You Don't Know Me (26 page)

Annalise frowned at her. “This is my life. You and Nathan and the kids.”

“But you lied. You created a fake life.”

“What part about this life isn’t real? You? My children? I had no choice, Helen. I had to become Annalise Decker. This is me.”

“And what about your family? Are you just going to let them think you’re dead?”

Annalise looked as if she’d been slapped. “I . . .”

“We need to go to the game, honey,” Nathan said softly. “It starts in thirty minutes.”

“Oh. I . . . didn’t realize it was so late.” Annalise jumped up from her chair and went to the basement door, calling, “Henry, get your shoes on.”

So this was how Annalise would be—unaccountable for her actions. For the pain she inflicted on her family. Helen shook her head in disgust.

Henry came up the stairs. “I’m hungry. What about supper?”

Helen got up, fury roaring in her ears, and headed toward the door. But she stopped there and turned. “We don’t erase our past, Annalise. We learn from it.”

She didn’t look back as she pushed her way outside.

“Mom!” Nathan followed her onto the stoop, his hands in his pockets. He closed the door behind him. “Annalise didn’t have a choice. She didn’t want to lie to any of us.”

“We’re not the only ones she lied to—”

“We’re going to tell the children later.”

“I’m talking about the town of Deep Haven, Mr. Mayoral Candidate. Think they’ll forgive us for this?”

His face whitened.

“You didn’t think about that, did you?”

“I just found out this afternoon.”

And yet here he was, forgiving Annalise? Acting as if everything was normal?

The woman had destroyed all his hope of being mayor. Made them into fools.

“I love her, Mom. She’s my wife. And I’m not going to give up on us. I know she lied, but I promised to stay the course, all the way to the end, and I’m trusting in God’s grace, every day, to get there.”

He stood there, so much resolution in his eyes, and it hit her. “You’re so much like your father, you know.”

Nathan stiffened, his mouth opening.

Helen came back to him, stood with him under the porch light. “No, you don’t understand. Your daddy loved you. He wanted more than anything to come back to us. I . . . just couldn’t forgive him.” She couldn’t look at Nathan then, her eyes wet in the cold. “I turned him away that night he was killed. I told him he’d never see you again . . .” She wrapped her arms around herself as the wind chapped her wet cheeks. “He never gave up on you, even when I turned him away. You should know that.”

She heard Nathan breathing and for a moment expected some kind of horrible accusation. Even heard it in her head.
You stole my father from me.

Instead, she felt his arms circle her, pulling her close. “I love you, Mom. And I forgive you.”

Oh, Nathan.
She didn’t know how she’d managed to raise such an amazing man, but she put her arms around him, holding on, burying her face in his jacket.

I’m sorry, Dylan.

She finally untangled herself from his embrace. He ran a thumb across her cheek, his green eyes kind.

Helen wiped the wetness away. “Listen, you and Annalise go to the game. I’ll feed Henry and be there in a bit.” She patted her son on his cheek. “Besides, I need to make popcorn.”

“We don’t need popcorn, Mom.”

“Of course we do.”

Back inside, Henry was pulling on his jacket, Annalise scooping the potatoes into a container.

“I’ll feed him, Annalise,” Helen said, glancing at her.

“I—”

“C’mon, Annalise. Mom will be there in a bit.” Nathan held out his hand.

Henry shrugged out of his jacket. “Thanks, Grandma.”

“What are grandmas for?” she said, kissing the top of his head.

“Thank you, Helen,” Annalise said. Helen couldn’t look at her. Nathan might be ready to forgive, but she wasn’t sure how she might get there. Not yet.

As she watched them drive away in Nathan’s sedan, their taillights vanishing in the night, she flicked on the radio. Neil and Vern spilled out the pregame radio chatter, and she could hear the crowd in the background. Still, they couldn’t drown out Frank’s words running in her head as she put the rolls in a basket.

It was for her safety, and I promise I didn’t want to deceive you.

But they had deceived her, hadn’t they?

She pulled out the meat loaf and set it on the stove. The ketchup had soaked into it, turning the meat savory, tangy. It was Annalise’s recipe. Delicious, mouthwatering. Perfect.

Helen stared at it, the aroma filling the kitchen. Then picked up a towel, pressed it to her eyes.

How had she become so unforgiving? Why couldn’t she be more like Nathan?

We don’t erase our past . . . We learn from it.

Apparently she hadn’t. She hadn’t learned anything from the years watching Nathan grieve his father, just because she couldn’t forgive. Did she want that again for him? For her grandchildren?

She could grow cold and lonely in that house across the street. Or . . .

Or she could forgive. She could love, despite her daughter-in-law’s betrayals.

Helen shuddered to think how she might have treated the girl had she known her circumstances. She’d never been a woman tolerant of the worst. She only wanted the best. And if Annalise had shown up with her baggage . . .

