Underwater (26 page)

Helen had just started writing when she heard his car in the driveway. Her pulse started to race and her hands began trembling. She took a deep breath, brushed her hand over her left shoulder, and closed her notebook.

She heard the kitchen door open and slam shut.

“Monty?”

There was no answer. Then he entered the living room, his eyes menacing. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

“I wasn’t tired. Monty, look—”

“No, you look. Don’t hassle me, Helen. I’m tired, and I need a drink.” He turned and walked back to the kitchen. A few minutes later, he reentered the living room and flipped on the television.

“Monty, we need to talk.”

He glanced at her, then back at the TV. “Not now.”

“Yes, now. Please turn that off.”

He turned back and stared at Helen. “What the fuck are you worried about?”

“Please.” She stared into his eyes, her face expressionless.

“Are you having more contractions?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

Should she tell him? What was she waiting for? There would never be a good time, so it was now or never. “I found your iPhone.”

Monty’s jaw slackened. “So what? I have a work iPhone. Let me watch TV.” He turned away and took a sip of his cocktail.

Before she knew what she was doing, she blurted it out. “I know who RB is.”

He turned toward her again. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I read the text messages.”

“You spied on me?”

Helen swallowed. She couldn’t stop now. The words tumbled out faster than she intended. “I know about Rachel. Monty. I know she lives in a condo that you bought with money that was supposed to pay for the renovation. Money that we owe the bank, on the loan that Candace cosigned—”

“You’re imagining things, Helen. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Yes, I do. I know you’re cheating on me with Rachel! That’s Candace’s money. You didn’t pay the vendors for the work on Arcadia. You kept the money. You go over to the condo when you say you’re working.”

“You can’t prove any of this.”

“Everything has to stop, now. We’re about to have twin boys. You have to end it with your girlfriend and start being a good husband and father. We can’t go on this way,” said Helen.
Stay strong. Don’t plead.
“Candace knows you stole the money—”

“What have you done, you bitch?”

“It’s not what I’ve done, it’s what you’ve done. You have to come clean about the money and sell the condo. You have to pay your sister back. We’re legally liable to her and to the bank.”

“Did you talk to Candace?” His face was white.

“She called me—”

He rose from his chair, came toward Helen, and stopped in front of her. He leaned over and grabbed her by the shoulders, yanking her up. “You fat cow!”

“Let go of me!”

“What is the matter with you? You don’t tell me what to do, you fucking cunt!”

Don’t back down, not a single inch.
“Monty! Stop!” She pushed against him, trying to get away. “Stop trying to hurt me! It won’t work anymore.” Helen stared straight at him, fire in her eyes.

“You’re such an idiot. Stay out of my business. It doesn’t concern you.”

“It does concern me. You’re my husband and my children’s father. You don’t get to have a girlfriend, or another life. You’re lucky I’m willing to give you another chance. You have to be faithful, and you have to provide for your family. You have to get a job.”

“I have a job, bitch!”

“Prove it.”

The next few seconds changed everything. Monty tightened his grip and slammed her against the wall. He pushed his body up against her pregnant belly. “Fuck you!” he shouted.

A sharp pain registered in her brain as a mixture of fear and anger rose in her throat.
Stay asleep, Adele
—
don’t get up!
Helen felt a sudden, steady warm trickle down her legs and the babies inside of her readjust to a different reality.

She looked straight into Monty’s eyes and spoke calmly. “My water just broke.”

21

Worst Case

M
onty left the hospital Saturday morning at eleven.

Dawn was due in from Chicago any minute. Her flight had landed almost an hour ago, and he didn’t want to cross paths with her. Helen was in a private room, some drug being pumped into her to keep her from going into labor. The doctor said that the drug was just a temporary fix—once the water broke, the babies had to be born within a day or two. There was too much risk of an infection if they weren’t.

Last night, Monty had woken Adele and taken her with them to the hospital. He had called Chip to ask if he could help out with her. Chip’s wife, Kristin, had driven down from the lake and picked Adele up, saying they could keep her as long as Monty needed them to. The Duncan family would be back at their home in Atlanta on Sunday night.

Right now, Monty was beat. He hadn’t been able to sleep at all last night, and he hadn’t called Rachel. Apparently, his iPhone had been sent to the cleaners. He had contacted them about it, but the Asian owner acted as if he couldn’t understand him. Monty would stop there first before going over to the condo to crash.

