“I’m not going to take so long to visit next time,” I told her as I got settled at her feet, waiting out my hour as I placed my head in her lap. “I promise.”
Again, if she heard, there was no indication. But somehow I knew that she was aware—that she knew I’d come back to her.
That was all that really mattered.
I wasn’t sure why I was shocked to learn Carrie Shaw still lived at the house of horrors I once grew up in. I supposed it was another way to atone for her sins, to make up for the wrongs she had committed. As I paid the cabbie and grabbed my bag, I took a deep breath. Coming here wasn’t a part of my plan when I’d decided to make the trip to see Jennifer, but it was something I had to do in order to come to terms with my past.
When I knocked on the door, I fisted the thin duffel handles, hoping to curb my temper. I soon learned it wasn’t necessary. Not when I got my first look at Carrie in what had become several years. She’d lost a shitload of weight, appearing almost skeletal, and her once long hair was trimmed close to her head. She blinked, as though she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
“Rhia?”
“In the flesh.”
“Do you want to come in?” She looked so fucking frail, which made all of this seem unfair. In my younger years, she was heavier, somehow more intimidating. Now I was the scary one. Isn’t it funny how that happens?
I didn’t want to step inside, but my trip was about more than what I wanted—it was about facing the things that scared me, looking them in the eye, and telling them to back the fuck off.
“Sure,” I said with more enthusiasm than I felt.
She moved aside and I discovered the house wasn’t at all as it had once been. The entire place had been remodeled, for starters. No more wooden panels, old furniture, or overly large paintings gathered from garage sales.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked as she ushered me toward the couch.
I remained standing, shaking my head. “I didn’t come here to sit and chat.”
“Oh.” She started to wring her hands, her mannerisms uncertain and nervous.
I couldn’t believe I was about to say what I was, but time changes things, including the attitudes and opinions of people. “I wanted to stop by and tell you to keep going to see Jennifer. I can’t be here as much as she needs, and she doesn’t deserve to be alone.”
She started moving her hands more quickly, shifting her feet. “I wasn’t sure if you’d approve of me seeing her.”
“I think that if you want to make up for what you allowed to happen in your home, the best place you can start is there. She’s the one whose forgiveness you need most. Not mine.”
“That’s true.” Carrie nodded, hands still working, feet continuing to shuffle. “I was told by the private investigator I hired that you didn’t want to see me.”
“I still don’t. Call this my personalized twelve-step program.”
“Then at least hear me out. Give me a minute and listen to what I have to say.”
“Okay.” I planted my feet, determined to do as she asked. “Your minute starts now.”
“I was wrong. Everything I did was wrong. I allowed fear of a man to control my actions and thoughts. But you have to understand something. Ray was far worse to me than he ever was to you. Before we married, he was the man of my dreams. I had no idea what kind of monster he was until it was too late. He used to make me do the most horrible things.” She sobbed, breaking down. “You can’t imagine the things he made me do.”
“Oh.” I laughed without humor. “I think I can.”
“He used to make me—” She swiped at her tears until she found the strength to continue. “I’m not going to tell you the things he did. I lived them, which is more than enough. I will tell you that by the time we fostered, he seemed to be in control of himself. I hoped it would be enough to make him see what he’d done in the past was wrong. I never knew what he’d do once he was around Jennifer. I never imagined he would see her as anything more than a child.”