Carly (29 page)

Leigh struggled with an amazing free fall of emotions—each one ramming her with astounding force. Anger. Shock. Hurt. Guilt.
Jealousy. Horror.

“Leigh, speak to me.” Nate shook her slightly.

“I don’t know what to say.” She stared downward. “It’s all too much—”

Rose entered with a tray of sandwiches and a pot of coffee. “Here you go.” She looked at Nate and said, “Your wife’s been
eating like a fly. Make her snack along with you. She’ll be a size zero if this keeps up. And after that, I don’t know what
she’ll wear. Minus-zero?”

“I’ll take care of it, Rose,” Nate said. After the housekeeper had left, closing the door behind her, Nate lifted Leigh’s
chin. He handed her a sandwich, forced her to take it in hand, and then he took a bite of his.

Leigh stared at the ham and cheese on rye. “I can’t eat.”

“Rose is right. You look as if you could blow away on the wind. Just take a bite and start chewing.”

The idea of eating felt repugnant, but she had to do something to make the unreality go away. “What did . . . what did Carly
say when she met her father?” Leigh forced herself to bite into the soft bread.

“I didn’t know what to say when the nurse told me, the night I arrived at the hospital, that there was
another
father wanting to see Carly.” He paused to chew. “But I decided if he’d flown all the way to Germany, he must want to see
her very badly. Don’t you think?”

She nodded, her mind still numb at the mention of Trent. She chewed, and the tang of the sharp cheddar burst in her mouth.

“I left them alone after I introduced Kinnard to her. Anyway,” Nate continued, “it did Carly good, I think. Especially when
I had to tell her about Bowie—”

She understood what he was saying, but had it been necessary? “Couldn’t that have waited?” she implored him.

“No. Carly doesn’t like secrets. She wants to know and face stuff in her way. You know that.”

“I know.” Defying her trembling hand, she picked up the mug of black coffee Nate had poured her and sipped the hot brew. “I
wish I’d been more open with her. You were right, and I was wrong.”

Her mind took her back to the day she’d first told Nate she loved him. She’d been listening to “Amazing Grace” at the NYPD
funeral for Nate’s grandfather.
If only I’d carried out all that I’d promised God that day, Carly and I wouldn’t have been at odds. Maybe she wouldn’t have
enlisted, wouldn’t have been wounded
.

“Hey, I can tell from your expression that you’re busy blaming yourself for everything.” Nate nudged her shoulder. “Just remember
that you’re human. You make mistakes. You can’t control what happens to anyone or how anyone is going to react to what happens
to them. Carly was wounded because Saddam Hussein is a nutcase, a murderous one. You didn’t do it. Carly will be home soon—what
you must decide is how
you
are going to react to the fact that she’s let her father into her life.”

“I know I should have let her meet him.” The words were shards of glass in her throat. “I should have years ago.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. We can’t know how meeting Kinnard earlier would have affected her. From what he told me, he has changed
a lot over the past few years. His wife divorced him, and two years ago, he lost his son in an auto accident.”

“Oh, no.” Leigh hadn’t realized that she could feel sympathy for Trent. But she’d nearly lost her daughter. “That’s dreadful.”

“He’s not the man who seduced you in 1972. I’d say he’s learned that life isn’t his to manipulate for his own purposes.” Nate
massaged her shoulder, releasing warmth through her flesh. “Just let it be.”

“I know I must.” She steadied her nerves. “I don’t want to do more damage to my relationship with Carly and you. But I can’t
see him. It hurts too much.”

“I don’t think he’s going to force his way into our family. I think he will be content merely to be in touch with Carly. And
she’s not about to wave him in your face.”

Leigh took a deep breath and then took another bite as if it were her duty to eat, to go on living. “Nate, I still want us
to go to counseling. I feel the need to talk all of this over with someone, and I want us to be the way we were when we were
first married.”

“Sounds like a good plan. Only I want us to be better.”

As Leigh finished her half-sandwich and reached for another, she’d actually begun to taste the salty ham, the sharp cheese,
the mellow rye, the tangy mustard. Nate had brought her back to herself, to life. “I love you, Nate.”

He leaned over and kissed her below her left ear, right where he knew she loved to be kissed. Desire for him tingled through
her, and she smiled.
It’s not too late to make things right. We’ll make it together. Oh, Lord, prepare me to show Carly how much I love her. With
honesty
.

