THE GREAT BETRAYAL (27 page)

“Well, hold your horses. We haven’t talked about that yet, but if Lyle—or my mother—has anything to say about it, it won’t be long.”

Later that evening, Leslie pulled Dawn aside. “You have
no
idea how happy I am for you. You and Lyle make such a cute couple, and I was worried you’d let him get away—” She broke off, hesitant to broach the subject. “I’ve noticed how you don’t talk about Michael as much anymore…at least not like before. You’re finally moving on, Dawn.” Her smile was warm. “You’ve finally let him go.”

Dawn frowned. “Don’t talk about Michael as much? What exactly do you think that signifies?” She shook her head. “Leslie—I’ve let Michael go about as much as you’ve let Jeffrey go.”

Leslie stiffened, clearly taken aback. “What’s
that
supposed to mean?
I
remarried a long time ago.”

“Exactly what I said. Just because I’ve stopped talking about Michael as often as the day is long doesn’t mean I’ve gotten any more used to his being dead than I was the day it happened. I still miss Michael
every bit
as much. I still carry him around with me everywhere I go…and I’m not afraid to admit it. Never have been; never will be.”

Leslie blinked. She heard what her friend was saying, but more than that—she heard what she wasn’t.

Seconds passed. Nat “King” Cole’s “The Christmas Song” flowed through the house.

Forcing a smile, Leslie took Dawn’s arm. “Why don’t we go see what the girls are up to?”

From just inside the kitchen door, Evelyn Tremaine had been watching the exchange.

Earlier she’d seen Dawn—Mrs. Cavanaugh’s best and, from the looks of it,
only
friend—go into Luke’s office and close the door. Just a few minutes later it stood ajar, as if it had been open the entire time.

We women must stick together
.
I don’t like this
, Evelyn thought. She didn’t like it at all. Luke Cavanaugh was up to no good.

Should she confront him? If he got angry, would he risk telling Leslie a lie that could cost Evelyn this job? Did she want to find out?

Ah, forget it,
she thought, returning to the kitchen, where she belonged.
Mind your own damn business, Evelyn
.

But then her thoughts turned to Leslie. The warm, beautiful, but sometimes distant Mrs. Cavanaugh. She did not deserve to be made a fool of this way. Did any wife and mother?

Chapter 47

2006

The New Year blew through with such fanfare and excitement, and no one knew what happened to the old one. Time was so fleeting. Leslie was continually surprised at just how fleeting it was.

As with every New Year, every birthday and holiday, her thoughts were with Jeffrey. She marveled at how much she still missed him, even after all these years.

People said time healed all wounds, but Leslie Cavanaugh knew she was living proof that time healed nothing. Sometimes time stood still. Sometimes time froze and you were trapped. That was how she often felt: trapped in time, unable to get out or to get over it.

But had she ever
wanted
to get over it?

No. She was angry with God for ripping the love of a lifetime away from her. And she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to forgive him.

With her home life still teetering on the fringes of disaster, Leslie somehow managed to fill her days. She was up at the break of dawn, sometimes beating Dawn, the early bird, into the office. She’d begun working late into the evenings, taking on company projects and employee initiatives that were keeping her extremely busy.

The worst stress came, though, at night, whenever she did make it home before nightfall. Unless she descended on the local malls, giving her platinum cards a workout, or met Dawn at the gym or “the greenhouse” for drinks and cathartic conversation, Leslie was faced with the harsh realities of her current life.

Kathryn, now fourteen, had grown more distant than ever, coming and going at her own whims without so much as a nod in her mother’s direction.

Leslie had stopped trying to exert parental control months ago, leaving Luke to deal with it himself. She was tired of arguing with Kate, and she hated the blatant disrespect her daughter displayed whenever they did speak to each other.

And then, as always, there was Luke. He had taken to coming home later and later each evening. They hadn’t made love now in…three months? Sometimes he called only to leave word with Kate that he’d be spending the night at his beach house.

All hope of happiness was long gone. But had they ever had it to begin with? Was Leslie, herself, to blame? Had her marriage to Luke been doomed from the start?

She feared a separation was looming, but was afraid to make the first move toward it. Some actions carried a certain finality, and Leslie didn’t know if she had the strength to break up their family…not just yet.

There remained only one positive constant in Leslie’s life now, and she clung to it as a lifeline, the torch that lit the way through a dark tunnel.

Grace.

Oh, how she lived for her daughter’s e-mails. Every day they exchanged at least two or three, and Leslie was still learning so much about Grace and the family that had raised her. Not surprisingly, writing to her daughter was a refreshing outlet, the one place she felt able to talk about some of the most personal aspects of her life…including some of the most painful.

One evening, not long after the first of the year, Leslie had gotten home at a normal hour, only to find that Luke had once again left word—he would not be home that night.

Feeling despondent, Leslie tried to reach Dawn, but had been unable to locate her. She left Dawn a message, then took a shower and poured herself a few glasses of the 1997 vintage Chianti she and Luke had gotten while vacationing in Italy that year. Then, subdued by its effects, she went down into the den and booted up the computer. Leslie started to type.

