The Summer Everything Changed (29 page)

It was well after midnight. Louise was sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of warm milk. It was an old sleep aid her mother had sworn by. She frowned down at the mug. It was probably more effective when you used whole milk rather than the watery one-percent version she had in the house. She pushed the mug aside.

Isobel was upstairs, hopefully asleep. She looked almost haggard lately. She had admitted to not sleeping well. And God damn it, Andrew hadn't come through for Isobel like he had promised to, no big surprise there.

Louise sighed. Then again, had she been there for her daughter this summer? Not much. What had Isobel said to her just the other day? “I didn't think you noticed me anymore.” Well, the wedding was in ten days, and once that was done with . . .

A sudden pounding on the kitchen door made Louise jump and yelp all at once. She looked around, and through the glass in the door she could see a familiar face leaning close. The face was familiar, but the expression was one she had never seen on it before. What was it? Panic? Fear? Anger?

Louise leapt to her feet and threw open the door. Jeff, she thought, must be in trouble. Maybe there had been a car accident, maybe he was hurt . . .

But face-to-face with her daughter's boyfriend, she could clearly see that he was drunk. His eyes were bloodshot and unfocused. His hair was on end. There was a dark stain, still damp, on his fine linen shirt. He swayed and grabbed the door frame with his left hand.

Louise's gut recognized this for what it was. She had seen it before, a long, long time ago. This was trouble. She spoke, trying to keep her voice calm and soothing.

“Hello, Jeff,” she said. “What are you doing here? It's after midnight.”

“I know what freakin' time it is,” he spit. “I want to see Izzy.”

Though she had been in bed for hours, she was still not asleep.

The words of Jeff's last e-mail kept running through her mind.

It was a dirty and menacing message from a person who claimed to love her, but not a particularly surprising one. But he hadn't shown up at the inn all day. Now, the silence felt more dangerous than any active harassment. At any moment he could appear, crash through her bedroom door, jump out at her from around a corner, and she would be helpless to resist. He was so big . . .

Finally, her body and spirit simply worn out enough to quiet her brain, she dozed off. But it wasn't for long. Isobel shot up in the bed and sent the covers flying. She didn't know exactly what had woken her so abruptly. But she did know that her mother was in danger. She knew that as absolutely as she knew that her name was Isobel.

She grabbed her bathrobe from the foot of the bed, a tattered old terry-cloth garment, and belted it quickly around her. Her feet still bare, she tiptoed out of her room to find the hall dark. There was no light from under James's and Jim's door. There was no light from under her mother's door, either, but Isobel gently knocked and pushed it open.

The bed was empty; it had not been slept in.

Isobel went back into the hall and listened in the dark.

After a moment, she thought she heard a low voice from far off . . .

As quietly as she knew how, she snuck down the stairs. When she reached the front hall she heard it more clearly now. Jeff's voice. He was in the kitchen.

Some instinct directed her to slide out the front door and dash around back rather than barge into the kitchen from the hall. The kitchen door was open, as were the windows. Keeping to the edge of the frame, she peered through one of the windows and gasped.

Jeff was drunk. That much was obvious; he was swaying and slovenly. And he was alone with her mother.

Isobel was sure her mother couldn't see her from where she stood by the table. Jeff had his back to the window. Good. She didn't want to alert either of them to her presence. She needed the element of surprise if she was to do anything . . .

“Isobel isn't here, Jeff,” her mother said, calmly, and clearly. “Why don't you go on home—”

Jeff laughed, though it sounded more like a bark. “I'll do what I want to do, and what I want to do is to see Izzy. Now.”

“I told you,” her mother said, her tone still even, “Isobel is not here.”

Jeff took another step forward, weaving slightly but still on his feet. Isobel thought he had never looked so huge, so dangerous.

“Liar!” he shouted. “I know that bitch is here and you're hiding her from me!”

Isobel's teeth clenched so hard she thought they might shatter. She grabbed at the pocket of her bathrobe and realized that she had snuck downstairs without her cell phone— stupid! She was afraid to leave her mother alone with Jeff while she ran back upstairs to call the police. She was afraid—

“I'm not lying,” her mother was saying. Isobel thought that her voice betrayed some tension and fear now. “And I'm not hiding her, Jeff. Look, it's late. I really think you should go now.”

