DEATH BY HONEYMOON (3 page)

“It was NOT an accident,” Cindy intoned.

Ann stared back, shocked.

“According to who?” Ann said.

“Whose side are you on, Ann?” Cindy said, angry.

“Whose side?
What are you talking about?”

“The police just wanted the case closed in the blink of an eye,” Cindy said methodically.

Ann got up from her chair and started walking back and forth slowly.
Cindy could tell how agitated her sister felt.

Cindy got up, too, and started pacing beside her sister.
“Clint was a top tier surfer,” Cindy continued.
“He knew the ocean, he knew the waves.
He’d surfed in much rougher waters.
There was no reason for him to die.”

Ann stopped and looked Cindy straight in the eye.

“Look,” she said, “I know how tough this is for you.
Don’t make it worse than it is.
Don’t start imagining all kinds of things.”

“I’m not imagining anything,” Cindy said.
“I’ve had plenty of time to think things over and nothing’s gelling for me.
It doesn’t make sense.”

Ann began rubbing her hands up and down her sides.
It was an old habit of hers.
She did it when she was nervous and didn’t know what else to do.

“Cindy, I beg you, don’t go crazy,” she finally said.
“I love you and I need you to be okay for me too.”

Cindy’s eyes filled with tears.
“I’ll never be okay,” she said, “and I’m not going crazy.
It’s something I just
know
.”

“Let’s leave it at that for now,” Ann said softly.
“It’s common to think all kinds of things when someone you love suddenly dies.
Your problem is that you’ve been cooped up in here for days.
You’re not thinking clearly.
You’re not changing, not showering, not even going outside.”

“I don’t want to,” Cindy snapped back.
“Let me be.”

“There are more people who want to come visit.
You need to let them in.
You need to see them.”

“I’m not ready!” Cindy yelled back.

“Well, there are some visitors that you have no choice about.”

Cindy looked at her coldly.
“Who?” she finally asked.

“Clint’s family.
They called.
They’re coming over today, at 3 o’clock.”

“I’m not ready to see them,” Cindy said.

“They didn’t ask,” Ann said.

Cindy’s body clenched.

“Don’t worry,” Ann said, “They have to come.
It’s a duty call.
But I won’t let anything happen.
I’ll be here.
It will all be fine.”

If Cindy knew anything about Clint’s family, she knew that a visit from them, even in the best of times, would be anything but fine.

Chapter 4

Cindy dreaded seeing Clint’s family, but knew she had no choice.
It’s a duty call, she kept reminding herself.
We’re all in the same boat here.

Clint’s family had objected to Cindy from the first day he brought her home.
She wasn’t tall enough, smart enough, rich enough for them.
She wasn’t slim enough either.
His mother told him that Cindy’s body would go to fat after they had a child and probably never recover.
Cindy didn’t come from their area either, as she was raised in Wisconsin.
Nothing was good enough for them.

Cindy realized that Clint’s mother would find anything she could to break up the relationship.
But not only her—for any woman.
His mother did all she could to cast every possible doubt.
Clint had had two other long-term relationships before her, and Clint had told her that his mother had managed to poison them both.

 Cindy had talked to Clint a lot about this .
How could they buy this house only a mile away from his family?
What would happen after they were married?
How would his parents react when they had kids?

But he couldn’t really see any problem, and he made all kinds of excuses for his mother, and told Cindy not to look for the worst .
His sister Marge was a different story.
Clint’s relationship with Marge had always been rocky, although Marge and her mother were inseparable.
Marge lived a few blocks away from her, and Marge couldn’t stand to see Clint and his mother so close .

Marge got married a year ago.
The man she married, Ralph—dark, quiet and inscrutable—was a lawyer, from a poor family on the other side of town.
He’d put himself through college and law school and was doing well now - well enough to be accepted by the family .
But they had always hoped Marge would marry James Torton, a rich kid from the neighborhood.
Marge would have married him, too, but he left her suddenly, for someone else.
Marge said she would carry the scars from that the rest of her life.

