Ghost Moon (26 page)

CHAPTER 39

‘‘SHE CUT IT UP.’’ MALLORY SPOKE UNDER HER breath, but her fury was obvious when Olivia, in response to an imperious gesture, joined her in the front hall. At Olivia’s questioning look, Mallory was more specific. ‘‘Chloe. Took scissors and cut up the dress I bought her to wear to the funeral. It’s hanging in her closet in tatters.’’

‘‘Oh, no,’’ Olivia said, shocked. ‘‘Oh, dear. Are you sure
Chloe
did it? Maybe the kittens clawed it, or something.’’

This attempt to shield Chloe earned Olivia a black look.

‘‘I asked Chloe if she’d tried on the dress I bought her yet. She said right to my face that she wasn’t going to have to wear it, because she had turned it into rags. I didn’t believe her—I thought surely no child, not even Chloe, could be that deliberately destructive—but I went to her closet and looked. She was telling the truth. The scissors were right there on the floor under the dress, with threads from the dress still clinging to the blades. She cut it up!’’

Olivia sighed. Even without viewing the damage for herself, she had no trouble believing that Mallory was telling the truth. Chloe’s behavior had been much improved lately, but Chloe was still Chloe. And she was no fan of Mallory’s.

‘‘I’ll talk to her,’’ Olivia said. ‘‘She was very wrong to do it, and she’ll apologize, I’m sure. But—’’

Mallory cut her off furiously. ‘‘I don’t know why I’m even talking to you. The person to handle this is Seth. He’s the only one with any degree of control over that little—girl. He’s going to have to exercise it.’’

Turning on her heel, Mallory stalked away, passing through the open pocket doors into the large, antiques filled living room, where Olivia located Seth with a glance. Dressed in a navy sport coat and khaki pants, he was leaning a shoulder against the far wall as he talked with about half a dozen guests. He looked tall and impossibly handsome as the lamplight cast a warm glow over his grief-shadowed face, and Olivia’s chest ached just looking at him. As Mallory walked up to him and curled a proprietary hand around his arm, she could no longer watch. Olivia abruptly turned her back, heading in search of Chloe. Martha, who was busy chopping onions, directed her to the children, on the back veranda just outside the kitchen, adding that she’d been keeping an eye on them through the windows. Keith, who was sipping a glass of white wine as he stirred something on the stove, remarked that they were all actually behaving rather well. Leaning against a counter nearby, David made a skeptical face, but said nothing to contradict Keith.

Chloe was indeed on the back veranda. Sara and several other children were with her, and they were crawling around on the floor apparently pretending they were dogs. Ginger the cat watched from the railing with tail-twitching disdain. Smokey and Iris, the kittens, played with a moth nearby. The only overhead fixture on either porch had been affixed to the veranda ceiling just outside the kitchen door. It had been switched on, attracting swarms of insects and bathing the children in its yellowy light. Olivia could only hope that they all wore insect repellent, as she did not.

Beyond the porch, it was a lovely, moonlit night. Mouthwatering aromas from the kitchen blended with the perfume of flowers to scent the warm, moist air.

Sara greeted Olivia with a bark, and a shake of her blue-jeaned bottom that was supposed to pass, Olivia guessed, for a wag of her dog’s tail.

‘‘Hi, pumpkin.’’ Olivia ruffled her daughter’s hair as Sara clambered over to her. Sara looked up at her reproachfully.

‘‘Mom, I’m a dog,’’ she protested.

‘‘Oh. Good dog.’’ Olivia patted Sara’s head instead of ruffling her hair, and Sara panted happily. Olivia looked for Chloe. She and another little girl were near the steps that led down to the parking area. On all fours, they were busy making digging motions with their hands. With the knowledge gleaned from some years’ acquaintance with such games, Olivia guessed that they were supposed to be burying their bones beneath the plank floor.

‘‘Chloe, could I speak to you for a minute, please?’’ Olivia called.

Sara stopped her pretend burial of a bone at her mother’s feet to look up at Olivia worriedly.

‘‘Is Chloe in trouble?’’ she whispered, apparently recognizing a certain tone in Olivia’s voice.

Glancing down at her daughter, Olivia stifled a sigh. Sara knew her too well. Placing her finger against her lips, she shook her head, their signal for
if you’ll be quiet
for now, I’ll tell you everything later.

