You Don't Know Me (21 page)

He wanted her to leave.

Nathan wanted her to
leave
. Annalise sat in the middle of her bed, dressed in her layers, praying Nathan might finally come in, kindness in his eyes, ready to finish their conversation.

Ready to refute her statement that she could leave. Alone.

Yes, I guess you could.

The words churned inside her, chewing up her life. Her dreams for her children—college, marriage, children of their own. Her memories—the downy smell of her newborns, the laughter of her children on Christmas morning, the warmth of them as they climbed into her lap for a story. How would she live without rehearsing with Jason or cheering on Henry in soccer?

What if she left with the taste of her fight with Colleen still in her mouth?

Please, Nathan, come to bed.

But the light in the family room continued to trickle down the hall. Thin and weak, not enough to chase away the shadows, but enough to reveal the grim edge to Nathan’s face as she tiptoed into the family room in her wool socks, her bathrobe snagged tight.

She froze at the glint off the steel barrel of the shotgun. Nathan sat in the recliner, feet on the ground, staring at the front door as if Garcia would knock or something. He still wore his suit pants, although he’d yanked out his dress shirt, rolled up the sleeves, unbuttoned it at the neck. He’d been running his hands through his dark hair, and with the five o’clock shadow, he appeared . . . well, dangerous.

Her voice eked out on just a breath of panic. “What are you doing with that?”

He glanced at her, his expression tight, blame in his eyes. “Go to bed, Annalise.”

“I think you should put that thing away before someone gets hurt.”

He stared at her, his green eyes icy. “I think we’re past that. I just want to make sure we’re safe tonight. Tomorrow, we’re leaving Deep Haven.”

“We’re leaving?
All
of us?”

“What did you expect, Annalise? That I’d stay here while Frank stole my wife and hid her from me? No, we are in this together.”

Except it didn’t sound like they were in it together. It sounded like the last thing he wanted was to be in this with her.

She clasped her arms around herself. “What about your mother?”

He looked away, back at the door, and shook his head. “Please, just go to bed.”

She had to press her hand to the wall, had to find balance as she turned toward their room.

How could she leave Helen?

Her eyes burned as she stopped at Jason’s room. She watched him sleep, rolled like a burrito in his comforter, the moon’s arms over him.

And Henry. She went to his bed, picking her way past the backpack, the clothing debris, the skateboard, to run his hair back from his face and kiss him. She loved the softness of his cheeks, still a baby in so many ways.

Colleen had closed her door, and Annalise listened a moment before she turned the handle and eased it open. Colleen lay on her side, curled into her covers. Annalise couldn’t stop herself. She tiptoed into the room and climbed onto the bed, molding herself to her daughter’s frame, tucked under the covers.

Her daughter breathed the rhythmic melody of slumber. Annalise draped her arm over her body, settling it lightly. Colleen didn’t stir. Then Annalise closed her eyes and breathed in the sweet smell of her skin as she listened to the words of their fight.

I don’t want to be
you
.

The words hollowed her out. It could be her voice, her own words hurled once upon a time at her own mother.
I love him! And Blake loves me! You are so judgmental!

Annalise tucked her forehead against Colleen’s back. She just wanted to stay right here, to hold on.

Oh, to have the chance to erase it all, to rewrite everything.

Annalise couldn’t bear to have her daughter disappear forever. There would never be enough grace to say good-bye.

God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

How many times had she returned to that moment, in the nondescript safe house apartment where they had brought her mother for one final good-bye? Her mother, thinner than she remembered, a forced smile on her face. She’d hugged her daughter and told her she loved her.
I’ll never stop praying for you, Deidre.

At the time, it felt like a religious platitude.

Now Annalise clung to it with everything inside her.

The verses from Dan’s sermon yesterday slid through her.
“For he knows how weak we are; he remembers we are only dust. . . . The wind blows, and we are gone—as though we had never been here. But the love of the Lord remains forever with those who fear him.”

She wanted to believe that, but she couldn’t get the words to soak into her heart.

Annalise kissed her daughter’s shoulder, over her flannel pajamas, got up, and left the room.

She heard only the tick of time in her chest, her ears, as she stood in the hallway.

I’ll never stop praying for you, Deidre. I’ll always love you.

Annalise closed the bedroom door behind her and climbed into the center of her bed, pulled the covers to her chest.

Then she picked up her phone.

She’d never forgotten the number. As she dialed, time bled away and she was again eighteen, afraid and hungry, wounded and cold and desperate as she huddled in the phone booth. She held the phone to her ear, listening to it ring.