Now Cindy was getting ready for their visit.
She knew she should put on something nicer.
But she just couldn’t bear to change.
With Clint dead, she didn’t feel entitled to wear anything nice.
She would just have to greet his family in the lounging pants she’d been wearing, with the same old sweat shirt.
She knew that as soon as they came in they would look her over from head to toe, watch her every move.
They would scoff at her clothing.
And if something were out of order, they’d be talking about it for days.
But she didn’t really care.

The family would also check the house to see that everything was exactly where it belonged.
They were furious when Clint bought this place without consulting them .
They said it didn’t suit him and was too far away, down this long, deserted road.
Who in their right mind would buy a clapboard, starter house that looked like a beach home?

Clint didn’t seem to care what they thought of it, and just put his photos everywhere, even the ones they didn’t like.
Cindy’s memorabilia were perched in full display on the white, wooden shelves—hand-painted porcelain ducks and birds.
Clint’s mother didn’t like them either.
What grown woman would display objects like that?
And who had designed the living room decor?
The couch had tropical, colored cushions on it, and there were plants that were much too large growing everywhere.
It was clearly Cindy’s influence, her lack of taste.
This was definitely not the life she’d envisioned for her son.
His mother had no compunction about telling him so, either .
How Cindy landed someone like Clint baffled her mind.

Cindy was uneasy at the thought of seeing the family now.
She knew they were devastated and had no idea how to comfort them.
Thank God Ann was still here.
She would not have been able to face them alone.
.

Ann was in the kitchen now preparing coffee and cake.
Cindy scanned the living room quickly to make sure everything was in order.
But no matter how much she tried to spruce it up, the room looked sad and tousled.

Cindy puffed the cushions on the sofa, and arranged them neatly.
She had stacked the piles of gifts they’d received for the wedding in the corner.
She’d forgotten all about them, hadn’t noticed the gifts since she’d returned.
They stood there as an awful reminder of a life that could have been.

Now she quickly went over, lifted them a few at a time, and brought them into Clint’s study in the rear of the house.
The last thing she wanted was to have the family looking the gifts over, asking for them to be opened or pushing her to send thank you cards.
She would when she was ready.
It was all way too much right now.

“How are you doing?” Ann called in from the kitchen.

Cindy could smell the delicious fragrance of coffee and homemade cookies wafting into the living room.

Ann walked out of the kitchen and looked Cindy over.
Ann was wearing a casual pair of slacks and an old familiar, blue sweater.
Her light brown hair was brushed neatly down around her moon-shaped faced face.
Ann was deeply at home with herself.
Whatever she wore, she looked lovely, ready for whatever circumstance presented itself.
Cindy envied that.
She often felt awkward, and Clint’s family intensified that.
When they were around, she felt as if she never made the grade.

Ann looked her over in disapproval.  “If you’re not going to change, will you at least just brush your gorgeous, tasseled hair.”

Cindy smiled.
Ann always tried to make her feel beautiful .
The doorbell rang, and Cindy and Ann looked at each other.

“Can you answer it?” Cindy asked.

Ann nodded, and headed for the door.

Cindy went to the bathroom, closed the door, and listened.
The quiet, muted voices carried through.
Cindy splashed cold water on her puffy cheeks, and took a deep breath.

Finally, she opened the door.

Clint’s family was already seated.
His mother sat beside Clint’s father on the sofa.
They sat at opposite ends and did not touch.
His sister Marge sat next to her husband Ralph in the sand-colored chairs that faced the couch.
Everyone was dressed in either navy blue or black.
Ann sat facing the family on a thin wooden bench.
It had a long paisley cushion on it.
The room felt stultifying.

Ann quickly got up when Cindy entered and pulled over a comfortable chair for her.
Cindy wondered how she would ever get along without Ann at her side.
As she sat down, she felt every eye in the family boring through her .
Marge started coughing and Clint’s mother put her head in her hands.
It was a terrible moment for them all.
Cindy wanted to say,
I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
But the words wouldn’t come.

“Would you like some coffee and cookies?” Ann asked, getting up to serve them.

“Not right now,” Clint’s father mumbled.
He seemed much weaker and sounded distant and sad, as if this were all much more than he could bear.

“This is the worst possible thing that could happen for my father,” Marge blurted out.
“He has to be careful of his heart and it’s been hurting terribly all week long.
He’s on extra medication now,” and she looked at Cindy darkly, as though perhaps, she was to blame.

