All That Lies Broken (Ashmore's Folly Book 2) (45 page)

All these secrets,
Lucy had said.
Not a very firm foundation.

As usual, Lucy was right.

And what else did Laura plan not to tell him? What else was out there? He doubted that there was much else of value to learn about her marriage; she’d put up with infidelity and infertility because she’d never forgotten that St. Bride had come to her rescue. The ongoing tension, the underlying power struggle, seemed to have worn them both out so that the final miscarriage had broken the marriage for good, but there had still been loyalty and devotion. Laura had nothing to blame herself for, she had been a faithful wife—

No. She hadn’t.

Ash Marine
. He’d forgotten about that.

“How long till we get there?”

Richard said mechanically, “About forty minutes. We can’t go any faster in this rain.”

He remembered the guilt he had felt over Francie, the burden of shame, the years of working to regain his self-respect. What had Laura faced in the mirror after that afternoon? She’d borne not only the guilt of unfaithfulness, but she’d had to confront what he had not – the memory that she had aimed a gun to kill. Never mind that she couldn’t shoot straight to save her life. Her intent had been far more lethal than her aim.

He had never understood her actions that day – why she had behaved so desperately out of character, why she had let him believe she was Francie, why she had fired at him. Why she had taken the initiative and made such passionate love to him – passion resonating across the years.

The stuff of fantasy, the fabric of his wildest dreams—

His breath stilled.

Oh, God, no.

The tapes.

She’d remembered the tapes. She’d thought he expected that of Francie. And she had done her best to give him what she thought he wanted.

He wanted, all these years after the fact, to laugh and swear at the same time. At her, for not understanding what she had unleashed by her masquerade. At himself, for not having the sense to walk away from temptation. At both of them for being such fools that day, playing with fire that had ignited a deadly fury and blighted a decade of their lives.

After listening to her guilt about San Francisco, he no longer doubted that Ash Marine must have, indeed, cast a terrible shadow. Laura Abbott was not the kind of woman to shrug her shoulders and said, “No harm, no foul, get over it, move on.” She
had
harmed. She
had
damaged – his shoulder, her conscience, her marriage.

Most of all, she had damaged herself.

Meg started humming to herself, sounding oddly flat.

Maybe that had been another reason why she’d stayed with St. Bride. She must never have forgotten that, when push came to shove, she had betrayed the man who had rescued her and Meg. He was dead sure that she had never confessed that afternoon to her husband, but had she tried to make it up to him by staying with him, tolerating his infidelities, acquiescing to his control?

Had staying with St. Bride been her penance?

He wished he remembered more about that day; the shock of the gunshot wound had knocked him out. He had no memory what he had said, what she had said, when the gun had appeared, where it had come from – everything that had happened in those fateful seconds before she crossed the dividing line.
Before/after
.

He slowed down around the flashing lights of a wreck.

They were going to have to bring it out into the open. That first night, he had thought it best to bury it forever, but he no longer had that option. Too much damage lay there, the wound ran too deep, for them to survive the silence and build together.

He wanted to build with her. He was a natural builder; he had dedicated his life to preservation and reclamation, rescuing the past from the dust pile of history. He’d pushed through the restoration of the Folly when his fellow architects had advised him to tear it down and start over; even his father had never understood his drive to rebuild. No one had understood that in the Folly he had found redemption for the monumental wreck of his life with Diana. He might have helped to destroy his marriage, but he had brought back from the brink of demolition a masterpiece.

And what had Laura done, faced with the horror of her actions that afternoon? She had rebuilt on the ruins. She had tried to make a go of her marriage. She had gone to college. She had submerged herself in motherhood and music. She had created Cat Courtney.

He’d have to move carefully, find the right time to open dark memories to the sunlight. She had to know first, beyond all shadows, that he loved her, that Ash Marine made no difference to him, that he had long ago forgiven her.

That the only forgiveness she lacked was her own.

“Hey,” Meg’s voice broke into his thoughts, “can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” Richard checked his speed and glanced at her. She was hunched up in her seat, her knees drawn up to her chest.

“I don’t get,” Meg waved a hand around, “where you come in. You’re my uncle, right?”

“Yes.”
Among other things
.

“And Julie’s my cousin.”

“Right.”

“Huh.” Meg was silent for a few seconds. “Okay, I know my mother doesn’t have any brothers, so – how are you my uncle? Are you married to Lucy?”

Richard laughed. “No. Lucy is married to Tom Maitland. Lucy is your mother’s sister – they had different mothers, so technically they’re half-sisters, but they never made that distinction. I am Lucy’s second cousin.”

“Okay.” Meg drew a family tree in the air. “So – who are you married to? I know it isn’t Fran
ces
ca.”

He heard that odd emphasis on the middle syllable – Fran-
chess
-ca. “I was married to your mother’s other sister.”

“You’re not married anymore?”

Richard said briefly, “We’re getting a divorce.”

“Oh, okay.” Meg processed this. “But Julie lives with you.”

“Right.”

She drew a line in the air, putting Julie in her proper dynastic place. “So Julie and I are cousins through our moms. Does Lucy have kids?”

“Not yet.” He maneuvered carefully past another wreck, replete with ambulances, three smashed-up cars, and flares all over the road. “She’s expecting a baby in January.”

“Cool.” Meg sounded enthusiastic. “Is it okay if I ask you all this stuff? Mom never talked about her family. Wow, I just realized. I have—” she counted on her fingers— “four aunts and three uncles and one cousin. Well, four aunts counting Fran
ces
ca.”

