Lindsey stood on a wooden deck that looked out across barrancas lush with tropical vegetation to the haze where the continent ended and the Pacific Ocean began. Laughter and bits of conversation drifted up from below, from the people gathered on the flagstone patio that surrounded the free-form swimming pool, and it occurred to her that this exact same scene had been played out in this exact same place how many dozens of times? Hundreds?
Lindsey stood on a wooden deck that looked out across barrancas lush with tropical vegetation to the haze where the continent ended and the Pacific Ocean began. Laughter and bits of conversation drifted up from below, from the people gathered on the flagstone patio that surrounded the free-form swimming pool, and it occurred to her that this exact same scene had been played out in this exact same place how many dozens of times? Hundreds?
Her dad, wearing an apron her mom had bought for him during a trip to Las Vegas, the one printed to look like a tuxedo, stood next to the huge stainless steel gas grill, holding a barbecue fork in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. He was chatting with the next-door neighbors, Barbara and Evan Norwood. Lindsey had known the Norwoods forever, had babysat their kids. Mrs. Norwood had taught her piano lessons, until, mercifully, it had become obvious to all concerned that Lindsey possessed no musical talent whatsoever.
The view, the images, the people, the smells-so little had changed. Okay, no more smell of charcoal briquettes and lighter fluid since the acquisition of the fancy gas grill, and where the portable soccer net had once straddled the place where the pool deck met lawn, a tall patio heater now stood. On the deck itself, the litter of plastic pool toys had been replaced by the large pots of flowers Mom had planted last spring.
That was my life, my childhood-soccer and swimming and babysitting and piano lessons, and Dad cooking dinner on the grill. I know I was lucky to have such a happy childhood. And I know Im not a child any longer, but whats wrong with staying close to your parents as you get older? Isnt that the way families should be?
Should be.
But no family is perfect. Is it? And if thats true, and mine seemed to be perfect, how can that be real? What if it was all justan illusion?
As if hed heard her thoughts, felt her doubts, her father looked up just then and waved the beer bottle, then blew her a kiss.
She drew a shaky breath and blew him one back. That, at least, she knew was real. That her father loved her she had never doubted.
About her mother, she wasnt so sure.
Momdid you love me? Why was there always that distance between us? You never let me get really close to you. Now I wonderwas it because there has always been another child, the little boy of your dreams-Jimmy-standing between us?
Shed been aware, growing up, of the reserve that sometimes seemed like coldness on her mothers part, but it hadnt seemed all that important then. Maybe because her dad had always been there to make up for any lack of affection, and to explain her moms coldness in a way that had made her understand and forgive.
Now, my mother is leaving me forever, for real. And the last thing she ever does for me is to make me doubt the one thing Ive always known I could count on-my dad.
A wave of resentment swept over her, but it receded quickly and when it did, it left behind the feeling she had so often these days. That awful stomach-churning feeling of a child abandoned, lost and alone.
How can I know who to trust now?
She realized, then, that she hadnt been truthful with herself or with Alan when shed told him she wasnt doing this for herself. She did need to know. Or she doubted she would ever be able to believe or trust in anything again.
Down below on the patio, people were stirring, rearranging, the chatter of conversation rising with expectation and punctuated with jovial cries of greeting. Guests were arriving, the newcomers emerging through the open garage doors onto the patio, and her dad was moving to meet them, sweeping them with him into the center of the cluster of friends and neighbors already present.
Lindseys heart gave a peculiar kick when she saw Alan come into view. It was the first time shed seen him dressed like this-in casual clothes, jeans and light blue short-sleeved polo shirt, a navy blue windbreaker hooked on one finger and slung carelessly over one shoulder, his dark hair hidden by a Philadelphia Phillies baseball cap. But her mind insisted on flashing back to the last time shed seen him, when hed still been wearing his dress shirt and tie, and she felt again the smooth cotton fabric against her skin where hed held her so closely, and smelled the scent of laundry detergent mixed with the other unknown things that made up his own particular scent. And his lips, when hed kissed her, so unexpectedly gentle, his breath smelling faintly of coffee and peppermints. Those things-his hand so warm on the back of my neck-had been coming into her mind all week, and she wished to God they would stop.
