No Safe Secret (10 page)

“I'm sure, and it was expensive at one time, but who cares? It doesn't fit me anymore, I'm getting too fat, so it's all yours, kiddo.”

Teresa was tough as nails, but she truly had a kind heart. The more time Molly spent with her, the more she cared for her. It was a strange feeling to have an adult looking out for her. If anything, it had always been the other way around with her and Lenore. Or, at least, it was never the case that her mother looked out for her. She kind of liked being looked after.

Molly removed the coat and carefully hung it in the small employee coat closet. “Thank you so much, Teresa. You've already done too much for me. I really can't thank you enough. I was going to see about getting a warmer coat, and now I don't have to. And you're not fat,” Molly added, smiling, a real, genuine, from-the-heart smile.

“Glad to be of help, kid. Now, today's the start of Christmas break, so prepare to run your legs off. Tips will be good, and remember, don't let any of those smart-ass Harvard kids give you a rough time. I've heard a couple of them talking to you like dirt.”

Molly nodded. She knew the incident Teresa was referring to, but it hadn't really bothered her all that much. Just two girls her age making fun of her southern accent. She didn't care, but again, it was nice to know that Teresa had her back. She'd dealt with far worse, but she definitely kept that thought to herself. She had been working very hard to get rid of her accent by observing the customers and thought she had made a lot of progress.

She finished her coffee, rinsed her mug, and placed it in the dish drainer. She took a fresh pad from the stack on the desk and made sure she had at least two sharp pencils in her apron pocket. She removed her hair from its ponytail and braided it, then clipped the braid to the top of her head. Hair and food were a bad mix, according to the health department's notice posted in the ladies' room. When she had waitressed at Tony's BBQ Pit, they'd had to wear hairnets, so she was familiar with the rules of restaurant cleanliness.

“You okay, kid?” Teresa asked.

Jolted back to the here and now, Molly shook her head. “I'm fine. I was just thinking about . . .”—she couldn't tell her what she was really thinking about, so instead of the truth she said—“cutting my hair off.”

“Don't you dare! That's the prettiest head of hair I've seen in years. And the color is real. Women would kill for your hair. Don't you go cuttin' if off, ya hear?”

“I promise,” said Molly. “I'd best make sure my tables are set up. You need anything?”

“Nope. I'll unlock the door in a few minutes,” Teresa said.

Six in the morning, come rain or shine, the doors opened for business. Teresa was the only one besides Lou who had keys to the place, at least as far as Molly knew. Once they unlocked the door, the customers practically bombarded the place. Molly liked working the breakfast and lunch shift. Time went by fast, and she really did enjoy the work. Some might think the job unrewarding, but she liked seeing the looks on her customers' faces when she delivered a big plate of steaming hotcakes with butter melting down the side or sunny-side-up eggs with bacon still sizzling on the plate. The smell of fresh coffee permeated the entire restaurant.

Molly now associated the smell of coffee with happiness. She'd never say this out loud, but it was true. For the first time since prom night, Molly had a bit of hope for her future.

She checked her tables, making sure the salt and pepper shakers were full and clean, the little red-and-black square box held packets of sugar and sugar substitutes, the flatware shone, and the napkin holders were filled. She grabbed cups and saucers from a rack and quickly placed them on all the tables. She'd started the four giant coffeemakers and was ready for the early birds the minute Teresa unlocked the door.

For the next hour, Molly took orders, delivered plates stacked high with omelets, hotcakes, sausage, and toast and a dozen other combinations. Glasses of orange juice were free if you ordered the hash special, so when she had an extra minute she stood behind the counter and filled several small glasses with juice so they wouldn't have to stop and pour every time they had an order for the special. Just one of the little tricks she was learning from Teresa.

“Molly Hall.”

When she heard her name, she turned around so fast she knocked three of the juice glasses over, sending a waterfall of orange juice across the bodice of her uniform.

“I wish all the girls lost their cool like you when I said their name,” came the voice of none other than Dr. Tanner McCann.

Molly rolled her eyes and turned her back to him. For some reason, he gave her the creeps even when he teased her. “I'll be right with you,” she said as she tried to wipe the stain from her uniform.

“I really would like a cup of coffee. Now,” he said flatly.

Molly tossed the wet towel on the counter, grabbed the pot of coffee, and filled the empty cup in front of him.

“You're going to be miserable the rest of the day, you know that?” he said, eyeing the spill.

