“You mean Mom?”
“Always.”
I feel sick in my stomach, the roast beef in uproar. Maybe it’s time to tell him the truth. “She has a boyfriend. I didn’t tell you last time because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
He stares out at the river for a really long time. I can’t read his expression. I thought it was better he knows about Greg so he can move on, but now I wish I hadn’t said anything.
“That’s good,” he finally says. “I want her to be happy.”
“You angry?”
“I’m disappointed, but I understand. She hasn’t talked to me for a long time.”
I have another horrible feeling that I’ve made a big mistake, that maybe he’s doing all this for a different reason. “You can’t come around her. She doesn’t want to see you.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t mess things up this time.” Before I can say anything else, he glances at his watch. “We better get going or I’ll miss the plane back to the island.”
We pack up all our things and I walk him to his truck, where he tells me I owe him twenty dollars for tackle. I know he’s joking because he has that sideways smile, so I laugh, but I’m thinking about how he said this time. As though he still has another chance with her. I’m scared he didn’t hear anything I said about Mom. That he doesn’t believe me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LINDSEY
OCTOBER 2005
I was raking leaves in the front yard, and picking up walnuts that stained my fingers black, when my brother pulled into the driveway in his old blue pickup truck.
“Mom said you canceled Sunday dinner,” he said.
I’d carefully applied makeup to my bruises, then wrapped a scarf around my neck. Sophie wanted to know why I was wearing it inside. I told her it was my new style. She wore one to school this morning as well, the ends trailing behind her.
Andrew had watched me while I made breakfast but he didn’t say anything, just drank two cups of coffee back to back and swallowed some Tylenol. I turned around once and saw his eyes settle on my throat, then drift away, something dark coming into his face.
“I’m not feeling good.” My voice still sounded raspy, from pain and fatigue. I’d barely slept all night, could only stare at the ceiling and replay the way Andrew’s hands had felt around my throat, my lungs screaming for air, the certainty that if Sophie hadn’t called out, he’d have kept going until I was dead. She’d saved my life. I used to be able to convince myself that he wouldn’t really hurt me, he wouldn’t go that far, something in him would make him stop. He loved me. I couldn’t lie to myself now. It was going to keep happening.
Maybe next time it would be a shove into the furniture, or he’d knock me down the stairs—something he could blame on me. But how soon before he slapped or punched me? Or broke a bone? How soon before he lost all control and choked me again?
Chris came around the front of his truck, took the rake out of my hands, and started scraping it on the ground, adding leaves to my pile. I flashed to us doing this when we were children, seeing who could build the biggest pile. Hurricane would pounce in the middle and we’d have to start all over again. I thought about Blaze. How much I’d wanted Sophie to grow up with a dog.
I turned away, scrabbling with my hands at a walnut half buried in the dirt. I didn’t want Chris to see me cry. I took some breaths, tossed the walnut into the wheelbarrow.
“The squirrels bury these everywhere,” I said. “Crows drop them onto the roof and I can hear them rolling down all day and night. They clog the gutters. Drives Andrew crazy.”
“I called him last night to wish him a happy birthday and see about stopping over. He said he was out with Sophie and that you had a headache. Must have been a pretty bad one.”
I blinked a couple of times, fighting to keep calm. He knew something was going on. I glanced back at him over my shoulder. “It was a sinus headache. I took a couple of Advil and went straight to bed. Andrew was sweet about it.”
“Good.” He was looking into my eyes, not letting me break the hold. “I’ve been wondering if things are okay with you two.”
“Of course.” I wanted to tear away the scarf, wanted to show him the bruises and beg for his help, but I made myself smile. “Everything’s great.”
“You seem different when he’s around. Like you’re tense or stressed about something.”
I stood up, brushed my hands off. “I’m probably just tired. We’re okay, really.”
“You know you can tell me what’s going on, right? I won’t say anything to Andrew.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” I shrugged. “I’m happy.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Lindsey. You don’t smile anymore, not the same way. And you don’t do anything with your friends, or go anywhere. You used to have lots of goals. What happened to you going to school? It’s like you’ve given up on everything and Andrew is your whole life.”