by Greta Boris
“What was Abby doing by the railroad tracks by herself?”
Doug shrugged.
A jolt of adrenaline flooded through me when I thought about the vulnerability of that little girl near the fast moving trains. My anxiety shifted to my daughter. “Where’s Lily?”
“Your sister came to get her. She took the girls to a movie.”
That’s right. I’d forgotten. Lily had spent so much time at Clarice’s since Doug’s accident, she and Clarice’s girls had become more like sisters than cousins.
A sudden desire to go to Molly came over me. I stood and moved toward the door. We had been friends, close friends. Like sisters. Molly might need me.
“Where are you going?” Doug asked.
“To see Molly. To see if there’s anything I can do.”
“She won’t want you.”
I didn’t bother answering. As I drew close to the Travers back door, I could hear the voices of the police, low and quick. Molly’s replies sounded strangled. I hesitated. Maybe Doug was right. Maybe she wouldn’t want me.
The door burst open. Molly stumbled out holding Abby by one hand. A uniformed officer walked next to her, an arm around her shoulders. She looked as if she’d fall without the support.
Our eyes met. “What can I do,” I said. Molly shook her head. “Can I watch Abby?”
Molly’s eyes grew large. “You want to do something for me?” Her voice was little more than a hiss. “Keep your husband away from my family.”
I stepped back like I’d been slapped. Molly reached down, lifted Abby onto one hip and followed the police officer into the waiting squad car. I stared at the driveway long after the vehicle disappeared.
When I reached my front yard, Doug was leaning into the car. He’d switched off the engine. “You left the car running. That’s a waste of gas.”
A waste of gas? His words were meaningless.
“Don’t you have groceries? We’d better get them inside before they spoil.” He popped the trunk and lifted out several bags. “Can you manage the rest?”
I nodded. I carried in the remaining bags and placed them on the kitchen counter. I put the things into the fridge and the cupboards on autopilot, my mind full of questions. What had happened to Scottie? Molly implied Doug was involved in whatever it was. It couldn’t be true. Could it? If you’d have asked me that before the accident I’d have laughed. Doug was one of the most gentle men on the planet.
Then.
But, now, I didn’t know. I didn’t know my husband anymore.
Doug entered the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “What’s for lunch?”
I had to lean on the counter for support. “How can you be so unfeeling?” The words came from someplace deep in my gut. “Paul and Molly’s child has had a terrible accident. He’s injured, or dead for all we know, and you want lunch?”
Doug’s face registered confusion. “I’m hungry.”
“I can’t do this anymore.” I spun around. “I can’t go on pretending that everything is fine, that you’re fine. What did you do to Scottie?”
A spasm flickered across his features. “What did I do to Scottie? I didn’t do anything to Scottie. Scottie fell off his bike.”
“That’s not what Molly thinks.”
“What does Molly think?”
“She thinks you hurt her child.” I lowered her voice. “Like you hurt her dog.”
Doug strode toward the doorway, thought better of it and pivoted. His voice was tight with rage. “A child isn’t the same thing as a dog. What kind of monster do you think I am?”
“I don’t know.” I heard the hysterical edge in my voice, but now that the words were flowing, I couldn’t stop them. “My husband wouldn’t treat his wife like a prostitute. He wouldn’t beat his son with a belt. He wouldn’t poison a poor little dog. All those things are monstrous. A man who does them might hurt a boy.”
Doug took two swift steps toward me. His hand struck my face so fast and so hard, I staggered backward. His features contorted. He was a stranger—a red, squint-eyed, gape-mouthed stranger. His arm came up again. I raised my own for protection and cowered against the counter.
“Dad. No.” A small brown head bobbed behind Doug. Thin arms wrapped around his waist. Doug wrenched away, and the blow meant for me landed on my son. Tomas slammed against a wall of cupboards and slid to the floor, cradling his head in his hands.
