He shook his head without looking at her, and she took a step away from him. Mary spoke about Elizabeth’s bedroom a few minutes longer, and Alec took some pictures before they moved on to the next room, another bedroom, this one much smaller than the first. Olivia saw the white spire of the lighthouse through the window.
“And this one was Annie’s room,” Mary said. They stood in the hallway, peering inside.
“
Annie’
s room,” Alec said. “You mean…
my
Annie?”
“Yes indeed,” Mary said. “The room where Annie brought her young men.”
“Where she…?” Alec frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Mary turned to look squarely at Paul. “
You
know what I mean, don’t you, Mr. Macelli?”
The Adam’s apple bobbed in Paul’s throat. His face had gone gray, and his fingers shook as he turned off the recorder and hung it on his belt. “I have no idea,” he said.
“Oh, I think you have a very good idea,” the old woman said. “An
excellent
idea. She loved the way you looked when you’d come over in your costume. You know, from the
Lost Colony
play.”
Alec turned to face Paul. “What is she talking about?”
Paul shook his head. “God only knows.” He looked at Mary and spoke loudly. “You have me confused with someone else,” he said.
Olivia could barely breathe. She wished she could do something to break the tension crackling in this hallway. She wished she could stop Mary Poor from saying another word, but the old woman was already opening her mouth, already pointing her cane toward the double bed.
“How many afternoons did the two of you spend in that bed?” she asked Paul.
“I’ve had enough.” Paul turned toward the stairs, but Alec caught his arm.
“What’s going on, Paul?” he asked. “I think you’d better tell me.”
Paul faced them again, but he shut his eyes. He took off his glasses, rubbing the reddened patches of skin where they had rested on either side of his nose. He looked miserably at Mary. “Why are you doing this?” he asked the old woman, his voice very soft. “What possible good can it do?”
Mary shrugged. “I guess that’s up to you.”
He hesitated a moment before putting his glasses on again and shifting his eyes to Alec. “I
did
know Annie at Boston College,” he said.
“Paul,”
Olivia said, stunned.
“The truth is,” Paul said to Alec, “I knew her long before you did. We had a relationship. A very
serious
relationship. We were together for two years before you ever met her, before you even had a clue she existed.” There was a weird sort of pride in his voice. “She was mine long before she was yours. That blue cloisonné horse in your kitchen? I gave it to her. She loved it. She
treasured
it.” Paul looked at the floor for a moment, as if collecting himself, as if trying to decide what to say next. Olivia didn’t dare look at Alec, but she could hear the raw sound of his breathing.
“We talked about getting married,” Paul said. “About raising a family.” A slight smile played with the corners of his lips. “We even had names picked out for our kids, but then the summer after our sophomore year she met you and broke it off with me. The problem was, I could never get her out of my mind.” He looked pleadingly at Alec, as though surely Alec could understand. “How could anyone know Annie and just forget about her?”
Alec shook his head, almost imperceptibly. “No,” he said. “Please don’t tell me you…” His voice trailed off and Olivia rested her hand on his back. She wanted to hold him, to slip her hands over his ears so he would not hear whatever Paul had left to say.
“Paul,” she said. “Maybe that’s enough.”
He didn’t seem to hear her. “I came down here one summer, years ago.” Paul folded his arms across his chest, then unfolded them. He slipped his hands into his pants pockets, took them out again. “I got an apartment and a part in the
Lost Colony
play.” He was no longer looking directly at Alec. Rather, his eyes were focused on the floor of the small bedroom. “I saw Annie and realized there were feelings left—on both sides. We…a few times we met here.” He glanced up at Alec and nodded toward the bedroom.
“Annie wouldn’t…” Alec looked at Mary. “Is this true?”
Mary nodded solemnly, and for the first time Olivia realized that she was behind this confession. She had orchestrated it.
Alec glowered at Paul, but when he spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper.
“Bastard,”
he said.
“I think…” Paul blinked rapidly and returned his gaze to the floor. “I’ve always thought that Annie might have been pregnant when I left the Outer Banks. She was very upset, and when I interviewed her for the article in
Seascape,
she lied to me about Lacey’s age.” He looked up at Alec, patches of crimson on his cheeks. “I’m truly sorry, Alec, but I think Lacey may be my daughter.”
