“You can’t possibly think I’ve been lying this whole time.”
“I don’t know what to think. I’ve never spent the night at your place. We always go to mine. I’ve never met your friends or your family, though I’ve introduced you to mine. When I ask about them, you avoid my questions. You won’t talk about past relationships. It’s like there’s a wall between us that I can’t get through, and it’s really bothering me.”
“If there is, and I’m not saying I agree … but if there is, it’s only because I want to protect you.”
“Because you’re a judge? That makes no sense. Judges have normal relationships. They get married and have children. They lead normal lives. Am I wrong?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t understand. And I don’t want to be protected. I want to get closer. Know you better. Have more than just dinner and sex, though those are great. I could imagine a life together, but not like this. I don’t mean to be dramatic, but it feels like you’re hiding something. Being married was just the most obvious conclusion.”
“I’m not married. I promise you.”
“Then, what is it? Why do you push me away?”
She wanted so badly to tell him the truth. The whole truth. Not just that she was born to the wrong family, or that she grew up under the influence of dangerous people. But that she’d made bad choices. Accepted Uncle Ray’s money to pay for her education. Broken the oath she took as a prosecutor. Watched a good man die before her eyes, in part due to her own sins. A braver woman would tell. A truly brave woman would have turned herself in by now. But she was afraid they’d do to her what they’d done to Brad. And not only to her, but to her mother. So she kept silent. After Brad, a few years had passed in which they didn’t ask for much, and she almost believed she was free. But it turned out they’d been waiting and watching, as her influence grew. She never should have accepted the judgeship. Once that happened, they pounced, and she was caught like a fish on a line. After Brad, she was complicit. After Brad, they owned her, which meant that, yes, she couldn’t give herself completely to Matthew.
“It’s … because of things in my past.”
“What things?”
If only she could tell him, what a weight off her mind it would be. He would still love her if he knew the worst. She believed that. But the information would be dangerous in his hands. He’d feel compelled to play the hero. He was innocent enough to believe you could oppose these people and survive. She knew better. Telling him would put him in danger.
She had to come up with a lie.
The most convincing lies were built on truth.
“I’m … illegitimate.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You mean, born out of wedlock?”
“Yes.”
He laughed in relief. “Is that all? Wait, what year is this?”
“Please, don’t make light of it.”
He took her hand again, and she let him.
“No, of course, love. I’m sorry. But you must know I don’t care about that. I can’t believe anyone does, in this day and age.”
“Thirty years ago, in my Irish Catholic neighborhood, people cared. Everyone knew that my mother was my father’s mistress. I grew up ashamed. Nobody stood up for me. Nobody told me that it wasn’t my fault. It made me skittish about relationships. And there’s something else.”
“Go on.”
“When I was a prosecutor, I had an affair with my boss. Who was married. Classic, right? Repeating my mother’s mistakes. I’m sure a therapist would have something to say about that. It ended a while ago, but I’m scarred by it. The guilt—it’s crushing.”
She shook her head, tears in her eyes. The guilt was crushing. It was just about different things. And now it included lying to the man she loved.
“Thank you for trusting me enough to share that. We all do bad things sometimes. It doesn’t make us bad people.”
“I’m not sure I agree.”
“You’re not bad. You learned from your mistakes. You changed. I think you’re perfect in every way. And I don’t want you to worry. I won’t push, okay? We’ll take things as slowly as you like.”
As he lifted her hand to his lips, her heart filled with love. He wanted a future together. She wanted that, too. So much that she decided then and there to find a way. He was right. She’d made mistakes, but anyone would have, in her position. She didn’t choose the circumstances of her birth. The pressure she was under had been unbearable. But she could change. She could learn, get better. And she would. For him.
The next time they asked her for something, she’d say no.
30
It was a sunny day in June, and they were in a charming room in a quaint inn on the Cape. She could hear the crash of waves on the beach below. The string quartet tuning their instruments. And Matthew’s laugh as he arrived with his brother, who was to be the best man. Her mother was doing Kathryn’s makeup.
“Close your eyes,” Sylvia said, and the touch of the brush was like a kiss from childhood.
If she could have, Kathryn would’ve skipped the wedding and gone straight to the marriage. She didn’t need a striped tent or a luncheon buffet with a choice of entrees or a cake trimmed with fresh flowers. All she needed was Matthew. Just the two of them at city hall with a justice of the peace and kind strangers as witnesses. Get it done before anyone could come along and destroy their happiness. But Matthew wanted a big celebration, and she loved him enough to compromise. So here they were. A beachfront wedding with fifty guests. A white lace sheath dress with a beaded bodice hanging on the closet door. A bouquet of peonies and blush roses in a box on the armchair. And Kathryn, sitting at the vanity, holding her breath, waiting for the thing that would derail them.
“Oh, you look so pretty, Kathy.”
She opened her eyes. Her mother had an expert touch with makeup. Kathryn looked young and fresh and natural, a better version of herself.
“Thank you, Mom. That’s lovely.”
“Let me help you into your dress.”
“It’s just a zipper.”
“I know, but I don’t want you to muss it,” Sylvia said.
Kathryn stepped out of her bathrobe, and Sylvia slipped the dress on over her head and zipped it.
“Beautiful,” Sylvia said, her eyes bright.
As they admired her image in the mirror, someone knocked on the door. Kathryn’s face changed.
“No visitors. Tell them I’m still getting dressed.”
Her mother went to answer. It was Ray. She could hear his voice. Sylvia swung the door wide.
“Mom, I said no.”
“It’s just Ray. He has a present for you. I’ll go get us more champagne,” Sylvia said, slipping out the door.
Ray leaned in to kiss her cheek with a whoosh of bourbon and aftershave. He was carrying a battered leather duffel bag in one hand.
“You’re a vision, kid. Your dad is looking down from heaven and smiling.”
As if Fast Eddie made it to heaven. But she wasn’t going to argue. Not today.
“Thanks for coming, Ray.”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Hey, you know I’d be happy to give you away, unless Charlie’s doing it?”
“Charlie’s not invited. Mom is standing up with me. I don’t believe in the whole handoff thing anyway. But thank you.”
“Suit yourself. Well, I just wanted to drop off a little wedding gift. It’s not the sort of thing I can leave on the table next to the cake. Hope you don’t mind, it didn’t fit in an envelope.”
He lifted the duffel bag onto the table and unzipped it. She stared in horror. The tightly packed bundles glowed in the light from the window, giving off the musty scent of ink. From the size of the bag, there had to be several hundred thousand dollars in there.
“A suitcase full of cash? Are you crazy? No. Get it out of here right now.”