Perhaps, in hiding Annalise’s past, God had given Helen the daughter-in-law she had always hoped for.

I’m sorry.
The words pulsed inside her.
I’m sorry, Annalise.

I’m sorry, Nathan.

Because life didn’t just come with better . . . it came with worse, too. A worse that God could have fixed, perhaps, if she’d let Him, so long ago. She hadn’t wanted to take the risk of a broken heart. Of getting hurt over and over again.

But wasn’t that the nature of love? Risking betrayal? Forgiving? Wiping the slate clean and starting over?

Wasn’t that the nature of God?

This was what Dylan needed that day so many years ago. A second chance. Unconditional forgiveness. Maybe Dylan would have kept betraying her. But if she’d forgiven him, she might have built a different legacy for her son. Instead Helen had reacted out of her pain and spent thirty years reaping the consequences.

“Lord, I’m sorry for not keeping my vows. For not trusting You to get me through the worse. For not loving.”

“Grandma, are you okay?”

Henry stood in the kitchen, staring at her with wide eyes.

She smiled at him. “Yes. I think I am.”

“Are we going to eat soon?”

She dished up some mashed potatoes, a slab of meat loaf, added a roll, and set Henry’s plate on the table. “I have to make a call.”

She dug out her cell phone—six missed calls from an unknown number.

Frank.

On the radio, she heard the singing of the national anthem. She turned the volume down and hit Redial, tousling Henry’s hair as the call connected, rang.

Please, be there.

“You called me. Oh, thank God, Helen; you called me.”

She hadn’t expected quite so much exuberance. “Frank?”

“Listen, I’m on my way back to Deep Haven—I should be there in thirty minutes or—maybe longer.”

He was coming back. She turned away from Henry, not wanting him to see her smile. Frank was coming back.

“I’m sorry, Frank, that I didn’t tell—”

“Is Annalise with you?”

Oh. She tried not to be hurt. “No. She’s at the game.”

“The game! Of course. Okay . . . um . . .”

Something in his voice made her walk away from the table out of Henry’s earshot. “What’s the matter?”

A sigh trembled through the line.

“I know about Annalise. Is she in more trouble?” Helen glanced at Henry. He didn’t seem to hear her. “What’s going on, Frank?”

“Just stay put. I’m calling the sheriff. Annalise is still in danger. You all are, I think. Lock your doors; I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Frank—don’t worry about me. You protect my daughter. I’ll take care of Henry and me.”

“I know you will.” Silence, and then his voice softened. “When this is all over, we have to talk. I’m sorry I betrayed you to your family. But . . . if you’ll let me, I’d like to stick around and . . . Well, I know I’m not the man you thought I was, but I’d like to be.”

Oh, Frank.
She cupped her hand over the speaker. “You’re exactly the man I thought you were. We just need a fresh start. And by the way . . . I don’t have cancer.”

Another beat of silence. “You don’t?”

“I guess I’ll be hanging around Deep Haven for a while.”

On the other end of the line, she thought she heard a soft laugh. “Me too. Please, lock your doors. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I’ll be here, waiting.”

“I wish Colleen had stopped by the house before the game. I would have liked to talk to her, to tell her I’m sorry.” Annalise blew on her hands as they drove to the school. While they were at the Millers’ hideaway, it had begun to sleet, turning the roads slick.

Her stomach churned with Helen’s anger. In twenty years, her mother-in-law hadn’t once yelled at her. It stung, but the questions lodged inside her.
What about your family? Are you just going to let them think you’re dead?

Yes, maybe it would be better if she stayed dead. So many questions, so many wounds to open.

Nathan turned in at the school lot. “I think Colleen owes you an apology.”

“It’s my fault, too. I was so afraid of losing her that I made her feel like a criminal.”

“She had a boy in her room—”

“Who apparently came over to ask if he could go to church with her.”

Nathan smirked. “Right, okay.”

“What if she is telling the truth? Seriously, Nathan. I feared she was going to become me, and I didn’t even listen to her. I didn’t trust her.”

“First of all, what’s so bad about being you?”

“Not me, Annalise. Me,
Deidre
.”

“Again. I didn’t know Deidre, but I can’t imagine she didn’t have some qualities that made you who you are today.” He pulled into a parking space. “But you don’t owe Colleen a rundown of your past. You are her mother. And your job is to guide her toward her future. You’ve been doing that in word and deed her entire life. And in every moment, you’ve given her the best of yourself, the best parenting you can. Every piece of guidance, every ounce of pushing her to her future, is valid. It’s not negated by your mistakes. So no, I don’t think you owe Colleen an explanation or an apology.”

He put the car in park. “Babe, I don’t know who you were, but I know who you are. And that’s the woman Colleen needs right now.” He leaned over, took her face, and kissed her. “Get your pom-poms.”