Sara said nothing more, but gazed up at Olivia wide-eyed, her doggy game forgotten.

Chloe ignored Olivia’s summons, continuing with her game. The other little girl crawled awkwardly down the steps, still in game mode. When Chloe would have followed, Olivia called her again, more sternly this time. Chloe threw her a dirty look, but this time she came, bounding over to Olivia on all fours, still in her doggy persona.

‘‘What?’’ Chloe asked, borderline rude, tilting her head back so that she could see Olivia’s face. Like Sara, she was wearing blue jeans, with a long-sleeved yellow T-shirt and a yellow ribbon tying up her ponytail. She looked angelic, which she definitely was not.

Now that an adult was present to spoil their game, the other children scampered down into the backyard. They stopped crawling and took off whooping across the grass in two-legged pursuit of each other. The night was bright with moonlight and stars, and Olivia thought that they could come to no harm in the backyard.

She turned her attention to the problem at hand. With only Sara still within earshot, Olivia asked Chloe quietly, ‘‘Did you cut up that beautiful dress Mallory bought you to wear tomorrow?’’

While Sara did not quite succeed in muffling a gasp, Chloe met Olivia’s gaze defiantly.

‘‘I told her I wasn’t going to wear it, and I meant it.’’

Seriously concerned by what the destructiveness and defiance of the act said about the little girl’s state of mind, Olivia hunkered down in front of her. She was wearing her short-sleeved black sweater, a charcoal knee-length skirt, hose, and black heels, and getting down to Chloe’s eye level required some care in case she should rip her hose or reveal too much thigh, but she managed.

‘‘Chloe, honey, why on earth would you do such a thing?’’

‘‘That’s exactly what I want to know.’’ Seth spoke without warning, making them all—Olivia, Sara, and Chloe—jump. A glance back told Olivia that he was standing behind her, frowning at his daughter, holding the mutilated black dress in one hand. One horrified look showed Olivia that the garment had, indeed, been ruined. The skirt and petticoat had been cut into ragged strips that fluttered like kites’ tails from the ribbon waistband.

‘‘Well, Chloe?’’ Seth asked when Chloe didn’t say anything. Olivia stood up, smoothing her skirt and folding her arms over her chest, acutely aware of Seth. Abandoning her game, Chloe plopped on her bottom and crossed her legs in front of her, rested her hands on her knees, and gazed up at her father mutinously.

‘‘I don’t have to wear what Mallory tells me. She’s not my mother!’’

Seth’s mouth tightened. Observing that, and knowing it for the storm warning it was from long experience, Olivia put a quick, cautionary hand on his upper arm. It was the first time she had touched him since he had walked out of her bedroom, and if she’d had time to think about it she wouldn’t have done it. Sex had changed everything between them, just as she had known it would. They were no longer simply family to each other. Undercurrents upon undercurrents had been added to their relationship, making even the most innocent touch suddenly awkward.

Seth looked at her, and for a moment their eyes met and held. She thought his expression softened for her, and then he looked back at Chloe and his face grew hard again.

‘‘You’re right, Chloe. Mallory is not your mother. But that is no excuse that I can see for the deliberate destruction of a perfectly beautiful dress that she gave you.’’ His voice was grim despite what Olivia had hoped would be the moderating influence of her hand on his arm. Chloe was grieving, too. He—they all—needed to take it easy with her.

Chloe glared at him. Then her lower lip began to tremble and her eyes filled with tears.

‘‘You hate me, don’t you?’’ she cried, jumping to her feet. ‘‘Everybody hates me now that Nana is dead! Everybody!’’

Bursting into tears, she turned and ran down the back steps, then disappeared into the dark around the side of the house.

‘‘Chloe!’’ Seth yelled after her. Then, bitterly, as it became obvious that Chloe was long gone, he added, ‘‘Goddamn it!’’

His gaze met Olivia’s, who looked significantly down at Sara. Still crouched at Olivia’s feet, Sara was looking up at him wide-eyed.

‘‘Oh,’’ Seth said. To Sara he added, ‘‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’’

‘‘That’s okay,’’ Sara said gravely. ‘‘You don’t have to worry that I’ll repeat it in school or something. I know better than to say bad words.’’

