Tainted (22 page)

“I think we should go now.” Henry rose from his chair. “And leave Jack and Holly in peace. We've meddled enough in their lives as it is. I'm sorry, sweetie.” He walked over to Holly, leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “I've been an old fool and I apologize.”

“You should have trusted me, Henry.”

“I know, I—”

“How about a fishing trip tomorrow morning, Henry?” Jack put his hand on Henry's shoulder. “I could use a trip in the boat.”

“Does that mean you're not leaving?” Anna asked.

“Looks that way.” Jack gave her a brief smile; Holly's heart soared.

“Of course we'll go fishing.” Henry sounded relieved and grateful. “Nothing like a trip on the boat to clear the air.”

“Come on, Billy.” Anna motioned for him to join her. “Henry's right. It's time to go.”

“Anna—you can stay here. I'm sorry about what happened before, I—”

“Holl—don't worry. Like you said, it's been a crazy day. And a long one—already. I'm exhausted. It's time for me to get back to Boston.”

“Billy . . .” Jack blocked his path as he was walking to the front door. “Can we try to be more civil to each other? Isn't it time we called a truce?” He held out his right hand.

“OK.” Billy shook it. “Whatever.”

Jack turned, rolled his eyes at Holly, mouthed “whatever” and smiled at her.

“Come over later if you want to, sweetie,” Henry said as he was walking out.

“I will.”

When they'd all left the house, Holly threw herself into Jack's arms.

“I'm sorry, I really am, for telling them. I know I promised, but I had to. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Jack stepped back, took her face in his hands. “But this doesn't change anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we're still leaving.”

“Why?”

“Because I don't trust Billy, I don't trust Anna.”

“But you said—”

“I know. I want them to think we're not going. They have to think we're not going. I want as much time as possible to elapse before they figure out we've gone. So I'll go fishing tomorrow with Henry, and you and Katy can have coffee with him afterward, make everything normal, and then we'll go—and that will give us at least a day's start on them.”

“But what Anna said made sense, Jack. It's not in Billy's interest to force us out. Or hers, either.”

“It may not be in his interest now, but what about further down the line? When he sees how close Katy and I are and resents it even more than he does now? He could do anything, Holly. He wants me out of the country, out of your life.”

“He doesn't want you dead, Jack.”

“Maybe he does. Or maybe he thinks I'm exaggerating. He'll figure out a way to spin it so he can live with it, believe me.”

“Are you sure? I mean do you really think—”

“I have to leave. I told you before, you don't have to come with me. It's up to you, Holly. But I have to go. I can't take the chance. It's far too risky.”

“Mommy. Jack.” Katy was on the bottom step. “What are you talking about?”

“I was just telling Jack how happy we are that he's part of our family. How much we love him.”

“He knows that already.”

“He needs to know it all the time, chicken. He needs to know we're like wolves.”

“What are you talking about?” Katy's cheek had a crease down it from her nap. She looked at them both with bewilderment. “How are we like wolves?”

Holly took Jack's hand in hers. “Jack knows how. He'll tell you.”

The three of them stood on the road in the rain. Henry was about to turn left to go to his house, but he hesitated; Billy saw this and pounced.

“Do you really believe it, Henry? The Mafia, his sister, a new identity?”

“He told me about his sister before. He wouldn't make something like that up.”

“And the Mafia?”

“Why not?” Anna felt as if it were the morning after a party and they all had to discuss what had happened the night before. “I mean, the Mafia exists everywhere, doesn't it? But how did he get involved in it in the first place? He doesn't look like a Mafioso.”

“I doubt that all Mafiosi look alike.” Henry knew he should go home, but he couldn't quite bring himself to.

“It's all very dramatic, isn't it? It doesn't really get more dramatic.” Anna hugged herself.

“It does fit,” Henry stated. “How else would he know we'd called the school? That McCormack woman being in charge of his new identity—of course, she wouldn't say she knew him, would she? It makes sense.” He looked toward his house. “I feel guilty talking about it like this. I should go.”

“The only reason I didn't trust him in the first place was because of Mr. Barrett,” Anna said to Henry. “Because of something he once said to me.”

“What did John say?”

“He said people smile when they lie. And Jack was smiling when he was talking about taking Katy out in the car. I know—it's stupid, but I couldn't help remembering. There was this Shakespeare quote it took me forever to remember—I only remembered it when I was walking out of the house now. How weird is that? Anyway, Jack wasn't smiling in there just now.”

“What Shakespeare quotation?”

“It's like ‘You can smile and still be a villain.' ”

“It's ‘One may smile, and smile, and be a villain,' to be precise.
Hamlet.
John said that to you? Why?”

“He didn't say the quote, but he said that people smile when they lie. I smile when I lie, I know. And I thought Jack was lying this morning because he kept smiling. But like I said, he wasn't smiling when he was telling us his story.”

“No, he wasn't.”

