Mommy!
Chapter Forty-four
Rose was packing in Melly’s room when she heard the front door close, downstairs. Melly was reading in bed, with Princess Google curled up on the pillow beside her. Leo was home, and she steeled herself, glancing at the clock on the night table. It was 7:30, so he’d booked it from the city.
“Leo!” Melly called out, looking up from Beedle the Bard. “Leo! We’re up here!”
“Shh.” Rose folded Melly’s pants in two and set them inside the open bag. “Don’t wake John.”
“Sorry.” Melly placed her bookmark into her book, set it aside, and climbed out of bed. She looked small and skinny in the oversized T-shirt, and took off for the stairway. “Be right back.”
“Okay, but make it fast.” Rose wanted Melly asleep by the time she and Leo started talking, and she hid her worry. She’d been hiding her worry all afternoon. Or maybe since Thomas Pelal.
“Leo, here I am!” Melly whispered, standing at the top of the stairs. Below was the sound of Leo’s heavy tread on the hardwood floor of the entrance hall as he walked to the coat closet, took off his suit jacket, and closed the door, then came to the stairs.
“Tater! How’s my girl?”
“We’re packing.”
“Packing?” Leo climbed the stair, chuckling. “Where are you going?”
“The lake house, to see Mo and Gabriella. And raccoons!”
Rose cringed. She hadn’t told Leo about the trip yet. She turned as Leo reached the landing and scooped Melly into his arms. Hurt flickered across his face, but it vanished when he let Melly go, replacing it with the suburban blank that parents reserve for their children whenever there’s trouble.
“How you doing, tater tot?”
“Good! Did you win your case?”
“Not yet. I came home to say hi to my girls.” Leo took Melly’s hand, then spotted the bruise on her arm, frowning. “What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Okay.” Leo came upstairs, and his gaze went to the open suitcase. He avoided Rose’s eye, impassive. “Going to the lake house?”
“Yes, I’ll explain later.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, which smelled of faded aftershave. “Sorry I didn’t mention it to you.”
“No matter.” Leo went to Melly, helping her back into bed, next to the drowsy little spaniel. He picked up the comforter, tucked her in, and sat down next to her. “Mel, didn’t you finish your book yet?”
“Almost.” Melly showed him her bookmark. “I have ten more pages.”
“What? Slacker, get on it. You’ve had that thing for a whole day.”
Melly giggled. “Mom wants me to read American Girl.”
“Why should you read American Girl? You are an American Girl!”
“I know. I don’t want to.”
“Then don’t. Read whatever you want. It’s a free country. I’m a lawyer and I know. Tell Mom, your lawyer said you have First Amendment rights.”
“I will!” Melly’s eyes lit up when she looked at Leo, and Rose could see how much she loved him. They had actually succeeded in creating a family, despite divorce and death, and Rose couldn’t bear to think they could lose it all. She dreaded the conversation to come, but it was time.
“Bedtime, Melly,” she said, managing a smile.
“Kiss, Leo.” Melly held out her arms, and Leo gave her a hug and a grunt, then got up, brushing down his pants.
“Get some sleep, you. I’ll try to come home tomorrow night to see you, but I don’t know if I can.”
“We won’t be here.”
“Oh right. Sorry. Then here’s another kiss to hold you over. Have fun at the lake. Bye now.” Leo gave her another big hug.
“Leo, say good-bye to Googie, too.”
“Bye, Googie.”
“Kiss her!” Melly giggled, playing their game, because Leo would never kiss the dog.
“No way, I don’t kiss dogs, only girls.” Leo stroked the spaniel, who barely opened her eyes. “See ya, Googie.”
Rose went to Melly’s beside, gave her a quick kiss, and patted Googie. “Good night, sweetie. Sleep tight.”
“Mom, did Ms. Canton call when I was in the bath?”
“No.”
“Can we call her again?”
“I will, tomorrow.”
“If she calls tonight, will you wake me up?”
Rose brushed Melly’s hair from her forehead. “I doubt she’ll do that, but if she does, I’ll wake you up. Say your prayers.”