“I’m so sorry,” Cindy said.

“We thought you would take good care of Clint,” his mother lifted her head and stared at Cindy.
There was not an ounce of sympathy in her.
The entire family was wrapped only in their own grief.
“We still can’t understand how something like this could have happened,” his mother persisted.

Cindy felt her heart start to pound and her lips get dry.
What were they intimating?
Fortunately, Ann came to the rescue.

“This was a horrible accident,” she said quietly.
“If Cindy could have prevented it, she would have.
She’s suffering, too.”

Ralph, Marge’s husband, cleared his throat when Ann said that.
“We’re all suffering,” he said.
“We recognize that.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Ann replied.

“We didn’t come here to argue,” Ralph stated, in his flat, orderly, dry tone.

What did you come here for?
Cindy wanted to ask them, but held her tongue.
She could feel the raw emotion not only in her, but everyone there.
It could explode at any moment and wreak havoc in their lives.
She had heard of things like that happening after a death—families fighting, wild accusations, even when the death was expected, even when it was natural.
Cindy placed her hands on her lap and folded them together.

“None of us are clear about what exactly happened,” Ralph took the lead.
It sounded as though he’d prepared his words to the letter.

In a swift moment, Cindy realized this was not a condolence call.
The family wanted facts, information—they wanted someone to blame for this nightmare.
Thankfully, Ann had some experience with these kinds of situations.
Before she started her own consulting business, she was trained as a social worker and had worked in a hospital for a few years before her marriage .

Cindy looked at Ann, pleadingly.
Do something
, she wanted to say,
fill the empty spaces, answer their questions, make all this go away
.

Ann got the message.

“What would you like to know, Ralph?” she said.

“It’s not just me, of course, it’s the entire family,” Ralph answered carefully.

“Of course,” Ann replied professionally.
“What questions can I answer for you?”

“I don’t want to hear from
you
,” Clint’s mother’s face flushed.
“It’s Cindy I want to hear from.
She’s the one who was there.”

“Cindy has already told everyone what happened,” Ann said.

“No she hasn’t.
Not enough.
I want to know more—much more.”

“I know how hard this is for you,” Ann said to Clint’s mother quietly.

“No, you don’t,” his mother hissed.
“Nobody can know what it’s like for a mother to lose a son.
Certainly not a new bride, who only knew him for a year.
I knew him his whole life long.
From the day he was born.
I carried him inside me for nine months.”

Cindy felt woozy again, almost like fainting.
“I’m so sorry,” she said to his mother.

His mother’s head flipped upwards, like a cat.
“Sorry isn’t enough,” she said.

Ann got up and stood between Cindy and her.
“Excuse me,” she interrupted, “but my sister is in pain as well.
I hope you realize that.”

“I don’t realize anything,” Clint’s mother said.
“I don’t know how in the world I could have lost a son.
And I want answers from the last person who saw him alive.”

Cindy choked back the tears that were forming.

“We never felt good about this marriage,” Marge chimed in.
“There were a lot of questions which were unanswered.”

“Like what?” Anne said.

Marge turned and looked to Ralph for help.

“Like why Clint, such a young man, would take out such a large insurance policy, just before a new marriage.
It’s not par for the course.”

“I told Clint to tell you he was doing it,” Cindy said.
She had enough, and stood up.
“I never wanted the policy.
I told him not to, but he said he wanted to protect me, in case anything ever happened.
Clint was like that.
Very protective.”

“You don’t have to tell us who Clint was,” Marge said.

“Then why do you have all these questions?” Cindy said.

“We’ve heard different stories about what happened on the island,” Clint’s father spoke up suddenly.

“From who?” Cindy asked.

“From different relatives.”

“Your relatives weren’t on the island,” Cindy said forcefully.

“But everyone’s looking into what happened,” his father continued, “they all have different opinions.”

Cindy felt ill.
Clint’s family was suspicious of everything, and she’d known it before they married.
Even Ann warned her about it, but she hadn’t paid a bit of attention .
Now, for a quick moment, she was sorry .
She didn’t want to ever have to see any of them again.