I darted between them, no longer afraid of Doug. “Don’t come near him.” I’d promised myself last Sunday when Doug had beaten Tomas, he would never touch a child of mine in anger again. It had only been three days, and I’d already failed.
“He’s disrespectful. He needs discipline.”
“Did Scottie need discipline?”
“Shut up.” Doug left the kitchen. A moment later, I heard the front door slam.
I squatted next to Tomas and pulled him into my arms. He resisted for a moment, but relaxed and then allowed me to rock him. I held him that way until the sun’s rays, now slanting through the windows diagonally, turned from white to gold.
Tomas lifted his head and wiped his cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt. I hadn’t realized he’d been crying. “I hate him.”
“Don’t say that,” I said. “He’s your father.” Tomas didn’t speak. “Why did you and Scottie fight at church?” I broke the silence. Tomas shrugged. “Did Scottie accuse your dad of poisoning Pepe?”
He shrugged again. I slumped against the cupboards. Tomas had fought his best friend to defend his father’s honor, and his father had punished him for it.
“Mama.” Lily’s voice rang from the entryway.
I forced a cheerful note into mine. “In here.”
“Auntie Clarice bought me a purse.”
I took Tomas’s face in my hands. “Don’t tell your sister. She doesn’t need to know any of this.” Then I put on my brightest smile, and Tomas and I rose from the tile floor. “Bring it into the kitchen, corazon. I can’t wait to see it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
THE COPY IN the obituary wasn’t as clear as the copy in the other two articles. The newsprint was smudged in some places, and the picture of the smiling boy at the top of the page was almost sepia in color.
The boy’s name was Scott Travers. He was survived by his parents and a sister. The paper didn’t mention how he’d died, only that his death was sudden.
There were several significant differences between this story and the other two Olivia had read. It seemed his parents were still married. He wasn’t being raised by a single mother. And nothing was said that gave her any indication he had an emotional or mental disability. Of course, this was only a short obituary, not a newspaper story like the others had been.
She stared at it without understanding, a hollow, aching place opening in her chest. Proctor was gone. She’d thought the nightmare was over. She was about to throw the paper into her tote, when the family’s home town caught her eye—San Juan Capistrano.
Another town Tom had lived in. Someone wanted her to connect the children’s deaths with him, that was for certain. A deep sadness flowed over her. It had to be Davy. Fiona was right. He was the only one who had a reason to want her and Tom to break up.
She walked to the living room window and gazed with unseeing eyes out to the street for several moments, then returned to the article on the counter. She read it again as if it might yield a secret she’d missed the first five times she’d read it. But, no. Scott Travers was beloved by his surviving family, Molly and Paul Travers and his younger sister Abigail Travers. The closed casket memorial service was held at the San Juan Capistrano Mission Church on August 9th, 1992.
The date. 1992. Tom was... what? She did the math in her head—twelve, thirteen? He couldn’t have anything to do with this. He was only a child at the time, only a few years older than Brian.
Davy hadn’t done his research very well. This was sloppy, desperate. Tom had no connection to the school in Phoenix, and now Davy was trying to create suspi
cion over something that happened when Tom was only a kid.
She picked up the obituary, tore it in half and threw it into the trash. This was it. She wasn’t going to play this game anymore. She had to confront Davy, let him know his plan wasn’t going to work. Confrontation seemed to be an everyday occurrence these days.
She yanked her tote bag off the chair and onto the table, and began riffling through it to find the other two articles. They were going in the trash too, where they belonged. Before they came to hand, the doorbell rang.
It was Davy. “You’re early,” she said.
“I know. I—”
“Dad.” Brian slid into the room and launched himself at his father. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
“You couldn’t have done all your homework that quickly,” Olivia said. They’d only been home for about fifteen minutes.
“I’m almost done. I’ll get up at six and finish in the morning.”
Olivia opened her mouth to protest, but Davy said, “Hey, champ, I got here early so I could talk to your mom. Go finish up. We’re not leaving yet.”
