The Second Silence (28 page)

‘I guess I’ll just have to cross that bridge when I get to it,’ she said, hedging.

‘Is that your general outlook on life?’

‘Honestly, I don’t see what this has to do with—’ Noelle paused, glancing down at the sofa, at a loose thread begging to be plucked. Taking a deep breath, she said, ‘Look, Dr—I mean, Linda—I pay my bills in advance. Twice a year I have my teeth cleaned and my car tuned. But as far as major life crises go, I believe that no matter what you do, you can never be fully prepared.’
If I could have foreseen
this,
believe me, I wouldn’t be sitting here now.

Linda bent to jot something on her pad, her glossy brown wig bobbing with each vigorous stroke of her pen. Noelle could only imagine what she was writing.
Lack of impulse control. Displays signs of inability to cope under pressure.
She felt a sudden reckless urge to jump up and rip the offending notebook from Linda’s hands. If she was going to be damned anyway, she might as well have the satisfaction.

‘Tell me about your husband.’ Linda looked up at her with mild interest.

‘What do you want to know?’

‘Before all this, how would you describe your relationship?’

Noelle swallowed a cynical laugh. ‘We hardly ever fought, if that’s what you mean. If we had a difference of opinion … well, let’s just say Robert usually ended up getting his way.’

‘You sound resentful.’

Noelle thought for a moment. ‘The strangest part is, I w
asn’t …
until now. Now it seems odd that I didn’t fight back. Maybe if I had, none of this would be happening now.’

‘How so?’

‘I would have left him sooner, I suppose.’

‘Do you believe that’s what contributed to your drinking?’

Noelle forced a grim smile. ‘I see you’ve done your homework. But the answer is no. I’m an alcoholic, thankfully sober now. I don’t blame my drinking on anyone but me. All I’m saying is that my husband has a way of—she paused, choosing her words carefully—‘dealing with people who cross him.’

Linda’s thin penciled brow formed a perfect arch. ‘So you view this as a form of punishment?’

Noelle stared at the pen poised above the yellow legal pad. An ordinary ballpoint pen, forest green, with ‘Crossroads Realty’ stamped in gold along the barrel. Most of Robert’s properties were listed with Crossroads. Could there be a connection? She felt the muscles in her stomach clench.

‘Yes and no. My husband loves his daughter, no question. He also likes being in control. When I told him I wanted a divorce’—she began to tremble at the memory and fixed her gaze on the rosy-cheeked Hummel figurines appearing to cavort with one another on the knick-knack shelf over the TV—‘well, he wasn’t too happy about it. He became quite angry, in fact. Two days later I woke up to find my daughter gone.’

‘I’m sure you’re aware of the fact that your husband’s version of what happened is quite a bit different from your own.’ The woman’s pale, rubbery face seemed to float, disembodied, in the dim light.

‘Whatever he told you, it’s a lie.’

‘I see.’ Linda tapped her pen against the notepad, waiting.

Noelle squeezed her eyes shut. ‘We’d had dinner together the night before. Just to talk, that’s all. We hadn’t even ordered yet when I began to feel … unwell. Like I was going to pass out. Then I
did.
Pass out.’ She opened her eyes to glare at no one in particular. ‘Now suddenly I’m being portrayed as the town drunk.’

‘Had
you been drinking?’ Linda flashed her a faintly apologetic smile. ‘You understand I have to ask.’

‘No.’ Noelle didn’t elaborate. What was the point? The woman’s mind was clearly made up on that score. The knowledge left her weightless almost, buoyed by a queer sense of abandon. ‘Do you mind if I ask
you
a question?’

‘Not at all.’ Linda smiled pleasantly.

‘Do you believe there’s always two sides to every story?’

‘In most instances, yes.’

‘But there
are
exceptions?’

‘Occasionally.’

Noelle leaned forward, hands tightly clasped. ‘Linda, there’s something you have to know about me. If I believed I was a threat to my child,
in any way whatsoever,
I’d be the first to agree to some sort of—of temporary arrangement. However much it might pain me. But the truth is,
I’m
not the one who’s hurting Emma.’

‘Are you suggesting your husband is?’

Seeing a flicker of uncertainty in the woman’s eyes, Noelle pressed on. ‘All I’m asking is that you give me the benefit of the doubt. Don’t jump to any conclusions until you have all the facts. Will you do that, please? For my daughter’s sake?’

‘Noelle, honey, who’s that you’re talking to?’