Mary made a sudden sound of annoyance. “Lacey’s no more your child than I am,” she said. “Annie got rid of your child.”
Alec’s eyes widened. “Got rid of…?” The anger was beginning to boil up in his voice. “That’s impossible. Annie would never have had an abortion.”
Mary looked at Alec, and Olivia did not miss the compassion in the old woman’s eyes. The sympathy. “She did,” she said, “and it wasn’t easy on her either. She got rid of Paul’s child and one other later on.”
Alec took a step toward Mary. “What the hell are you…”
“Alec.” Olivia closed her hands around Alec’s arm and pulled him tightly against her.
“Lacey is the child of that young man she did stained glass with,” Mary said. “Tom what’s-his-name?”
“What?”
Paul exclaimed.
“Oh my God, no.” Alec closed his eyes and leaned against the door frame as though he could no longer hold himself up. He looked at Mary again. “How can you possibly know that? How can you possibly be sure?”
“Annie was sure,” Mary said. “I’d seen her upset more times than one but never like when she realized she had Tom’s baby inside her. She couldn’t have another abortion, she said, though later on she changed her tune about that. But this one was just too close to the first time. It was still too fresh in her memory. So she had the baby. She never told Tom it was his, and I think by the time the little girl— Lacey—was born she’d almost convinced herself it was yours, Alec.”
Mary narrowed her eyes at Paul. “Did you think you were the only one?” she asked. “Did you think you were something special Annie couldn’t possibly resist? Well, let me set you straight then. You were just one of many Annie brought to this bed. She had tourists in the summer, fishermen in the fall, construction workers in the spring. It wasn’t just the PTA or the Red Cross Annie couldn’t say no to. It was anyone who wanted a little part of her spirit.”
Paul looked as though he was about to get sick. He turned on his heel, and they listened to the clattering of his shoes on the stairs. Olivia still clung to Alec’s arm, but he’d turned his head away from her as he leaned against the doorjamb, his hand to his eyes.
Olivia looked at Mary. Every year suddenly showed in the old woman’s face. She looked as though she might collapse there on the landing, as though it was only the slim reed of her cane that was keeping her upright. Olivia let go of Alec and walked into the bedroom, bringing out a straight-back chair. She set it behind Mary, who lowered herself into it with a sigh. Then Mary reached out to take Alec’s hand. His eyes were rimmed with red when he looked down at her.
“Listen to me, Alec,” Mary said. “Listen good, all right? Annie had a need she just couldn’t get taken care of. It was too big for any one man to ever make a dent in, but I know for a fact you were the only one she loved. She hated herself for what she was doing, and I hated myself for the way I helped her. In the last few years, she was winning the battle, not seeing anyone, not bringing anyone over here. It was hard for her. She was fighting her own nature and it was uphill all the way. She was winning too, and proud of herself, until
he
came back.” Mary nodded toward the stairs where Paul had disappeared.
Olivia rested her hand on Alec’s back again. He gazed numbly at Mary, and she was not certain he could hear the old woman’s words. He was glassy-eyed; the muscles in his back were rigid beneath her hand.
“It was just the one time with Tom, as far as I know, Alec,” Mary continued. “Not an ongoing sort of thing. Annie felt bad about it. Terrible. And she always wanted you to know the truth about Lacey, but she just didn’t know how to tell you.” Mary licked her lips. “Remember when she had that marrow surgery? She nearly told you then, because she was so afraid she’d die without you knowing, which is just what happened in the end, I guess. She didn’t want to hurt you. She never wanted you to suffer because of her weakness.”
Alec extracted his hand from Mary’s grasp. He walked past Olivia and headed down the stairs. Olivia watched him go, as Mary sat back in the chair with a long sigh. She seemed to crumble, her body folding in on itself until she sat several inches lower in the chair than she had a moment ago. Then she looked up at Olivia.
“Did I do a terrible thing just now?” she asked.
Olivia knelt at her side, resting her own hand on Mary’s. “I think you’ve done all of us a tremendous favor,” she said.
