Behind Every Lie

by Christina McDonald

  Eva giggled. “Like Santa Claus!”

  “Exactly like Santa Claus.” He laughed and held out a hand to shake Eva’s. “I’m Mike. And who are you?”

  I held my breath, awaiting her reply.

  “I’m Eva,” she exclaimed.

  It was rather extraordinary how easy it had been to start a new life in America. Children didn’t need their own passports in the UK, and anyhow, she was Eva now, and Eva was listed on my passport.

  What surprised me more was how quickly she adapted to being Eva. She occasionally asked for Rose, especially at first, but her entire life in London was quickly melting away as she adjusted to being Eva. Her British accent had already flattened, and she now called me Mommy, even when I insisted on Mummy.

  Mike knelt so he was close to Eva and stage-whispered, “And what’s your mom’s name?”

  “I’m Kath—Kat. Just Kat.”

  “Kat. A lovely name for a lovely woman.”

  His smile revealed a row of very white, very straight teeth. Why did Americans always have such perfect teeth? I did not return his smile a second time. He was talking rubbish. I wasn’t the type that men ever referred to as “lovely.”

  Eva tugged on my hand. “Can we go?”

  “Very well, then.” I nodded politely at Mike. “It was nice meeting you.”

  “And you. Hopefully I’ll see more of you both.”

  Outside, a brisk wind slapped us in the face, causing me to shiver. Although we had bundled into the thick winter clothes I’d bought, the wind still nipped at every exposed bit of skin. We’d flown to Chicago simply because it was the next flight leaving after we arrived at Heathrow. But as winter descended on the Windy City, I regretted not waiting for the next flight to Florida. It was utterly frigid here.

  We walked to the nearby lake, the ghostly outline of downtown Chicago sketched in charcoal against the pale, distant sky. The beach was a tree-lined affair with a boat launch and an abandoned stall for kayak and sailboat rentals. Dirty snow clumped in giant gray patches. The lake itself was a desolate beauty, ice waves making a quiet shushing sound. Closer to shore, ice had crusted in giant blocks along the sand.

  I trailed behind as Eva clambered over the ice and snow, my mind a million miles away. On Rose. Sebastian. Eva. Even David. I had contemplated contacting him many times, but each time I remembered Seb’s words: An eye for an eye. And then I thought of what Rose had told me: David can’t keep her safe.

  Eva’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “Mommy! Mommy!”

  I looked around, heart stalling as I realized I could not see her. Suddenly a snowball thumped me in the middle of my forehead.

  I gasped and took my glasses off, watching the snow slide to the ground. “What the … ?”

  Eva jumped out from behind a tree, her gray eyes gleaming with mischief. Her red hair poked out of her green snow hat.

  “I’m gonna get you!” She scooped up another handful of snow and launched it at me, but this time I ducked.

  “You cheeky little monkey!” I gasped. A smile, new as a baby’s skin, tugged at my mouth.

  I rolled a small snowball and ran after Eva, enjoying her whoops of delight.

  A strange feeling unfurled deep in my chest then. Later, when I took it out and examined it, measured its peaks and troughs and let it truly sink in, I recognized it: love. At least the potential for it.

  After a few moments we both collapsed, breathing heavily, onto a picnic bench. Eva threw her arms around me, her sweet, childish voice rising over the wind. “I love you, Mommy!”

  I opened my mouth to say it, but it felt like a betrayal. It was too soon. I couldn’t force the words past my charley-horsed throat.

  Instead I squeezed her hand three times: I. Love. You.

  * * *

  The winter sun was dwindling as we trudged toward home, leaving everything a smudged shade of dirty gray. Giant flakes of snow had started to fall. After spending the morning at the lake, we’d walked to the grocery store to stock up on food. A car horn sounded, and Mike leaned his head out of a rusted Ford Escort.

  “Hey, Kat! Get in, I’ll give you a ride home.”

  I hesitated, but I was more practical than paranoid. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. I was just on my way home from work. Glad I saw you.”