And then Jeff slammed his palm against the fridge, knocking several of the magnets to the floor. “Tell me where that whoring bitch is or I'll mess you up!”

Isobel's hands flew to her face in horror. Her mother reached into the pocket of her robe and pulled out her phone. “I'm calling the police—”

“Thank God,” Isobel murmured.

But before her mother could press those three numbers, Jeff lunged at her, grabbing her arm and shaking her roughly enough to cause her head to snap back. The cell phone went flying and landed behind the trash bin.

The terror Isobel had felt was gone in an instant. The decision to act was made by her limbs. Isobel ran into the kitchen, screaming for help.

Jeff turned, startled by her sudden and loud entrance, and snarled. Roughly he pushed Louise from him. She stumbled backward, hit her head on the table, and fell heavily to the floor.

“Mom!” Isobel dashed toward her mother, but within a step, Jeff had grabbed her by her arm. “Let go of me!” she cried.

But Jeff was strong. And he was angry, out of control now.

Isobel struggled wildly for a moment until, through the clamoring of her panic (her mother might have a concussion, she might be dying!), she heard the unmistakable sound of an engine screeching to a halt and then, Charlie's frantic barking.

“I'll kill that stupid dog right after I kill you!” Jeff spat between clenched teeth. His breath was foul with alcohol. Isobel felt her stomach heave.

He released Isobel's arm and clamped both hands around her neck and squeezed. Isobel choked and felt her eyes pop. She grabbed at his forearms and fought vainly to dislodge his hands from her throat. And then she began to black out. She had never blacked out before . . . Her vision grew fuzzy and then dim and her knees sagged and . . .

And then she was vaguely aware of a light that hadn't been there a moment before, and voices . . .

Jeff suddenly released her, and Isobel felt herself being carried to a chair at the table. And then her mother, conscious, was being lifted into the chair next to hers . . .

It was Jim, dear, brave Jim . . . He was now on his cell phone . . . And there was James. He was holding Jeff's arms behind him . . . She turned away.

And over by the door stood a disheveled Catherine with Charlie straining her leash, barking to raise the dead . . .

“Oh my God!” Catherine cried. “Louise! Isobel! Are they all right?”

James frowned. “They will be,” he said.

Isobel saw Catherine put a hand to her heart. “Charlie woke me up. She was whining something awful, and suddenly I got a feeling . . .”

Charlie had ceased her barking but she continued to growl menacingly at James's prisoner. Isobel saw Catherine tighten her grip on the leash.

“I have half a mind to let Charlie have her way with this piece of crap,” James muttered. “But I don't want to deprive the justice system of its fun, either.”

“Get your hands off me!” Jeff yelled, trying in vain to free himself from James's iron grip. “I'll have my father's lawyers fucking destroy you all!”

“Save it,” James said in a voice that carried a big enough authority to make Jeff go silent, at least for the moment.

“It's over,” Isobel muttered. She was breathing heavily. Gently, she touched her throat. “It's finally over.”

“Izzy!” Jeff's voice was harsh and loud.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't look at him. The very sight of him repulsed her.

“Izzy! Listen to me!” he demanded.

Isobel put her hands over her ears but was still able to hear the sound of sirens approaching. She kept her eyes closed and her hands where they were until the police had hauled Jeff away.

Catherine came over to the inn mid-morning the next day. The two women were sitting at the kitchen table drinking what was a fourth cup of coffee for each of them. Neither had gotten more than an hour or two of sleep.

Princess Charlene lay on the floor, her head on Louise's feet. Isobel was finally, mercifully, asleep in her room.

Catherine had insisted on going with Louise and Isobel to the hospital the night before, while James and Jim stayed awake with Charlie until the women's return.

The bruises on Isobel's neck, though nasty to look at and painful, weren't serious. Louise was more banged up—there was an ugly cut on her forehead and a series of bruises along her right side—but miraculously she had avoided getting a concussion when her head had hit the table.

“Thanks to my thick skull,” she had declared to the attending doctor, just before breaking down in a torrent of tears.

