With those words, Krissy had felt something inside her shift. He was right, she’d realized. The town may have already guessed that the twins had been conceived out of wedlock, but no one seemed to suspect that Billy was not their biological father. Not yet. And she needed to keep it that way, needed to make sure she didn’t give people any reason to talk. She’d slid out of bed, showered, and dressed the twins in their Sunday best.
When they stepped onto their gravel drive after the service two hours later, Dave was sitting on their front porch stairs. Although it was only eleven in the morning, a bottle of beer dangled from his fingers, the rest of the six-pack between his feet.
“Kris!” he called when he saw them, a grin spreading on his face. “Jacobs!” He clapped a hand onto a knee and stood as they approached. “Been awhile.” At the sight of him, panic flared in Krissy’s chest. It felt dangerous just to have him near her babies. Their faces were starting to change and clarify, and every time she looked at them these days, she saw Dave—in the wave of their hair, in their tiny cleft chins, neither of which she or Billy had. She wasn’t sure other people would see the similarity, but if Dave was right there, constantly by their side, the chances were that much higher that they would.
Beside Krissy, Billy brightened. “Dave!” he called, walking fast down the drive. He left Krissy, who was pushing the twins in a double stroller, behind.
“Jesus, man,” Billy said when he reached the porch, pulling their friend into a hug. “Where the hell have you been?”
Dave shrugged. “Around. It’s you guys who’ve been MIA.” His gaze flicked to Krissy’s face. He’d called a few times over the past few months, asking to come over and visit the twins, but each time he did, she told him they were busy. Billy was swamped at the farm; she was swamped with the kids. It wasn’t a lie, just not the full truth, and from the look in Dave’s eyes, Krissy guessed he already knew that. She just hoped he thought it was because of guilt, for sleeping with him. “Don’t worry, though,” he said with a wink as he glanced down into the stroller. “Can’t stay mad when there’s these two little Jay-cubs around.”
He bent to place his half-drunk beer on the porch then strode the few steps over, lighting up at the sight of the twins lying side by side. January was asleep, her little pink dress bunched at the waist, her face cherubic and peaceful. Beside her, Jace was glaring.
“Hey, buddy.” Dave offered Jace one hooked index finger, which he ignored. “They’re just the two best things in the world, aren’t they?”
Krissy smiled, but her throat felt tight with nerves. Her eyes darted between Billy and Dave, so sure her husband would finally see the truth, but he merely chuckled. “You might not say that if you had to live with them.”
Dave grinned, glanced at Krissy. “Can I hold him? I thought I could come in, stay awhile. I brought enough beer for all of us.”
Billy opened his mouth, but Krissy got there first. “It’s time for their nap. Sorry. And I’m crazy behind on everything. I need to clean up and then get going on dinner.” She turned to Billy, put a hand on his shoulder. “And I was gonna ask if you could finally fix the sink? Our water bill must be through the roof as is.”
Billy blinked. She saw a flicker of confusion beneath his frustration, but she was counting on his sense of propriety to keep him from arguing, or at least from arguing in front of someone else. Sure enough, he pasted on a smile and said, “Okay.” He turned to Dave. “Sorry, man. Maybe another time.”
Dave grinned his familiar, easy grin. “No problem.” But when he slid his eyes over to Krissy’s, she could see the spark of bitterness as understanding dawned. He’d finally gotten the message—he needed to stay away. Her stomach twisted with guilt and she darted her eyes from his.
“Keep the beer,” Dave said to Billy with a clap on his shoulder. “You may need it more than I do.” And with that, he turned and walked away.
* * *
—
“I think he and Billy may have seen each other a few more times after that,” Krissy said to Jodie. “And we saw him in town obviously, but that was basically it.” She took a sip of wine and something suddenly occurred to her. “I think I need to tell him.”
Across from her, Jodie gave her a look. “Tell who—Dave? That he’s the twins’ father?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Jo, I’ve held on to this secret for more than twenty years and I’m only just now beginning to understand the damage that’s done.”
“But”—Jodie shook her head—“Kris, what do you think telling him is going to achieve?”
Krissy ran a jittery hand through her hair. “I don’t know. It’s just…” She was having a hard time explaining, even to herself, this sudden need to purge all the lies she’d held inside her for so long. “If Jace and I had told each other the truth sooner, if I’d only known his side of things, there’s a chance that—” She huffed out a breath. “I guess I just think Dave deserves to know. Plus, Jace is growing up, and after all this time of practically being strangers to each other, he’s reached out. This is my opportunity to make things right, to make up for everything I messed up. I can help him have a relationship with his dad. His real dad.”
Jodie studied her face. “Are you gonna tell Billy too?”
“No. There’s no point telling him something that will only bring him pain. But Dave…he has a right to know.”
Jodie was staring at her with an anxious look on her face. “I don’t like it,” she said, gnawing slightly on her lower lip. “I don’t think you should tell him.”
“Why not?”
“I mean, I know you and Dave were close. But that was years ago. You don’t know him anymore.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Kris, look at it from his point of view. You were friends with this guy. You slept with him. And then you excommunicated him from your life with no explanation, cut him off from his best friend. I understand why you did it, but how do you think he’s going to feel when you tell him you’ve been lying to him for two decades? You’re acting like he’s going to be happy to find out twenty years too late that he has a son and a daughter he never even got to know. But what if he’s not? What if he’s pissed?”
Krissy stared back at her partner, the woman she loved more deeply than she’d ever loved anyone, outside her own children. She knew Jodie was just trying to protect her, but Krissy had already made up her mind. She was going to tell Dave the truth.
TWENTY-SIX
Margot, 2019
Margot stood on her uncle’s front stoop, the piece of paper trembling in her hand, all the messages from this case tumbling through her mind. That bitch is gone. She will not be the last. get out.
The smart thing to do with this note, she knew, would be to drive it over to the police station right now. One note on her car may have been a prank, but a second left on her uncle’s front porch? They’d have to take her seriously. And yet.
Margot glanced over her shoulder through the open doorway to her uncle still sitting on the couch. As she did, she thought she saw his eyes slide from her to the TV. Had he been watching her? Or had that been her imagination?
Surely he couldn’t be the one sending these notes, could he? For starters, the handwriting didn’t really look like his, although, as she glanced down at the words, it was hard to tell. They were in all capitals and looked as though they’d been hastily scrawled. And it was impossible the first note had come from him. It had been left on her windshield outside the Jacobs place, where Luke hadn’t even known she’d been going. But then, Margot realized with a little jolt, he had known she was going to be there. She’d told him before she’d left for church that she was going to approach Billy for an interview.
Margot thought about that stack of programs from January’s recitals, thought about the words he’d said to her only an hour earlier: what really happened to January.
Standing on the front stoop in the hot July night, Margot folded the note in half and then tucked it into her back pocket. Until she figured out what the hell was going on with her uncle, she wouldn’t go to the police.
“Uncle Luke?” she said after she’d closed and locked the front door.
He looked up from the TV.