Undertow (36 page)

Just then, I heard Bryant’s big mouth coming up the passage. She stepped away quickly, turning and smoothing her hair, her dress. I reached up to wipe my mouth. Bryant and the crew were soon with us, but instead of getting in the elevator, Alex said she was feeling tired and went home. For a brief second, I thought I saw a bit of the struggle I was feeling reflected in her eyes.

That was the last time I saw her before Meg got the call from the hospital.

Nov. 21, 19--

When Alex called Meg to say she was in labor, I didn’t even think about staying home. We brought the kids to Bryant and Donna, and I waited while Meg helped her through the delivery. I couldn’t sit in the lobby, and the hospital staff knew us well enough that they let me stand in the hall outside her door. It was a mistake. Every cry twisted in my gut, and it took all my strength not to go inside with her. Once it was over, Meg went with Julian to the nursery, and I slipped into her room. I had no idea what I would say, but I had to see her.

I sat by the bedside and gently lifted her hand into mine. “He’s beautiful,” I said softly. “How are you feeling?”

She let me hold her hand. “Tired, sore, happy.” Then she blinked her dark eyes to mine. “I didn’t talk to you about his name. Is Julian okay?”

I smiled. “I like it. It’s something you’d come up with.”

Her voice was hesitant when she spoke again, but her words soothed me like a warm embrace. “I’m really glad you’re here,” she said. “I was afraid to say anything to Meg, but I wanted you to see him.”

“I couldn’t stay away. You have no idea how hard this has been for me.”

Then she tensed. “Please don’t. Don’t say anything about that now.”

“Oh, Lex. Isn’t there any hope for me?”

She pulled her hand away. “I will never hurt Meg like that.”

“But what if she realized what I know. That we were too young, we shouldn’t have gotten married, we made a mistake.” God, I was desperate.

She smiled, but it wasn’t happy. “You really can’t see how wrapped up her life is in you? Only you. She would do anything…”

I stood up hard then, turning away. “What about me and my life?”

She took a deep breath. “I think if you tried, really tried, you could remember how you loved her, and go back to how you used to be.”

I faced her then, anger clenching my jaw. “How can you say that? I know you don’t want that. You want to be with me. Admit it.”

Her eyes closed and a tear slid down her cheek. I fell at her bedside, pulling her to me and kissing it away, tasting the salty drop. She placed her palm on my face for a long moment, and I leaned back, looking in her eyes. Then she lowered her hand and squirmed to loosen my embrace.

My arms fell away, my whole body weak from fighting. “God, Lex, don’t you know how much I love you?”

More tears glistened in her eyes. “Why are you doing this?” she whispered. “You’re breaking my heart.”

“
I’m
breaking your heart?”

Just then Meg returned, and I stood, quickly stepping into the small bathroom. The light switch was connected to a loud fan, so I was confident no one heard as I collapsed against the wall, sliding to the floor, my head in my hands.

Feb. 21, 19--

Three months have passed since that night, and I haven’t seen Julian since his birth.

At his mother’s request, I’ve worked very hard to put my feelings for her aside and do the right thing. I threw myself into work and building our new home on Hammond Island. Meg is happier than I’ve ever seen her planning it, and I’m doing my best to focus on her and the children alone. They’re beautiful and sweet, and they’re depending on me. If I keep waiting and working, those old feelings will pass. Julian will always be my son, and I’ll help them any way I can, but I’ve made promises to Meg, and I’m doing my best to keep them.

Peachtree became our biggest investor in the Phoenician developments. Our meeting with Rex had turned into a close friendship that opened doors with bigger groups and introduced us to other money men. Real estate had become a hot investment option, and our popularity was snowballing.

I traveled to Atlanta periodically to meet with Rex, and through him, I became acquainted with Jennings Grant, who was chairman with Aspen Equities. In a few short years, I’d become well-versed in the language of investment banking and real estate development, and it was a great distraction from other, more personal matters.

“It’s been fun watching you grow, Bill,” Rex said, pouring scotch into three heavy crystal tumblers. We were meeting with Jennings to discuss the status of the first rollout of buildings and to get his group involved in the next series of developments. “The first time you came in here, I was strictly meeting with you out of courtesy to Abraham, but you held your own. I was impressed.”

“I had nothing to lose back then but pride,” I said, taking the tumbler.

“There’s a lot to be said for fearlessness.” He clinked his against mine.

“Would you say you’re not so fearless now?” Jennings asked, studying me.

“Fearless is the wrong word,” I said. “Being in the mix of the day-to-day routine takes the edge off enthusiasm.”

Jennings frowned. “So you’re less enthusiastic now?”

“Not at all,” I said quickly, tilting the tumbler of scotch I held. “It’s just more a foregone conclusion now. Less like something that has to be sold and more like an inevitability that you can either be a part of or left behind.”

“There’s the old arrogance,” Rex laughed, slapping me on the back.

“I’m sorry if that’s how it comes across,” I said. “It was just what was bound to happen, and we want you to be a part of the team, Jennings. I’d rather work with people who come recommended by friends.”

Aspen was onboard shortly after that meeting, and I was starting to feel like everything I touched turned to gold. In my professional life, at least. So business was good, but I was having a hard time caring about anything.

Working with the elevations and planning out design had been one of my favorite aspects of the job. Now it was all bricks and mortar. I tried to put it in perspective. I’d wanted to build buildings. I needed to be out where the rubber met the road. Meeting with the survey crews, looking at the empty lots, this was where it all began. But walking on the empty tracts of land reminded me of sitting out on Port Hogan Road looking out at the sea with Alex. I remembered her long hair drifting into my face and talking about portraits and the future.