She caught his hand. “What are you going to do when the town finds out? It might destroy your mayoral race.”

“Who wants to be mayor anyway?”

But she knew him too well to believe him, to not see the flash of sorrow in his eyes. If only she could figure out a way to fix this . . .

No. God would fix this. She’d have to let Him. Wasn’t that what trusting in His grace—His love—every moment was all about? Following Him even in the dark places to lead them to the light?

She got out and grabbed the gear. Inside the school, the gym was already alive, the pep band warming up, the teams in their circles, hitting the ball to each other. She searched for Colleen and found her practicing her serve, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, her skin flushed.

Annalise raised her hand. “Colleen!”

Her daughter turned, searching for her voice. Annalise smiled, waved.

Colleen’s eyes widened as if she were surprised to see her. What, did she think one little fight would keep Annalise from attending the most important game of her daughter’s career? She gave a thumbs-up even as Colleen shook her head.

“You can do it! Stay focused!”

“You used to play volleyball, didn’t you?” Nathan said quietly next to her.

What a relief to finally nod, to slip her hand into Nathan’s, to smile as they made their way to the stands. “I loved it and probably would have been pretty good until I fell in love with the wrong boy.”

“Someday I’ll be ready to hear about that,” Nathan said, squeezing her hand.

Her gaze scanned the stands, searching for Colleen’s wrong boy. Tucker had behaved himself like a gentleman last night at dinner—had it only been last night? It felt like a lifetime ago. She’d barely looked at him, consumed with her confession to Nathan. Now she wanted to talk to him, maybe let him apologize. To listen to him.

They’d establish a few ground rules. Like dating out in the open, under supervision. But she would try to give him the benefit of grace.

A fresh start.

Deep Haven fans packed the stands. She waved to a number of parents, spied Jason sitting with cute Harper Jacobsen, then followed her husband to the middle section.

Vern and Neil announced the team, and they stood for the national anthem.

Colleen kept staring at her, so much tension in her expression that Annalise wanted to cry. Clearly the last couple days—especially today’s crisis—had drained her emotional edge for this game.
Oh, Lord, please help her.

She gave her daughter another thumbs-up as the team huddled, then went to the bench.

They started Colleen at wing spiker.

“What position were you?”

“Same as Colleen—an outside hitter.”

Nathan leaned close to her ear. “I feel like I’m just getting to know you.”

She glanced at him. “No, you’ve always known me. Now you find out why. . . . C’mon, Colleen! She completely missed that set!”

“She’ll get into her groove.”

The crowd roared when the Huskies took the serve back. Annalise missed the popcorn, the camaraderie of Helen.

In fact, she couldn’t remember a game she’d attended without Helen.

I had to become Annalise Decker. This is me.

And what about Deidre?

She barely heard Vern announce the score, the Huskies up by three.

Why would she want to be Deidre again? Deidre had been headed toward death.

Annalise was life and hope and a future. Annalise was the name of grace.

The only thing Deidre did was remind her how redemption felt.

She’d forgotten that. But surrounded by Deep Haven, cheering as her daughter finally landed an attack, as the Huskies topped the Wolves by ten, maybe it didn’t hurt to remember. Maybe by wiping the past clean, by not ever revisiting it, she had stolen the depth and power of amazing grace.

Maybe that, too, was the message her mother offered her last night on the phone: grace.

Grace meant God knew her past and still offered her a beautiful future. An unbreakable happy ending.

Colleen rotated into the server position and aced her first shot.

“That’s my girl,” Nathan said beside her.

Their daughter took the ball, twirled it in her hands. Two points to the game.

They handed back the second service, but the Huskies set it up in a beautiful bump, set, attack.

The Wolves dug it out but drove the ball into the net.

One point to the first game. The Huskies could win this championship.

Colleen slammed the ball over the net. The opposite team dove for it with a one-handed dig. It flew into the rafters and the Husky team erupted in victory.

“They’re going to sweep these,” Nathan said.

Annalise’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out. How had she missed six calls? She checked the number and didn’t recognize it.

Oh, sure. Poor Frank—he probably wanted to say good-bye. After all he’d done for her, she owed him that much.

“Hello? Frank, is that you?” Annalise pressed her hand to her ear, unable to hear. “I’m going out into the hall—just a moment.”

She muted the phone, turned to Nathan. “It’s Frank. I’m going out to the hallway.”

He lifted his hand for a high five as she descended the bleachers and headed into the hallway while the girls lined up for a new game.

“Frank, are you still there?”

Shoot, the line had gone dead. Maybe she hit the wrong button. Or if he was still traveling, he might have gone through a dead zone.

She walked toward a quiet alcove by the fitness center, near the girls’ bathroom, scrolling down for the number to call him back.

“Hang up.”