While he was up all night dealing with nurses, he’d had some time to consider his options. If the babies were born this weekend—and it seemed clear that they would be—he would pretend to agree with Helen’s demands. He was not going to abandon his sons, and he wouldn’t let her take them away from him. He would promise to be the model father. He would take his family home and let his wife deal with the kids, and he would say he was cutting it off with Rachel. He would tell Helen the condo was being put up for sale, and he would insist that he was working. Once the twins were born, she ought to be happy not to be so huge anymore and to be able to get her body back to normal.

Meanwhile, he would step things up with Candace.

Her disappearance for the next two weeks was ideal. He knew that she wouldn’t cancel her trip because of the twins’ birth, and he didn’t want her to. She needed to have time for reality to sink in. She had never been as quick as he was, anyway. When she returned, he was certain that she would acquiesce and he would get the money he deserved and the house on Arcadia.

If she didn’t, he would execute Plan B.

Dawn stepped off the elevator and approached the nurses’ station.

“Hello,” she said to a nurse sitting behind a computer screen. “I’m here to see Helen Carawan in room seven seventeen. I’m her sister, Dawn Mitchell.”

The nurse smiled. “Hello, Ms. Mitchell. Ms. Carawan mentioned you’d be arriving this morning. Her room is down the corridor, last one on the left.”

“Thank you.” Dawn turned and hurried down the hall. When she reached room 717, she knocked on the door, which was slightly ajar.

“Come in,” called Helen.

Dawn walked in and over to Helen’s bedside. “How are you?” She leaned over and hugged her sister.

Helen gave a weak smile. “I’m hanging in there. I’m so glad to see you.”

“How do you feel?”

“Not as bad as I thought I was going to. Whatever they’re giving me is working.”

“Good.” Dawn set her purse beside a brown vinyl chair. “So what’s going to happen? Are you going to be able to go home soon?”

“Not without the babies,” said Helen. “Once the water breaks—the membranes rupture—they have to be born. The doctor is just trying to get me to go a little further, so they can be that much more developed.”

“Isn’t that dangerous? I mean—I’m sorry.” Dawn sank down in the chair.

“No, it’s okay. It
is
dangerous to keep them from being born for very long. They’re big enough, but their lungs probably aren’t ready yet.”

Dawn took Helen’s hand. “So—well, they’ll be all right, though, won’t they?”

“I hope so, Dawn.” Helen’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I don’t know. Worst case, they’ll have to stay in the hospital for a few days, or maybe a week or two, then come home.”

“So you’re not in labor?”

“No, the drugs are preventing that. I’m not sure what’s going to happen—whether I will go into labor and have them vaginally, or have a caesarean. One way or the other, though, they’re coming soon.”

Dawn rested her other hand on her sister’s forehead and caressed her cheek. “I’m not leaving you. Not unless you want me to.”

Helen smiled. “Thanks. I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Where’s Monty? And Adele?”

“He was here all night. He just left. Adele’s with some friends. They’re keeping her at their lake house until tomorrow night.”

“Good,” said Dawn. “Frank is coming in tonight. He’ll get a room at a hotel. We can take care of Adele when she gets back from the lake. I’m staying here as long as you need me.”

“Thank you so much.” Uncomfortable on her back for so long, Helen shifted in bed.

“What can I do?”

“Nothing. Just talk to me. Stay with me, and help me get through this.”

Dawn squeezed her sister’s hand. “Of course I will.”

That evening, at just after six p.m., Myron Frisch, chairman of the SlimZ board, walked Candace down the aisle of Holy Cross Episcopal Church in Manhattan.

Over ninety people stood in the sanctuary as Rob and the Episcopal priest waited for Candace, who was wearing an Oscar de La Renta embroidered ivory lace wedding gown. All the SlimZ invitees—including Amanda—were present, along with their significant others. Deirdre Chandler sat next to Charles and Nancy Chadwick. The remaining guests were colleagues of the bride and groom, friends of Deirdre, and an assortment of clients and celebrities.

A feeling of serenity flooded through Candace as she approached the man she loved. Robert Simon Chandler was the right partner for her, and she looked forward to their future together. Marriage with him would be worlds different from the one she had had in her youth with Ted Morgan, who had paid little attention to her needs and even less to her feelings. Her father had given her away the first time, of course, and she missed him at this moment. Before he did, he had gently kissed her cheek, then looked into her eyes for a few seconds, his own eyes brimming with unspoken love.

