Secret Lives (36 page)

They had often been lumped together as kids.
The Alexander boys. Sam had been a straight-A student in high
school and a hard act to follow, but he never held his
accomplishments over Ben. Ben was nearly as old, nearly as bright,
nearly as handsome as Sam, but not quite. And though the rivalry
was slight it was there nonetheless, so that when Sam announced he
was going to major in premed in college Ben knew that was one major
he could rule out for himself imme-diately.

The only thing Ben had ever beaten Sam at was
fatherhood. The fertility tests had found Sam's low sperm count to
be the cause of Jen's not getting pregnant, and he made it no
secret to Ben that he'd trade in all his success for the chance to
be a father. Ben took no pleasure in the fact that he'd finally
done something better than his brother. He'd encouraged this
adoption from the start.

“Have you seen this?” Sam opened his
briefcase and pulled out a newspaper, the type you'd see in the
grocery store checkout. On the cover was a picture of Ben and
Eden.

The caption read: EDEN RILEY AND MYSTERY MAN
PAINT BIG APPLE RED.

“Oh, shit.” Ben held the paper on his knees.
He looked up at Sam. “We went to New York with Kyle and Lou, and
when we were leaving a restaurant some jerk sprang out of nowhere
and took this picture.”

“Well, I never would have recognized you,
except for the fact that I knew you were seeing her, so I gave the
picture a second look. No one will know it's you without your
beard. And the article doesn't say much. They don't have a clue who
you are."

It was true that the picture didn't look like
him. The angle of the camera threw his features off, made him look
thinner, heavy-lidded. He shook his head. “She doesn't need this,
though. She worries about her reputation.”

Sam laughed. “So she takes up with you? She
doesn't sound too bright.”

“She is bright. And beautiful. And ambitious.
A little screwed up, but who am I to talk?”

“Does she know?”

“Everything. And she believes me. She really
does, Sam.”

Sam smiled. “You've got it bad.”

“Feels good to me.”

Sam shook his head. “What happens when it's
time for her to go back to Tinseltown?”

“We're not thinking that far ahead.”

“You can tell her from me that if she does a
number on you, I'll boycott her next movie.”

“Sam. Chill out.” Ben smiled, both amused and
touched by his brother's concern.

Sam reached into his briefcase again. “Here's
another journal article for you. And Winston will testify, if we
can ever get a court date. I'd like to get some guys from the
Accused Group to help us.”

“No way,” Ben said. The Accused Group was an
organization of men who felt themselves wrongly accused of
molesting their sons or daughters. They held workshops to learn
ways to discredit their children's accusations, egging each other
on. He'd gone to one meeting at Sam's insistence and came away
repulsed. “They only care about what this has done to them,” he'd
said to Sam after the meeting. “Not one of them mentioned what
their kids are going through.” He'd left that meeting certain he
was the only innocent man in the room.

“I really think they could help us, Ben. They
have the contacts.”

“Forget it.”

Sam reached into his shirt pocket and handed
a few photographs to Ben. “I brought some pictures of Bliss for
you.”

Bliss stood under an umbrella watching a
fisherman weigh a small bluefish. “Where is this?” Ben asked.

“Saint Michaels. Remember, I told you Jen and
I took her there a few weeks ago?”

Bliss was inches taller, her body stretching
out, her pin-straight hair cut to the tops of her shoulders. She
looked like a street urchin—beautiful, but lanky and underfed.

“I can't believe how much she's grown,” Ben
said. He looked through the pictures, all of them of Bliss on the
waterfront. Her face was somber and unsmiling. In his memory, she
smiled all the time. In the last picture she was waving at the
camera, but still there was no smile.

“Doesn't she smile anymore?” he asked.

“Oh, sure. She was a little grumpy that
day.”

Ben sat back with a sigh. “I guess we'll be
doing this until she's eighteen, huh? You sneaking me
pictures?”

“I'll do it as long as you want me to.”

“I know it puts you in an awkward position
with Jen.”

“Blood's thicker than marriage.” Sam
stretched, looked around him again. “Speaking of Jen, she wants me
to talk you into coming for a visit. You can bring Eden, if you
like. We miss you. We used to spend practically every weekend
together, remember? Always had some project we were helping each
other with.”