Brian screwed up his mouth like he’d bit an especially sour lemon, then relaxed it into a smile. “All right. But don’t talk too long. I’m almost done.” He marched to his room.
“What’s up?” Olivia’s voice was as heavy as her heart.
“You’re in a good mood,” Davy said. “How about some coffee?”
Olivia spun on her heel and walked into the kitchen. Davy sat at the counter in his usual spot.
“I have to talk to you about the tutoring.” His tone was calm and even. It was the tone he always used when he had to bring up a sensitive subject. Her jaw clenched.
She kept her back to him. “What about the tutoring?”
“It’s nice of your friend, John—”
“Tom.”
“Right, Tom, to offer to tutor Brian in math, but I don’t think it’s a good fit.”
“Not a good fit?”
“Right. I don’t think Brian’s comfortable with him.”
“Not comfortable with him.”
“Why are you repeating everything I say? I’m trying to have an adult conversation with you about our son. I feel like I’m in junior high.” The humor in his voice sent waves of anxiety through her. Why was he doing this? Didn’t he understand the careful balance of power between them? Did he want to force her into battle?
Olivia flipped around and braced herself on the counter. “How do you know Tom is tutoring Brian?”
“Brian told me, over the weekend.”
“What did he say?”
“He said your friend was going to tutor him two days a week after school starting today. He also said the man makes him feel stupid. Brian doesn’t like the guy, Olivia.” Davy’s face wore the sincere expression she’d come to associate with manipulation.
“And you have nothing to do with his attitude.”
“Of course not.” He sat up straighter. “Listen, I may not be happy about you and Ron—”
“Tom.”
“Tom. I won’t pretend I am, but I wouldn’t try to influence Brian. I appreciate the guy is trying to do a nice thing for our son, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. That’s all I’m saying.”
Olivia folded her arms across her chest and looked at the white linoleum floor. Her next words had to be uttered with extreme caution. She modulated her voice, kept it light, like what she was saying held little importance. “I know Tom didn’t have anything to do with those accidents.”
Silence dropped like a stone into her small kitchen.
The wall clock ticked nine times.
Davy said, “What are you talking about?”
Olivia looked up. His face was a mask of confusion.
“I know you’ve been following me. I recognized your car. I know it’s you who’s been leaving the newspaper clippings. I had a hard time believing you’d sneak into a women’s bathroom after me to graffiti that message, but I guess I have to. I understand why you’ve done what you’ve done, but it’s time to stop now.” Her speech was absorbed into the unnatural quiet between them.
Seven ticks of the clock, then Davy said, “Someone has been following you and leaving messages?”
“It won’t fly. The innocent act won’t fly.”
Davy looked down, then up again. “I swear to you, Olivia, whatever is going on, it isn’t me.”
A tiny pebble of doubt entered her mind, but she tossed it out. They had to resolve this for Brian’s sake. “I’m sorry you feel threatened by Tom, but you had to know someone would come into my life sooner or later.”
“Please.” Davy held his palms up in supplication.
“We have to be honest with each other if this co-parenting thing is going to work. Believe me when I tell you I don’t want to take Brian away from you, replace you with another man. Your son loves you and needs you. You’ve been doing a great job with him. You can stop this... this...” She didn’t know what to call it.
“I am being honest with you. I know in the past I’ve—”
“Done.” Brian skated into the room, shoes in hand, jacket on. “Let’s go, Dad.” He looked from parent to parent, the brightness on his face fading. “What’s wrong, Mom?” Olivia couldn’t answer. Emotion choked off her words.
“Nothing, buddy,” Davy said. “Let’s go.” He rose from the counter and ushered Brian in front of him toward the front door. When Brian stepped outside, he turned. “I’ll talk to you when I bring him home. I’m worried about you, Olivia.” He left before she could respond.