Then, “Hello?”

Her breath caught. Just like then, words abandoned her now.

“Hello?” The voice was just as she remembered, soft yet firm and expectant. Except now with the tenor of age around the fringes. Annalise’s hand moved to the Mute button before she betrayed herself.

“Deidre?”

Annalise pressed a hand over her mouth, despite the mute, not wanting her gasp to leak out.
Mom.

She closed her eyes, just listening to her mother’s breathing, wanting to drink it in.

And then her mother began to hum. Softly. It sounded like a moan at first, then became a song, something so familiar that Annalise didn’t have to hear the words to know them.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me!

Her mother’s humming became louder, and she broke into a whispered version.

“Through many dangers, toils and snares

We have already come.

’Twas Grace that brought us safe thus far,

And Grace will lead us home.”

The longing for home could drown her. The smell of her mother’s chocolate chip cookies. The step of her father’s wing tips on the kitchen linoleum, coming in from patrol. Kylie curling up in her basket chair, tucking her feet under her as Deidre talked about her day. The way her sister’s blue eyes admired her. Ben playing hoops on the paved driveway.

Easy, almost-inconsequential memories that she hungered for.

It was too agonizing to conjure a real memory, like Thanksgiving or Christmas. A birthday.

Her mother lapsed into humming again. Annalise tucked the phone against her ear, curling into a ball, drinking in the sound.
I love you, Mom.

She finally clicked off, pulling the phone against her chest, willing the melody, the truth, inside her.
“I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see.”

But she didn’t see. Couldn’t see.

And she’d never felt more lost.

In the last several days, God had abandoned her. Worse, He’d laughed at her happy ending. Reminded her that no matter how hard she tried to build a new life, she could never erase her regrets. There was no grace for her.

And now, her entire family would have to pay. Again.

Annalise continued to hold the phone against her chest and wept.

She didn’t know how, but she finally fell asleep. She
must
have fallen asleep because otherwise she would have seen the night fade into morning and heard the boards in the hallway creak.

She would have risen, gone to the door, opened it a crack, and seen Henry wander down the hall in search of breakfast.

She might have called out to him, followed him, even stopped him.

Because she could have never forgotten that his father sat in the family room, waiting for danger to leap at them.

Waiting, because she’d all but summoned it to their door.

All but set them up for disaster.

All but caused Nathan, asleep in the chair, to jerk, for his hand to release the safety.

For the movement to cause the .22 to fire.

Annalise sat up, her heart in her throat, every nerve on fire. A shot. She’d heard a shot.

A scream propelled her out of bed and down the hall.

And then the scream became her own as she saw Henry standing in a puddle of glass and plaster, Nathan holding his discharged gun, pale, looking exactly like he’d, indeed, nearly killed their youngest son.

Funny how, once she made the decision to keep everyone in the dark, Helen’s world got brighter. As if, by keeping it secret, the cancer couldn’t really touch her. Sure, it still lurked inside her—she felt certain that Dr. Walgren would confirm it today at her appointment—but as long as she kept smiling, kept passing the roast and potatoes last night, kept meeting Frank’s eyes with a smile, it simply couldn’t be true.

Not yet.

She had too much life yet to live.

Helen shrugged on her jacket, bent to pull on her boots. She’d be in and out of the doctor’s office before anyone even noticed she was gone. She loved the fact that the clinic opened at 7 a.m.—maybe she’d come home and make another pie, take it over for lunch.

Just to see the look on Frank’s face.

Oh, he had her thinking about all the things she still wanted to do. Go on a cruise. Repaint her house. Maybe write a recipe book on pies—apple pies.

Maybe even make a few more family meals like last night. She’d wanted to weep with the joy of her family around the table. And Colleen’s boyfriend seemed so nice, the way he walked Colleen back to her house, kissed her on the cheek.

Even Frank had seen that, watching over Colleen like a grandfather might.

Yes, she would add falling in love to her list. Maybe even getting remarried.

In fact, maybe the cancer had lit a fuse on her life. Time to live it to the fullest before it was snuffed out. She’d travel and dance and cook exotic foods and make the most of her final days.

Grabbing her purse, she stepped out into the bright sunshine. The air held the crisp tang of autumn, the sun a glorious rose-gold against the mottled clouds. Yes, this was a good day, come what may.

A shot ripped the air, fracturing the morning stillness. She jerked, and the scream that followed the shot lurched inside her.

It came from Nathan’s home.