Because of that, she told herself the hitch in her breathing and the quickening of her pulse wasnt for him, but for the child beside him, the little girl clinging to his arm with both hands in the shy, awkward way of ten-year-old girls meeting hordes of strangers. Chelsea Cameron was slender and tall, like her father, and wore jeans and a pink and brown windbreaker and her long dark hair was pulled up in a ponytail. Lindsey held her breath, waiting for the pang, the sense of recognition and of longing. But it had been years since she stopped seeing her baby, her precious Isabella, everywhere she went, and after a moment she relaxed and let the breath go slowly.
It was the right thing to do. I know it was. I dont regret it.
But now her mind insisted on taking her back to that time, making her remember the pain, the anger and betrayal shed felt when her mother had taken Trents side. Both had been furious with her for refusing to try again to get pregnant.
Now that they know you have trouble carrying to term, theyll know what to do. They can prevent it! Dont do anything permanent, Lindsey, you dont know what medical science will come up with. Theyve made such advances, theyre saving even tiny preemies now.
Oh, yes, Mom had had all the arguments but Lindsey had been adamant. How can you possibly understand? she remembered telling her mother. Youve never lost a child-you dont know what it feels like!
The rift between them had been at its widest then, but eventually, to give her mother credit, when it came to the final separation, Susan had reluctantly accepted her decision and supported Lindsey through the trauma of the divorce. And later, no longer so self-involved and wrapped up in her own pain, Lindsey had come to realize how hard it must have been for her mother to accept the reality that she would never have grandchildren. Theyd actually grown closer, it seemed, for a while.
Youve never lost a child, you dont know what it feels like!
Now, the memory of those words seared her soul. Oh, God, what if it was true, the story about the little boy named Jimmy? Eyes closed, she tried to see her mothers face, the way it had been back then, tried to remember if there had been something there, some glimmer of the painful memories that were to come.
The sound of her name being called shivered the image of her mothers face like a fresh breeze across the mirrored surface of a pond. Down below on the patio, her dad was waving, calling to her. She nodded and waved back, and Alan looked up and waved, too. He spoke to Chelsea, who looked up shyly from her place close by her fathers side, but didnt wave.
Here goes, Lindsey thought. She took a deep breath, pasted on a smile, and turned and went back in the house and down the stairs to join them. Her stomach was a roiling mass of butterflies, and now the only thought in her mind was: I wonder if hell kiss me this time.
Chapter 5
She was prettier than I had expected, and younger.
Her hair was dark, and long. She wore it pulled back in a ponytail, like a young girl.
Excerpt from the confession of Alexi K.
FBI Files, Restricted Access,
Declassified 2010
I wonder if I should have kissed her.
Thered been a moment there, when shed come through the doors, emerging into the sunlight like a diva onto her stage, when it had seemed almost as though shed expected him to. And, Alan had to admit, when hed wanted to. Very much wanted to. The kiss hed planted on her several days ago in the car still haunted him, burning itself into his memory at the most unexpected times, the remembered sensation becoming more intense with each replay.
Today she was wearing a sweater in a color that was somewhere in the neighborhood of red and orange and pink and that made him think of ripe fruit, and her cheeks seemed to pick up some of that, making them more vivid than he remembered. Her eyes seemed brighter, too, shining bright blue out of that thicket of dark lashes. He didnt know what it was about those eyes-he wasnt the sort to think in literary imagery, and once again the only thing he could find to compare them to in his mind was Elizabeth Taylor. Movie-star eyes.
He didnt kiss her. He stepped toward her almost reflexively, but something stopped him, some inner voice warning him that it wasnt the right thing to do, at least not then. And the moment passed.
She came to him, smiling, one hand holding back her hair, although the breeze off the ocean seemed benign enough that it probably wasnt necessary. A sign of the awkwardness she was feeling, he thought. The same uncertainty he was experiencing, and which wasnt natural to him, at least not that he could recall.
Hey, babe, he said, then wanted to chomp on his tongue. It wasnt that hed never called a woman babe before, but it had never before felt so wrong. Lindsey Merrill was definitely not a babe, which got him to wondering what kind of endearment would feel right, if their pretended relationship had happened to be real. Hed called her honey, and Linz, if his memory served, and none of those had felt right either.