Noelle looked up to find her grandmother slowly making her way down the stairs. Her heart sank. Nana looked a fright, wearing the rumpled housecoat she’d slept in, her hair sticking up all over her head in a blizzard of yellow-white tufts. There was that cranky edge to her voice, too. Nana was never at her best when just up from her nap.
Please God,
Noelle prayed,
don’t let her make this any worse than it already is.

As Nana shuffled into the living room, Noelle quickly stood to introduce her. ‘Linda, this is my grandmother.

Nana, remember I told you about Dr Hawkins, that she was coming to interview me?’

‘What for? Do you need a job?’ Nana cocked her head, peering at the woman suspiciously. She had no use for what she called head-shrinkers; in her opinion, they only confused matters.

‘I’ll be making a recommendation to the court regarding your granddaughter.’ Linda stood to shake Nana’s hand. ‘I’m glad you could join us, Mrs Quinn.’

‘Hmmph,’ Nana grunted.

Don’t say anything, please,
Noelle pleaded silently.

But there was no mistaking the glint in her grandmother’s eye. ‘Well, I’ll tell you what, Dr Hodgkin, you can write in your report that Noelle here is the best mother around. Why, she’d lay down her life for that child.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ Linda replied smoothly, not bothering to correct the mispronunciation of her name.

Nana jabbed a crooked finger at the notepad. ‘Go on. Write it down.’

‘Nana, please …’ Noelle pleaded.

But there was no stopping her. ‘It’s a crying shame when a court that’s supposed to uphold justice lets an innocent person get dragged through the mud instead. Why, I knew Calvin Ripley when we were in school together. He was a bootlicking worm back then, too. Which just goes to show, a black robe without a spine to hold it up isn’t worth the fabric it’s stitched from.’

Linda’s queer lashless eyes narrowed.

I’m sorry,
Noelle mouthed in apology. She gently took hold of her grandmother’s arm, but Nana brushed her aside impatiently.

‘I’m not finished!’ she snapped.

‘Why don’t I come back another time?’ Linda suggested, casting a meaningful look at Noelle.

For a moment Noelle just stood there, trembling, too stricken to move. She couldn’t believe this was happening. It was like some awful dream.
I’ve got to stop her. I’ve got to salvage whatever shred of credibility I have left.
Again, as she had that day with Robert, Noelle felt something stir to life inside her. Like a strong wind, pushing her forward. She stepped squarely in front of her grandmother, placing a hand on each shoulder. But Nana stubbornly twisted from her grasp. Noelle watched her teeter and reached to steady her. Then suddenly, to her horror, they
both
were tumbling to the floor. She landed with a jarring thud, her grandmother sprawled atop her.

‘Awwkkkk!’ Nana screeched. Her large soft weight pressed down on Noelle, suffocating her.

There was a stunned, motionless instant. Then they began struggling in unison to get up, somehow leaving them even more tangled. It wasn’t until Linda seized Noelle’s hand that she was able to free herself. Together they hauled Nana to her feet and into the nearest chair.

Nana clapped a hand to her heaving bosom. ‘Lord Almighty God! I thought I’d killed you!’

I might as well be dead,
Noelle thought with a leaden sense of despair. If Robert had orchestrated this, it couldn’t have gone any worse. God only knew what Linda Hawkins would write in her report now.
She probably sees this as some kind of insane asylum … with Nana and me as its chief inmates.

But however misguided her actions, Nana hadn’t meant any harm. Noelle would be damned if she’d apologize for her.

The psychologist hesitated at the door nonetheless, as if waiting for some sort of explanation. ‘Your grandmother certainly has some strong opinions,’ she observed dryly.

‘I won’t argue with that.’ It was on the tip of Noelle’s tongue to make some placating remark, smooth over a situation that any fool could see was beyond salvaging. But when she opened her mouth, it was as if someone else were speaking, someone who’d been mostly silent until now. ‘I just wish I hadn’t waited so long to have the courage of
my
convictions.’

The number was written on a strip of masking tape stuck to the bottom of the phone. Days ago she’d put it there … just as a precaution. Now, still somewhat dazed from her bout with the psychologist, she found herself punching it in. She didn’t know whether or not her sponsor was still at the same address. Or what excuse she’d give for having waited so long to call. All she knew was that it was time she stopped waiting for God, or Judge Ripley, to decide her fate.

Miraculously the line was picked up almost at once. ‘Hello?’