“I will. I’ll say one for Amanda.”
“Me, too. Pleasant dreams.”
Chapter Forty-five
Rose followed Leo downstairs, and they both went automatically to the kitchen. She lingered behind the table, while he walked ahead and opened the refrigerator. She didn’t know how to start the conversation, suddenly uncomfortable with her own husband, in her own kitchen. The setting sun came through the window, making spiky shadows of the lavender shoots, like a bed of needles.
“You hungry?” she asked.
“No.” Leo grabbed a Yuengling beer by the neck, turned around, and pulled out a chair, sitting down heavily. “I had a sandwich when I stopped for gas. Sit, please.” He gestured.
“I’m sorry about the lake thing.” Rose sank into her chair, behind the watery Diet Coke she’d had before she went upstairs. Her mouth was dry, and she took a sip, then forced herself to look at him directly. He held her gaze for a second, and she could see the hurt, plain in his eyes. “I decided on the spur of the moment.”
“Right.” Leo’s mouth went tight, and he made much of opening the beer bottle, as if he hadn’t done it with ease, a hundred times before. “You’re not leaving me, are you?”
“No.” Rose laughed, a release of nervous tension. “No, of course not.”
“Good.” Leo leaned back in the chair, regarding her in a remote way. “I got a call from Martin when I was on the way home. His wife saw it on the news and called him. Also Joan called me and told me.”
Rose reddened. Joan was his secretary, and Martin was an old friend from Worhawk. “I’m so sorry.”
“Joan said we’re getting more than a few calls, from clients.”
“Oh, no. I’m sorry, really. What will you say to them? Are you worried—”
“I’ll deal with them, but what gets me is what’s between us. It would have been nice to hear it from you when we met. Or when we got engaged. Or when we got married.”
Rose felt vaguely sick. Leo’s tone was controlled, and he was too kind to yell, which made it worse. Outside, the peaked tops of the trees bent in the wind, and the sky was turning a lurid pink, an unearthly hue.
“I can think of lots of times, going back, when you could have told me, but you didn’t. Even this thing with Amanda, it would have been a good time to mention it.”
“I know. I’m so sorry.”
“It explained a lot to me, like why you were taking it all so hard, so personally. It explains why you’ve been feeling so guilty. So why don’t you tell me now, the whole story?”
Rose swallowed hard. “Okay, well, to keep it simple—”
“Don’t keep it simple. It’s not simple, and I have time.”
Rose nodded. “It happened on Halloween, and I was eighteen years old. I’d just had a fight with my mom.”
“What did you fight about?”
“It was Halloween night, sorry, I said that already, and I was having some friends over, from my job. It was during my year off, after high school, when I was living with her and working, modeling to save money for college. She’d said she’d stopped drinking, and I actually believed her, God knows why. She’d seemed fine for almost a year, doing AA again, so I figured it was okay to have friends over.” Rose paused, trying to remember, and trying not to remember, both at once. “We all had costumes, I was Cleopatra, and we were giving candy to the kids who came to the door, trick-or-treating. My mother said hi to us, everything was fine, then s
he went upstairs.”
“Okay.”
“Later, she came falling down the stairs, drunk, and, randomly, topless.” Rose felt mortified, even at the memory. “She came down the stairs with no bra or anything, only in her panties and high heels, my high heels, oddly, and she hit on one of my guy friends. She actually tried to sit in his lap, with her breasts in his face, and it was, well, you get the idea.” Rose shook it off. It wasn’t anywhere near the worst part of the story. “Anyway, the party broke up, and I ran out crying. I got into the car, and drove to my old high school. I was in her car, I didn’t have a car. I sat in the parking lot, which was empty. I stopped crying, I calmed down, then I left for home. I was upset, but not too upset to drive, and I hadn’t been drinking.”
“I know that. You don’t have to tell me that. You never drink.”