There was a knock at the kitchen door. Louise startled; she thought it would take some time before a knock at that door didn't frighten her. Catherine got up to open it. It was Flynn. The look on his face was one of shame and embarrassment, but he met Louise's eye squarely when he spoke.

“I can't tell you how sorry I am, Louise. I should have known. I just should have.”

“So the word is out,” Catherine said, closing the door and pouring a cup of coffee for Flynn.

“Small town.”

Louise managed a smile. “You can't blame yourself, Flynn. If you had known anything bad about Jeff, you would have told me. I'm the one who should feel sorry, and guilty, and I do, I feel both.”

“Now, enough with the guilt,” Catherine said gently. Charlie thumped her tail in agreement.

Flynn joined the women at the table. “I thought you should know I paid a visit to Jack Otten this morning.”

“Oh?” Louise thought that had been pretty brave of Flynn. And if Jeff was anything like his father, maybe a bit foolhardy, too. “Did he . . . I mean, what did he say?”

Flynn sipped his coffee before answering. “In short,” he said, “the man told all. Seems Jeff's past includes more than a few cases of robbery, as well as bullying. The kid's been in and out of counseling programs for years, but nothing seems to stick. In my day we called a boy like Jeff Otten a bad seed. Nothing to be done about him but let him find his way to jail. Apparently, Jack and Sally have been fighting that inevitability in whatever ways they know how.”

Catherine whistled. “The stuff of a soap opera.”

“So I'm guessing that Jeff wasn't actually working for his father,” Louise said. “He gave me a business card, you know. It looked official enough, but . . .”

Flynn grimaced. “Jack Otten wouldn't let his younger son near the business with the proverbial ten-foot pole. No, that card must have been a fake, just like every other thing about the kid.”

Something occurred to Louise. “Was there any mention of a recent robbery?” she asked Flynn. “A bracelet of white gold and diamonds?”

“Oh my God, the bracelet he gave Isobel,” Catherine said. “Don't tell me he gave her stolen property. Man, I'd like to kill that son of a bitch.”

Flynn nodded. “Stolen but subsequently paid for. The shop owner knew who had taken it. He had the theft on surveillance tape. Jack Otten paid up. It wasn't the first time.”

“Why did people continue to cover for him?” Catherine demanded. “The bad behavior must have been going on for years.”

“I can't say for sure,” Flynn admitted, shaking his head. “I'm guessing the Ottens paid well for silence. And a lot of people like Jack and Sally. They've been good to the community. And then there's Michael. Everyone likes Michael. Guess people didn't want one bad apple to spoil the reputation of the entire family.”

“Allowing a violent young man to prey on vulnerable girls and steal from his neighbors is hardly being good to the community,” Louise retorted.

“No,” Flynn admitted. “It isn't. But don't assume everyone was in on this conspiracy of silence. Jack told me plenty of folks let it be known they wouldn't cover for Jeff if he came near their family or their business.”

“It's nice to know there are still some people with moral fiber,” Catherine said huffily.

“Did he ask for my silence?” Louise asked. “In other words, did he name a price?”

Flynn frowned. “Not in as many words. He wanted to know what you had decided to do. I told him I didn't know.”

Louise remembered how hard it had been to tell the truth when she was the one who had been abused. But she had done it, and Isobel could, too. One thing was for certain. The Bessire women could not be bought.

“It's up to Isobel,” she said. “I'll back her whatever she decides to do.”

Flynn finished off his coffee and rose. “I'm sorry again about all this,” he said. “Whatever I can do to help now, you promise to let me know.”

Louise held out her hand and Flynn took it solemnly. Then he left, after scratching the Princess behind her ears.

“Will you tell Isobel the bracelet was stolen?” Catherine asked when Flynn had gone.

“I think I have to, don't you?”

“Yeah. Frankly, it doesn't suit her anyway. She should sell it and buy herself something she really likes. Something that says—
I am Isobel
.”

Louise managed a bit of a smile. “Did you know that Jeff called her Izzy?”

Catherine shuddered, and it was for real. “I think,” she said, “that I might have to let Charlie have her way with him after all.”