  I carefully set the bags of groceries in the backseat, then got in front and maneuvered Eva awkwardly onto my lap and pulled the seat belt over us. She slumped against my shoulder, her eyelids drooping.

  Mike glanced at her as he pulled into traffic. “Looks like she’s all tuckered out.”

  “Yes. Finally.” I forced a polite laugh, wiping my glasses on the inside of my sleeve. “Are you just now returning home from work?”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s a terribly long day, isn’t it?”

  He shrugged and chuckled. “I’m a car parts salesman after a promotion. I work all the hours they want me to.”

  Mike nosed the car into a parking space in front of the apartment complex. I lifted Eva onto my shoulder, and Mike opened the front door, following behind as we climbed the stairs.

  “Thank you for the lift,” I said.

  “Anytime. Bye.”

  He waved and headed into his apartment, then paused.

  “I’m single,” he said, turning to me. He ran a hand over thinning brown hair, his skin reddening under my gaze. “In case you were wondering. I mean … what I mean is … I’d love to take you to dinner. Sometime.”

  “I have Eva,” I said stupidly.

  “Okay. Well.” He raised a hand. “Night.”

  I jostled Eva on my hip, flustered, trying to get my keys out of my pocket.

  “Evening, Kat! Need any help?” Nancy Mitchell, our next-door neighbor, called. She was peering out her front door, her cotton-ball hair a poof around her face.

  “No, thank you, Mrs. Mitchell.” I turned the key, hustling inside before she could say anything else. I deposited Eva in the darkened bedroom we shared and flexed my bloodless fingers. A muscle twinged in my lower back.

  I turned the heater up, relieved when I heard the telltale clunk. The apartment was dingy and old, the carpet stained, the curtains the dull yellow of old pee. But it was the best I could afford on our limited funds. I had withdrawn some money from the account Rose set up before we left London, but it didn’t feel right spending money Rose had given her life for. I endeavored to keep it for Eva for university when she was older.

  In the kitchen I got a glass of water from the tap and drank it thirstily.

  That’s when I saw it. My passport was on the kitchen counter. Open.

  Ice trickled down my spine.

  I had not left it there.

  I looked around. The curtain in front of the balcony swayed, a cold draft swirling around my ankles. The door was open just a fraction. I slid a knife from the block next to the refrigerator and held it behind me, moving slowly toward the balcony.

  I felt it then, like an electrical charge in the air. Someone was behind me.

  I turned as a shadow fell into my peripheral vision. But I wasn’t quick enough. Something hit me from behind, the force throwing me to my knees. The knife clattered to the floor, skittering across the carpet and disappearing under the couch.

  I lashed out with my leg as I scrambled away on all fours, catching the man in the shin.

  “Oomph …” He made a muffled sound but kept coming.

  He grabbed my hair. I felt the roots rip from my skull, pain radiating throughout my entire head. My eyes filled instantly with tears. I twisted away and scrambled to my feet, trying to run, to move, to just not die, but he was on me again.

  I opened my mouth to scream. Too late. The weight of his body drove me backward so my head cracked into the wall. Stunned, I went limp in his arms, every wisp of breath gone from my body. He cradled my face in his massive palm almost tenderly, and smashed my head against the wall.

  Once. Twice. Three times.

  Stars exploded in f
ront of my eyes. I gagged and slid to the floor next to the couch, boneless, landing on my back, arms splayed. He straddled me, his thick fingers wrapped around my throat. I was floating, I was flying, I was—

  “Mummy?”

  It was Eva’s voice.

  The man’s grip loosened, his eyes widening in surprise. He clearly hadn’t known a child was here. In my peripheral vision, the knife glinted under the couch. As he hesitated, I reached for it, felt the smooth, cold weight of it in my hand, and pressed just the tip of it against his belly.

  “I have money,” I gasped. “I can pay you to leave us alone. Or I can stab you right now.”

  The man froze. His gaze darted between me and the blade, then over his shoulder at Eva, then back to me again.