“Right.” Rose never drank, except for the backsliding the other night in the kitchen. She’d spent her college years partying harder than she should have, then stopped after she’d graduated and started working, full-time. She’d wanted to be a mother, and not her mother. Her mother’s drinking had driven her father away, when she was only ten. Rose hardly remembered him, and he never came around again, though he always sent checks, to support them.
“So what happened?”
“I was driving home, and most of the little kids were done trick-or-treating. It was like nine o’clock. Only the older kids were left, the hoboes and the basketball players, too cool to dress up. But still, I was going slow, the roads were slick from the rain.” Rose could see the scene, in front of her. “Wet leaves were everywhere, so I was careful. She would never want anything to happen to her car, not a scratch. I could see everything. I was paying attention. I didn’t even have the radio on. I was driving fine, I was—”
“Okay, you were being careful.”
“Right, I was.” Rose could see it happening all over again, in her mind, and she could tell him the story in real time, like a horrifying play-by-play. “Something flew out in front of me, a white blur. I heard a noise. I stopped right away, but the car skidded on the wet leaves, and I heard a scream. A child, a scream. It was him.” Rose held back tears that came to her eyes. “Thomas Pelal.”
“The little boy.”
“He was six.”
“Where were his parents?”
Rose could hear a change in Leo’s voice, and he sounded almost professional. Already he was thinking like a lawyer, constructing a legal argument for her, finding a way to absolve her of responsibility. It had been his first instinct, even as angry as he was at her, and Rose felt so much love for him at that moment that she couldn’t meet his eye.
“Babe?”
“His parents were up the street, talking to a neighbor. He was with his sister.”
“How old was she?”
“Fourteen. She had gone up on their porch. It happened right in front of their house. He’d dropped a jawbreaker, one of those big ones they used to have.” Rose formed a ball with her fingers, for some reason. Maybe because she’d seen the jawbreaker later, when the ambulance and the police came, with their sirens and lights. The jawbreaker made a yellow dot among the wet leaves, like a discarded sun. “It rolled into the street. He was going after it. I didn’t see it roll, it was too small. He’d gotten it that night, in his Halloween bag.”
“So then what happened?”
“I heard this sound. Thud.” Rose knew she wasn’t telling the story in order, but it didn’t matter. It would end the same way. “And I realized I’d hit a child because he screamed, ‘Mommy!’”
Mommy!
“I jumped out of the car and ran around the front, and he was lying there, crumpled, on his side, turned away. He had on his costume, a white pillowcase with holes cut out for the neck and arms.” Rose blinked, but the sight, and her tears, wouldn’t clear. “God knows why I thought this, but I remember thinking, it was such a sweet, old-fashioned costume. I mean, here I am, in this Cleopatra outfit, all eye-makeup and turquoise polyester, bought at the store. And here he is in his little white pillowcase, a real pillowcase. He’d must’ve made it himself. He was a ghost.”
Leo slid her a napkin across the table, and Rose accepted it, though she hadn’t seen him get up to get it.
“So I tried to save him, I knew CPR, from lifeguarding. Blood was coming out of his mouth, but he was awake, alive, and his sister came running, but he was saying something.” Rose’s eyes brimmed, and she wiped them with the napkin. She didn’t want to tell it, but now she had to. Just one time in her life, it had to come out of inside her. “I bent over, and got a hand under him, but the blood was bubbling, and he said something.”
“Rose, it’s okay.” Leo’s voice was back to normal, his eyes filled with concern. He stood up to come around the table to comfort her, but she held up a hand because if he hugged her, she might stop.
“His eyes opened, and they were blue, and he looked right at me, and said, ‘Mommy.’” Rose wiped her eyes, the tears coming freely, her nose all clogged. “I was thinking, later, maybe it was because of the Cleopatra makeup, I looked older. In the dark, the way he was, he could have thought I was his mother, or maybe he wished I was. And, I know, it sounds awful, but, I answered him.”
Leo blinked. “You did?”
“I still can’t believe I did it, I don’t even know why. I guess I wanted to comfort him, so he could feel like his mother was with him. It wasn’t my place, but I did it.”
