The Last Secret (29 page)

“That's only natural. Of course. Especially when something bad happens. It changes everything, our whole perspective. All of a sudden it's a different life. Or seems like one, anyway.”

“I know. The worst is always being so suspicious. Of everything. Even now with you … I mean, here you are being so kind, and the whole time my head's filled with all these … these dark thoughts.”

“About me?” Kay says with a little gasp.

Nora nods. “Part of me's a little crazy. Gets scary sometimes.”

“Why? Is it Ken? Did he—”

“Have you ever thought about something so much, tried so hard to figure out exactly what happened, gone over and over it so many times that after a while you're not sure of anything anymore?”

“What do you mean?” Kay stiffens back in her chair.

“I've never told anyone this before, but lately I get so scared. I think I'm … I mean … do you think I could hurt someone? Really hurt them? I mean, physically. Hit them. Smash their face in.”

“No! Not in a million years. You're not like that. Why?” Kay leans closer. “Are you afraid that you might?”

“That maybe I did.”

“To who?” Kay looks shocked.

“That's the thing, I don't even know, it's all such a mess.”

“What is?”

“This dream, I keep having it.” Wide-eyed, she shakes her head. Can't bring herself to say it, to make Kay a permanent reminder of her shame. She looks down.

“Hey.” Kay pats her hand. “It's going to be okay. Really.”

“There's just so much going on.” She takes a long sip of wine. It's been a rough week, she explains so that Kay will stop looking at her like this, as if she's a crazy woman who must be humored, while she blathers on how work is taking its toll on Ken. Not only looks terrible, but now he's not sleeping well. The last two nights he barely slept at all. Maybe he should take something, Kay suggests. When that happened to her a couple years ago, all it took was a prescription for a few months to get her sleep back to normal.

Normal, Nora thinks, leaning back as the waitress serves their entrees, swordfish for each. Normal has a whole new meaning now. Normal is what other people have.

“Actually,” Kay says, cutting an asparagus spear, “I haven't been sleeping too well myself lately.”

“Work?” She drinks more wine.

Kay shrugs.

“Lousy market, huh?”

“Try dead! Yesterday my phone never even rang. Not once. Not one single time.”

“Yes it did!” Nora says with a forced smile and a glance at the wine bucket. Her glass is empty, but she doesn't want to seem as anxious as she feels. “What about my call?” Kay has barely touched her first glass. Nora's nightly wine with dinner has become two glasses, filled to the brim. Three. Nothing wrong with a little numbing, she told Ken the other night when he asked if she realized she was pouring her fourth, the end of the bottle. And what could he say? Nothing. Just look away. Strange how his sense of defeat excites her. Makes her want him, loving and hating him more. Twisted and sick. But she needs to see his pain, to know she's not the only one hurting. She even enjoys his problems
at the paper. He's in way over his head and for the first time in his life he needs her.

“You're right. And I appreciate that, Nor, I do. It's just lately, I don't know, I feel so, well, kind of, overwhelmed.”

Stunned, for a moment she's not sure what to say. In many ways Kay has always reminded her of her mother, resilient, unmarked by life's blows. Self-possessed, the kind of woman men feel comfortable with. Maybe too comfortable, Kay has complained in recent years. There have been a few relationships, the longest, two years with a New York City stockbroker. According to Kay, the timing wasn't right. He was a great guy, but newly divorced, paying huge alimony and wary of marriage. Faithfully alternating his weekends between his teenage children and flying up to see Kay began to take its toll. He begged her to move in with him, but all her years of hard work were beginning to pay off She finally had her own agency. She wasn't about to give it up and then have to start all over again if things didn't work out, especially with a young child to consider. Her agency is now one of the biggest in town. She is the devoted mother of brilliant Louis, now in his second year of medical school. Kay's is a much respected voice in town government and community affairs. At the moment, though, she seems weary, hesitant, a ghost of herself.

