Sweet Karoline (29 page)

Miriam
and I whip up some food for everyone at one point. Meat and cheese and bread. Soup for Memé. We sit with Dembi and our mother for a long time. All four of us are tired and numb. Miriam and I take turns holding hands with Memé, Dembi, or each other. We say very little. Rolly makes us smile with his antics.

At
some point in time in the mid afternoon Ethan joins us in Memé's room. He's tired too. How could he have expected his vacation to turn into work?

"
The police are reading Simpson and the Fischer's their rights. They've confessed to the crimes and will be held over in jail. A judge will decide if they get bail, I guess."

Ethan
and I haven't even had a chance to talk. As if he's read my mind he asks if he can speak to me privately. Miriam smiles and tells me she'll be fine with Dembi and Memé.

I
take him down the hallways to my room. We drag his suitcase, which had been left abandoned near the parlor.

As
soon as I shut and lock the door of my room, we are in each other's arms. We tumble onto the bed. Without bothering to remove anything but his shorts and my underwear, we make frantic, passionate love. Two teenagers on a family sofa. We both laugh when we're done.

"
Sorry, honey, that's not what I meant to do."

"
That's what I meant to do," I say, pulling up my panties and snuggling into his arm. "Later we'll do it right. There are too many people in this house right now."

I
help him with his shorts. Other than our flushed faces and satisfied airs, I'm sure we look normal.

"
Hey listen. I found this on the floor in the parlor. I know we might have to turn it in later but I thought I'd look it over first."

Ethan
pulls out Karoline's blue diary.

"
In between interrogations I was able to read quite a bit of this. She wrote a lot in point form as though she couldn't be bothered to embellish. I don't think you should ever read it."

I
feel sick to my stomach. How much longer would Karoline reach out from her grave to torture me? How many more betrayals might I uncover?

"
I don't think I want to anyway. I don't think I can take any more. At least not right now."

"
I hear you. I can't imagine what this day has been like for you. But I thought you might have some questions about Karoline. Some loose ends that you need tying up."

Reasons
for her suicide, he means. To make me realize that it wasn't my fault. Except nothing in that diary will help. After the last few days immersed in my new family, I feel as though I will be plunged back into my former life if I hear any more about Karoline.

Yet
there are so many questions.

"
Does she explain anything? Does she say why?"

"
I've skipped around and she records nearly every thought she had over her last few months."

I
can hear that scribbling once again. The constant irritating sound of a pen ground onto paper. Thoughts so dark they had to be stabbed into existence.

"
Karoline was a psychopath."

He
's firm in his conviction, but feels he has to explain.

"
In police work, you meet a lot of people with mental health problems. I've taken lots of courses. We're trained to spot psychopathic behavior because most of our criminals are psychopaths. From serial killers to corporate frauds."

"
Aren't some sociopaths?"

"
The thing about psychopaths is that they are organized and smart. Sociopaths aren't necessarily. Karoline planned everything. Sometimes her schemes were years in the making."

He
sits up. With his head propped on one hand, he looks down at me. Strokes my arm to soften the punch of his words. I know his goal. He wants me to see Karoline's true nature so that I can put her suicide into context. Forgive myself for not curing her. She was crazy, beyond hope. He doesn't know that part of his theory is very wrong.

"
She admits stealing paintings and antiques from this house. That's how she paid the mortgage on your apartment."

"
What?" I have to sit up now to squeeze some breath back into my lungs.

"
Her Boosha didn't give her any money. She stole the CoJons and sold them to her own boss. In her diary, she mocks him. She charges him more than anyone would pay and tells him the auction went higher than expected. Karoline literally amassed a fortune."

I
won't cry. I
do
need to know it all. I make eye contact with Ethan, letting him know without words that I've changed my mind about hearing everything.

"
What does she say about finding my family and not telling me?"

"
She found them because a letter came for you from your mother's lawyer."

"
Memé sent me a letter?"

"
Yes. She wanted you to know that she was dying. She wanted to reconnect with you. Karoline decided to show up and pretend to be you. Of course she had no idea that Dembi and Miriam existed. She didn't know you were four years old before you left here, either. She wouldn't have expected Memé to know the difference."

"
How did she make Memé cooperate with her?"

"
She doesn't mention that. At least I didn't find anything. I haven't read it thoroughly though. If the explanation's not there, maybe Libby will be able to tell us someday."

I
shake my head slowly. I wish I could shake the information like a kaleidoscope and come out with a different picture.

"
Even before she became ill, before the cancer and the extra drugs, Memé was simple and trusting. I don't know how Karoline did it, but she either had them fooled or frightened."

I
think of the threats of drowning Dembi in the river. Perhaps Memé was convinced it would happen. Maybe her brother had drowned all those years ago and his death had scarred her toddler's mind. She would be terrified by the thought of her son going into the river.