  Slowly he got off me and we both stood. Eva ran to me, throwing her small body against my legs. I almost fell then, the crushing pain in my head simultaneously overwhelming and unbalancing. I worried, momentarily, that I might actually be sick.

  I dropped my hand onto the back of her neck to ground me, to hold me up, and looked at the man. He was very young, early twenties at a guess, with longish, oily dark hair and broad shoulders, a strawberry-shaped birthmark on his left temple.

  I forced a smile onto my numb lips.

  “Eva. Darling. We were just … looking for this cooking knife.” I held up the knife in my hand, knowing it was a stupid excuse, the flimsiest lie possible. “This is …” I turned to the man, making sure the knife was within striking distance at all times. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Colin,” he said, a lazy grin creasing his mouth. “Colin Wilson. Pleased to make your acquaintance, little lass. Your mum here was just about to pay me rent, and then I’ll be off.”

  He had a British accent.

  I closed my eyes for a brief second. Bollocks. I felt like such a fool. I’d rather thought I had gotten away with it. And there I’d just gone and used Eva’s name.

  “I need your account details,” I said. “There’s a pad of paper on the kitchen counter.”

  He walked slowly, almost languorously, to the kitchen, his gaze on Eva. He wasn’t afraid of me in the least. If he wanted to, he could kill us, he was far stronger than I. But the offer of money was too much for him to refuse.

  I swayed on my feet like I was drunk, and put a hand against the wall to steady myself. Sweat dripped down my back as I analyzed my options. I could scream, but then my neighbors would come and they would want to know why he was here. I could kill him, stab him in the throat when he was distracted, perhaps while he was writing down his bank account number. But I did not want to kill a man in front of Eva. And how would I eliminate the body? I was strong, but small. I could not do it on my own.

  “I shall phone my bank and transfer it as soon as you leave. I’ll pay you double what your other … tenant paid you. Write it down.”

  He did as he was told, the pen scratching across the paper.

  “Don’t forget to pay that rent,” he said, his eyes dark and malicious on mine. “I know where you live if you don’t.”

  I glared at him. “It will be there tomorrow.”

  He strolled to the door, throwing a nonchalant wink at Eva. Eva turned her face into my stomach. A second later his footsteps thumped down the corridor, followed by the ricochet of the downstairs door slamming shut.

  Weak with relief, I threw the dead bolt shut and collapsed shaking onto the couch.

  We were safe. For now.

  twenty-five

  eva

  I ROLLED THE NAME AROUND in my mouth, trying it on for size.

  Laura.

  Laura Ashford.

  A nurse came into the hospital room and took David’s blood pressure. Nobody spoke. I stared outside where hard drops of rain clattered against the window, coloring the room in shadows. I felt detached and disconnected. As if getting struck by lightning had split me from myself: Eva on one side and Laura on the other.

  After a moment, the nurse bustled out.

  “How did you find me?” David asked. His accent was cultured, upper-class. Straight out of Downton Abbey.

  “Dad, this is mental!” Charlotte protested, her face red and blotchy. “You’ve just had a round of chemo. Would you just lie down?”

  “Darling, this is Laura.” He turned to me. “I mean, Eva. I believe you’re called Eva now?”

  I nodded mutely. Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest and pressed her back against the wall, scowling.

  “How do you know I’m Laura?” I asked David. Like a contrary child, I wanted desperately to deny what he was saying.

  “You look very like my sister did at your age. But you want proof, yes?” He thought for a second. “You have a scar on your right shoulder. You fell out of your pram when you were a year old.”

  I tugged the collar of my T-shirt down to expose the silver half-moon scar I’d had on my shoulder my whole life.

  “It’s you,” he breathed.

  He held a veined, liver-spotted hand out to me. I stared at it, unable to move, to step over the threshold into that new world. Everything in me was screaming to run, get away, but I wanted to know the truth.