Then she heard yelling, but she was already scrambling down the drive, across the road, turning the handle on the front door and finding it locked.

She fumbled for her keys, still hearing the yelling—

“You could have killed someone!”

“And this is my fault?”

Someone crying, now another.

Helen banged on the door. “Nathan! It’s your mother! Let me in!”

Footsteps. The door jerked open just about the time Helen found her key.

Colleen stood in the doorway in her flannel pajamas, eyes wide.

“What’s going on?” Helen took Colleen’s hand. “Are you okay?”

“Daddy shot the wall.”

Helen blinked at her. Nathan had done—
what?

But as she came into the family room, she saw that the family picture—the huge three-by-five-foot framed portrait they’d taken last year on the shore—lay splintered on the floor, glass glinting on the sofa, sprayed across the carpet. The plaster behind it bore a hole.

Nathan stood barefoot in the middle of the room, holding a broom, dressed in his rumpled suit pants, his dress shirt untucked and wrinkled as if he’d slept in it. A shaking and crying Annalise clutched Henry to herself so hard that for a moment Helen thought he’d been hurt. Henry had his eyes shut as if trying not to cry.

“What happened in here?” she said.

Annalise looked at her, her eyes red-rimmed. Jason, bare-chested in his pajama bottoms, stood behind her, just staring at the mess.

“He’s going to get someone killed.” The voice came from Frank, who materialized behind her. He looked wrung out, his hair tousled, a shadow of whiskers on his face, as if he’d been rousted out of bed and had thrown on his jeans and a white T-shirt on the way up the stairs.

It was then Helen saw the shotgun lying on the floor. “Is that your father’s?” She looked at Nathan.

“Mom, everything’s fine—”

“Everything is
not
fine. Good night, what is that doing out?” She went to pick it up.

“Just leave it,” Nathan said. “Go home, Mom, please.”

Helen froze. She’d never really heard that tone from him before. “Not until someone tells me what is going on here!”

“How could you do this?”

Colleen’s outburst behind her made Helen turn. Her granddaughter wore such a look of fury, of betrayal, her arms wrapped around her skinny body as her gaze pinned on Annalise. “You told him, didn’t you? That’s why Dad had the shotgun. You told him about Tucker!”

Her words echoed in the silence of the room for one long, unbearable moment as Nathan’s face drained. He had bent to sweep glass from the wood floor of the hallway but now slowly stood up. He stared at his daughter in a way that made even Helen want to run. “What about Tucker?”

“I . . . I found Tucker in Colleen’s room Saturday night,” Annalise said softly.

But the entire room heard her because for a full twenty seconds, no one said anything.

See if Helen ever asked Tucker over for pork roast again. But she reached out and drew Colleen to herself.

Nathan shook his head, venom in his tone. “More secrets, Annalise? Haven’t we had enough?”

Annalise pressed her forehead into Henry’s hair.

Nathan turned back to Colleen, his eyes hot. “You’re not to see him. Ever again.”

Helen felt Colleen gasp under her embrace. “That’s not fair, Daddy—”

Nathan held up a finger, his mouth so grim even Helen would have stopped talking. “Go to your room and get ready for school.”

Colleen untangled herself from her grandmother. Helen pressed a kiss to her head as she let her go.

Nathan turned to Jason. “You too. Henry—”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” Henry looked up at him, his eyes big. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Nathan closed his eyes as pain streaked across his face. He held open his arms, and Annalise let go as Henry flung himself at his dad. “This is not your fault.”

“Then why were you sitting there with the gun?”

“Helen, c’mon. It’s time to go,” Frank said.

She froze. “For the love of pete, my son just shot a hole in his wall! I’m not going anywhere.”

“Everything is going to be fine here. And don’t you have an appointment you need to keep?” he said, his voice small. “Please.”

Again, the room quieted.

Helen’s throat began to swell; she could hardly push words out. “How did you know about that?” She met Frank’s eyes, fury building inside her. “What did you do,
spy
on me?”

“What appointment, Mom?” Nathan said behind her, his voice recognizable again.

Frank’s mouth tightened around the edges, his eyes sad. “Tell them, Helen.”

“Tell them what? I don’t know anything yet! I just had some tests.”

“Helen? Are you okay?” This from Annalise.

Oh, see if she ever made Frank pie or ever,
ever
invited him into her house—her life—again. She tried to level him with a glare, but he just met her gaze evenly.

Fine. She turned to her son, to Annalise. “The doctor thinks the cancer might be back.”

Only a muscle moved in Nathan’s jaw.