“I'll be fine,” she answered, though she knew the wet material would irritate her skin. She wore nothing underneath except her bra and panties, with a small half-slip Sarah had lent her. She'd ask Teresa if she could lend her another uniform for the day.

“Excuse me,” she said, and headed toward the double doors.

“Wait!”

She stopped and turned around. The doctor looked annoyed.
Crud
, she thought. He really was bossy, but she wouldn't say this either. She had to keep this job, no matter what. She walked back to the counter and gave him her best smile.

“I'm sorry. Did you need something else?” He never ate breakfast lately, only drank black coffee.

“Yes, I do,” he said, returning her smile.

He was handsome, Molly would give him that. But he was too old for her and sort of a jerk.

She took her pad from her apron pocket. “What would you like this morning?” She said the same words she used with almost all of her customers.

“You really don't want to know. But I would like breakfast today. What's good here?” He asked as if this were his first time at Lou's, even though he had coffee there almost daily.

She took a deep breath and tried to appear as if she were really considering his question. Everything was good at Lou's, but he was picky. She knew because he'd refused his coffee more than once when Teresa waited on him, telling her the cup was dirty. Molly knew better, but Teresa knew how to handle customers like him.

“The hash is good,” she said, trying to push the special because that was always the fastest.

“No, I hate that. When I was in foster care, one of the homes I was sent to had a crappy version of hash every day, and I swore I would never eat it again. Now, tell me what you like?”

Had he really been in foster care? And now he was a doctor.
Pretty impressive
, she thought. “You've seen me eat, remember?” She saw someone at one of her tables motion for a refill. “The blueberry pancakes are the best, with bacon.”

“Then I'll have that,” he said.

She quickly wrote up his order, placed it on the spindle, and hurried to the table in need of a refill. The good doctor didn't seem to realize she had other customers. Teresa usually took the entire counter, but one of the part-time girls, Nancy, needed some extra hours, so she'd let her take the counter, and Molly was to handle whatever customers Nancy couldn't get to. She wasn't the most experienced waitress, but Molly liked her. Too bad she hadn't got to the doctor first, she thought, but hey, this is what she was paid to do.

Conversations droned in the background, with the occasional hoot of laughter. Silverware clicked against plates. The cha-ching of the register was almost nonstop.

“Order up, Molly,” shouted Houston, whose voice was loud enough to be heard outside.

Hurrying to the window, she saw the doctor's order waiting for pickup. “Thanks,” she said to Houston.

She placed the hot plate in front of the doctor. She pushed a bottle of maple syrup next to his plate. “Enjoy,” she said, then hurried away before he could say anything more to her.

For the next fifteen minutes, she delivered orders, refilled coffee cups, chatted with her customers, and cleared off tables when Mike, their busboy, was too busy. She liked the fast pace because she had to stay alert, and this kept her mind off the secrets and lies that had brought her to the Boston area in the first place.

As she finished cleaning off one of the tables, she was carrying a tray of dirty dishes in one hand and an empty coffeepot in the other.

“Molly Hall,” said the doctor, who stood by the door as he was leaving.

Startled, she dropped the tray, sending egg-covered plates smashing to the floor. “Oh my gosh,” she said, then dropped the empty coffeepot. Her hands shook. She scanned the area to make sure the glass hadn't flown into anyone's plate or where someone might step.

Teresa came to her rescue. “Oh, kid, this stinks, but don't you worry. We've all had it happen at one time or another.” She had a broom and dustpan and began sweeping up the broken glass.

“I'm sorry, I jumped when . . .” She was afraid to tell her why. “I'm clumsy today.”

As Molly stooped and picked up the large pieces of glass, Teresa whispered in her ear. “You dropped the dishes because that dingbat doctor practically screamed your name. I heard it, kid. Something about that man I can't put my finger on. He's a bit odd.”

Molly could have kissed her for saying that, but she didn't. “Well, he is quite a character,” she said, even though she agreed with Teresa's version. He
was
somewhat of a dingbat, she thought, but there was a part of her that felt sorry for him. Maybe he was lonely. He obviously didn't have a family, or he would be with them at this early hour. Didn't doctors keep weird hours, though?

“Hey, I didn't mean to get you into trouble,” Dr. McCann said.

Molly felt her face turn a dozen shades of red. Teresa stood up, the broom in one hand, and a glass-filled dustpan in the other. “Look, mister, I don't appreciate your hollering at my girls. That is why she dropped the tray. If you need something in the future, be patient, and one of us will get to you as soon as we reasonably can.”