“And that's proof he wasn't lying?” Billy kept shifting his weight from foot to foot. He'd been uncomfortable in the house, but then everything about Jack made him uncomfortable, even that brief handshake. Henry was obviously going to believe Jack's stories. And he couldn't think of any way to challenge Jack now; he couldn't call Eliza McCormack again; and it wasn't as though he could pick up a phone and call Mafia headquarters in London.

“Billy, we should call it a day. We should stop this interfering. It's wrong. Jack and Holly explained everything in there—at some risk to themselves. As you said to me before, we all make mistakes, we all do things we shouldn't. He was wild in his youth, he is paying for that now. And he did the right thing by testifying. We should leave them be.”

“I'd like to know about this testimony. What the case was, how—”

“Stop it right now.” Henry put his hands up in the air. “I mean it, Billy. Leave it alone.”

“But his late-night drive with Katy—”

“I think we're in danger of reading too much into things like that these days. I know I was concerned, but I can see it from Jack's point of view. I can see how it could be perfectly innocent.”

“You can, Henry? Really? Because I'm not sure I can believe one word that comes out of his mouth.”

“Come on.” Anna tugged on Billy's arm. “Calm down. Let's get out of the rain. I'll come back to your house, we can sit and have a coffee—I'll need one before I drive back. You really do have to forget this, Billy. If you don't, the Mafia might end up coming after
you
. Or Katy, now that I think about it. If they found out where Jack was, they might go after Katy to torture him even more. I saw this episode of
Law & Order
—”

“You really trust him, Henry?”

“I trust Holly, Billy. And yes, I do. I do trust Jack. He was entirely sincere in there. He deserves a chance. As I said before, we should leave them in peace. Have a good drive back, Anna.”

“Thank you.”

“And I truly am sorry if I acted in a patronizing way to you. But I don't think John and Julia ever meant to.”

“I'm sure they didn't. Don't worry, Henry. Besides, I
am
pretty much of an airhead. It's no big deal.”

“It is a big deal. They wouldn't have wanted to hurt or offend you. Come see me next time you're down, Anna. We can have a cup of coffee.”

“Will do.” She began to drag Billy away. “Goodbye, Henry. And don't worry, I'll calm him down.”

“Goodbye, Henry,” Billy said grudgingly.

Billy allowed himself to be led off by Anna while Henry turned, walked the two minutes it took to get to his house.

At least he was busy today. Taking Bones to the vet—he'd had an upset stomach that morning—buying groceries, stopping in on an old friend in town. Unusually for him, he was anxious to get off Birch Point and into the “real” world. The whole business with Jack had been too much. The Mafia? A young man like Jack involved in the Mafia?

Well, worse things happen at sea. But then again, do they? What's worse than Holly marrying someone who was in the Mafia? Someone who has been a criminal?

But I believe in rehabilitation. I can't throw away my beliefs because the person rehabilitated is married to my granddaughter. Am I a “Not in My Own Backyard” type of liberal? Do my beliefs go only so far?

Yet it all felt so very much against what John and Julia would have wanted for Holly. And so very much against what
he
wanted for Holly. But love wasn't in the business of adhering to other people's expectations. Holly was in love with Jack, Jack in love with Holly. That's all that really mattered. That and the fact that Jack had changed, that he'd come to his senses and straightened himself out.

Anna's right, though—how does a boy like that get involved with the Mafia in the first place? What was his original identity? What was his name, I wonder? And what exactly did he do before he straightened himself out? What crimes did he commit?

Henry picked up Bones's leash from the front hall table. The disappointment and anger in Holly's eyes as she had asked, “Why, Henry?” had been a terrible thing to behold. He had let her down. And if he kept on distrusting Jack Dane, Holly and Katy might leave Birch Point forever.

“Come on, Bones. We've got to mind our own business from now on. Normal life resumes as of now. Which means there is no excuse for not going to the vet, old man. But I've got a special snack for you when you're well again.”

Holly hadn't called him. When he returned to the house in the late afternoon, there were no messages. Normally, if she came over and he wasn't there, she'd write a note—but there was no note, either.

She's punishing me. And I can't say as I blame her.

He put the groceries in the kitchen, made himself a bowl of Campbell's minestrone soup and a slice of bread and butter, and then went back into the living room and sat down with the last three issues of the
New Yorker
he hadn't gotten to yet. As he read, he kept losing his place and had to start over again.

After a while, he gave up any hope of concentrating on words and went to play Hearts on his computer. Hearts could keep him occupied for hours: a small vice he kept a secret. There was no redeeming feature in sitting in front of a screen playing card games: he should have been educating himself, learning something, being productive. Instead he spent far too long trying to Shoot the Moon or offload the queen of spades, smoking his pipe as he played.

Isabella would never have let him get away with it. If Isabella were alive, they would have been sitting out on the porch chatting. What would she have thought of Jack and Holly?

Henry led the two of clubs, sat back and pondered.

“Find out, Henry. When you go out fishing tomorrow morning, find out exactly what it was he did and didn't do. We can't pretend it doesn't make a difference, no matter how much Holly wants us to. You need to find out.”