***
An hour and a half after Davy and Brian left, the phone rang. Olivia leaped at it, hoping it might be Davy, ready to talk, but knowing it wouldn’t be. It wasn’t. It was Tom. “The math part was fine, but I don’t think tutoring is going to help with the friendship thing,” he said after they’d said hello.
“Give it time. You’ve only had one session.” Olivia made her tone comforting, but she wasn’t paying attention to her words. Confronting Davy had left her agitated and unfocused. She paced from the kitchen, through the dining area, circled the living room, through the dining area, and into the kitchen, reverse, and repeat. She was on her fifth lap.
“By the way, I hope you don’t mind me giving Brian a soda today. I know you’re trying to keep him away from sugar, but I thought it might make staying after school less painful. A spoon full of sugar and all.”
When she saw the soda, it had annoyed her, but it no longer seemed important. “It’s okay.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I wonder if the medications he’s on are doing the job.”
Olivia stopped walking and stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“He has this way of going blank on me. Have you seen it? His face. It goes slack, like he’s not taking anything in.”
“He doesn’t do that at home.” She heard the defensiveness in her voice and tried to soften it. “I did see it through the window of your classroom today though. It worried me.”
“Did you call the doctor?”
“No.” She felt herself bristle again. “I just saw it this afternoon for the first time. I thought I’d talk to Mrs. Margolis, my mom and... and Davy first. See if anyone else has noticed it.”
“Or, if it’s just me.”
“No. That’s not what I said.” She didn’t have the emotional reserves to spar with Tom tonight. “It could be it’s math. He’s never liked it and maybe thinking so analytically bothers him. The brain is complicated. He recited almost every word from the movie trailer for Wolf Rider today, but he can’t remember what he ate for lunch.”
Tom didn’t say anything for a moment, and she could hear the rustling of paper in the background. “Okay, so I have an idea,” he said.
“I’m listening.”
“Calavia is opening in Irvine tomorrow. I want to take him.”
“Is that the horse show with the acrobats?”
“Yeah, it’s supposed to be amazing. I know how much
he likes animals.”
“I saw a TV commercial for it. I’d love to go. I’m sure—”
“No. I didn’t mean with you. Don’t be hurt, but I want to do something with him. Alone. Something fun that has nothing to do with soccer, or school, or math.”
“That’s so sweet of you.” Olivia didn’t know what to say. She appreciated the gesture, but she didn’t think either Davy or Brian would like the idea.
Tom must have heard the hesitation in her voice. “What’s wrong? Is it Davy’s weekend?”
“Yes, but he’s not taking Brian until Saturday morning.”
“Then?”
“No, it’s a great idea. I’m sure Brian would love it.” She wanted Tom and Brian to bond, and she had to show Davy she wasn’t going to be manipulated by his ridiculous behavior.
“Then it’s settled. I’ll pick him up in the late afternoon, and we’ll get dinner after.”
“I’ll let him know.” Olivia tried to match Tom’s excitement.
“On the medicine note, I’ll talk to Mom. Maybe she can mix up something a little stronger for him.”
“That’d be great,” Olivia said absentmindedly. Her thoughts had returned to the conversation she was going to have with Davy when he brought Brian home. She resumed pacing.
***
It was the small things Davy did that bothered Olivia the most. He threw himself on the green couch like he was throwing down a gauntlet. She had to sit in an armchair she never sat in. He knew she always sat on the couch.
She took three deep breaths through her nose and focused on the sweet scent of the essential oils she’d filled her diffuser with. Lavender, rose, and bergamot wrapped their calming fragrances around her head. She rallied. “Is he asleep?”
“Yeah. I turned off the light,” Davy said.
They’d waited until Brian was asleep to talk. Olivia didn’t want him overhearing their conversation. As insane as this campaign Davy had been waging was, she knew it was motivated by love and insecurity. She’d thought about it a lot while the boys were at the movies. She would forgive Davy, take the high road. She wouldn’t tell anyone. If he’d only come clean.