Molly didn't know what to do, so she stood next to Teresa, waiting for instruction. “Molly, tend to your tables.”

Thank goodness
, she thought as she rushed away from the mess. Behind the counter she grabbed a dishcloth and began scrubbing the nearby surfaces. She didn't need any attention drawn to herself.

“I'm really sorry, Molly. If you'd work for me, you wouldn't have to clean up people's leftovers.”

She jerked her head up to stare at him. Momentarily at a loss for a reply, it took a few seconds for her to gather her thoughts. “I like my job here. I don't want to work anyplace else.”

He smiled at her. He had the most perfectly even, white teeth she'd ever seen. He was good-looking, but she knew firsthand that looks were deceiving. Ricky Rourke had been one of the best-looking guys in her school.

“Not even for a thousand dollars a week?” he asked.

Hunger and her future were at stake. “Doing what?”

“My wife recently died, and I have twin boys who need to be cared for.”

One thousand dollars a week. She'd never earned that much money in her entire life!

Quickly, before she could change her mind, she said, “I'll need to give Lou a month's notice.”

Dr. McCann held his hand out to her. “You're hired.”

Seeking what is true is not seeking what is desirable.
—Albert Camus

I
t was after three in the morning when Tanner decided to call it quits. He'd refused to let her leave their bedroom and had spent the last several hours telling her how stupid she was. He'd gone downstairs once, and she'd tried to sneak out of the room, but the bastard returned carrying a bottle of bourbon just as she was trying to slip away into Kristen's room.

“Uh-uh,” he said, and caught her by the arm, practically dragging her back to the master bedroom.

“Tanner, I'm tired, please stop. You need to rest,” she said, her tone void of all emotion. Her life was a disaster.

“Then let's go to bed,” he barked, loud enough to wake the dead.

Knowing it would be useless to argue, she nodded. She took off her ruined black dress, tossing it on the floor. She didn't bother with a nightshirt. He'd probably want to have sex just to prove he could do whatever he wanted with her. Nothing surprised her anymore. She crawled between the one-thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets Tanner preferred, rolling to her side. He flopped down next to her, slinging his arm across her belly, and pulling her close to him as though she were a piece of property belonging to him only. She felt his erection against her. Tears filled her eyes. Please God, she thought, not this. Not tonight.

She lay still, not daring to move. Slowing her breathing, she hoped Tanner would assume she'd fallen asleep instantly. Molly rarely slept a full night unless she took a sleeping pill, and she didn't like to take them often, but there were times when she had to simply in order to function the next day. Inhale. Exhale. Slowly and quietly. She counted in her head. When she reached fifty-nine, she felt Tanner's arm relax and loosen his possessive hold. When he drank, he sometimes snored. A low grumble came from him. She'd never been so glad to hear him snore in her life.

She had to get away from him. Soon. Her life was in shambles. If only she hadn't accepted his job offer all those years ago. If only she hadn't married him almost a year later, but then she wouldn't have Kristen. All the mental and physical abuse was worth it when she factored her daughter into the equation. She'd never loved anyone as much as she loved Kristen. What would she do when Kristen went to college? She would go completely insane. It frightened her to think of life without her daughter close by every day.

Carefully, so as not to wake him, she eased his arm aside, then carefully scooted, an inch at a time, toward the edge of the bed. She stopped to listen to his breathing to make sure he was still sleeping. The continuous rhythm assured her that he was out cold. Not giving herself time to overthink her situation, she sprung from the bed and hurried down the hall to Kristen's room. She didn't bother knocking for fear Tanner might wake up. Since the door opened when she turned the knob, either Kristen had not locked the door when she was told to or had unlocked it before she went to sleep, confident that her father was too busy with her mother to bother her. Inside, she closed the door as quietly as possible, then locked it behind her.

“Mom,” Kristen asked in a sleepy voice, “are you okay?” She pushed the covers away and sat up in her bed, fully awake now. “Mom?”

Molly placed her finger to her lips. Kristen nodded, then moved over so Molly could get in bed with her. “I can't talk about this right now, Kristen, not in this house.”

“Mom,” Kristen whispered, a tone of urgency in her voice, “what did he do to you now? I know he hits you.”

Molly was stunned by her daughter's words. She thought she'd kept Tanner's abuse secret. It wasn't like he hit her all the time.

