Chapter Fourteen

Jake’s night had been torturous, and he awoke feeling as if he’d been the one on a binge. He’d managed to get his father home with the help of Mike Mulligan, dragged him down the hall and left him to sleep off his bender. Now, fearing he would never be able to tell the truth about Robbie, the slain Alamo and his own questionable involvements, he made his way wearily down the hall to face his dad.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” he asked his father as he placed a cup of coffee on the bedside table at seven a.m.

Getting up on one elbow, his father stared at him, bloodshot eyes straining at Jake as his dry mouth opened and shut before he could speak. “Why didn’t you tell me, Jake? Why didn’t you tell me ’bout Robbie? And you now…why?”

Jake collapsed onto a chair in a corner facing the bed and grabbed a swallow of his own coffee. A finger of chill ran down his spine despite the hot liquid; numbness paralyzed him. It was out. Out at last. “So, she told you. All right, but tell me first what happened with Carrie. Was Mom here?”

His dad shuffled like a cripple into a sitting position and grated the stubble on his face. “Yeah, Leigh Anne was here. She told Carrie we weren’t divorced and she might want to come back—”

“Would Carrie believe that, that Mom might come back, or that you’d take her back?”

“Carrie thought we were already divorced.” His father reached across for his cup, but his hand was shaking and he dragged it back. “Damn it,” he said. “I said such terrible things to that poor woman, such terrible things.”

He ignored the last remark. “Carrie thought you were already divorced? All this time she thought you were divorced?”

Jake’s tone held his disbelief as his dad slowly nodded in confirmation.

“I told her the first night we met I was divorced—it was just a passing remark to someone I hardly knew. I just never got round to correcting it. What difference could it make? We hadn’t discussed marriage, so it didn’t seem important. It was a matter of time. I’d told her I loved her, Jake. She knew there was no way I was going back to Leigh Anne or was gonna let Leigh Anne come back. I’m sorry to say that to you, ’bout your mama, but there just wasn’t.” He threw his legs over the side and moaned into a full sitting position before reaching again for the coffee, taking it in both hands with a shudder and getting it to his mouth. When he’d managed to put it down, he drove himself to stand and stumbled around the bed to the bathroom.

Jake waited for the flush before he called out, “You know, I really liked Carrie. I just never understood what you two had in common, how that all worked out.”

His father came back out and stood a second, regaining his balance before making his way back to his cup of coffee. “She’s not who you think she is, Jake. She doesn’t want anything, Carrie. She has all this money and success and it really means nothing to her. I think all she ever wanted was to be loved. I think that was the shock of her husband leaving her. All she wanted was someone to love her for herself. And then she had all this success and everyone just wanted to know Carrie Bennett, the author. Except me. I just wanted Carrie Bennett. And she was so damn easy, you know. She wanted nothing—”

“She wanted nothing because she already had it, Dad.”

“No. She really didn’t want anything. Oh, she loved her house and she loved some things she had, I guess, but she was so easy. Little things pleased her. Not like your mama. Nothing was ever good enough for Leigh Anne. Nothing I ever did, no matter how hard I tried, could ever please that woman. But Carrie...it was the difference between night and day.” He grimaced again. “Why was that white lie so important? It was only a matter of time.”

“So, why don’t you go after her?”

His father shook his head as a flash of pain creased his face. “I did go after her—I followed her to the airport hotel where she was staying. That’s when she told me ’bout you and Robbie. And—oh, Lord. I said such awful things, Jake. We both did. I think we need to give it time to heal. Such terrible things were said. And I need to clear things up here. With you. We need to get this out now, Jake. Once and for all. What you’ve been carrying around with you like...like some poison eating you up, slowly running through your system. You think I didn’t notice? I don’t know what I ever did to you to make me seem so unapproachable, but I’m sorry as hell for it.”

Jake sat staring into the pool of his coffee cup for several moments. “I don’t know either, Dad. Really I don’t. It wasn’t ever anything you did, that’s for sure. I just didn’t want to disappoint you, I guess. And I didn’t want you to think you had failed us somehow, that Robbie doing what he did somehow reflected on you. It didn’t. I just didn’t want you drinking again either.” He listened to his father’s snort at this. “Can you promise me this is the end, now? You want Carrie back, but you can be sure as hell she won’t walk on back through that door if she has an inkling you’re drinking. You stopped once. You can do it again.”