‘‘At my age, I should know better, too,’’ Seth said, placing a hand briefly on the top of her head in an affectionate gesture. ‘‘You’re a good girl, Sara.’’ Then he looked at Olivia with a weary sigh. The glow from the yellow porch light made his hair gleam gold. His face was all hard planes and angles. ‘‘Should I go after her? Or leave it alone?’’

‘‘Go after her,’’ Olivia advised quietly. ‘‘She’s hurting, too.’’

Seth looked at her for the briefest of moments, then picked up her hand that had dropped away from his arm when Chloe ran down the stairs. He carried it to his mouth, pressing the back of it to his lips. The heat of his mouth on her skin sent a shiver snaking all the way down to her toes. He turned her hand over and kissed her palm, while Olivia looked at him with, she feared, her heart in her eyes.

Seth
. Her body ached. Her heart pounded.

‘‘I’m glad you’re home,’’ he said, as he had before. ‘‘I don’t know how any of us would get through this without you.’’

Then, before Olivia could say anything, he released her hand, handed her the mutilated dress, and ran lightly down the back steps in pursuit of Chloe.

‘‘Why did Seth kiss your hand, Mom?’’ Sara asked curiously when he was gone.

Olivia had forgotten they’d had an audience. Feeling hideously self-conscious all of a sudden, she glanced down at her daughter.

‘‘To thank me for helping him out with Chloe,’’ she said as lightly as she could, and was thankful that Sara apparently accepted her explanation at face value.

What made it even worse was, Olivia feared that her explanation was the truth.

CHAPTER 40

WALKING THROUGH THE FRONT YARD CALLING softly for his daughter, Seth cursed under his breath. He didn’t need this. He really didn’t need this. Just getting through this thing, hour by hour, day by day, was taking every bit of fortitude he possessed. He didn’t need any more problems. Not right now. He knew his approach to Chloe’s misdeed had not been exactly sympathetic. But when Mallory had told him what Chloe had done, and then shown him the ruined dress, he had lost his patience and his temper at the same time.

During this time of family crisis and mourning, was it too much to expect his daughter to behave?

But as he kept reminding himself, Chloe was only eight years old when all was said and done, and she was grieving, too. It was possible that her latest bit of acting out could even be laid at his door. He hadn’t been very sensitive to her needs during this difficult time. In fact, he’d been downright insensitive, too caught up in his own pain to reach out to her in hers.

Poor little girl, he’d better remember that he was all she had left. And right at the moment he wasn’t sure if he was a whole heck of a lot better than nobody.

For all his awkward attempts to parent her—the school visits, the bedtime stories, the stilted conversations about her interests, all undertaken at Olivia’s prodding—he and his daughter just didn’t seem to be able to connect. He could, and did, provide well for her materially. As far as providing for her emotionally, well, he had to admit that despite all his efforts so far he’d been pretty much of a dud.

Thank God for Livvy. She was helping Chloe get through this, keeping her busy, watching out for her, even sleeping in the same room with her. He should have been the one to be there for Chloe, he knew. But he just didn’t seem to have the knack.

Livvy was helping him get through this, too. Without her, the night of his mother’s death would have been, for him, the proverbial dark night of the soul. Even now, he would be lost if he did not have the memory of their lovemaking to sustain him. Just the knowledge that Livvy was going to be there when this was all over gave him a light to steer for through the fog of his grief.

If he could only get through the next few hours, through tonight and his mother’s funeral tomorrow, then he could turn his attention to sorting out the rest of his life.

Chloe was huddled on the top step of the gazebo. Seth would never have seen her if she hadn’t sniffled loudly as he walked by. He turned his head in response to the sound and there she was, her knees drawn up to her chin, her arms wrapped around her blue-jeaned legs. It was a bright night, with a sky full of stars and a moon as big and round as a frosty eyeball. The moonlight made Chloe’s pale hair seem to glow. The gazebo, an elaborate Victorian-era structure, looked like a birdcage dropped down in a corner of the lawn. Chloe was the bird perched inside it.

In the second before Seth headed toward her it struck him how small she was. Like Jennifer, Chloe had a delicate build with fragile bones. She looked a great deal like Jennifer, too. Seth wondered suddenly if it would have made any difference to their relationship if she had looked like him instead of her mother. Maybe she would have felt more like his child than Jennifer’s, then.

