopardize that.

  I had no idea how she could react for the impulsive thing that I did, but I don't want to risk it either.

  "I'd rather keep that private," I finally say.

  I don't explain, I don't hesitate.

  I don't go any further into any part of it.

  "I expect the money back."

  "I know, and I'll get it back to you," I add.

  "I expect it back in a week."

  "No, impossible."

  "How long do you need?"

  "It was an emergency."

  "An emergency? What happened?"

  "I can't explain." Finally, she's talking to me like a person.

  "I expect the money back by the end of the month and if you don't have it, I will go to the police."

  My heart skips a beat. From any other mother it would just be a threat, but from her, I believe her.

  She takes care of her finances personally, making sure that every dollar and every penny is there and where it's supposed to be.

  She knows exactly how her investments are growing and which ones are diminishing and need to be reinvested.

  "Can't you just trust me?"

  "No. You could have gone to a casino for all I know. I want you to put it back and I want it to be back in that account. This isn't just about me, Dante. This is your money. I'm protecting it for you to have in the future and you will not disobey me because there will be consequences and I will sue you. I will call the police. The district attorney is a friend of mine and someone I play tennis with."

  That is the harshest threat of all. My mother has friends in a lot of high places and even though a normal mother complaint about her son would probably not go anywhere, hers does exactly for that reason.

  "Now go," she says, sitting up even straighter. "I don't want to see you right now.”

  I'm being sent away for doing something wrong like a child.

  I guess I did do something wrong, but it was for a good cause and this is my money after all.

  The only thing that weighs heavily on my mind now is where the hell I'm going to come up with two hundred grand in the next month.

  28

  Jacqueline

  I walk back to the cottage. My mood is as bright as the blue sky. The air is salty and full of humidity, poofing up my hair that I try to tame by sticking it in a ponytail.

  I know that we had some differences, but she's going to be happy for me. Everything with Dante is working out.

  I love how comfortable we feel with one another. I never want to be that girl that is constantly thinking ahead, but I can't help myself, but if I were to take this job in Seattle for him, what if I were to do this investigative project?

  What would it be like for him to visit me? Thinking of all that, I feel my stomach flutter with anticipation, excited and happy and just looking forward to the future, something I haven't done in a while.

  When I get to the gate and walk up to our cottage behind the main house, I don't see anything different at first, but as soon as I get inside, things change.

  There's a darkness that hangs over the place and it's mainly because it looks like no one has been here since I left. Allison went to the party at The Redemption but she would have come back by now.

  Even if the party went all night, I'd find her sleeping in a room, tuckered out, exhausted, probably very hungover but not gone. Her clothes are still here, the dress that she was going to wear isn’t.

  I crack my knuckles and tap my fingers nervously on the sides of my thighs. Where could she have gone? What if something happened?

  No, don't overreact. Maybe she's just trying to teach you a lesson.

  "Yes, that's a very real possibility," I say out loud.

  I gave Allison quite a scare by forgetting to tell her where I was when I was really with Dante. Who's to say that she's not doing the exact same thing now? Perhaps she is.

  I walk around from the living room to the bedroom to the bathroom and back again. I pace like a caged tiger. What can I do?

  I call Dante who promises to be here in a few minutes since I still don't have a car. The only problem is that I don't really know where to go. I open my phone, I remember her sending me something about the party about a month ago.

  I search and find the address. Okay, good, good. I look it up on Google Maps and find that it's about five miles away and a mansion right on the water.

  When Dante arrives, I fill him in on all the details.

  "So you have no idea where she is?" he asks.

  "This is where she went.” I show him the directions and I put them on speakerphone so that he can hear them as he drives.

  I feel how frantic my voice is when I tell him about her not being here and I realize that perhaps this is a much bigger deal than I even thought it was.

  "I'm sorry, I'm just really freaking out," I say, trying to catch my breath.

  My lips are dry and peeling in parts and I desperately need something to drink but I have to get to this house. I have to find out what, if anything, happened to my friend.

  As we drive around, we drive past Main Street and the groups of teenagers and families are walking around with smiles on their faces and I cannot feel more disconnected from them.

  "Look, it's probably nothing," Dante insists. "Think about it."

  I nod my head feverishly. "Yes, of course, I know that. It is probably nothing, but what if it's not? What if something's happened?"

  He nods and squeezes my hand.

  The directions ping left and he turns on Mulberry Lane, pulling up in front of the gate.

  "Do you know the code?" he asks.

  I shake my head no.

  There's no one up front but perhaps calling information will help. He dials 0 and after a long pause, just before we're about to give up, somebody answers.

  "We're looking for a friend of ours. She was here for a party last night.”

  "Yeah, okay, sure." The woman hesitates on the other end and then buzzes us in.

  "That's a good sign," Dante says.

  "Why?" I ask.

  "Well, if something happened at the party, she probably wouldn't be so forthcoming."

  I nod, he's right. But that still doesn't answer where Allison is.

  C
assandra comes downstairs, wearing sweats and her hair pulled up in a loose bun on top of her head. Without makeup and the eyelashes, she looks completely different from the woman that I had met earlier, but still familiar.

  Even her voice is different however, not so soothing, not so deep, more like a normal voice belonging to a normal person.

  She recognizes us immediately.

  "Oh, I was wondering why you two didn't attend. Are you dating now?" she asks.

  Despite how she's dressed and the fact that she is barefoot, she still has a certain air of superiority that disarms me.

  "So are you two officially together? Will we see you again?" she asks, prying and smiling out of the corner of her lips.

  "Yes, we're dating," Dante says, "officially, so no plans to visit anytime soon, but thank you for the memories."

  "Yes, of course.” She shifts her weight from one side to another. Suddenly, I wonder if the two of them have ever been together.

  "We're actually here to talk about Allison. Did she attend the party last night?"

  Cassandra looks down at the floor. "Normally we don't give out that kind of information," she says after a long pause.

  "Yes, I know.” Dante takes control of the conversation.

  He takes a step closer to her almost pulling her away from us. He turns a little bit toward her and she turns toward him and he says, "Allison's a very close friend. She was supposed to go here last night and she didn't come home, so naturally Jacqueline is very worried and so am I."

  Cassandra looks at me, not quite believing it. "We protect our guests’ privacy and therefore, we can't reveal whether they attended or did not attend," Cassandra says. "It's in the rules."

  "Please, you have to help me," I plead. "We're staying in the same place. She said that she was going to go to this party. I thought she would maybe stay out until five or six but she should be home now and I'm just really worried about her. This isn't like her to not call me."