“I'm not ready to go to Annapolis. I can't be
that close to Bliss. I'd try to get a look at her.”

“Mmm.” Sam nodded. “By the way, did you know
Sharon's father died?”

“No.” Ben felt wounded, forgotten. “I thought
he was doing better.” Sharon should have called him. Regardless of
what had happened this past year, she should have let him know. “I
can't even call Sharon to…Do you have her new number?”

“Yeah, but Ben, I really can’t.”

“I just want to tell her I'm sorry about her
dad. Come on.”

Sam was easy on this one. He pulled out his
wallet and read him Sharon's number from a scrap of paper. “Don't
tell them I gave it to you,” he said. “By the way—I've found a
couple of names of therapists up here. Why don't you let me…?”

“Can't afford it.”

“I'll take care of the cost.”

“No, Sam. You know that's just not my way of
dealing with things.”

“Do you need a refill on the Valium?”

“I haven't taken any.”

“Good. I really wish you wouldn't. You look
like you've lost a little weight. Are you eating? How are you
sleeping?”

Ben loved this side of Sam—the soft,
concerned, nurturing side that was the reason for his success as a
psychiatrist. He would make a wonderful father. “I'm fine. My best
nights, though, are the nights I'm not sleeping because I have Eden
with me. I've had some very sleepless nights lately.”

Sam laughed. “My baby brother's sleeping with
Eden Riley. Amazing.” He swallowed the last of his beer and set the
empty can on the coffee table. “There's just one more thing I have
to tell you and then I've got to get back on the road.”

“What's that?”

“Well.” Sam took off his glasses and rubbed
his eyes. “I hesitate to tell you because there's nothing we can do
about it and I figure you're already feeling helpless enough.”

Ben sat forward. “Tell me.”

Sam looked him in the eye. “I think Sharon
was seeing Jeff when you two were married.”

Ben shook his head. “She barely knew him, if
she knew him at all.” Sharon didn't fit his image of a woman having
an affair back then. “What makes you think that?”

“He slipped when Jen and I picked Bliss up to
go to Saint Michaels. He said he and Sharon took Bliss to Wild
World two summers ago. Sharon corrected him and he argued with her
and then realized he was incriminating himself and shut up."

“Pretty slim evidence, Sam.”

“Well, I asked Bliss about it and she thought
it was two summers ago too.”

“Bliss's memory is pretty unreliable.”

“She calls him Daddy, Ben.”

At first he didn't understand what Sam was
suggesting. He only felt the sting of the word, remembering Eden's
reaction when Cassie referred to her stepmother as Mommy. But then
he caught on.

“Do you think…?”

“I don't know. I know you didn't do it, and
if Jeff was really around during that time…”

“But Bliss said it happened when she was in
bed in her own room.”

“Maybe when you were traveling.”

“Christ, Sam, why don't you just punch me in
the stomach and get it over with? Sharon wouldn't ... You know her
better than that.”

Sam shrugged.

“She had back problems all that year. She
wasn't even interested in sex.”

“Maybe she just wasn't interested in sex with
you. Or maybe not with Jeff either. Maybe she drove Jeff to Bliss
or—”

“That's crazy,” Ben said, but what he was
remembering was the time he'd called home from Colorado and a man
answered. Sharon had told him it was someone from school. She was
having a meeting of some of the teachers. “Assuming it is true—what
can we do about it?”

“That's just it.” Sam put his glasses back
on. “There's nothing we can do. I spoke with Barbara McKay and the
social worker who investigated the case. They said there's nothing
concrete to go on.”

“I can't believe Sharon would let me go to
jail for something Jeff might have done.”

“You confessed, remember?” Sam had been
furious with him for his incriminating outburst in the
courtroom.

“I didn't feel as though I had a goddamned
choice. They were going to torture Bliss.”

“She's not as fragile as you think.”

Ben set his beer down. He looked over at his
brother. “Do you remember Randy?”

Sam frowned at him. “What are you dredging
that up for now?”

“I've always wondered if you understood why I
didn't want to let Bliss testify. I still remember what it was like
having all those questions thrown at me.”

“You really need to see someone, Ben. You
should have put that stuff behind you a long time ago.”