Another month like this, she is saying, and she'll have to close her office and run things from the house. Nora says she didn't realize real estate was that bad. It's not just the business, Kay admits. Her mother's Alzheimer's has worsened to the point that her needs can't be met by the nursing home she's in now. Hillside in Bellham has much better treatment, more specialized, but it's expensive. Far beyond her mother's resources, but Kay is determined to find a way. Nora's thoughts drift to her own mother. Dying suddenly. Too soon, Emily Shawcross said from behind while Robin kneeled at the bier, her arm around Nora. After Ken, Nora had next called Kay with the devastating news, and then Robin. But it was Robin who arrived first at the house. Robin who took the children while she and Ken drove to Colchester to make the funeral arrangements. Robin who filled the freezer with meals for the week ahead. Robin, indispensable, irresistible
Robin, the only living person to whom she ever told the truth about Mr. Blanchard and the vicious lie that drove him from her mother's life. “You were scared, honey, that's all, scared of losing your mom, too,” Robin crooned into her ear, hugging and rocking her at the same time.

“Louis wants to take the rest of the term off to help.”

“Who?” Nora asks, pouring more wine, just a half glass. “Your mother?”

“No, me.” Kay's dark eyes shine. She puts down her fork and takes a deep breath. “Nora,” she whispers. “I had a lump. It's malignant.” She touches a spot above her left breast. “It's out now, but … my lymph nodes, they're … it's pretty well spread, the cancer.” She takes deep breaths.

“What can I do? Please, Kay. Anything.” Nora is devastated.

Kay shakes her head and tries to smile.

“You've got to let me. Please. Let me help you.”

“I will. I'm okay now. But I will. Chemo starts next week. Monday.”

“Then I'll drive you. Both ways, and that way I can wait there with you.”

“Thanks, hon. But you know me. Ever efficient. All arrangements made. Rides, wigs, best to keep busy. Same with Mom, all her details. Which reminds me.” She removes a pamphlet from her purse. “My big chance.” She points to a frosted blonde wig styled in a pageboy. “What do you think?”

“Yes! Go for it.” Nora's tears blur the picture.

“Deep down, there's always been a blonde in me. Crazy Kiki. Time to set her free, don't you think?”

Nora nods. “Kiki. Yeah, you're going to be all right. The two of you, I can tell. You are,” she insists.

“Well, we're sure as hell gonna try,” Kay says, dabbing her eyes with her napkin.

Also crying, Nora gestures to the waitress for the check. People watch, bewildered, as the sniffling women leave the dining room.

“You know what they're thinking, don't you?” Kay whispers as they put on their coats. “That we just broke up or something.”

“Oh God! That's all I need,” Nora groans, opening the door. She trips on the step and Kay grabs her arm. “This is bad,” Nora laughs, leaning against her. “This is so bad.”

“So what. Who cares? We're entitled,” Kay says, guiding her through the parking lot.

“Tonight, anyway,” Nora says, and starts crying all over again.

Kay's car is closer, so Nora gets in with her. They sit for a long time, talking, crying, laughing.

“I keep thinking how simple life seemed, and all the time …” Her voice drifts off. Sighing, she stares out the window.

“We thought we were happy. At least we had that.”

“No!” Nora looks at her. “What kind of life is that?”

“There's always something,” Kay says. “We just don't know what or when or where, but it's there.”

Waiting. Somewhere. Her eyes widen. How stupid of her. What was she thinking? The minute Eddie runs out of money he'll be back for more. She should have told Ken immediately. She still can, and will. Yes, soon, when things are more settled. She crosses her arms, hugging herself.

“I know,” she says quietly. “You're right, and that's what I keep trying to tell myself: that this is it. Right here. Now. In the moment, that's how we have to live.”

“Well, maybe. If you're a cat or a dog.” Kay sniffs, ever the realist.

“Or Robin Gendron,” Nora says, and they laugh.

“Which reminds me,” Kay says. “Guess who I saw again last week. Downtown. Coming out of the craft shop. Robin, and that friend of yours. That guy.”

Nora has no idea who she means.

“That time, the one we had lunch with. Remember?”

She manages to nod.

“Robin's latest admirer. Or, should I say, victim. From the looks of him.”

Nora's heart is racing. Even in here she feels it, foul, invasive, the poisonous seepage. Why with her, with Robin? She has to do something, but what? Go to the police, admit how she paid him to go away,
and how he's not holding up his end of the agreement now. If there ever was an agreement. Did he ever even say he'd leave? She only assumed he was after money. What else could he possibly want? She never should have given him a cent. What was she thinking? Blackmail, she set herself up for it. Seeing how easily the money came, of course he'll want more. But why Robin?