He started to tell her that her math was off and remembered in time that St. Bride had a brother and sister. And that strange emphasis again – he heard the undertone of mockery. Whatever Meg had heard about Francie, it hadn’t been good.

He doubted that Laura had put her off Francie; apparently, she hadn’t talked about her family at all. That left only one other source – St. Bride. Why the hostility? Had they not gotten along?

Something tugged at his memory.

“I call my uncle Mark just Mark,” said Meg. “What do you want me to call you?”

He felt a sudden revulsion at the idea of his own flesh and blood referring to him by the honorific. “You can call me by my name,” he said crisply. “I’m sure Tom prefers not to be called Uncle Tom.”

“Oh, gosh!” Meg giggled. “I’ll bet he doesn’t! Does Julie call them Lucy and Tom?”

“Yes, she does.”

“Then I will too.” That settled
that
. “So – what’s your wife’s name? My mom’s sister that used to be your wife?”

“Diana. She’s the oldest. Your mother is the youngest.”

A sudden silence, then an audible intake of breath. “You’re married to
Diana?
” She sounded thrilled. “Die-die-die Diana? Wow! I read the stories on the Internet. What do you think happened? Do you think she really killed her dad? Did they have a fight and she bonked him over the head—”

“That’s enough!” His voice was sharp. “Be quiet.”

“Yes, but—”

“No. You do not talk back.” He wasn’t going to brook disobedience from this one. “You are never to say that again, do you understand?”

“But it’s on the
Internet
—”

He looked at her hard. “I don’t care. The Internet is hardly a citadel for truth. My wife did not kill her father, and you are to treat her with the utmost respect when you meet her.”

What an evil meeting that was going to be. He wasn’t concerned that Diana would see all, but she was going to hate this kid as much as she had hated Francie.

“Oh, sure.” Meg didn’t seem to have paid even the slightest bit of attention to him. “Wow! I read all about my grandfather online. Sounds like she – someone had to drive a stake through his heart.” Would that someone had, long ago; he and Diana might have had a chance. “Did you know he threw my grandmother into the ocean and they never found her body? They wanted to hang him. But he got off.” She lowered her voice. “Mom has this book on the trial she hides in her dressing table. She thinks I don’t know. I read it – it’s really good, it has all the gory details—”

Not all of them. With Dominic’s death, only he and Diana knew what had happened that day so long ago. She had told him once, as they lay in bed, and asked him to keep her secret forever.

Laura or not, that covenant he intended to keep.

“So what do you think happened?” Meg’s voice was hushed with excitement. “You don’t think she killed him? How do you know? So who did it?”

He was losing what little patience he had left. “Did you listen? Your aunt did not kill her father. I know for a fact—”

“Really? How do you know?”

Damn. She was quick. “The police believe he surprised a burglar. I’m going to say this once more. You are to watch your words and be respectful of your aunt. Do you understand me?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said offhandedly. “So why did the police arrest—”

“Yes,
sir.
”

A moment of silence, and then, “Yes,
sir
. I promise I won’t call her Die-die-die Diana again. I promise I won’t ask how she killed my grandfather again.”

Underneath the sullen tone, a barely contained merriment at slipping in the forbidden words.

He shut his eyes briefly, torn between annoyance and a desire to laugh. Annoyance won out. He’d spent sixteen years bringing up a child to be a well-mannered member of society. Right now, he wanted nothing so much as to turn Miss Margaret St. Bride over his knee and teach her a lesson.

If it would do any good.

Doubtful.

“Anyway,” said Meg, unaware how close to the edge she was skating, “I don’t care if she did. He wasn’t very nice to my mother, you know. My dad said he was a real assh – uh, not very nice.” She peered at him. “Did you like him? Was he nice to Di – Diana?”

He said shortly, “No to both.”

She must have finally heard his exasperation. She fell silent, and after a few minutes she put her earphones back in and started humming, again off-key. Richard took advantage of the silence to concentrate on the road.

He and Laura should have been asleep by now, warm body to warm body, relaxed and at peace with each other. If he woke at all, it should have been to listen to her soft breathing, reach out to pull her close against him. She should not be lying asleep in a back seat, sick with pain, one of her closest secrets spilled to him in the dark confessional of his car. And he should not be driving through one of the worst rainstorms he could remember, dodging questions from this
enfant incorrigible
.

“Hey, can I ask you another question?”

He said grimly, “What?”

“How come—” Meg twisted in her seat to look at him. “Why’d you come with Mom to get me?”

He switched the windshield wipers to high. “Your mother called me and asked me to drive her. She’s not familiar with the airport. I live closer than Lucy and Tom, so it was easier for me to go get her.” He had a sudden thought. “You’ll stay at my house tonight. The power is out at your mother’s house.”

“Oh, I get to meet Julie tonight. Cool. How come she didn’t come with you?”

He had the sense of being boxed in and wanted to swear. Meg was sharper than she appeared. “Julie will be home in the morning. She’s at a church lock-in all night.”

“Oh, okay.” Meg stretched her arms. “So I guess we should go by Mom’s house and get her stuff. Here, I’ll tell you what. I’ll get her key and you can drop me off, and I’ll go inside and get some things for her. That way we don’t have to wake her up.”

He
was
going to swear once he was alone. Laura had wanted to put her bag in the car, and he had stopped her. “We took her things over to my place before we came. We didn’t know how much luggage you were going to have.”