His dad lifted his coffee to his lips and peered at Jake before he stared into the cup as if it could tell his future. “It’s a deal. I’ll go back to AA,” he said as he took a sip and put it back down. “Now, tell me the whole damn story.”

****

Carrie threw the suitcase on the bed and collapsed beside it. For the entire flight and taxi ride to her apartment, she had sat, zombie-like, an empty shell, a tree stripped of its leaves. There was such a vacancy, such hollowness, a vacuum inside, it was impossible to think. Talk, at check-in, with the flight attendant, with the taxi driver, and the doormen at her building, who cheerily greeted her, had been so sparse and monosyllabic, they probably thought her unconscionably rude. She went through the journey on automatic pilot, more than bereft, more than empty. She had aged one hundred years in less than a day. In short, she might as well have been dead.

If loneliness were the problem, she could call any one of several friends, starting with Diana Shawcross, and they would come running to her side within the hour. But she didn’t wish to see anyone, didn’t want to talk. Her feeling of betrayal, of abandonment, was so complete, all she now wanted was sleep. Sleep, and to hide herself away, hibernate for a very long time, because that would stop her brain going, would stop her rewinding the scene in the hotel room.

Had she and Ray really said such horrible things to each other? Ray, who was always so laidback and even-tempered, who always saw the funny side of a situation, who had been so affectionate and caring, had shouted at her, had criticized her and, worst of all, had lied.

And she had hurt him in return, and for what? Why? Had one white lie been so truly terrible? Was there really such a huge difference between the Ryders being separated, on the verge of divorce while obviously living apart, to being actually divorced?

“I don’t think that was it,” later ventured Paige, who patiently listened to the whole sorry tale while Carrie sobbed to her over the phone. “I don’t think that was it at all.”

“Then what was it?”

“It was because you felt you belonged there, Ray was yours, life there was yours, and suddenly that stupid woman came along and told you otherwise, so you felt threatened. And I guess you then blamed Ray for having put you in that position, for having not protected you.”

She could hear some music in the background and Paige speaking to someone else in a lower voice.

“What are you doing?” Her tone was suddenly alert.

“I’m learning how to make Welsh Rarebit. Or maybe it’s Welsh Rabbit. I’m not sure.” There was a load of giggles to follow.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were having guests or whatever.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Mother. Deirdre and I are just grabbing a quick dinner before heading back to the books. It’s only cheese sauce on toast really.”

“I know what Welsh Rarebit is, Paige.”

It suddenly struck Carrie she was alone on this one, no one had the answer, the answer had to come from her or Ray.

“Look, I better let you get on. I’m sorry. I think I might go out to the beach tomorrow.”

“You’ll be cold and miserable. And there’s no one there.” There was a second’s silence. “I know you like it there out of season, but I really think it’s better for you to be in the city with friends at the moment.”

“I don’t want to see friends, Paige. I’m going to have to make some revisions on the book soon. They’re trying to rush this one through. I might as well be out there in the peace and quiet.”

“Have it your way,” her daughter said with some resignation, if not disinterest. “But remember, you’re going someplace where Ray has been. He’ll haunt you.”

“He’ll haunt me wherever I go. He’s in my head.”

“Well, I really feel you ought to phone Ray and talk to him. Try to sort things out. You love the man, and he loves you. This is just…really stupid.”

“No, Paige. No, it isn’t. It’s sad is what it is. Sad it’s happened, and sad it can’t be fixed. You can’t take back a lie, and you can’t take back all those horrible things we said. It’s not as if they are floating around and can somehow be swallowed again, and the memories aren’t going to go away. It’s over.”

****

When Jake had finished telling his father about Robbie, Lucinda, Ty and himself, just the way he had told Carrie a couple of weeks before, his dad said the same thing she had said, came to the same conclusion to go to the sheriff.