“It is behind me. Or it was until I saw that
scared look on Bliss's face.”

Sam stood up. “Maybe I shouldn't have said
anything. Would you rather I just kept this sort of information to
myself?”

“No.” It took all Ben's strength to stand up
himself. He didn't want Sam to leave. “Please don't start keeping
things from me.”

“Okay.” Sam put his arm around his brother's
shoulders and started toward the door.

“Thank Jen for the cookies.”

“Sure.” At the door Sam turned to face him.
“I don't know how to say this other than just to say it.” He pulled
a check from his shirt pocket and pressed it into Ben's hand. “Use
this for whatever you want. A better place to live, maybe. Or a
trip for you and Eden. You should get away. Relax a—”

“Forget it.” Ben's cheeks burned. He put the
check back in Sam's pocket, but Sam extracted it again.

“Please, Ben, take it.” There were tears in
Sam's eyes, ready to spill over. Ben looked away, opened the door
wider.

Sam set his hand on the doorknob. “I can't
stand to see what's happened to you. This isn't right. It isn't
fair. Please let me help with the money. It's the only way I
can.”

“No.” Ben stared out at the BMW next to his
pickup. He couldn't look at Sam's face, didn't want to see if the
tears were making their way down his cheeks.

“You know how much we love you?”

Ben nodded. “Drive carefully, okay?”

He stared at the number for a long time
before dialing the phone. He held his breath as it rang, grimaced
when Jeff answered.

“This is Ben,” he said. “I'd like to speak
with Sharon.” There was a moment's hesitation on the other end of
the line.

“How did you get this number?”

“It doesn't matter. Is Sharon there?”

“She doesn't want to talk to you.”

“Let her tell me that herself, okay?”

He heard Sharon's voice in the background,
then Jeff growling, “You don't have to talk to him.”

“Ben?” It was Sharon, and he felt an old rush
of love for her.

“Sam just told me about Pop,” he said. “I'm
so sorry, Sharon.”

She said nothing and he felt an aching in his
chest.

“I wish you'd told me,” he said. “He was a
part of my life, too.”

“I know.” Her voice was husky. “I didn't know
what I should…”

He heard Jeff bark something in the
background. “Could you please ask Jeff to give you a few seconds'
privacy?” To his surprise, she spoke to Jeff and Ben heard the
slamming of a door. Poor Sharon. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I don't
want to create problems between you two.”

“It's all right.”

“How did Bliss take it about Pop?”

“I don't think we should talk about
Bliss.”

Ben closed his eyes, let the ache spread,
fill him up. “She's my child, Sharon.”

There was another long pause before Sharon
spoke again. “She doesn't really understand,” she said. “She keeps
expecting him to show up at the door.”

“Does she expect me to show up too?” He knew
he'd overstepped himself the second the words were out of his
mouth, but it was too late.

“Why should she?” Sharon snapped. “You made
it very clear to her—and to me—that your pride was more important
than your family when you refused counseling.”

“Sharon, I was innocent. I couldn't go—”

“I'm getting off.”

“Wait. Look. Just tell me how she is. How
does she get along with Jeff? He sounds kind of gruff.”

“At least he's not a wolf in sheep's
clothing.”

“Sharon, I want you to do something for me.
Just entertain the thought that I might be innocent.”

“I will not.”

“You have to. Because if you truly believe
something happened to Bliss and if I'm innocent, then someone else
is guilty and ... Sharon?” He dug his fingers into the quilt. “Were
you seeing Jeff while we were married?”

Sharon drew in a sharp breath. “I can't
believe you're asking me that.”

“I'm sorry. But I—”

“Ben, don't call again, all right? There's no
point to it. It upsets me and it upsets Jeff. And Bliss is never
going to know you called, so don't imagine that she will. She's so
much better now. She's finally starting to forget you, and the last
thing we need is to have you harassing us again.”

She hung up on him, and he slowly moved the
phone from the bed to the apple crate. She's finally starting to
forget you. Maybe it was best for her that she forget him, that he
become one-dimensional in her mind. The bad daddy. Make it simple.
Visitation was a poor idea, a terrible idea. Bliss's counselor was
right. It could only confuse her.