Ethan
flips through the book. The writing looks like scorpions to me.

"
This is how sick she was, Anne. To answer the second part of your question about why she never told you about your family. She convinced herself that she was protecting them by keeping you away. As though she bought that hogwash about you being the witch who burned Vryheid."

I
lived with this woman. I loved her. I trusted her implicitly with every part of my life. How stupid am I?

"
One other thing. In her research, obviously with the help of Mrs. Numbnuts out there, she stumbled across a man who just might be Cornwall Johnston the younger. The artist, that is."

"
Wouldn't the art world like to know about that?"

"
Wouldn't the
whole
world like to know?"

Dear Diary,

Living
in L.A., I always hear the stars moaning and groaning about their loss of privacy. But isn't that the price of fame? Don't they know that they're embracing fame as soon as they take on that role? You're up there on the screen and people start talking about you, recognizing you. That's the very definition of fame. So I think they should suck it up or quit the job.

Chapter
28

The evening is warm and fresh. Soaked with the previous rain, the fields and forests give off a fragrance that could never be captured except by nature. Evergreen, sweet clover and flowers mix with the scent of rich soil. A soft breeze plays with our hair as we sit on the porch.

The
sun disappeared in an orange ball. Overhead there's a three-quarter moon that outshines any stars. Even the cicadas are quiet, although a few crickets strive to replace their song with one of their own. Bats skim the darkness in search of mosquitoes. We hear their winged hunt and are grateful.

Miriam
has lit candles all around the veranda. We've pulled out lawn chairs and pillows and snacks. Memé sits in her wheelchair with a blanket tucked around her thin knees and arms. Ethan stretches out his long legs in a worse-for-wear lounger that is nevertheless comfortable. My sister and I sit on the porch benches.

Rolly
entertains Dembi by chasing an unfortunate grasshopper along the boards. Our brother is almost back to normal. He's still a bit quiet and prone to cuddling up with one of us more often than usual. But we're convinced that he'll recover faster than we will.

Memé
is more alert than we've yet experienced. The doctor who replaced Thomas Fischer stopped by earlier to see her and pronounced her fine for now. We have an appointment at the hospital on Monday. He'll do a thorough examination and give us recommendations for her future care.

Miriam
has a bandage around her ankle. I have a purple bruise under my eye and a red mark down my cheek. Other than that, we have no visible repercussions from our encounter.

I
don't think I'll be afraid any more. Despite Glenn's efforts, no one was seriously hurt. We uncovered a lot of interesting facts. We did hand over the diary although the police officers weren't sure it would be of any use. We will all have to be formally interviewed tomorrow. For now, however, we are peacefully at home.

Over
dinner and this sojourn on the porch, my family bonds with Ethan. We're all exhausted and somewhat shell-shocked, but that seems to heighten the connection. We talk about everything except Glenn, Karoline and Melody and what just happened.

In
between conversations we sit in pleasant silence and think. Or at least I do. Mostly I contemplate Karoline, our life together and how the past affects my present. How it will affect my future.

I
was a little girl in terrible circumstances. Even my mother, with her fierce love and simplicity, knew she had to send me away. Vera was a good choice in some respects but she nurtured my innate desire to protect myself. To insulate with distance and lack of emotion. No risk of hurt when you don't give away any piece of yourself.

Judging
by the flood of emotions since Karoline died, I don't think I am a sociopath. Ice Queen Anne has mostly disappeared. I have to learn that some anger and aggression are justified as long as the actions that accompany the feelings are controlled. The real me can be sarcastic or upset or irritated. I just can't get up and walk away. I can't block out the rest of the world while I create my own universe where the sun revolves solely around me. Not if I love these people. And I most certainly do.

Was
Karoline a psychopath as Ethan suspects? I guess so. She was certainly mentally ill. She carefully plotted her revenge when she thought her friends had betrayed her. Giulio with his determination to forgive me. I suppose I deceived her with Parris, but I think my sin was having a rich family who was as oblivious to that as I was to Karoline's real self. Thus her retribution included theft of both identity and wealth.

I
know that I have to forgive myself. Under the canopy of moonlit comfort the thought of forgiveness is easy. Even acknowledging that I have to tell Ethan doesn't send me into hyperventilation. Instead I feel calm and relaxed. My confession will be the first step toward redemption.

When
we have made love and are tucked into my farmhouse bed, however, I nearly lose my nerve. I cuddle into Ethan's arms and refuse to look at him. I can't tell him with those deep understanding eyes on mine. I ask him to listen without interruption and he does.

Dear Diary,

Do
you think love and hate are on the same continuum? Or is hate still tinged with a bit of love? Maybe real hate of someone is indifference. The despised someone's name or face or something they said or what they really need rarely crosses your hateful mind. You never, ever think of them or have any strong feelings about them. If you are angry with them all the time or miss their presence in a negative or positive way, maybe you still love them.