That evening, the phone rang at Ivy Manor and Chloe picked it up. She listened to the hesitant woman at the other end, her
sympathy stirring. “You must come. Please. When Carly comes home, you must come and be our guests. I insist.”

Two weeks later, April 1991

I
n her bedroom at Ivy Manor, Carly stood, looking out the windows down onto the lawn of green grass dotted with yellow dandelions.
In the two days she’d been home, she felt as though she’d never left—until she looked down at her bandaged hand and walking
cast. She had been to war, and now she was home. She gazed down at the green grass and saw umber desert sand superimposed
over it until she blinked again. She was Carly, and she wasn’t.

On the unusually warm April day, the house was quiet. Nate and Michael had gone fishing on the nearby creek. Rose had the
day off, and Carly planned to spend the afternoon reading. The next day, Nate was going to drive her to Walter Reed for physical
therapy. A knock came at her door. “Come in,” Carly called.

Wearing a new spring dress of blue chambray, Grandma Chloe peered inside. “Will you come down with me? Bette wants us to drop
into the cottage for a few minutes.”

“Sure. Grandma Bette really looks thinner.”

“Yes, the chemo kept her from eating enough.”

Carly finally had enough courage to ask, “Is she going to be all right?”

Chloe made eye contact with her. “She may have another round of chemo. But the doctor was pleased with her progress. She has
a chance, a good one.”

Carly felt suddenly full inside, as if she’d eaten a feast. It was a good feeling. “I’m glad.”

“Me, too.” Chloe held out her hand. “Come with me.”

Using cast and cane, Carly turned and slowly swung across the hardwood floor. Grandma Chloe had banished all throw rugs from
Ivy Manor until Carly put away her cane. Slowly, Carly made it down the steps to the first floor. She’d insisted on staying
in her upstairs bedroom. It was good for her to exercise. And she didn’t want to stay in the den where Aunt Kitty had died.
That grief was still too fresh.

At the bottom, Chloe led her out the front door into the balmy day with blue sky overhead and fluffy cotton clouds. Carly
had switched to wearing dresses, so much easier than slacks because of the cast. The spring breeze felt good as it wafted
against the back of her knees. Still, images of the stark desert with its hot days and chill nights and the burning oil fields
flowed in and out of her mind.

Carly made herself concentrate on the here and now. Slowly they made their way down the familiar rutted lane to the cottage.
From the far side of the house, they heard the painters scraping away the old paint, preparing Ivy Manor for a new coat of
white. Chloe and Carly stepped inside the cottage’s back door, into its cozy kitchen. There a fresh coat of light yellow paint
brightened the walls.

Around the old kitchen table sat Leigh in jeans and one of Kitty’s Mets T-shirts and Bette in pressed black slacks and a flattering
royal-blue georgette blouse. Her mother was as beautiful as ever, her golden hair falling loose around her shoulders. Bette
looked sophisticated with her upswept do and a string of pearls at her neck.

“What’s this all about, Mother?” Bette looked up.

Chloe helped Carly settle in a chair, then took her place at the head of the table. “Today we are going to tell the truth
and set each other and ourselves free. Today, our family secrets and guilt will be exposed and disposed of.”

Leigh and Bette stared at her openmouthed. Whatever Carly had expected, this wasn’t it. She gazed from face to face. The truth?
I already know the truth, my truth
. Even if her mother finally told the truth, the truth that Trent had already revealed to Carly, what other secrets were there?

“And since I’ve decided this should happen, I’ll go first.” Chloe looked at each of them in turn. “I know that you all love
me, but even all these years later, I still carry guilt over the way I treated my daughter when she was a little girl.”

Bette looked startled. “Mother, you’ve always been wonderful to me. I couldn’t have asked for a better mother.”

Chloe covered Bette’s hand with hers. “I thank you for that, dear, but what you’ve never questioned and never blamed me for
is this: where was I for the first eleven years of your life?”

There was silence then. Carly had never heard about this. Why not?

Bette stared at her mother. “I . . . just always accepted that you had to be away helping Grandpa with his work in Washington,
D.C.” Bette smiled almost shyly, suddenly giving Carly a glimpse of her grandmother as a girl. “You were like a fairy princess
when you visited me. I didn’t know how to speak to you. You were too beautiful, and in your diamonds and furs—too grand for
me.”