To:
Grace C.
[email protected]

From:
L. Cavanaugh [
mailto:[email protected]
]

Subject:
Need someone to talk to

Message:
I think my husband is having an affair. He’s grown distant and doesn’t care that Kathryn no longer seems to respect me. I’ve expected him to stand up for me, but he hasn’t. Instead, he’s moody, gives conflicting signals, and now it seems he’s taken to not coming home at night. What am I doing wrong? What do they want from me? It’s at times like these that I miss your father the most. It’s hard to even type about Jeff. Sometimes I’m angry at him for dying on me. Angry they ever got on those stupid skateboards! What were they? Teenagers? These were grown men in their twenties. What in God’s name were they doing on skateboards? Damn him! We were so happy and in love. People are lucky if they find that kind of connection once in a lifetime, and we found it, and he dies on me! Dies! In a freak accident! The doctor came out and said he had died! Does anybody understand? Maybe Dawn because she’s gone through it. She used to drive me nuts about Michael. “Michael used to love this, Michael used to love that.” And she still has his pictures everywhere! How the hell can she stand it? Anyway, I’m sorry for this e-mail. I’ve been drinking. I’m trying my best to cope. How am I doing, do you think? Never mind, don’t answer that. I think I know. Thanks for listening. Did I mention that I’ve been drinking?

The instant Leslie hit send, she regretted it. What would poor Grace think? It was the first time she’d ever expressed
anything
in such a raw and uninhibited manner. The first time ever. She clicked over to the sent-items folder and reread the e-mail.

Oh, shit
.

The following morning, Leslie awoke with the worst hangover, but had far too much on her plate to call in sick. After a brief encounter with Kathryn in the kitchen, she had dragged herself into the office.

Around noon, just before she and Dawn left for lunch, she decided to click onto the Internet and check her personal e-mail account. Any regret she had felt the night before was laid to rest when she opened Grace’s response to her rants and raves.

To:
L. Cavanaugh [
[email protected]
]

From:
Grace C. [
mailto:[email protected]
]

Subject:
Re: Need someone to talk to

Message:
Oh, my God. You know what? I swear we must be on the same wavelength. I had a hellacious argument with my dad tonight about drinking before I’m twenty-one. I only have a few more months to go - what’s the big deal? I really think it’s time for me to get out and get my own place, don’t you? He never likes any of my boyfriends, and he wants to run my life. Hello? Add an “I” to run and it’s
ruin
! There’s only room for one “I” here, and that’s me. Didn’t he get the memo? I turned eighteen almost three years ago! It’s time to back off. Even my mom agrees!

Anyhoo…I didn’t mean to go on and on about myself. I certainly feel
your
pain, too. I know what you’ve told me in the past, but still, I know that a lot of what’s going on there is because of me. You don’t have to agree, but I know. When I was there for Christmas I learned a lot more. It was
quite
an experience. I see all the happy family photos in your house, and I noticed they were all from the past…just a wild guess here, but I’m willing to bet they’re all five or six years old, at the very least, right? I’m sorry about all this. I really am. Maybe you should just give it some more time. That’s what I’ve resigned myself to do with my mom and dad. It’s funny, because my brother and sister are fine with it. They’re always asking me about you.

Stay positive. I have a strong feeling that everything will work out in good time for us all. I’m glad that we’re able to stay in touch. Anyway, gotta knock off now. Got an early class tomorrow.

Love,

Grace

P.S. Lighten up on the bubbly or whatever you’re drinking, ’kay? There are other ways to cope! And don’t apologize, there’s no need…what else are daughters for?

Daughters
? Leslie reached out, her fingers touching the precious nine-letter word on the screen. Her hand trembled. Her heart swelled.

Over lunch, she told Dawn, filled with excitement. “She’s actually beginning to think of me as her
mother
!”

“Oh, really?” Dawn replied, glancing over the menu. “That’s terrific.”

Chapter 48

Tonight the cameraman was a new guy. They had never seen him before.

This one had a badly receding hairline, a prominent paunch, and looked like his pants were a few sizes too small.

Kathryn Cavanaugh turned to her best friend, Jodi Lapeer, and asked, “Who’s this guy? What happened to Rudy?”

Jodi shrugged. “I don’t know. Lauren didn’t say anything about a new guy.”

“Hello, girls,” Paunch Belly said, smiling. He had a thick foreign accent, and his front teeth were disgustingly stained.

“Hi,” Kate replied nervously. She’d gotten comfortable with Rudy. She didn’t know if she could do the modeling and posing with
this
guy.

When they were in the changing room getting undressed, she said, “I don’t know if I want to get naked in front of that guy, Jo-Jo. He looks kinda creepy, don’t you think?”

Lauren Samson walked in. “What do you mean? Ajay’s worked here before with some of the other girls—he’s a good guy. You can trust him. Just relax.”

“What happened to Rudy?” asked Jodi.

“Rudy’s off this week, okay?” Lauren snapped. “Now, come on, girls. Let’s get moving. Time is money.”

It had all started just a little over six months before. They’d begun communicating at night via Yahoo! instant messenger.

Kate found it so much easier to open up and vent to Holly Samson about Grace and her mother. Much easier than talking to Jodi or any of her other friends. All they ever said was that Kate was jealous. All but Holly. She was the only one who seemed to understand.

Holly was also having a rough time of it at home with her own parents, and the girls wound up sharing more and more about each other as the weeks went by.