Chapter
29

Karoline was in the kitchen when I got home from Cleveland. The apartment smelled of onions and spice. It smelled the way it used to. Alive and inviting. The dining room table was set for two with candles, our best cutlery and plates and bowls of steaming food.

Karoline
came to the doorway and stared down the hall at me. Her eyes seemed larger than usual. Beadier. The smile on her face was one I recognized. Self-satisfied. In control of everything and everyone.

"
Have a seat, dear friend. Supper's on the table."

For
one last time I obeyed her. Despite the sarcasm and cruelty in her voice, in spite of all the information I had gathered, some part of me wanted her to be two people. One that was my Karoline, lifelong friend. The other a person who had nearly destroyed us but who could be vanquished.

We
faced each other as Karoline poured us each a large glass of wine. I drank mine quickly and filled up another. I still couldn't bring myself to speak. I was engorged with rage and trauma. Choked into silence with bewilderment and pain.

Karoline
chuckled at my need for alcohol as though she had won a round.

"
So, Annie love, do tell me what you've discovered."

As
though I had been on a journey in which we're both interested. Not one that would expose her betrayal. I took several gulps of red wine.

"
Why, Karoline? Why would you do this to me? To Giulio?"

She
shoveled some of the red meat into her mouth, masticated a bit and then opened in a huge guffaw filled with dead cow.

"
Do you really think I did something to you?"

I
poured another glass. My hand was trembling now as I lifted the wine to my lips. When I found my voice it was deep and strong from anger and disbelief.

"
You lied to me about Giulio. He lived in the States for years. From the beginning he wanted to reconcile with me but you denied us both. You lied to him about me. You wrote letters and signed my name. You told him unspeakable things."

"
I see."

She
put down her knife and fork and poured herself another glass. A full minute passed before she spoke again. During the silence she kept her eyes on me. I wanted to scratch the smile off her face.

"
Are you sure I wrote those letters? They were signed by you."

"
You know perfectly well you wrote them. I never saw them. When Paolo sent them back you stuffed your dirty little secret in your closet."

"
So you say."

"
You also didn't tell me that Vera and Ian Williams are not my real parents."

"
Not that I'm confessing to anything, but maybe I was protecting you. I've always taken care of you. Maybe I didn't think it was good for you to find out you're adopted."

"
Oh my god, Karoline. My god. Listen to yourself. What is wrong with you?"

I
was in danger of losing it. I was going to give into the rage and if I did that I'd have no chance of making any sense. Finding any answers. Knowing any peace.

"
Giulio killed himself, Karoline."

I
kept repeating her name as though I could break through the layers and find her. As though my friend was hidden under a smiling demon's skin.

"
You told him horrible lies. You convinced him the love of his life was unfaithful. You picked on him when he was sick and vulnerable. Karoline, he died because of you."

She
stood up and flung her glass of wine at me. Red droplets splashed all over the table.

"
He didn't die because of me. He died because of you. He believed that you were evil enough to betray him like that. Because you are."

She
was screaming by then. Spittle and bits of food spewed from her mouth along with her vitriol.

I
got to my feet and shoved the plates across the table. Steak and potatoes and carrots and salad mashed together in a steaming lump at Karoline's feet. She laughed.

"
You are a selfish cold bitch. I spent my whole life looking after you and that weakling. All I ever did was keep things nice."

Karoline
pushed herself away from the mess and was instantly at my side. Though she was shorter than I, her eyes seemed to be even with mine. Their glow was terrifying. Waves of rage flew off her and slammed into me. I tried to take a step back but she fastened her hand around my wrist with a painfully strong grip.

"
You would have been murdered by now if it weren't for me. Some man would have raped and killed you. Your stupidity is boundless. You think you can use somebody and they won't retaliate. I protected you."

Her
voice was a screech. I couldn't move. I was a mouse frozen by a lion's roar.

"
And how did you repay me? You fucked everything that moved when I wasn't looking. You brought home women you thought could be our friends. We didn't need anyone else. We were perfect on our own."

Karoline
flung my hand away and stomped into the living room. I stood and watched. Some of what she said didn't make it to my brain. I couldn't process her mad diatribe.

"
Giulio was worse. He left us for that wreck of a man who couldn't even decide if he liked boys or girls. They pretended they were Ozzie and Harriet in their perfect little house on their perfect little street with their perfect little neighbors. In Cleveland of all places. Armpit of the earth."

She
paced up and down. Her arms flailed as though punctuating her sentences with exclamation marks.

"
I couldn't make him come back. Even to make everything up with you. I figured if I got him back to L.A. he'd never leave again. But nooo…"

Karoline
began to pull at her own hair.

