Jenny gets up and walks around the table, then looks down into my eyes. “You’re still not telling me everything. Something’s worrying you.”
She knows me better than I thought. “Only this. If Dad didn’t inject that adrenaline, who did? You see? That jury would have a lot easier time if there was a big fat suspect sitting up there for them to pin it on in their minds.”
“What about Snake Knox?”
“You’re right, I’m sure.”
Mom flushing the toilet upstairs sends water rushing through the pipes in the kitchen wall.
“Tell me something, Penn, before Mom gets down.”
“What?”
“Did you believe Daddy’s story?”
I hesitate, but then to my surprise I speak my mind. “Not a hundred percent, no.”
Jenny’s eyes flash. “Why not?”
“I just . . . I don’t think he’s lied much in his life. But when he talked about the injection, his tone reminded me of something.”
“What?”
“Something from my childhood.”
“A time he lied to you?” she asks.
“I think so.”
Jenny closes her eyes, then reaches out and threads her fingers into mine. For a few seconds, I sense she’s going to confide something to me. But then she says, “I’m praying it’s going to come out all right.”
I have no response to this.
“I’m going to run to the restroom myself,” she says. “I’ll see you in a sec.”
After finishing off the remainder of my lasagna, I walk to the half bath at the back of the house to piss, but the door opens and Jenny walks out with her hands in her hair, trying to pin it up. She’s got a bobby pin in her mouth, and for a moment I’m thrown back to my childhood, when she was the cool teenager in our house and I the goofy little brother. Smiling, I reach out to pat her arm as I pass, but instead she grabs my hand and pulls me to a stop, her eyes deeply troubled.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Penn, I saw something.”
“When? What are you talking about?”
“A long time ago. When I was fifteen. I was riding a bicycle downtown with one of my friends, Tracy Moon. Do you remember Tracy?”
“What did you see, Jenny?”
“Something bad. I was telling Tracy about how, when we were little kids, we used to make milkshakes using the barium mixing machine in the lab at Daddy’s office. I thought it would be fun to do that again, if we could. So we rode over to his office on High Street. We went to the lab door like we used to, but nobody answered. I told Tracy to wait while I checked around front. I didn’t go to the front door, though. I rode around to the garage to see if Daddy’s car was there. But the garage door was closed. I leaned my bike against the wrought-iron fence and walked up to the side door. I heard voices. One was Daddy’s. I almost called out, but something stopped me. Instead, I got up on tiptoe and peeked through the glass.”
“Jenny, come on. We don’t have much time.”
She nods quickly, her face red with shame and doubt. “Daddy and Viola were standing in the corner of the garage. At first I thought they were arguing, because he was holding her arms and shaking them. But then he kissed her, and she kissed him back. I don’t know how long I stood there, but . . . they were making out the whole time. There was no doubt about what I was looking at. When she started taking off her top, I ran.”
“Jenny. I’m sorry. Did you ever tell Dad or Mom what you saw?”
“No, God, no. But I can’t tell you how bad it freaked me out. From that moment forward, I was sure Daddy loved Viola more than Mom. And I guess I was right, in a way. But the worst thing was, I knew he was lying to us. I don’t think I ever trusted him after that.”
Though Jenny’s not a big hugger, I put my arms around her and squeeze her tight. “I wish you’d told me about it.”
“I couldn’t,” she says, her voice a sob into my chest. “You were so young, and you worshipped him. I couldn’t shatter your respect for him.”
“You shouldn’t have carried that alone, though.”
Her wide eyes are bright with tears. “I had to. I would have died before I ever let Mom find out what I’d seen.”
“I know you would.”
“But look what’s happened. Now Mom knows everything anyway. She had to suffer through it in spite of my silence.”
I nod slowly. “These things usually get found out in the end.”
Jenny draws back a little. Her mascara has run and made raccoon eyes on her face. “You don’t think Mom knew back then, do you? She didn’t suffer all that time in silence, the way I have?”
“No. The house would have shaken to its foundations if Mom had found out Dad was sleeping with Viola.”
Jenny laughs through her tears, but then her expression turns even more serious than before. “Penn, did you ever cheat on Sarah?”
“What? Where did that come from?”
“You heard me.”
This is the last thing I want to talk about, but I know Jenny will have no peace until I answer. “I did once, before we were married.”
She flinches as though I’ve caused her physical pain. “But not after?”
“No.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
“Penn?” calls my mother from the kitchen. “Jenny? What’s taking so long?”
“We’re coming!” I shout up the hallway.
When I turn back to Jenny, she’s staring into space with glassy eyes. “What is it?” I ask. “Jen?”
She seems not to hear me. I guess that despite the decades that have passed since the event, she’s still seeing her father kissing his nurse in the office garage.
“Jenny, is there something else going on? Are you afraid Jack’s cheating on you?”
Jack is her husband, whom I can’t imagine committing adultery if his life depended on it.
“No,” she says, still looking dazed.
“Then what is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you positive?”
She shakes her head once like someone trying to wake up from a nightmare, and then her eyes come clear. “Let me wash my face again. Tell Mom something to buy me a minute.”
“I will.”
She stands on tiptoe and kisses my cheek, then hurries back into the bathroom.
“Where’s Jenny?” Mom asks from the kitchen door. “Is she sick?”
“Just a little, I think. Her stomach. Nerves, I’m sure.”
“Well, we can’t wait all day. I’m not going to miss those summations.”
“We won’t, Mom. I promise.”
She frowns, then speaks under her breath. “That girl has had nerves ever since she was a child. You’d think that by fifty-three she’d outgrow them.”
“High-strung,” I answer, walking back to the kitchen with a forced smile. “Isn’t that what you always said?”
Mom pats my arm, but I’m not sure whether she’s doing it to comfort me or herself. “I’m just glad Jenny didn’t have to grow up on a cotton farm,” she says. “She wouldn’t have made it.”
“She might have surprised you.”
Chapter 68
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Shad Johnson begins, nodding to the twelve jurors, then turning to acknowledge the audience, which has somehow swelled even larger than in past sessions. “Good afternoon.”