All right, Isabella. That's what I'll do.

Sleep was eluding her. She'd be just about to nod off and her eyes would snap awake, seemingly of their own free will. She was facing the wall: Jack's arm was around her waist, holding her to his body. He was asleep; she could tell from the regularity of his breathing pattern. He'd been remarkably cheerful all day: smiling, making jokes, full of enthusiasm for their move. She'd had to go to the bank in the afternoon to withdraw the cash in her checking account, while he stayed home with Katy and decided where it was they were moving to.

“What about Indiana?” he'd asked when she returned and found him at the kitchen table. “I like the sound of it. It sounds anonymous. What do you think?”

“Why not?” She'd forced a smile. Katy was watching TV in the living room. She couldn't tell her about the trip until the last minute. It wasn't fair to make Katy keep a big secret like that. “I thought you loved the sea, though, the horizon.”

“Good point!” he'd exclaimed—as if she had said something supremely intelligent. “Indiana it isn't!” He pulled the atlas lying on the kitchen table back in front of him and opened it. “Oregon. Oregon sounds good, doesn't it? And it's on the Pacific. There's even more of a horizon on the Pacific.”

“Are you all right, Jack?”

“I'm fine. I'm sorted.”

“Sorted?”

“Never mind.” He shook his head, grabbed her hand, stood up and pulled her up with him. “Come here.” He hugged her. “We'll have a brand new life. We can be anybody, do anything.”

She tried to catch his good mood and run with it, but all she could think of was leaving Henry behind.

“Katy will miss Henry. So will I,” she said.

“So will I. But it's like I said before. You have to keep looking forward. Maybe I could be a fisherman in Oregon. And you could be a schoolteacher. In a small coastal town. We should live in a cabin. Katy would love living in a cabin.” He began to dance, and she fell into it with him, following him as he led her around the kitchen table. “We'll have a radio in the cabin kitchen. And dance in the moonlight.” He stopped, looked at her. “It will be amazing, Holly Barrett Dane. A simple, amazing life. No television. A radio but no television. You can picture it, can't you?”

“Yes,” she lied.

And she'd lied when they had sex that night, too. Pretending, for the first time, to have an orgasm. She didn't want to disappoint him or admit to him how frightened she was. He needed her to be strong and she needed to be strong for him. Saying goodbye to Henry the next day without telling him they were leaving Shoreham would be the most difficult lie she'd ever have to tell.

The smell of his warm sleeping breath in her ear made her remember that first time in the bus, how he'd whispered to her, how she'd felt so close to him, so intimate. What if someone had told her then that she'd be married to him and leaving Shoreham with him forever within six weeks? What would she have thought?

I would have thought I'd trade in anything to be with him—anything except Katy.

I'm sorry, Henry. But I don't have a choice. Love like this doesn't give you a choice.

Henry woke up sweating, drenched from his dream. He'd been walking down the dike in the blazing heat and John had suddenly appeared, standing beside the lighthouse. Not John at the age he'd died, but John when he was in his early twenties. Young and strong and handsome and his son.

“Hello, Dad,” he'd said and Henry had rushed up to him to hug him, saying, “You're alive. John. My God, you're alive.”

“I'm going swimming, Dad. Come with me,” John had said—and then he'd broken out of Henry's hug and dived off the rocks at the end of the dike, swimming toward the canal.

“The current. Don't, John. The current's too strong. You'll drown,” Henry had shouted from the rocks. “Stop,” he kept shouting. “Don't go to the canal. Stop!” But John had kept swimming.

When he reached the buoy marking the canal, he turned.

“You'll love it, Dad. I promise. Come with me. Come swim with me. Dive in now.”

He couldn't move. He tried to pick up his feet, to launch himself into the water, but he couldn't move.

“I can't. Not yet. I can't come with you yet,” he yelled.

“OK.” With the illogic of dreams, John didn't have to shout to be heard. Henry could see his face clearly, bobbing above the waves. John smiled that amused, funny smile of his, then dived down into the water.

Henry kept searching the canal, waiting to see him reappear, but he was gone.

He woke, drenched not only with sweat, but with a terrible sense of loss and incomprehension. Was that dream supposed to mean something? He didn't believe in all the dream malarkey, Freudian interpretations or whatever they called them now. But he'd been so happy when he'd first seen John standing there; so panicked and miserable when John disappeared under the water. It all felt so real and so crushing. Why hadn't he followed John into the canal? The only moments he was allowed to be with his son again were ones in dreams. Why hadn't he gone to him?

He got out of bed, stripped off his pajamas, sat back down, and allowed the tears to fall. When they'd finished, he turned on the bedside lamp; then went to the chest of drawers in the corner of the room to find a new pair of PJs. As he was opening the middle drawer, it hit him.

“I had a sister, Miranda. She died when she was young.”

That's what Jack had said that night he was playing catch with Katy.

He remembered thinking,
Prospero's daughter, Miranda. A lovely name.

“I had a sister who died when she was very young . . . Amanda.”