"
Then the asshole goes and gets cancer. Still he wouldn't come back to me. I would have taken good care of him. Even you would have taken care of him. I tried to make him leave Paolo but nooo…"

She
turned to face me again. I saw the tears streaking down her face. Not tears of sadness but from a wrath so all-consuming that it spilled from every pore.

"
He killed himself instead. I guess he had the last laugh, didn't he?"

I
began to sob. My grief was a river that almost knocked me over with its strength. I stood in the middle of the furious water unable to move or do anything to stop the flow.

"
Karoline. Karoline. You're making no sense. You need help. We can go to the hospital. We can get help."

She
whirled around on me. Her face was mottled and swollen. She clenched her fists.

"
I am so glad you're not next to me at this minute. I would scratch your eyes out. You are a stupid fucking bitch."

The
balcony door reverberated as she shoved it open.

"
Leave me alone. We will talk about this later."

Her
tone was that of an annoyed parent. I almost heard 'young lady' after her directive. She had stopped crying. The muttering and pacing on the balcony was almost worse.

I
cried for a long time. I had no idea what to do. The inertia was heavy. It seemed to take a long time to lift myself from under it.

I
cleaned the kitchen. Put the ornaments back on the table the way Karoline liked them. Shoved the broken plates and bowls down the garbage chute in the hall. Took a shower and put on my nightgown.

All
the while Karoline talked to herself and paced like the sentries outside a royal palace.

I
was calmer now. I thought I had some clarity. Karoline was obviously suffering from a mental breakdown. Some kind of personality disorder had suddenly worsened in the last few years. Unbeknownst to the rest of us she had slowly gone crazy.

But
things like this could be fixed. I went out on the balcony and sucked in my breath. Karoline sat on top of the balcony wall. She looked back at me and laughed.

"
Talk me down, Annie baby. Go ahead."

"
Karoline, you shouldn't fool around like that. You could slip."

I
walked forward a few steps. She didn't seem to care.

"
You don't think I'm serious? Why not?"

"
Come down and we'll talk about everything. We can set this right."

"
Listen to you. Little goody two-shoes. Set this right she says! Good lord. Shouldn't you be screaming at me for killing your precious Giulio?"

"
I care about you right now. I'm afraid you'll fall."

I
kept walking toward her.

She
repeated my statements in a singsong voice.

"
What a sap. You are stupid, Annie dear. Dumb as a post. You can't even tell when you've been outshone."

"
Karoline. You're my best friend. We've meant so much to each other. We love each other. Come down and talk to me."

"
Love you? I can't stand you! I have my reasons for putting up with you all these years. But none of them has anything to do with love. I cannot imagine anyone loving you. Not really. We all get attracted to your sunny little disposition and your good looks. But very soon afterward your true nature becomes evident. Stupid, selfish, haughty. Indiscriminate. Sex addicted. Oh, I could go on."

I
took a step closer. Now I was fairly close. She twisted herself sideways so she could gaze at me.

In
the distance I could hear the traffic. Car horns, a screech of tires, an emergency vehicle. The trees outside our building swayed slightly in the darkness. I couldn't see over the wall but it was unlikely that people were out in the garden at this hour.

"
Isn't this fun? Isn't honesty just the best policy? You should be honest now. Tell me how you really feel."

"
I don't like who you are right now," I admitted.

"
Who I am right now. What psychobabble. I yam who I yam, girlfriend. Always was and always will be. Smarter than you, though that's not saying much. Better at manipulating people than you ever dreamed of. Everybody thinks you're the one who managed people and did that horrible job so well. Little did they know that you were my puppet at home. I pulled your strings, you did my dance."

I
didn't mean to argue with her. I couldn't help myself.

"
Obviously you didn't play your role of puppeteer too well if both Giulio and I defied you."

"
Oh how little you know! I kept you in the dark. I have tied your strings so tightly around your life that you'll never recover. You are both the protected and the one people need protection from."

She
bent one leg so she could look me straight in the eyes. She began to laugh again, that high hideous cackle that shook with crazy merriment. She stretched out her arms as though she wanted me to grab them. I took the last few steps until I was right beside her.

"
You can't change me, Annie dear. I have completely screwed up your life and mine. Giulio never came back to me but he sure as hell didn't mind killing himself for you. You showed me that you never really loved me either. I failed at keeping you as my little Pinocchio, but I sure as shit messed up your life too."

"
Maybe you should just kill yourself then, Karoline. If everything is so fucked up why don't you just do it?"

That
was when she went over.

Dear Diary,

Have
you ever thought about suicide? I'll bet nearly everyone has. Personally, I think it's a vindictive, cruel act. Splatter blood everywhere so the people left behind have to clean it all up and feel bad. When I think about it, it seems to be the purest form of revenge.