Chloe looked surprised. “I didn’t realize that was why you never seemed able to talk to me, Bette. It used to tear at my heart
when I’d see you and want you to run into my arms. But you wouldn’t even speak to me. I thought you blamed me for not being
with you.”

“I didn’t know, Mama,” Bette murmured and then leaned over and kissed her mother’s cheek. “I never blamed you for anything.”

Carly tried to imagine this new concept of Chloe, a glamorous woman who stayed away from her own child and merely visited
like a queen. Carly couldn’t make it fit with the woman who’d loved her unconditionally her whole life. No.

Tears moistened Chloe’s eyes. She took out a frilled hankie and dabbed her eyes as she began again. “After the stock market
crash in ’29, you can’t know how fearful I was when I came home to stay at long last. I was frightened that I wouldn’t be
able to gain your love, be a mother to you. When you were born, I’d wanted to be close to you, care for you. But I had been
weak, so insecure. My mother wanted you for herself and you were a difficult baby. I didn’t feel able to do what a mother
should. All those lost years.” Chloe shook her head. “Forgive me, Bette.”

Bette squeezed her mother’s hand. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

Chloe smiled sadly. Then she took a deep breath. “I’m grateful for your understanding. But now you have a secret you must
tell your daughter.”

Carly became instantly alert. Bette had kept a secret from Leigh?

Bette looked to her daughter and then back to Chloe. “I promised Curt—why does she need to know?”

“The truth will not hurt her,” Chloe said. “And she already knows that you’ve held something back about her father.”

“Yes,” Leigh agreed, but gently, without any accusation in her voice. “I want to know the truth. I want to know why you never
spoke about my real father. What happened?”

Carly waited, wondering if this was why her own mother always ignored her questions about her father. Had she learned avoidance
and deception from her own mother?

Fingering the pearls at her neck, Bette stared down at the tabletop for several minutes. The silence gathered around them.
The wall clock ticked and outside a robin chirped. The painters scraped and turned a radio to a country station. Someone was
singing, “Tie a Yellow Ribbon.” “Your father didn’t die in an accident,” Bette admitted, “he committed suicide.”

Carly couldn’t believe her ears. No wonder Bette didn’t want to tell Leigh that.

Leigh’s mouth dropped open. “Why?”

Chloe answered for Bette, who’d put her face into her hands. “He carried terrible guilt over being unfaithful to your mother
during the war. He couldn’t live with himself.”

“While he was dying, he asked me to promise never to tell you,” Bette said, still not looking up. “He loved you. He felt that
he’d failed you.”

“So that’s why you’d never talk about my father,” Leigh said. “I always knew there was something.” Leigh stood and put her
arms around Bette’s shoulders. “Oh, Mother, how awful for you.”

Bette looked startled. “You understand why I couldn’t tell you?”

“Of course,” Leigh said and sat back down. She reached for her mother’s hands. “He asked you to promise. And you gave me such
a wonderful stepfather. I never felt cheated. I loved Ted. He was my dad.”

Bette smiled through tears. “Ted loved you as if you were his own. From the first time he saw you.”

Another moment passed in silence while Carly put all this information together in her mind.
Lord, I won’t keep secrets from my child. Or I’ll try not to
.

Her chin down, her cheeks pink, Leigh smoothed stray hair back from her face and then looked at Carly. “I’m afraid I already
blurted out most of my secret to my daughter.” Leigh reached for Carly’s hand. “I hope you’ll accept my apology. It was awful
the way I threw the fact that Trent was married when we . . . when . . .”

“When I was conceived?” Carly supplied bravely. “You know I talked to him in Germany? He’s going to be in my life from now
on. I feel so sorry for him. He’s so alone.”

Leigh nodded and lightly stroked Carly’s arm, gazing down at it, not into Carly’s eyes. “Nate told me. I don’t think I want
to see him again. But I don’t begrudge you or him time together. And Carly—” Leigh hesitated “—I’m sorry I couldn’t see how
much harm I was doing to you by not telling you about Trent. But it always came down to this.” Leigh looked directly into
Carly’s eyes. “How could I make you understand that while I regretted . . . being with Trent, I didn’t regret you?”