“Well, this puts me in one helluva position, Jake.” Dex played with a pencil while listening to his story, tapping the eraser on some papers every so often and then doing baton twirls around his fingers. He tapped it down several times now, eyeing Jake with a thoughtful squint across the expanse of the cheap metal desk in his office. The caterpillars above his eyes danced as he peered at him. “See, it’s like this now. You’ve admitted to a crime. You speculate Ty Sheldon has killed your dog in retribution for not continuing to commit this crime—a felony—but, as you know, we have no proof of this, nor do I have proof Ty has them drugs or is dealing them. See what I mean? All I know for sure from this conversation is what you’ve admitted to doing yourself.”

“You know damn well, Dex, Ty has dealt drugs,” interrupted his dad. He shifted uncomfortably on his folding chair from the corner.

With the odor of stale coffee and musty air, his father’s gut would be churning, but then, so was Jake’s—but for different reasons.

“He’s been charged before and he’s out on parole now,” his father continued.

“I know,” countered Dex. “But we have no proof he’s done it again. See, it’s Jake’s word here against Ty’s, if I ignore the fact of his confession. It’s just Jake saying he thinks Ty has drugs. What good is that? I can get a search warrant, but you know sure as hell, Ray, there ain’t gonna be no drugs in his place. He’s too damn smart for that. And now, if Jake here is confessing to bringing in drugs across the border, he’s gonna be in a mess of trouble, so what do you want me to do? What the hell am I supposed to do with this bit of news?”

The silence was punctuated by the drone of a fly. Dex got to his feet, grabbed a spiral-bound notebook from his desk, and took a wild swat at the insect, leaving a bloody mark on the institutional green wall.

“Anyway,” he went on as he lowered himself back into his rickety desk chair, “I’m not even sure I can get a search warrant. ‘On what grounds’ is what the judge would ask me. So, all I could do is tell him on the basis of Jake’s confession. I cain’t lie. Is that what you want? We’re opening a whole dang can of worms here.” He tapped his pencil several times, eyeing Jake once more. “You should of brought a lawyer with you, Ray, you know that.”

“I been dealing with enough dang lawyers over the past few months. We don’t need another one.”

Dex turned back to Jake. “How much marijuana did you say you brought in?”

He shrugged. “’Bout a five pound loaf I’d think. I fit it in my satchel, so it couldn’t have been much.”

“Well.” The sheriff grunted and leaned forward a bit. “It could mean two years in jail and a ten thousand dollar fine. So, that ‘not much’ could cost you some. It’s a felony, Jake.” The chair creaked as he sat back again. “’Course, the fact you came on in here to admit it of your own free will when you could’ve gone and got away with it, and the fact you’re a Vet and served your country would weigh pretty heavy in your favor, I’d say. But I can’t swear to that. Nothing is certain. Depends on what judge you get and what mood he—or she—is in that day. Man wakes up and has an argument with his wife, it sorta puts a whole different shine on the day. You see what I mean? You committed a felony and that, as they say, is that.” His gaze danced from one to the other. “So, what do y’all want to do?”

Jake considered his father who sat forward, his chin resting in his hands, his elbows balancing on his thighs. He exchanged a questioning look with him.

“Jake said before we came here he was willing to pay his debt. My thinking is he’s paid enough.”

“And, as I said, I think the judge will think that as well. But I can’t make the guarantee. I can give him a character reference, of course—”

“Can I say something? Seein’ as how this is me y’all are discussin’?” Jake breathed hard as he took in the two of them. “I remember that kid, the one who died in the car crash while he was high on drugs. I remember how Robbie felt after hearing that. I don’t want to feel that way. I want to get Ty and get him once and for all. And if the only way the judge or the court or whoever is going to listen to me is by me confessing now, then that’s what I’m gonna do.” He raised his gaze to Dex. “You want to take down my confession?”

“You sure you don’t want to call a lawyer here now? Maybe let’s reconvene in a day or two when you’ve had some time to think this over?”

There was the squeal of a chair as Jake’s father sat up and held his head for a moment. He reached in his back pocket for his cell phone. “Guess I’ll call my guy, Jake. There’s sure as hell bound to be someone in that damn firm who handles this kind of mess.”