“Your father gets angry sometimes. He's . . .” She wouldn't make excuses for him, not even to his daughter. “There's something wrong with him. He's always been a bit of a loose cannon. At least with me.” Molly stopped as she tried to recall others who'd been victims of Tanner's temper. That included almost everyone he came into contact with on a daily basis. She knew he had the reputation of being a slave driver. If you worked for Tanner, in any of his clinics, you worked. There were no fun times, no employees forming friendships. No paid holidays, no parties, and Tanner worked all holidays except Thanksgiving and Christmas. If he could have persuaded—rather, ordered—his employees to work on those two days, he would have worked then also.

Molly felt a chill and realized she was wearing nothing but her bra and panties. She pulled the sheet up to her neck.

Kristen got out of bed and quietly made her way over to her chest of drawers. She opened the top drawer and removed a long, flannel nightgown. “Here, put this on.” She climbed over her mother and slid beneath the covers.

Grateful, Molly put the gown on, yet still she was chilled. Nerves, she thought as she pulled the covers up again. She needed to think. She could not continue living like this. Once Kristen was away at college, it would be open season for Tanner and the twins. The odds of their finding a job and their own place to live were slim. Why bother to leave a house where there was no discipline and you could abuse your father's wife to your heart's content?

And even if they did move out, she didn't want to be alone in the house with Tanner. Sally was in and out, but Molly didn't expect her to come to her defense every time she needed her. Sally's situation was much like her own, economics be damned. She used to think money could solve any problem—well, almost. She hadn't been, nor was she now, that naïve. However, now she knew better. Money might pay off the mortgage and allow one to freely shop whenever the urge hit, but money couldn't fix people who were broken. Nor could it make a disaster of a marriage into something else. Her and Tanner's marriage had been a disaster for a very long time.

“Mom, do you want me to tell Charlotte I can't go? Because if you do, I will.” Kristen placed her head on her mother's shoulder. Molly embraced her, breathing in the clean scent of her freshly washed hair.

“Sweetie, I would never ask you to do that. This is your high-school graduation trip. I want you to go. See the world, make memories. Life is too short. I want you to do all the things I dreamed about but didn't get to experience.”

The room was quiet except for the sounds of their breathing. What was a cheerful, typical teenager's room in daylight was now filled with dark shadows, hulking creatures, and wispy ghosts. Molly was letting her imagination take hold of her. Of course there were no creatures or ghosts. It was simply the large chest of drawers, the desk, and the white-lace curtains billowing in the breeze. Kristen always left her window open in the summer. The ghosts and creatures were in her mind, had always been there lurking, waiting to be heard, to be rediscovered, to be found.

“Mom,” Kristen asked, her voice filled with concern. “What's wrong? You're too quiet.”

Molly took a deep breath. There were so many things wrong on so many levels, it would take a lifetime to put them into words. “I'm upset with your dad. I wish there was someone he would talk to. He's just so . . . private.”

She really knew very little about Tanner's past. His parents had been killed in a house fire when he was six. After their deaths, there'd been no family members to care for him, so he became a ward of the state. He spent most of his years in one foster home after another. She knew he'd been a difficult child from the stories he told her, though she never admitted this to him. After he told her the story of the fire, he refused to talk about it whenever she'd broached the topic. Tanner had gone into a rage the last time, right after Kristen was born.

That was the first time he hit her. She'd just had his child, and she'd wanted to know about Kristen's grandparents, her history. A punch in the gut said the topic was off-limits forever. She never asked him anything about his past from that day forward. The only positive outcome was that he never asked about her own past. So it was convenient for both of them.

Tanner was fond of saying, “My life began the first time I saw you,” especially when they had guests. Molly had never believed him; she was much too smart to fall for any of his false endearments, especially one so over-the-top. Tanner had courted her with the lure of a better life, never doing without, and a ready-made family. Looking back, she realized how important those things had been to her. Security. A family. Normalcy. He'd tied an attractive bow around the package of rotten goods that he was really offering, and she'd taken the bait.

She'd spent the best years of her life with Tanner. She really tried to be a good mother to Holden and Graham, and it had worked for a while. But as the boys aged, Tanner's verbal abuse increased. And the way he treated Molly in their presence only encouraged them to treat her as if she were some sort of servant, not their stepmother, much less their mother.

Yes, he would smack her or shove her around, but only when they were alone. But then came the plate incident. And Molly feared him even more now. If she were totally honest with herself, she was afraid of the boys, too, especially now that she knew drugs were involved. She was thankful Holden hadn't killed himself by overdosing, but she knew there would be other times. This was only the beginning.