She takes the long way home, turns slowly onto Dellmere Drive. Every light appears to be on inside the Gendrons'. No cars in front, just Clay's fallen bike, its icy pedal frozen into the lawn. Careless. Like his mother. Irresponsible. Like his father. Things just tossed aside, unvalued. Their one disagreement came when Nora told Robin she was too easy on Clay, letting him come and go as he pleased, never picking up after himself The only way children learn self-discipline is from their parents. Even saying it, she knew she was out of line, but isn't that what close friends were for?

“Kids learn a lot from their parents, Nora, good and bad, but I'll tell you one thing Clay's not. He's not afraid of anything or anyone. He's just a happy-go-lucky kid,” Robin said, message clear: her son was a lot better off than sensitive Drew, so easily hurt, quick to cry, fearful.

The next few days
pass in a blur. Her concern for her friend keeps getting lost in her confusion about Eddie and Robin. It doesn't make sense. It must have been someone else Kay saw. He's gone. He must be or she would have heard from him again. Early evening, and she and Ken are on their way in to Boston to see Oliver. The ride is strained. With the heavy downpour, cars creep bumper to bumper. Nora stares into the watery red glare of taillights. Ken is as tense as she is. Their brief attempts at conversation have fizzled into silence. She feels a perverse need to be with him, even when he doesn't want her to. Like now. Something's wrong. She's never seen him so edgy, so irritable.

“C'mon! Damn it!” He blows the horn. Directional flashing, the car ahead straddles both lanes. “Jesus!” He hits the horn again and Nora cringes with the long blare.

“What's the point?”

“It's taking forever.” He hunches over the wheel.

“Are we in a hurry?”

He doesn't answer. Even leaving the house, he seemed rushed. She needed to talk to Drew, but Ken insisted she wait until they get home.

Coming in was her idea. At first he said no, reminding her that Oliver doesn't want visitors, but she persisted. She and Ken seem farther apart than ever. They need to be alone together. That's the problem. Or maybe it's her. This constant dread, waiting for the ax to fall. She's always tense, jumpy.

And now, even more worried, about Drew. This is the second day in a row he's missed school. Headache and sick stomach, he claimed. He said he was in bed all day, sleeping, but when she got home from work she could tell he'd been downstairs playing video games, and his bed looked the way it had this morning. A mess, but the exact same mess. Right before they left tonight, she was loading the dishwasher when she noticed a shot glass on the top rack. She sniffed, but couldn't smell anything. She hurried into the pantry, fruitlessly checking the liquor cabinet. Even if something was missing she wouldn't know. Ken might, but the last thing she wants is another confrontation between them. Drew makes no effort to hide his scorn for his father. The least little thing and Ken just glares at him. When she went upstairs, to see if she could smell alcohol on Drew, he was taking a shower. A wet shot glass doesn't mean anything. He was probably just fooling around, the way kids do, shots of orange juice, soda, something like that. And besides, wasn't Chloe about this age when she was caught drinking? Yes, but at a party, with a bunch of friends. Not alone, on a school day, in an empty house.

“Ken, we've got to do something about Drew. He's so unhappy.”

“He's a moody kid. He feeds off all this … this—”

“Feeds? Feeds off what, Ken? Your lies? The pain he feels? The confusion, all the mixed messages through the years? Can't you see the fallout here? It's not just us. It's our kids. We gave them a good start, a good life, and suddenly everything's at risk. Of course they're going to be messed up. Especially Drew!”

“And you play right into it, you know that, don't you?”

“What're you talking about?”

“These things happen, Nora. I'm not saying it's right, but all this misery, all this guilt all the time!” He slaps on the directional. “I mean, he's not the only kid with a screwed-up family.”

“You mean Clay, don't you?”

“Oh, Jesus,” he groans.

“You've always compared them. Always. And don't think for a moment that's lost on Drew.”

“You can't let anything go, can you? You just can't.”

“No. Not when it comes to my children. Because that's sacred ground. To me, anyway.”

They drive the rest of the way in cold silence. When they arrive at the rehab hospital, Oliver isn't in bed, but in a chair with a blanket over his legs. He is freshly shaved and his wiry hair has been trimmed closer than she's ever seen it. He's lost weight and his color is good. Except for his drooping right eye you might not think anything had happened to him.