Annalise slipped a hand over her mouth. “Helen.”

See, this was why she didn’t want them to know. Now they’d make a big fuss, and she’d . . . she’d feel like an invalid.

“It’s nothing. I’m headed over to the clinic, but I think I need to help clean up this mess—”

“I’ll drive her to the clinic,” Frank said.

Helen rounded on him. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t know how you knew, but you invaded my privacy. You betrayed me. Just stay out of my life.”

He didn’t even flinch at her words. “Let me drive you—”

She held up her hand. “I’m staying right here.”

“Mom, please. Go to the clinic. We have to get this cleaned up and the kids to school,” Nathan said. “I promise, everything’s under control here.”

“Hardly! Are you . . . in some kind of
danger
, Nathan? What would possess you to bring out your father’s shotgun?”

“Helen—”

She wanted to turn, lay one against Frank’s cheek, and considered herself a fine Christian woman when she simply snapped, “Stay out of this, Frank. You’re not a part of my life, so stay out of it.” Although her voice shook on the end.

She wouldn’t cry in front of her family. They needed her to be strong.

“Mom, everything’s fine.” Nathan came over, gripped her shoulders, and gave her a smile, one that she’d seen him use during his campaign . . . and she’d never felt more betrayed.

Her son was lying to her. Flat-out lying.

He’d finally turned into his father.

The pain in her chest threatened to make her cry out. Instead, she shook her head. “Fine. If that’s the way you want it, Nathan, I’ll leave.” She swallowed. “But I’ll be back after my appointment. And then I want to know what made you take a shotgun to the family picture.”

She pushed past Frank, outside into the bright autumn day, wondering how it had all become so dark.

They’d never escape their fears.

Annalise had known it as she watched Nathan clean up the glass, like frozen teardrops against the wood floor of the hall. He would always live with fear hovering over him, always trying to keep them safe. And in his attempt to be a hero of some sort, he’d get them all killed.

She had to leave, alone, before her choices cost them everything.

“Mom, I need lunch money.” Henry leaned forward from the backseat. “Don’t forget.”

He seemed totally recovered from this morning’s near trauma. As though a bowl of Cheerios and some peanut butter toast could set the world right.

“I’ll write out a check when we get to school.”

She’d tried not to notice as Nathan swept up the mess. He was still working on it when she bundled the kids into the car.

How she wanted to say good-bye. To wrap her arms around his waist and hold on, one last time. To breathe in everything strong and familiar and right about the man she’d married. But then it would be obvious.

And most likely, he’d just push her away. The betrayal on his face after the revelation about Colleen had told her everything.

Beside her, Jason sat without words as if trying to sort out what had happened in his home; Colleen kept glaring at Annalise as if the entire thing might indeed be her fault.

Well, it was.

But this was not how she wanted to leave them. She didn’t want this morning to be their last memory of her. If she could have, she would have kept them home from school, but according to Frank, school, with its embedded security, might be the safest place for them.

She turned in to the school parking lot.
Just stay calm. Keep a smile on your face.

She pulled up to the curb, and Jason reached for the door handle. She put a hand on his arm. “I love you, Jason.”

He turned, smiled at her. “I love you too, Mom. Have a great day.”

And then, by some miracle, he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

She wanted to cry. Managed a smile instead.

Colleen had already climbed out.

Annalise put the car into park, got out. “Colleen, honey!” she called over the hood of the car.

Colleen glanced over her shoulder. “What?”

“It’s going to be okay! It’ll all work out, I promise. Just . . . remember that.”

Colleen frowned at her. “Whatever, Mom. See you tonight at the game.”

See you.

Annalise’s throat tightened.

“Mom, what about my lunch money?”

Oh, precious, precious Henry. He stood by her door, his backpack over one shoulder. So grown-up. She nodded, her eyes welling, and reached for her purse. Pulling out her checkbook, she wrote the amount, then tore it off, handed it to him.

He took it, and she caught his jacket before he could move away. “Keep reading, Henry. Every day. Keep reading and it will get easier. I promise.”

He shrugged. “Okay, Mom.”

And then, well, she couldn’t help it. She grabbed him in a hug.

For once, he didn’t squirm away. Just hugged her back, his arms around her waist. She wanted to weep. “Bye, honey.”

He slipped out of her arms and ran toward the building, his backpack bouncing. “Bye!”

She watched him, uncaring that he blurred as he disappeared through the school door.

Then, before she could change her mind, she got in and drove away. Down the hill, along Main Street, and out of town.