She willed herself to push thoughts of him away and tried to focus on the present and what she was about to do. Her company had become her family in recent years. Her team at SlimZ—from Myron at the top down to the lowest-paid intern—had replaced the family she’d grown up with. They were the people she could count on, the people who cared about her. Her father would be proud of her success and happy that she had found a second chance at love.

Her mind flashed to yesterday’s conversation with Helen. She didn’t know what her sister-in-law had decided, but she felt she didn’t need to know. And she’d agreed with Helen that, for all his bluster, Monty just wasn’t brave enough to hurt anyone. He was desperate and angry right now, but in reality he was just a coward. Rob had been right: Monty’s life was always going to be what it was. Candace had no responsibility for it. It wasn’t up to her to take care of him or to finance a lifestyle he desired but hadn’t earned.

A fake lifestyle.

His victim mentality was part of who he was—no, it
was
who he was—just like her drive and ambition were part of her. He owned his choices about his attitudes and his behavior. She would not enable him anymore, nor would she allow herself to feel guilty about what she had achieved. She wouldn’t take heed of his empty, desperate threats, nor would she worry about what he might do in the future. He couldn’t touch her. Though it was unfortunate that this was the reality, it couldn’t be helped.

She had done all she could, and she had probably done too much—way too much. David had gotten the contractor to finish the work on the house over the last twenty-four hours, and she couldn’t worry about it anymore. When it sold, she would cut ties with Monty, and she wouldn’t have to deal with him again. If the house didn’t sell—no, it would eventually, for the right price.

Then she could forget about it and about the money she had lost. She wouldn’t be subjected to his pleas anymore, and she would be immune to his guilt trips. The irony was priceless: Monty had used her money to buy a condo and to subsidize a girlfriend while she was agonizing that she hadn’t been generous enough and should do more. The truth was, nothing she had done or could ever do would dispel his belief that he was a victim. Nothing would change who he really was: a liar and a thief.

Her lawyer would contact David about the money Monty had diverted and they would get as much of it back as they could. Life wasn’t just about money, anyway—she had learned that from her father. No, it was about holding on to the people you loved. Love included forgiveness—and sometimes that meant forgiving yourself.

Would her life have been different if she hadn’t been careless and distracted so long ago, the day her mother died? Would things have turned out differently if she hadn’t failed to have the tires on the car replaced after she was told to do so? Would the present be altered if she hadn’t argued with her mother or said horrible things to her just before the accident?

Would Monty’s life have been any different?

Perhaps, in some small ways, but not in the big ones. He had always been the person he was now, and so had she. The anguish that had tormented her, the guilt that had lived and even flourished deep inside of her, melted away. Like the last vestiges of a hard frost disappearing in the warm sunshine, the icy barrier enclosing her heart softened and vanished. The shame and regret that had tortured her for so long, that had stayed frozen in some dark, cold place in her soul, was gone.

She was not to blame, and she would live the rest of her life unafraid to feel. She was ready to begin the next chapter in her life and to start a new journey with the man who knew her best in the world. He would be her family now.

After she and Rob exchanged their vows and listened as the priest blessed their union, her new husband kissed her with perfect tenderness. Her heart was full of love.

“Worst case” became even worse than Helen had allowed herself to consider.

Her body had stopped responding to the antilabor drugs around one o’clock in the afternoon. Dr. Russell had had her wear a fetal monitor as contractions began soon thereafter and rapidly became closer together. Two interns and three nurses hovered around Helen, who insisted on having Dawn at her side. Frank waited in the waiting room for news. The doctor called Monty and left him a message to hurry to the hospital, but he didn’t arrive until very late.

When he did, everything was over.

Just before nine o’clock, Dr. Russell decided that, despite Helen’s wish to avoid it, the best course was to take the babies by caesarean section. Indications were that one of the twins might have the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck, and both babies were in distress.

However, before Helen could be prepped for emergency surgery, she delivered one twin vaginally, and then, shortly afterward, the other. Neither was given to his mother to be held.

The first baby was stillborn, and the other wasn’t breathing and was nonresponsive.

He died two minutes later.