Kristen adjusted the covers, arranging herself so that she lay on her side, with her head in her hand. “Mom, there's something I think you need to know, but I don't know if I should tell you. Especially now.”

Molly rolled to her side to face her daughter. “Kristen, please, whatever it is, I'll deal with it. And why wouldn't you tell me now?” Though she knew the answer. Kristen didn't want to burden her. She was like that.

“It's about Holden,” she whispered.

“Okay,” she said, letting Kristen tell whatever it was in her own way.

“This is so horrible, I hate to say the words. You know he's into roofies, big-time?”

In fact, she hadn't known that, not until tonight's episode. Apparently she had been walking around with blinders on. “Go on,” she encouraged.

“You remember Charlotte's cousin, Lucinda?”

Molly nodded. “Wasn't she here last year for Christmas break? Seems like I remember her being here with Charlotte.”

“Yeah, she was, but she wasn't here just to hang with me and Char.” Kristen had started calling Charlotte “Char” way back in elementary school, and the nickname had stuck. “She really wanted to see Holden. They were at Harvard together.”

Molly had no clue where this was going, but she knew her daughter well enough to let her tell the story in her own way. Kristen could be very wordy at times when she wasn't prepared.

“I didn't know that,” she said, hoping it would encourage her to get to the point. If Holden was involved, she knew that it couldn't be good.

Kristen took a deep breath. “Lucinda's best friend”—she paused—“her friend Emily, said Holden attacked her.”

It took a few seconds for Molly to absorb her words. When she did, an ice-cold fear twisted in the pit of her stomach. She remained silent, trying to gather her thoughts, yet all she could think of was what had happened to her all those years ago. On prom night. And now this. Surely, this Emily was mistaken?

“Mother, aren't you going to say anything?” she said more loudly.

Molly sat up in bed, pulled her knees to her chest, and rested her head on top of them. She swallowed, but her mouth was as dry as desert dust. Flashes of that night played out like a movie reel. The dress. Her car. The rape. The accident. After all this time, what if she'd killed her twin or one of his friends? She could be a murderer and not even know. And now her stepson was being accused of the lowest crime in the world.

“Mom!” Kristen said, this time not bothering to whisper.

Jolted out of her nightmarish thoughts, Molly spoke. “Shhh, I don't want to wake your father.” There would be hell to pay. “I'm sorry. Tell me again. What happened?” She spoke in short, choppy sentences.

“It's nauseating, Mom, really. I don't like to think about it, but you know, I'm going to Europe and all. I just want to, you know, tell someone, just in case.” She was hesitant as though she were afraid to speak.

“Kristen, whatever you tell me will remain between the two of us. You can trust me,” she said, hoping to loosen her tongue a bit. Kristen was extremely loyal to those she cared about. It was more than obvious that Holden was not in that category.

“Lucinda wanted to confront Holden about it, but he'd left. I don't remember where he went, but she wasn't here for the tea and cookies. She was totally pissed about what Holden had done to Emily.

“Sorry, but that's the only way to describe it. I don't know what she'd planned to do, just that she was mad. So she says Emily and Holden were both at Racer's, you know, the club?”

She nodded. Molly had never been there but knew it was quite popular with the college crowd.

“Holden has a nasty rep, truly. No one likes him. I'm almost ashamed—no, I
am
ashamed—that he's my brother. I'm just thankful he's just my half brother. Anyway, he's got this rep with the girls, you know? Not a good one, either. He's a real male chauvinist pig.”

Like father, like son
, Molly wanted to add, but held her tongue. Kristen did not need to hear her say such a thing about Kristen's father.

“He has this weird sense of entitlement with girls. Holden thinks all women want him, and that no means yes.” Kristen stopped. “You know about that, right?”

She shook her head. “If you're talking about sex, of course I know.”
Very well.

“So Emily meets Holden at the club, they hang out for a bit. Lucinda said he bought several drinks for Emily—three or four, she wasn't sure, because they were there having fun, and she figured Emily was an adult and she didn't need to look out for her. She said that a couple hours later, when it was time to leave, she started searching for Emily and couldn't find her. She looked in the restroom, asked the bartender if he'd seen her leave, and no one had any clue where she'd gone. Lucinda told us she'd been a little drunk but sobered up when she realized that Emily was missing. They'd taken Emily's car, so she figured she was outside in the parking lot waiting for her. Lucinda saw her car, and when she tried to open the doors, they were all locked. She thought maybe Emily had gone home with someone, but she told us that Emily always tells her if she's gonna hook up.”