“Of course,” I said softly.
She took my hand and squeezed it. “I feel so stupid. I’d been drinking and lost track of how many pills I took, and then I was waking up in the hospital and . . . It was just a stupid accident. It had nothing to do with you. You know that, right?”
I wondered if she really believed that. Maybe Lex was as good at lying to herself as to others.
“Yeah, I know,” I said.
“Good.” She pulled me forward into a hug. “I need to thank you too. You guys probably saved my life. You’re the best brothers anyone could ask for.”
I patted her back uncertainly. “You’re the best sister.”
Lex’s breath hitched, and I realized she was crying again. She held me tight, burying her face against my neck, where I felt her hot tears against my skin. God, she was laying it on thick.
“I missed you, Danny,” she said, and it occurred to me that maybe she wasn’t faking after all. Maybe she just didn’t mean it in the past tense.
The feeling of the hug changed as it lingered. At some point it became more than a sum of the body parts involved, more than just warm arms and the sweet smell of Lex’s shampoo and the cold calculation I was sure was behind it all. I felt suddenly young and small and surrounded, in a nice way that made me feel safe. If it was all an act, well, maybe it didn’t really matter. Because I couldn’t feel the difference.
I thought suddenly of my mother, the real one. How she didn’t even flinch when she heard I was dead. I wondered if she ever cried for me this way and was pretty sure I knew the answer.
Lex pulled back and laughed, swiping at her eyes and my neck. “Sorry! Sorry for blubbering all over you. I’m such a mess these days. What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Actually, I was wondering if you could help me with something,” I said.
“Of course. What is it?”
“I want to do something for Mom,” I said. “I was thinking dinner, just the two of us. It’s almost Mother’s Day.”
“Oh.” Lex shifted. “I don’t know, Danny. You know how Mom is these days.”
“Yeah, but I think it’s a good idea,” I said. “We haven’t been able to spend any time alone together since I got back.”
I could tell from her lack of response how hard Lex was working to conceal her discomfort.
“It’s a nice idea,” she said, “but I’m not sure—”
“She must want to spend time with me, too,” I said. “She is my mother, after all, right?”
When Lex smiled, I saw, for the first time, the effort behind it. She nodded. “Okay.”
“Will you help me?” I asked. “I want to make it a surprise.”
“Of course,” she said. “Let’s surprise her.”
? ? ?
By that weekend, everything was arranged.
One of the main problems with Jessica was getting—and keeping—her in the same room with me. It was impossible to talk to her and try to get to the bottom of what she did and didn’t know when she spent all of her time out of the house or locked behind her bedroom door. But Jessica didn’t like to make a scene. When she left the house, she was always freshly made-up and impeccably dressed. If I could just get her to a restaurant, her desire to keep up appearances might keep her there.
Not that it would do any good. Jessica would never open up to me, and even if she did, that wouldn’t involve her confessing that she’d killed her youngest son. I knew this. But Nicholas was insistent, and since he had the power to put me in prison, Nicholas was the boss.
On Sunday morning Mia woke Nicholas and me up around dawn and dragged us downstairs to the kitchen to help her make breakfast. Lex and Patrick drifted in later, heading straight for the coffee maker while Nicholas and I helped Mia cut fruit and flip pancakes. When everything was ready and laid out on a tray with a bud vase containing a flower Mia had plucked out of the fresh arrangement in the foyer, we headed up to the third floor as a group to surprise Jessica with breakfast in bed.
Mia was the first one through the door, and she took a flying leap onto the giant bed where Jessica was so buried under covers and pillows that she was almost invisible. Mia unearthed her, and Jessica blinked slowly, emerging from sleep like a swimmer from an undertow.
“What is it?” she slurred.
“Happy Mother’s Day!” Mia said. Nicholas stepped forward with the breakfast tray.
Jessica looked shocked. She took the tray delicately, like she half expected it to crumble in her hands.
“Oh,” she said. “I didn’t . . .” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Happy Mother’s Day, Mom,” Patrick said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. Nicholas and Lex did the same, so I did too.
Jessica began to cry.
“Oh, Mom, it’s okay!” Lex said.
“Don’t cry,” Patrick told her.
“It’s just . . .” She wiped her eyes with the napkin from the tray, leaving a smudge of old mascara behind. “This is just . . . so nice of you all.”
“We love you, Mom,” Nicholas said.
“All your kids,” Patrick said, “back together again.”
All eyes turned toward me. Even Jessica’s, although her gaze dropped from mine when she started crying even harder. Mia hugged her mom fiercely, joined by Patrick and Lex, and then Nicholas and me. A family hug, the Tates reunited, and almost everyone involved knowing it was bullshit.
? ? ?
Lex and Mia had planned an entire day of activities. This was key to my plan. They took Jessica for mani-pedis, and then we all met in Santa Monica, where it had been Mia’s idea to charter a yacht to take us looking for dolphins. Jessica, apparently, loved dolphins.
The structure of the day ensured that she never got a break and never had the chance for a drink. Hopefully, by the time I got to her, she’d be ready to crack.
Jessica looked impeccable as she approached the boat. Her armor was firmly in place, and there was something else there too. A smile. A real one. It faltered a little when I offered her a hand to help her on deck, but she replaced it so quickly, no one else would have noticed.
We saw a pod of Pacific white-sided dolphins, as Captain Ron informed us, just moments after leaving the harbor. Jessica had her arms around Mia, helping her to lean as far as she could over the rail to watch them riding the wake of the boat. The sight made something twist painfully in my chest, and when my eyes met Nicholas’s, I could tell he felt it too.
But maybe it was just my impending sea sicknesses. I’d never been on a boat before. I spent the rest of the ride below the deck, curled up in a fetal position, trying to keep my insides from becoming my outsides. Lex came and sat with me, pushing the hair off my hot forehead with a damp towel.
“Poor Danny,” she said. “You never did like boats.”