  I looked up, catching the stunned disbelief on Charlotte’s face, the relief on David’s. Emotion overwhelmed me. My eyes filled with hot tears. The sterile hospital room blurred in front of me, a mirage of movement and light as another piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

  “So the prodigal daughter returns,” Charlotte said bitterly. She shook her head, her unwashed strawberry-blond hair swinging limply around her face. “Where were you months ago when he first got sick? Why are you here now?”

  “I didn’t know about … any of this.” I turned to David. “I swear.”

  He nodded. “I know. Katherine insisted it was better that way.”

  “Why would she do that? And how did you know my name is Eva now?”

  “Katherine wrote me when you were twelve. She told me what happened. We’ve kept in touch ever since.”

  “You knew I was alive?” I whispered, horrified. Shouldn’t he have looked for me? Shouldn’t he have taken me back? “You abandoned me.”

  David flinched as if I’d physically hit him. “Certainly not! But I understand why you feel that way, and I’m ever so sorry. I wanted to keep you safe, but please understand, I argued with her about it. I wanted you home with me. Those first months after I thought you and your mother had died were excruciating. But Kat told me this was the only way to keep you safe. That’s all I ever wanted.”

  The muffled cry of a baby came from the corner of the room. Charlotte rushed to the stroller there and scooped her daughter out.

  “Ma-ma,” the girl said, rubbing tiny fists into tired eyes.

  “Yes, my love.” Charlotte kissed her chubby neck, clutching her to her chest like a shield.

  “Rose. Is she really dead?” I asked David.

  “Yes. I’ll never forgive myself for it. She jumped into the river while I was away for work. I didn’t realize she was missing until I returned.”

  “Did they find her body?”

  For a moment David looked like he’d be sick. “In central London the width of the river, the strength of the current make underwater searches nearly impossible. It was weeks before we found her, and when we did she was … unrecognizable.”

  He rubbed a thin hand over his eyes. “I always wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t gone away at such a difficult time, if I’d put her first.”

  “But she didn’t jump with me. Where was I?”

  “With Katherine. Rose asked her to take you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Katherine’s husband, Sebastian, had put a hit on Rose. He blamed her for Eva’s death. Katherine told me most of the cops were in Sebastian’s pocket. She said you would never be safe in London.”

  Questions twisted through me, followed by anger. The anger that had been tucked up in little black corners inside me was now escaping. I felt like I had a drago
n inside of me that was slowly waking, the fire of its breath burning my insides. So many lies. It seemed that was what my life had been built on.

  I shook my head. “Suicide seems pretty extreme.”

  David smiled sadly, his eyes pinched and tired. “I agree. Rose was always rather impulsive. She was fun and passionate and magnetic, but she rarely thought about the consequences of her actions. Perhaps she simply caved in to the guilt. She was tormented after Eva died. And given her medical history, it didn’t seem such a surprise.”

  “What medical history?”

  “She’d been medicated before. After you were born. I believe now they call it postnatal depression. There were no services for that sort of thing back then, you just got on with it. Keep calm and carry on, you know. I thought it would pass, and it mostly did. But she was terribly unhappy sometimes. She struggled with being home all day with a small child. It’s why I suggested hiring a nanny.”

  David leaned against the bed. The pain of speaking about the past was visible on his face.

  Charlotte sighed loudly, exasperated. She shifted her baby to her hip and went to David, tugging him toward the bed. “Dad, please get in bed! You’re about to fall over.”

  David nodded. He slipped his feet under the sheet, his back propped against the upraised bed. He stared into empty space for a long minute, his breathing shallow and fast. The sharp angles of his ribs tented the sheet.

  “Rose must’ve thought that faking your death would throw Sebastian off your track,” he finally said. “What I never understood is why she sent you with Kat instead of me. Some days, I hate her for that. I never got over losing you both.”

  Charlotte looked like she’d been slapped, her cheeks hollowing as she inhaled sharply. She whirled and strapped the baby into her stroller.

  “I’ll be back later, Dad,” she said, refusing to meet his eyes. A few seconds later, I heard the elevator ding as she got on.