“What did you say?”
“I answered as if I were his mother. I answered, as her. I said, ‘I’m here, and I love you. Your mommy loves you, very, very much.’” Rose burst into tears. “And then, he died. Right there. Right then.”
Leo came and put his arms around her, sitting down. “It’s okay now, babe. It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not. I killed that child.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” Leo held her tight, his embrace warm and certain. “Accidents happen. Kids run out in front of cars. They do that.”
“The mom and dad came running, they were hysterical. His mother screamed for him, ‘Thomas!’ It was an awful sound. Primal. I’ll never forget it. I can hear it now.” Rose kept shaking her head. “My mother was sure they’d sue, so she got a lawyer, and he told me never to call them, never to speak to them, so I didn’t. I wanted to, I wanted to say I was sorry, as if that would help, but I didn’t.”
“Babe, relax. Drink something.” Leo slid her watery soda to her, but she ignored it. Her tears slowed and she blew her nose, messily.
“I must look awful.”
“You don’t have to look pretty when you cry. I’m not that guy, so don’t be that girl.”
Rose nodded, blowing her nose with gusto. She balled up the napkin and set it aside, then drained her soda.
“Want another?”
“No, thanks.” Rose heaved a deep sigh, and Leo released her.
“So why did you get arrested? Joan said there was a mug shot on TV.”
Rose cringed. “They found vodka bottles in the car, three of them, empty. They were my mother’s. I didn’t even know they were there. When I braked, they came rolling out from under the front seat, so the cops thought I’d been drinking. They gave me a field sobriety test, and I passed, but they still booked me, on suspicion.” Rose stiffened, remembering the fight the next day, with her mother. “And the Pelals never sued us. I kept waiting, expecting it, but they never did. I never heard anything from them, and I didn’t contact them, either. I would have, but the lawyers said no, then we moved again. Away, up north.”
“So that was that.” Leo’s mouth made a grim line.
“No, hardly. Sometimes I wished they had sued, and I’d been punished in some way. Then I would have felt like I paid for it, and told what happened, and how sorry I am, every day.” Rose felt too upset to articulate her thoughts. “And now this thing, with Amanda, it feels like it’s all coming back, full circle.”
“It isn’t. Don’t be silly. It’s not
karmic.”
“How do you know?” Rose looked over, sniffling. “I swear, for a long time, I thought that Melly’s birthmark was payback. That my child was being punished for something I did to another woman’s child. That Melly was marked, because I was marked. It’s the stain of sin, my original sin.”
“Stop, no.” Leo put a hand up. “That’s crazy.”
“Not to me. Not in my heart.”
“Honey, please.” Leo frowned. “You can’t carry that kind of crap around, all by yourself. That’s what bothers me, that this came out the way it did. Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“I didn’t want to in the beginning, when we first met, and then we were so happy, right away, I didn’t want to ruin it.” Rose shook her head. “I never told anybody, if it makes you feel better.”
“What about Bernardo?”
“No. No one, not even Annie. It seems wrong now, I know, but I kept it to myself, ever since.”
“Not wrong. Distrustful.” Leo looked pained, his forehead buckling unhappily under his dark curls. “It’s like you don’t trust me. You don’t trust our relationship.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t. You didn’t tell me, so you don’t. Meanwhile, it’s too big a secret to keep to yourself. Did you ever even have therapy about it?”
“A little, but it didn’t help.” Rose turned to him, finding her emotional footing. “Therapy or no, the fact never changes. I killed that child. I did that. It’s a fact. I have to live with that, and I’m the lucky one. Thomas Pelal doesn’t get to live, at all.” Rose felt terrible, but honest, saying it out loud. “That’s why they reported it on the news, and that’s why they’re right.”
“Please.” Leo pushed her empty glass aside, maybe just to push something. “They reported it for ratings. Don’t buy in.”
Suddenly Rose’s phone rang, sitting on the table, and the screen lit up, Kurt Rehgard. She was so immersed in the conversation that at first she didn’t recognize the name. “I’ll get it later.”