C
HAPTER
F
IFTY-
T
WO
Olivia had to get Sandy, the young woman from the retirement home, to help her walk Mary down the stairs of the keeper’s house and out to the van. Both Paul’s Honda and Alec’s Bronco were gone by the time she crossed the parking lot on her way to the beach, and a half dozen or so workmen had appeared, milling around the bulldozer and the lighthouse.
Mary didn’t say a word to either of them as they descended the stairs, and the old woman winced each time she took a step with her left leg. She was quiet out in the parking lot as well, and quiet as she climbed into the van. But once the door was closed and Sandy had helped her with the seat belt, she turned to speak to Olivia through the open window.
“You see to it that Alec’s all right,” she said, and Olivia nodded. That had already been her plan.
It was after eleven when she got home from Kiss River, and she walked directly into the study to call Alec. His phone rang for a long time, and she was trying to figure out what message she could possibly leave on his machine when he answered.
“Alec,” she said, “I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t respond for a moment, and when he did, the weariness in his voice was palpable. “I don’t think I can talk right now, Olivia,” he said.
She closed her eyes. “I just want you to know I’m thinking of you.”
She got off the phone and walked into the kitchen. She should eat something; she had to be at the ER in less than an hour, and she wouldn’t have another chance to eat until quite late. The thought of food, though, was nearly revolting. She made herself a cup of tea instead and was carrying it into the living room when Paul’s car pulled into the driveway. She set the tea down and met him at the front door.
He stood on the deck, looking pale and beaten. “May I come in?” he asked.
She stepped back to let him into the living room. He lowered himself onto the rattan chair with a sigh, and Sylvie jumped onto his lap and began purring loudly. Olivia sat down on the couch, across the room from him, and lifted the cup of tea to her lips. She felt an easy, almost druglike calm settling over her.
He smiled weakly. “Well, I got my eyes opened in one fell swoop, didn’t I?”
“I guess we all did.”
“I piled up the rest of her stained glass and dropped it off at the studio on my way over here,” he said, “with the understanding that Tom Nestor will donate it for me.” He shook his head. “Tom Nestor. I never would have guessed… I never…”
“Saint Anne,” Olivia said quietly.
Paul groaned. “I destroyed the tapes of the interviews, Olivia. I bashed them in with a hammer.”
“How very dramatic, Paul.”
He looked hurt, and she didn’t bother to apologize.
“I burned her pictures, too, although I have to admit it wasn’t easy.”
“You didn’t save a single one?”
“Nothing. There’s nothing left of her.”
“Good,” she said. “You need to be done with her, or you’re never going to be able to get on with your life.”
He looked at her. “It’s all been so ugly. What’s happened between us, I mean.
I’ve
been so ugly.”
She said nothing. She could hardly disagree.
“Do you still want anything to do with me?” he asked. “Do you still want to be a part of my life?”
She shook her head, slowly, as if trying out the motion to see how it felt, and he dropped his eyes quickly to the floor.
“Maybe you’re just reacting to what happened this morning,” he said.
She set her cup on the coffee table and leaned toward him. “I’m reacting to everything that’s happened over the last year, and to all those things that happened in your past that I knew nothing about. I’m reacting to your lack of respect for your own marriage, as well as for Annie’s and Alec’s. Even if I could forgive you for all of that, I could never trust you again. You lied to me throughout our entire marriage.”
“I
didn’t,
Liv. I told you I’d had a serious relationship years ago, and you said, ‘Let’s put the past behind us,’ remember? I would have told you all about Annie if you’d wanted to hear it.”
“You never even mentioned you’d spent a summer here.”
“I was trying to pretend that summer never happened.”
“You should have told me Annie was here before I took the job.”
“I tried to talk you out of taking it.”
“If you had really wanted to dissuade me, all you had to do was tell me your former lover lived here. But you intentionally avoided mentioning that fact.”
“I was wrong, Liv. I’ve been wrong about a lot of things. I’m sorry.” He looked down at his hand, at his wedding band. “Do you still want to go out to lunch?”
The question seemed so ludicrous she laughed. “
No,
I don’t want to go out to lunch.”