****

The streets of Philadelphia shone in the evening dusk, aureoles of white on the pavement from streetlights overhead, scattered leaves and chestnuts covering the walk. Students were bundled against the cold, their woolen scarves flapping out behind them or wound round their necks for protection. Paige wrapped her coat close and fell into step beside Deirdre whose stride was so much longer and quicker than her own.

“Hang on. I want to stop at Wawa and pick up a donut or something. I’m starved.”

“You’re always starved, Paige,” commented Deirdre, following her into the brightness of the shop. “For such a little gal, I wonder where you put it all.”

The girls snaked through the aisles to the pastry section. Paige picked up the tongs and lifted the lid of the donut container. She grabbed a wax paper square and dropped a chocolate donut into it, offering it to Deirdre.

“No, thanks. I’m hoping they have some sort of food at this party.”

“Don’t count on it.” Paige got in line and waited to pay, already nibbling at the sweet confection and licking off the icing. By the time she was at the head of the line there was only a sorry morsel left to show the girl on the cash register.

“Well, that was good,” she commented as she followed her roommate outside into the chill of the night. Waves of frosted breath fogged the air as she dusted down her hands and breathed deeply. “Anything round my mouth?”

Deirdre shook her head.

“Well, let’s go.”

This was the first party in nearly four years, other than one of her mother’s, Paige had been to without Steven. She and Steven had never done things separately while at school together. Yet, he had never suffocated her, or maybe she had never comprehended she was being suffocated, subsumed under Steven’s bigger personality, his commanding being. She had never considered herself anything but independent, a free agent, a free will. But here was what she now recognized: she had been half of a whole, a one of two, and what she had taken for independence had really only been the freedom to stay with Steven, the ability to join in a consensus of opinion as to what activities to pursue, or even what decisions might be reached.

This new vacuum presented a conundrum, and Paige suddenly found herself wondering, there—right there as she walked to a party she would have previously attended with Steven—if law school was what she really wanted. Had she been hauled along by Steven, thrust along by her family history? Had she ever thought of, considered, the alternatives?

The apartment was sultry with the press of bodies and the blue haze of cigarette smoke and the aroma of drink. A single spilt beer, not properly mopped up, gave off a sickening sweet smell intensified by the humidity of the room. Some unidentifiable music blared in the background as Paige and Deirdre inched their way farther into the crowd, nods of recognition and excuse me’s serving as passports to the kitchen. Opened bottles of wine and paper cups and salad bowls of chips were laid out haphazardly on a table and the worktops while fellow guests conversed in the crowded space. Deirdre gave a wave to someone stuffed into a far corner and made her way over to them while Paige swerved back into the main room, her coat still hanging loose about her.

She hid against the wall behind a couple in heated discussion, and put her drink down on a table to peel off the coat.

“Here, let me help you with that.” A man dragged the article free and handed it back. “John James,” he said, offering his hand.

“I beg your pardon?” Paige’s brow knit in misunderstanding.

“It’s my name. John James. And you’re Paige Bennett.”

“I know who I am,” she replied with some annoyance, the merest hint of a smile just turning her lips.

John James stared at her, trying to catch her eye, but Paige sought someone more interesting, less fawning. She sipped at her drink and glanced around the room to see whom she knew.

“I heard you can be rather prickly,” her unwanted admirer continued.

“Have you? Well then, why bother?”

“I also heard you are rather brilliant.”

“Oh, garbage.” Pinned to the wall, for a moment she wanted to dash outside. She moved away a slight bit, but this new stalker moved with her.

“I have Advanced Tort tomorrow,” he went on, “you know—”

Paige slammed down her drink on a nearby table. “Excuse me, my phone is ringing.” She fished inside her coat pocket and brought it out, just able to see Jake’s name flashing on the screen face. Moving swiftly toward the door, she leaned into the corner there and flipped the phone to her ear. “Jake,” she yelled, “I won’t be able to hear you well. I’m at a party. Hang on a minute while I get outside.” She shuffled back into her coat and got out of the apartment, down the steps to the front door of the building and into the freshness of night air.

“I thought maybe we would no longer be speaking, Jake. Your father really screwed up my mother.” Annoyed at having gone to this party, confused and upset about being in law school, and now being forced to think of her unhappy mother, Paige was going to make sure Jake was the recipient of her ire.