The voice came from behind her. She jerked around as recognition slid through her—a smell, a snarl, a breath she’d never forgotten.

He held up his phone. “Thank you for taking my call.”

Garcia had changed. Jail had made him leaner, scraped out the hollows of his face, turned his eyes darker. He was bald, too, under that hoodie, and the cobra around his neck seemed faded.

Funny how it looked more vivid in her nightmares.

“Deidre O’Reilly. Miss me?”

She should scream. But with the ruckus in the gym, who would hear her? And—too late. He pressed a gun against her jacket.

“Let’s go for a drive.”

She wouldn’t move. “No. You’ll have to kill me here.”

“How about if I start with you and then go over to your house and wait for your husband and daughter? She’s so pretty. We had a nice chat today.”

His words slid through her like ice. He’d talked to Colleen?

“You . . . stay away from my daughter.”

“She looks just like you, you know. And quite the volleyball star.”

She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist, squeezed it. “C’mon, Deidre. Don’t put up a fuss. You knew this was going to happen.” He took her hand. “Don’t make a scene now. If I have to go down, I’ll take as many of your friends with me as I can.”

She slipped her phone into her pocket, pressing the speed dial as he ushered her out of the school.

Sleet hit her jacket, ran down her back.

“We’ll take your car.”

“I don’t have keys.”

“I do.”

If she’d had a doubt that Garcia had terrorized her daughter today, it vanished when he pulled out Colleen’s keys. “I heard she just got her license.”

She didn’t know why Garcia had let Colleen go, but perhaps that was God, giving her this last measure of grace.

And maybe, if Annalise played things right, she could end this tonight.

Garcia opened the passenger door, then pushed her over to the driver’s seat of the sedan. Handed her the keys. She looked around the parking lot for anyone she could signal to, maybe give enough of a smile for them to tell Nathan they’d seen her.

Everyone was at the game.

She prayed her call had connected.

“I changed my mind. Let’s go home and wait for the family, shall we?”

Her hand shook as she inserted the key into the ignition.
Think.

“How did you find me?”

“You’re all I’ve thought of for twenty years,
chica.
And it’s hard to hide your face when your husband is running for mayor, don’t you think? Such a lovely family . . .”

She pulled out of the lot.
Think.
“They know where you are. They know you’re here. . . . They’ll look for you at the house.”

He nudged the chilly end of his gun into her neck. “Maybe you’re right. I’m a lonely man. Maybe we should run away together.” He leaned close, let his sour breath wash over her. “I always told Blake that I’d take you in trade.”

She refused to flinch.

Think.

Annalise drove up the hill, her mind whirring. She had to get him out of town—and fast. Maybe buy enough time for Nathan to figure out she’d vanished and come save her.

No, let God save her.

Please, God. You’ve brought me this far . . .

She tapped her brakes at the stoplight, and the car fishtailed on the sleet, nearly hitting a Jeep coming into the intersection. It swerved, slid into a display of pumpkins.

How many people had died at this light, slamming into oncoming traffic, and today, she had to get a good driver.

She righted the car and turned onto the highway headed out of town, reaching for her seat belt. “So where to?”

Think.

“Just keep driving.”

She stepped on the gas, hiding a smile in the darkness. She hadn’t lived in Deep Haven for two decades without learning its secrets, its legends, the stories that could save her.

“Maybe while you’re in Deep Haven, you should visit a few of the sites? Like Cutaway Creek. Glorious this time of year.”

“Shut up.” He screwed the gun into her neck. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you? I’m going to take my time. I’m going to let you relive what it feels like to have your life stolen from you. Slowly. I’m going to watch you suffer, and you’ll die knowing that when I’m done with you, I’m going back for your daughter.”

She stared at the road ahead, the corner at the bottom of the hill. How many times had they driven by it, Nathan barely able to look at the craggy edge? But she had. Had once even pulled up and stared over the side. The bridge spanned an opening to the river that spilled out into the lake. One side, so lethal, with the twenty-foot drop into the frothy waves of Lake Superior, where the river flowed into it.

The other side into the rocky embankment of the river.

She’d only wound him. Just hit the side rail hard enough to stop them, shove him into the windshield. Maybe even knock him out.

Then she’d run.

“I’m not scared of you.” The words emerged on their own, but even as she said them, she felt suddenly as if two hands settled over her. The fear seeped out of her.

She came around the curve . . . and gunned it.

“You’re as stupid now as you were then—”

The car spun on the ice. A scream gathered in her throat, but she held it back as the sedan slammed into the guardrail. Her head jerked. The car ricocheted off with such force that Garcia slammed into her.

The car bulleted to the other side. With a crunch it broke through the railing and sailed over.

Annalise let the scream go then as her headlights shone on the river.

Then they hit—hard and fast, the light snuffing out.