‘‘Hey,’’ he said softly, mindful that, under the circumstances, his approach had probably been too harsh before. He wished he had some pet name for her that he could use to kind of warm things up, like he’d heard Livvy call Sara
pumpkin
more times than he cared to count, but he couldn’t think of one and it would be too artificial-seeming to just come out with something cutesy out of nowhere. ‘‘We need to talk.’’

He climbed the steps and sat down beside her, his size eleven shiny black moccasins planted firmly a step below her much smaller feet in their yellow-trimmed sneakers, his arms crossed loosely over his khaki-covered thighs as he leaned slightly forward and laced his fingers together between his knees. He hesitated, feeling ridiculously ill at ease. It was sad, he thought, that he should not know what to say to his own child, but there it was: He didn’t.

Tightening her arms around her legs, Chloe cast him only a single glance before looking away. But at least she didn’t cut and run.

In the annals of his relationship with his daughter, that, Seth thought with a touch of gallows humor, was a positive sign.

‘‘Nana told me I should wear my blue dress with the daisies on it to her funeral,’’ Chloe disclosed before Seth could say anything. ‘‘She said that it was her very favorite, and if she looked down from heaven and saw me wearing it that would be like a secret message between us. So that’s the dress I’m going to wear, not some stupid fancy black one that
Mallory
bought me.’’

Seth ignored the belligerence of that speech, and the nasty tone in which she said Mallory’s name, too. He zeroed in on the really important part.

‘‘
Nana
told you that?’’ he questioned carefully. ‘‘When?’’

‘‘When Olivia took me to the hospital to say good-bye. Nana told me to wear my blue dress, and that’s what I’m going to do.’’

‘‘Olivia took you to the hospital to say good-bye to Nana? When?’’

‘‘Sunday afternoon.’’ Chloe shot him a quick, almost wary glance. ‘‘Nana said I shouldn’t tell you, because it would make you too sad to know we had to say good-bye. But I thought you better understand about the dress.’’

Seth felt unexpected tears sting his eyes. His throat tightened at the idea of his mother and daughter conspiring to shield him from pain. It was eye-opening that, in his mother’s view, Chloe rather than himself had been the one who was strong enough to face the truth.

‘‘Now that you know, are you still mad about the dress?’’ Chloe asked in a small voice, shooting him that wary glance again.

Seth shook his head. He didn’t try to speak.

‘‘You miss Nana a whole a lot, don’t you?’’

Seth nodded.

‘‘She said you were going to be really sad after she died. She said that I would be sad, too. But she said she’d still be with us, all the time. She said it would make her happy to know that we were happy. And she said that if we wanted to talk to her, all we had to do was come outside on a night when there was lots of stars, like tonight, and pick the star that twinkled the most, and that would be her, waving at us.’’ Chloe looked up into the sky and pointed. ‘‘See that star over there? The blinky one. I bet that’s her. I already waved.’’

Seth looked where Chloe pointed, and saw, in the company of dozens upon dozens of stars in a star-filled sky, a large, bright star not too far above the western horizon that did indeed, when seen through tear-filled eyes and a rapidly dispersing cloud cover, seem to blink. With Chloe’s eyes on him, he waved, too.

‘‘So don’t be sad, Daddy,’’ Chloe said softly, her gaze earnest as she turned it on his face. ‘‘Nana’s still with us. We just can’t see her anymore.’’

Seth felt as though a huge hand was squeezing his heart. Here was his little girl, all of eight years old, trying to comfort
him
. He didn’t deserve her.

‘‘Chloe,’’ he began. Suddenly the name that he had called her as an always smiling toddler, before things had started going wrong between him and Jennifer and Jennifer had taken Chloe away, came back to him. ‘‘Honey-bug, I love you. I know I don’t say it much, but I do. You and me, we’re a team. If we stick together, we can get through this thing all right.’’

Chloe looked at him again, her eyes bright with tears as they searched his face. Seth wrapped both arms around her, pulling her close. Suddenly hugging her didn’t seem awkward at all. It felt right.

‘‘I love you, too, Daddy,’’ Chloe said. ‘‘You haven’t called me honey-bug for a long time.’’

‘‘I just remembered,’’ he answered truthfully.

The two of them sat there together in the moon-washed darkness, talking and looking up at the one blinky star in a star-filled sky.