He hesitated. “Well, my dad went to pieces when Carrie left. Look,” he went on after a deep breath, “let’s leave them out of this. That’s not why I called.”

“Oh, so to what do I owe the pleasure?” And then that awful John James…

“Thought you’d like to know I went to the sheriff and confessed.”

That caught her. The silence stretched so long Jake’s voice finally came back with another, “Hello?”

“I’m here. So, what happened?”

“Not a lot. Well, nothing as yet. I mean, I haven’t handed in a written confession as yet. We’re waiting for my new lawyer to decide how to handle this. He wants to make sure it’s word perfect or something. I have to go see him next week and then maybe on to the sheriff’s office again.”

“You know you can go to jail.”

“Yeah, but everyone says they doubt it. Suspended sentence is what they think, seeing as how I’m handing myself—and hopefully Ty Sheldon—in on a platter.”

“Good. Well.” Paige sat down on the cold stoop, immediately wishing she hadn’t as the damp seeped through her pants.

A couple shoved by in single file, the man glancing down with a scowl while following his girlfriend up to the front door.

Paige stood again, arranging the coat so it hit the step first and protected her. “I’m thinking of leaving law school,” she blurted out.

“No, you’re not.” Jake snickered at the idea.

“Oh, yes, I am.”

“When did you decide that?” His disbelief was audible.

“Just now,” she replied with some nonchalance. “I’m not sure this is what I want any more.”

“Well…don’t make any hasty decisions, Paige. You can do an awful lot with a law degree, or so I’ve been told.” There was still a note of surprise in his voice.

“Oh, look who’s the authority on this now. Maybe you should go to law school?”

“Right. Almost. I hated studying the first time round. Hate offices, too. Best thing about being in the army was being outside most of the time.”

“Even if you were being shot at?” She voiced a hint of humor in her tone.

Jake laughed. “Yeah. Being shot at outside beats studying and working in an office in my book.” He chuckled again. “Listen, don’t leave Philly just yet, okay? I might be up there sometime soon. Soon as I clear up this mess, I need to go see some horses at a farm in Pennsylvania.”

“Near Philly?”

“Noooo. Not near Philly, but I need to fly in somewhere. Anyway, it’s close enough. Text me your address, will you?”

Paige surveyed the night sky, pinpoints of stars just showing through the leaf canopy thinning with autumn. She liked the thought of seeing Jake again. If honest with herself, she looked forward to it.

“What are the stars like in Texas tonight?” She smiled to herself, knowing immediately what his answer would be.

“‘Big and bright.’” He laughed. “I don’t know. I’m inside at the moment. Why?”

“Maybe I’ll go practice law in Texas,” she mused out loud. “Maybe that’s what I’ll do. Immigrant law or animal law or some such thing. Go into practice with Deirdre.”

“Who the hell is Deirdre, for goodness sake?”

“Oh! Didn’t I tell you? She’s your wife.”

****

When Jake could stop laughing about Paige’s idea he was going to marry some leggy, blonde lady lawyer from Texas, and had hopefully convinced her this notion was going nowhere, he hung up and laid back on his bed for a moment, absently petting Crockett’s head. Star was curled at his feet and gave a whine of complaint as Jake first stretched and then swung off the bed, planning to have a look at the computer screen relay from the new stable cameras. The light was now out under his father’s door. His dad had been turning in early, reading in bed most nights since Carrie’s departure, no doubt an attempt to keep her absence—and drink—off his mind.

Glancing out the front windows as he passed through the living room, everything outside remained still. The cricket and cicada songs were like fiddles without strings, no doubt playing a country song. But that was the only sound he could hear as he switched on the office lights and moved the computer mouse so the picture came into view. He clicked into the camera icon and waited while it opened.

No movement. The camera gave a perfect view right down the line of stalls and accounted for every horse. Jake sat back in the desk chair, which creaked as he tipped it back, cracking his knuckles with mild satisfaction. He yanked the blinds closed on the blackness of night and stared at the screen for a last survey. All good.

And then, just as he reached across to click the mouse to close, he saw the barn door slowly open.