That one line had her mind in chaos, as if it had wriggled into her brain and unspooled everything she knew. She took a long sip of wine and, for what felt like the millionth time over the course of her life, she relived that terrible night in her mind: the basement door open, a yawning blackness beyond. Jace, standing over the dead body of January, her own body going cold. And the bizarre, unfeeling words that had crawled up her spine: “Can we play tomorrow, Mommy? Just you and me?”
The memory felt solid, a thread woven into her DNA. How could Jace not remember? Was he lying? But why? She already knew the truth and had protected him. Had he blotted it all out? He’d been only six at the time, his brain still mushy with youth. Yet surely it was impossible not to remember killing your own sister. No matter what your age, that had to leave its mark on you, an indelible scar on your soul.
The mere possibility that Jace hadn’t killed January felt like someone had upended her life, flooding her with both relief and shame. On the one hand, it would mean her son wasn’t a monster; on the other, it would mean she’d alienated him for no reason at all.
Krissy needed to understand. She took a deep breath, picked up a pen, and on a blank sheet of paper wrote down every detail of what she remembered from that night, everything she’d done. Then she asked Jace to do the same. She mailed it early the next morning, and when she received his response the following week, she didn’t even wait to get back to the house to read it. She tore it open there at the mailbox, reading over the pages with a hammering heart. When she got to the end, it was clear: either Jace was lying, or for fifteen years, she’d been wrong about everything.
Back inside the kitchen, Krissy grabbed the phone from its cradle on the wall and, with shaking fingers, dialed Jodie’s number. Billy was spending the weekend at a farming equipment convention in Indianapolis, so it didn’t matter where she talked or what she said.
“Whoa, hey,” Jodie said when she heard Krissy’s trembling greeting. “What’s going on? What’s the matter?”
“Can I come over? Now?” Krissy glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was a Friday and she and Jodie had made plans for later that evening. Jodie’s husband and two boys were at some overnight soccer retreat and her daughter was going to a slumber party. With Billy out of town too, it was one of those rare occasions where they had an empty house and a full night to themselves. But Krissy wasn’t supposed to go over until six and it was only four.
“The boys have already left,” Jodie said, “but Amelia’s still here. Let me call the mom who’s hosting and see if I can drop her off early, okay? I’ll call you back in a minute.”
The moment Jodie called her back and told her to come over, Krissy grabbed her overnight bag and hopped into her car. Half an hour later, she was standing on Jodie’s doorstep.
“Hey. Come in,” Jodie said, opening the door wide and ushering her inside, where they exchanged a perfunctory hug and kiss. “What’s up?”
“I just got a letter from Jace.”
“Ah.” Jodie nodded. Though Krissy had never told her just how afraid she was of her own son, Jodie was the one who’d held Krissy’s hand during the worst of his teenage years, the one who listened while she talked, the one whose shoulder Krissy had cried on each time Jace got in trouble.
“I think it’s time…” Krissy darted her eyes to the floor. When she looked up again, she took a deep breath, then said, “Can I tell you what really happened that night? The night January died?”
“Oh, Kris. Of course.”
Jodie opened a new bottle of wine and they settled into the living room with their glasses, Krissy on the couch, Jodie sitting on the rug in front of the coffee table. Then, for the first time in her life, Krissy told the truth about that night fifteen years ago. Jodie listened, eyes wide, as Krissy explained everything, from waking at the sound of that crash and discovering Jace standing over January’s body, to staging her house to look like it had been broken into.
“Jesus,” Jodie said when she’d finished. Her voice sounded sad and unnerved, but it was devoid of judgment, and Krissy swelled with gratitude. Deep down, she’d known Jodie wasn’t going to look at her any differently after hearing the story, but the confirmation of that came as a relief. “I’m so sorry.”
Krissy took a sip of wine, nodded. She had expected reliving that night to cripple her with grief and anger like it always did, but something about the act of actually sharing it with Jodie had been cleansing. It felt as if a band had been wrapped tightly around her chest since 1994, and now, for the first time, it was beginning to loosen.
“Does Billy know?” Jodie asked.
“He found spray paint on the sleeve of my robe that morning, but I told him I brushed up against the wall. I’m not sure if he totally believed me, but if he’s suspected anything since, of me or of Jace, he’s never said. You’re the first person I’ve ever told the truth.” She shook her head, thinking. “And now, with this letter from Jace, I…I think I may have been wrong about everything. He said he didn’t kill her and—I don’t know—I think I believe him. He has no reason to lie to me. Not after everything I did to protect him.”
“That’s true.”
“Jesus. What if I fucked everything up? What if I’m the reason the police never found her killer? What if instead of protecting Jace, I was actually letting some…psycho get away with murder?” She slammed a hand against the couch’s armrest. “God! Fuck!” Her chest heaved with frustrated breath. Then, after a moment, she said, “And that’s not all.”
Jodie looked up.
Telling her the truth suddenly felt like a compulsion to Krissy, like some religious rite with the power to cleanse and make her whole again. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Billy isn’t the twins’ father.”
Jodie blinked. “What?”
“Do you remember that summer after high school, when everyone was having all those parties?”
She shook her head. “I moved here right after graduation.”
“Oh, that’s right. Well, that summer, me and Billy and Dave got really close. The three of us would hang out a lot together, but every once in a while, when Billy wasn’t around, Dave and I would sometimes end up sleeping together. I honestly didn’t think anything of it. I mean, I knew Billy was into me, but I didn’t think we were serious or anything, and it only happened a handful of times. But then I got pregnant. I went to Billy to ask for money for an abortion, because I didn’t think Dave would have any, and that’s when Billy proposed.”
“Wow…And you’re sure it was Dave and not Billy who got you pregnant?”
Krissy nodded. “I got my period after Billy, before Dave. He was the only one it could’ve been. And even if I hadn’t been sure before the twins were born, I would’ve known after. There’s always been something about them that’s…not like Billy.”
“They look like him too. Dave, I mean.” Jodie’s eyes were fixed but unfocused as if she were conjuring up images of all three of them in her mind. “I don’t think I would’ve ever put it together if you hadn’t told me, but they do.”
“That’s exactly why I was so scared. It’s why we’re not friends with Dave anymore. I pushed him away because I was scared of people finding out the truth.” Krissy dropped her head into her hand. She could still remember the look on Dave’s face as she did it, the hurt expression as understanding dawned.
* * *
—
It was late one Sunday morning, five months after the twins had been born, and their little family of four had just returned home from church. Krissy had been up the whole previous night rocking a wailing Jace while Billy had slept, and she had not wanted to go that morning, but Billy had convinced her.
“Do you think people didn’t notice the twins were born eight months after we got married?” he’d said. “We can’t afford any more mistakes.”