The ribbon cutting ceremony was done, and we had moved our offices from Homeport to Phoenician I. That development was soaring, and every day a new high rise was on its way up. The Gulf Coast looked more and more like the elevations we drew senior year. I always knew we could do it. Sure, there was an element of luck involved, and it kept me on my toes. But now it was here, the massive framework in the sky, lining the Gulf like a wall. We simply had to sit back and watch it all come together.

Dec. 20, 19--

She knows.

I have to find her because I don’t know what she’ll do.

I’d only intended to give Alex the gift for Julian, but I couldn’t do it in front of everyone without arousing suspicion. It had been a lucky break when I saw her slipping out of the party in what looked like the direction of her office. A friendly conversation, Merry Christmas, and the gift. That was all that was supposed to happen. I was still trying to piece together where I got off track.

It was still there—that invisible pull between us. I was still in love with her, and the closer I got, it was impossible to fight. She was so beautiful in that red dress, and I kept thinking if I could only smell her hair one more time. If I could only hold her in my arms one more time…

Meg had appeared out of nowhere, and Alex had run after her. I knew she would go back to the house, but I didn’t have a car and Bryant was home with a sick kid.

I never wanted to hurt Meg.

She would never believe that.

I had worked so hard to do right by her. I had to find her. I had to apologize. I had to explain that I couldn’t keep going like this. She could have anything she wanted. She could have everything, the house, all of it. I would give it all to her if she would just let me go. Set me free.

“I need a cab.”

Dec. 22, 19--

I’ll never forget the first sight of our house after the cab dropped me off at the end of our driveway. It was clear she’d been here. The front door was wide open, and the entire house was lit. I paid the man, and he pulled away as I slowly picked my way toward the entrance. Paintings were smashed all over the flagstone drive. Our family portrait was in shreds, and as I went through the doorway, I saw shattered frames and torn pictures scattered all around.

Inside, windows were broken and the plate-glass mirror was in fragments. Framed pictures were all over the floor. By the fireplace, the picture of the three of us was pulverized, and another picture of the two of them on my boat had a hole in it that looked like it had been made with the heel of a shoe.

“Meg?” I called loudly looking up the stairs. No answer.

The light was on, so I went to check the bedroom to see if she was there. My bedside table was emptied and papers were scattered everywhere. What was she looking for? I saw the note on the rug and picked it up, slipping it into my pocket. Just then I heard voices downstairs. I saw her journal on the floor and picked it up, sliding it between the mattresses. I would look at it later.

I ran to the doorway and out onto the balcony. It was the police.

“Bill?” It was Chuck Wilson, our old high school friend and now chief of police in East End beach. “The door was open… Are you okay?”

“Hey, Chuck,” I called back. “Yeah… just a little misunderstanding.”

His face was lined with worry. “Bill, I’m afraid we’ve got some bad news. You’d better come down and have a seat.”

Dec. 24, 19--

Two days have passed. It’s Christmas Eve, but nobody’s celebrating. I haven’t seen my children. Gigi has taken them somewhere.

I have to think hard to recall exactly what happened after Chuck broke the news to me. I was picking through the rubble of torn photographs and paintings. The last thing I’d heard him say was, “She didn’t make it.”

Meg didn’t make it. Her car had wrapped around a light pole, and her little body didn’t bend in the same direction as the twisted metal. They estimated she’d been going about a hundred miles per hour on impact. I imagined her putting her head down on the wheel as she drove.

They asked me if I had any reason to believe she’d wanted to kill herself. I wanted to tell them they were looking at her Number One reason. The man she’d built her life around. The one she’d decided at fifteen she would devote herself to. The one who callously tore her heart out and threw it on the ground. The one who slept with her best friend.

I didn’t say any of that. I simply said no. I didn’t believe she would kill herself. She was devoted to her children. And as I said the words, I knew they were true. I’d simply hurt her so badly, she wasn’t thinking straight.

I’d killed her. It was the same as if I’d driven the car myself. It was my fault. They should arrest me.

I shook my head as we all absorbed the loss. The beauty queen. The prettiest girl at school. The sweet one who’d only wanted to marry me and have my babies and volunteer in the community.

My wife was dead.

Dec. 28, 19--

Only two people know the real reason Meg was behind the wheel the night she died, and we have no intention of sharing it with anybody. Ever.

Alex stays far from me now, which is right.

It was as if both our hearts had gone into shock following the loss of Meg.

Hundreds of people turned out for the funeral. My wife had known almost everyone in South County it seemed, and those she didn’t know personally knew her parents and came to pay their respects. She was buried in the Weaver plot near her father. Her mother watched with composed resolve as she bid her only child goodbye. I convinced her to stay with us to help with the twins, and then I threw myself into work.

Aug. 15, 20--

It’s been many years since that last entry. I feel like I should round out the story for this autobiographical record no one will ever read. I should probably burn it. But for some reason, I can’t bring myself to do that. Yet.

Gigi stayed with us until the twins started kindergarten. I worked all the time, hoping I would wake up one day and find it was all just a horrible dream. I withdrew from everyone, including Bryant. Eventually we dissolved the development firm of Kyser-Brennan Equities, and Bryant went into some other line of work. We still held all the ownership rights, and our future was secure. I just couldn’t find a reason to keep moving forward.

Development in South County carried on, and as hurricanes came through and wiped out older places, developers came in to plot out and build new ones. The only structures that stood the test of time and the weather were the Phoenicians. We had done our job well. I was satisfied to run the existing business and provide consulting services to start-ups. I’d accomplished all I’d wanted, and we were financially secure for a long time.