‘Gwen?’ Noelle clutched the receiver tightly. ‘Gwen, it’s Noelle Van Doren…. I know it’s been a while.’

Gwen Nolan gave a throaty laugh, and Noelle could picture her sitting back in her chair to light a cigarette: a heavyset woman with weary eyes that had seen too much and a smile as infectious as a child’s. ‘Gawd, it
has
been a while, hasn’t it? How the hell you been?’

‘Staying sober,’ Noelle said with a rueful laugh to suggest what didn’t need to be spoken aloud to a fellow AAer: that the road had its share of bumps. ‘Actually, Gwen, that’s why I’m calling
…
.’

By the time she got off the phone an hour later, with a promise to attend tomorrow night’s meeting at the First Baptist Church, Noelle felt both stronger and lighter somehow. Why had she waited so long? What had she been so afraid of?

That’s not all you’ve been avoiding,
a voice whispered.

There was someone else she needed to talk to. Someone in a unique position to shed some light on her predicament. Who would know more about what went on at 36 Ramsey Terrace than her former neighbor, Judy Patterson?

Minutes later Noelle was in her Volvo on her way to Ramsey Terrace.
Judy has children of her own,
she thought;
she’ll have some appreciation of what I’m going through.
They weren’t particularly close, but regardless of her cowardice the other day, Judy had always been a good neighbor. Last winter, when Noelle had been laid up with that nasty flu, it was Judy who’d brought over a container of chicken soup and offered to look after Emma until she was better. Wouldn’t she want to help now?

But when Noelle pulled up in front of the Pattersons’ sprawling ranch house shortly past three-thirty, it looked deserted. She felt her heart sink, then remembered that it
always
looked as if no one were home. Judy kept the front yard immaculate: no bikes or Hot Wheels, no basketball hoop in the driveway. Her husband, Blake, owned a chain of discount drugstores and was on the road several months out of the year. Judy spent her mornings playing tennis at the club and working out at the gym. Her boys, when they weren’t at day camp or in summer school, played out back or swam in the pool.

Judy, immaculate as always in Bermuda shorts and a crisp white blouse, wearing an apron that read, ‘The World’s Greatest Chef.’ answered the door as promptly as if she’d been expecting company. Clearly not Noelle, though. Her mouth fell open in astonishment. ‘Noelle! What are you—gosh, this
is
a surprise.’

‘Sorry to just drop in on you like this,’ Noelle said. ‘Is it a bad time?’

Judy hesitated, then stepped aside to let her in. ‘I’m up to my elbows in cupcakes for the Little League team’s bake sale. Don’t ask! I’m such a pushover. But come on in. You can help me frost.’ She gave a little flutter of a laugh that didn’t quite hide her nervousness.

Noelle’s former neighbor was thin and blond. If Judy were ever to place an ad in a personals column (though the idea was ludicrous) that was how she’d describe herself, Noelle thought. Thin and blond. As if that were enough, even without being pretty. She had nice eyes, though. Turquoise blue, with thick dark lashes.

‘What are they raising money for this time?’ Noelle asked.

‘New uniforms, what else? They wear them out faster than they can grow out of them.’

‘Boys will be boys,’ Noelle murmured politely as she followed Judy down the hallway into the kitchen.

‘Amen to that. Honestly, the way my two go through their clothes, it’s a wonder they have a stitch left to wear. Be thankful yours is a girl; they’re so much easier.’ Judy abruptly swung around, wearing a stricken look. ‘Oh, Noelle, I’m sorry. Me and my big mouth.’

Noelle was surprised by the newfound ease with which she was able to reply. ‘It’s okay, Judy. And yes, I
am
grateful for Emma.’

The kitchen, with its pickled oak cabinets and cheery Mexican tiles, was awash in mixing bowls and muffin tins. On the butcher-block island, racks of cupcakes had been set out to cool. As Noelle sat down at the table, a to-do list stuck to the refrigerator with a ladybug magnet caught her eye.

This was the life I walked away from,
she thought. A life of endless busyness that had kept her from having to face the emptiness at its core. She didn’t know if Judy ever felt the same way—probably not—but there had been times in the kitchen separating eggs, when she’d been tempted to hurl them at the wall instead. Once, noticing a hole in one of her sheets, she’d wiggled a finger into it and, before she realized what she was doing, had ripped it right down the middle. Afterward, worried her housekeeper would think she’d gone nuts, she stuffed it into a garbage bag where Carmela wouldn’t see it.