“No, no, no, no.” Naomi laid her mouth on her mother’s, blew in her breath, willed her to breathe back.
But there was nothing there. Like the pictures of the women in her father’s cellar, there was nothing left in the eyes but death.
She sat back. She didn’t weep, not yet, but smoothed back her mother’s hair. There was no weight pressing on her chest, no churning in her belly. There was, as in her mother’s eyes, nothing.
She remembered the feeling—the same as when she’d swum through the air toward the sheriff’s office on that hot summer dawn.
In shock, she thought. She was in shock. And her mother was dead.
She heard the bell, got slowly to her feet. “I need to go let them in. Don’t leave her alone.”
“Okay. I’ll, um . . . Okay.”
She walked out—sort of like sleepwalking to Anson’s eyes. He looked back at the dead woman.
They wouldn’t get back to school in thirty.
Five
She wore the black dress to her mother’s funeral. She’d never been to a funeral before, and this was more a memorial as there would be no burial.
Seth sat down with her and Mason to talk about that. Did they want to take their mother back to Pine Meadows to bury her?
No, no, no.
Did they want to find a cemetery in New York?
It surprised her how firm Mason had been. No cemetery here either. If she’d been happy in New York, she’d still be alive.
So they’d had her cremated, and in the spring, they’d rent a boat and send her ashes to the air and the sea.
There were tears, of course, but for Naomi they came from rage as much as grief.
She had to talk to the police. For the second time in her life, the police came to her home, went through her home, asked questions.
“I’m Detective Rossini. I’m so sorry for your loss. I know this is a very difficult time, but I have some questions. Can I come in, talk to you?”
Naomi knew that some cops on TV and in the movies were female and pretty, but she’d assumed that was mostly made up. But Rossini looked like she could play a detective on TV.
“Okay.”
She’d gone to her room because she didn’t know what else to do, not with all the police, with Seth and Harry talking to them. And with her mother . . .
Rossini came in, sat on the side of the bed, facing Naomi, who sat in her desk chair with her knees folded up to her chin.
“Can you tell me why you came home today, why you and your friend weren’t in school?”
“We got a pass to come home, get my camera. We work on the school newspaper. I’m supposed to take pictures of rehearsal—the drama club. Is he still here? Is Chaffins—Anson—here?”
“My partner already talked to him. We had him taken back to school.”
“He’ll tell everybody.” Naomi pressed her face to her knees. “He’ll tell everybody about my mother.”
“I’m sorry, Naomi. Can you tell me what happened when you got home?”
“Chaffins wanted a Coke, so I told him to go get a couple of them while I went up for my camera. And Kong—our dog—Kong was outside my mother’s room. He kept whining. He usually stays in Mason’s room or in the courtyard when we’re at school, but . . . Her door was closed, and I opened it. I thought . . . I thought she was sleeping or not feeling well. I couldn’t wake her up, and I saw the pills. I mean the empty bottle. Chaffins came upstairs, and I told him to call nine-one-one. I tried CPR. We took a class, and I knew how. I tried, but I couldn’t make her breathe.”
“She was on the bed when you went in.”
“I tried to get her up, to wake her up enough to walk. If she’d taken too many pills, I could make her walk, and get her to the hospital.”
“She’d done that before? Taken too many pills?”
Naomi just nodded with her face pressed against her knees.
“When did you see her last, before you came home from school?”
“This morning. Harry fixed breakfast, but she didn’t come down for it. I went upstairs, and she was just getting up. She seemed fine. She said she had some errands to run before she went to work, and she’d get breakfast later. She said, ‘Have a good day at school.’”
She looked up then. “My brother. My brother, Mason.”
“Your uncle’s gone to the school to get him. Don’t worry.”
“Do you know who my father is?”
“Yes, Naomi, I do. And I know that for the second time in your life you had to face something no one should ever have to.”
“Will everyone know now? Even though we changed our names, will everyone know?”
“We’re going to do the best we can to keep that out of the press.” Rossini waited a moment. “Do you know how often your mother and your father communicated?”
“She wrote to him, and went to see him a few times, too, since we moved to New York. Mason found out, and he told me. She pretended she wasn’t, but she was. We didn’t tell Uncle Seth or Harry. The movie—she talked to the movie people because he wanted her to. Mason found that out, too. But she’d been trying really hard, and for a couple months or more, she’d been doing good. She’d been happy. Happier. I don’t guess she’s ever been happy since that night I found . . .”
“All right. Your uncle said he’d call your grandparents, and Mr. Dobbs is right downstairs. Do you want me to have him come up, stay with you?”
“No, not right now. Ma’am? You asked about them communicating. Did Mama talk to him today? This morning?”
“I don’t believe your mother and father spoke today.”
“But there’s something. He wrote something to her, didn’t he? Something that had her coming home, after she’d been doing so well, and taking those pills.”
“We’re asking questions so we can give you answers,” Rossini said as she rose.
“You have some. I didn’t see a note in her room. I wasn’t looking. I was trying to . . . I didn’t see a note, but she had to write one. She had to say good-bye.” The sob wanted to rip out of her chest. “However sad she was, she loved us. She did. She’d say good-bye.”
“I’m sure she loved you. She did leave a note, addressed to all of you. It was in your uncle’s room. She put it on his dresser.”
“I want to see it. I have a right to read it. It was addressed to me. I want to read what she wrote before she took those pills and left us.”
“Your uncle said you would. Wait here.”
What had he done? Naomi wondered, and the rage began to root. What had he done to make her mother so sad, so fast? So fatally?
She stood up when Rossini came back in. She wouldn’t read this last thing her mother said to her curled in a chair, but on her feet.
“You’ll need to read it through the evidence bag. It still needs to be processed.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Naomi took the bag, stepped to the window and the thin winter light.
I’m so sorry. I made so many mistakes, so many bad choices, told so many lies. I told lies to the people who deserved me to tell the truth. I told them because he said I should. No matter how many times I tried to break free, I just couldn’t. Now he has, after all the mistakes I made, all the hurt I caused because Tom said I should. He’s divorcing me so he can try to marry some other woman. One who’s been writing him and coming to see him for more than two years. He sent me papers from a lawyer for a divorce, and a letter that said such cruel and awful things. But some of those things are true. I am weak and stupid. I am useless. I didn’t protect my children when I had the chance. Seth, you did that. You did that, Harry. You gave us a home, and I know you’ll look after Naomi and Mason, do right by them as I never have. Mason, you’re so smart, and you made me proud every day. I hope one day you’ll understand why Mama had to go away. Naomi, I’m not strong and brave like you. It’s so hard to try to be. I’m so tired, honey. I just want to go to sleep. You’ll look after Mason, and both of you will listen to Seth and Harry. You’ll have a better life now. One day you’ll know that’s true. One day you’ll forgive me.
“Why should I forgive her? She left us because he didn’t want her anymore? She came home and took all those pills because she was tired?”