Cass
Everything changed when they discovered the affair between Mr. Martin and our school counselor, Lisa Jennings. Because Mr. Martin denied it, they had to ask my mother. And when they asked her if she knew, they were really telling her.
For all Mrs. Martin’s cleverness, her escape from being a secretary, her seduction of my father and Mr. Martin, her control over all of us with her manipulation and hair-cutting and court maneuvers to keep us from leaving, she had not once considered that her husband was having sex with a younger, prettier woman. I think this upset her more than the fact that her husband was cheating. Not knowing, not seeing, being deceived—it makes you question everything you have come to trust. It makes you doubt your own judgment, and the truths you have come to believe in, which sometimes are so deeply embedded, you don’t even know they’re there, shaping your thoughts.
*
Mr. Martin could not deny his behavior. It was right there, in black-and-white, his cell phone number over and over and over and Lisa Jennings’s tearful confession. I’m sure he regretted not being more careful, using a prepaid phone or a landline at the club.
No, he could not deny it. But that’s exactly what he did.
Mrs. Martin tried to make him tell her everything. I was not able to hear the entire conversation from the hallway, but I caught enough.
“You don’t find me attractive…”
“That’s not true! You have always been very attractive. Very sexy…”
“Not enough, though. Not enough!”
“I did not have sex with that woman! Why can’t you believe me?”
“I think you like young women!”
“No…”
“I think you like girls…”
“That’s enough! I had nothing to do with what happened to the girls…”
“Young girls…”
“Stop it!”
“I saw how you looked at Emma … my God, am I going crazy? Am I out of my mind? Oh my God! You know him, this man. Bill! Emma is there! Emma is there! And you knew this whole time, didn’t you? You did this somehow, got rid of my girls to this monster!”
“That’s enough! I won’t listen to this. I had nothing to do with that crazy fucking island and that is the last time I’m going to defend myself…”
“Nothing is real. Nothing you say is real!”
“That’s it. I’m going to the city. You are losing your mind. You’re losing your fucking mind!”
Mr. Martin went to New York to stay at his sports club for the night. And while he was gone that night, two things happened. The first was that Mrs. Martin went into her winter mood.
I stood outside her bedroom door. I could hear her sobbing into her pillow the way she had done when I was younger, and it took every ounce of strength not to run away, down the hall, into Emma’s room. I screamed silently at myself. Emma’s not here! And I reminded myself. You came here for a reason.
I went into the room and stood still for a moment to see if she would react and how she would react when she saw me. She had been able to love me again because I was crazy and no one believed me. But now it was all falling apart. Now her own husband had cheated on her and lied to her. Another woman was better, which meant she was not the greatest anything.
“Cass!” she sobbed from her bed, her body splayed out like someone had poured her onto the mattress from a cup. “Come here, Cass!”
I went to her then. I got onto the bed and I let her wrap her arms around my waist and bury her face into my lap.
“Nothing is real, Cass! Tell me what’s real. Tell me you weren’t in Emma’s car that night. Tell me you were in your room with the door closed.…”
I wish I could say that I was calm then. That I smiled with satisfaction as I watched her unravel. But I am not that strong.
Instead, I fought to contain myself. I felt the blood rush from my head as my heart pounded like thunder against my ribs. It pounded so hard, it hurt. I waited for the blood to return and then I whispered to my mother.
“Shhhhh.”
“Cass! Tell me!” she sobbed.
“Shhhh, Mrs. Martin. It’s all right now.”
I stroked her silky hair as I spoke.
Her body was writhing with agony.
Memories rushed in. Me in the corner. Emma in this bed, holding our mother.
“Shhhh, Mrs. Martin,” I whispered. And then I said what Emma would always say. “You’re the most wonderful mother. There’s no better mother in the entire world.”
I stayed with her until she calmed down. I got her a drink from downstairs and she took a white pill and drank her drink and fell asleep in my arms.
And while she slept, I prayed that this had been enough. I prayed that Mr. Martin would not use his charm and undo the work I had done. This was all I had—the affair with Lisa Jennings that I had discovered before I disappeared. Mr. Martin was very careless and he left his phone unattended almost every night. I used to fantasize about telling her. I used to lie in my bed, sometimes when Emma was there with me, and I would think about how and when I would give this gift to my sister—this weapon that would surely destroy our nemesis. But then we were gone.
The second thing that happened that night after Mr. Martin left was that they found the location of the boatman, Richard Foley. And when they found the boatman’s location, they found the island.
They went there that same night. Eight FBI agents, including Agent Strauss and Dr. Winter. They stayed overnight in a small hotel and did surveillance. They got satellite imagery and land records and building permits and everything else they needed to put together a plan of attack for the morning.
I didn’t sleep that night. We were not told anything about the surveillance or the satellite pictures or the details of the plan. But I knew that everything was going to happen very fast. And I knew that it was going to be dangerous because they asked me questions about guns and weapons and things the Pratts might use to make weapons. And then I became consumed with thoughts of people I loved dying.