Fuck, he didn’t need this.
He took Laurel’s arm. “I think we’d better leave.” Maneuvering her through the gathering crowd, he headed down the wide hall to the entryway.
The doorman, ignorant of the commotion within, tipped his hat politely as they left and wished them a good night.
*
Laurel was wooden with fear. Now Jase would have to know. Had she thought she could keep it from him forever? You knew it wouldn’t last. Just be grateful for what time you had with him and let him go.
Neither of them spoke as they returned to the house. He parked under the porte cochere again and helped her out of the car. They let themselves in by the same side entrance they’d left from a century earlier in the day.
He walked her into the front room. They took seats across from each other.
“Tell me,” he commanded.
These were the words she had been anticipating and dreading all the way home, and she still didn’t know what to say. How could she explain about Daddy? But she was tired of running and hiding and pretending everything was all right, so she just blurted it all out.
“My father sexually molested six of the boys who came to him for counseling.” She’d never said the words aloud before, and could feel a flush rising in her cheeks. “Betsy Simcek’s nephew was one of them. Apparently it had been going on for a couple of years.”
Jase stared at her as if he hadn’t heard her right. “Are you sure?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Jase shook his head in denial. “I don’t understand.”
Laurel sighed, closed her eyes for a second, and tried to remember how her father had explained himself. “Daddy said he’d always had…an attraction…to teenage boys, but he was able to keep it in check. Apparently as he got older, his control…slipped. At first it was inappropriate touching, but when it escalated, Daddy turned himself in to Mr. Bridges, who worked out a way to protect my mother and me by keeping it out of the courts. Daddy promised to pay damages to all the families and for psychotherapy for all the boys like—like Betsy Simcek’s nephew and…and Ray’s brother, Carlos. After Daddy died, Mama and I inherited his financial obligations—and the town’s ill will. People felt deceived, I think, because they’d thought Daddy was so perfect, but he wasn’t. Mama—Mama couldn’t take it and…committed suicide…about a year ago, so now I’m the only one left to hate.”
She didn’t cry. She was long past that, and it had never helped. Anyway, she was merely peripheral damage, not one of the real victims. Those boys, even Betsy Simcek’s smarmy nephew—they were the ones who deserved the sympathy.
Jase drew a deep, shuddering breath. “Is that why Carson divorced you?”
“Yes. He didn’t think he could get anywhere anymore in Bosque Bend if he was connected with my family.” Her neck felt so tight. She rolled it on the back of the chair. No more questions, please.
“And that’s why you didn’t want to go the club tonight?”
“Yes, yes,” she answered, impatient with him now. She had a headache and she wanted to go to bed. She needed to sleep. To sleep and forget.
“And that’s why you were worried about me talking to Sarah, because you were afraid she would tell me about Reverend Ed?”
“Yes, everything you say! I didn’t want you to know!” She knew she was getting snappish, but she couldn’t help it.
He pierced her with his eyes. “Don’t you think it would have been better to warn me? To level with me beforehand?”
“Yes—no—I don’t know.” She twisted her hands together in her lap. “I’ve never talked about it to anyone before. I didn’t know how to tell you, what to say. And…I guess I was protecting myself too, because then I’d have to admit…the reality.”
He stared at her with cold, dark eyes. “I despise sexual predators.” His voice sounded like God’s judgment.
“I know.”
“I despise adults who seduce children under the guise of helping them. I think they should be shot on sight.”
She nodded, weary of it all, but understanding she’d have to hear him out.
He stood up and walked the room, then smacked his fist into his hand.
“God! How could he do it! I respected him more than anyone else in the world! He was the only one who stood by me!” He turned on Laurel. “He even gave me money. Did he expect some kind of return on it?”
Laurel sat there with her head down, trying to ward off his voice. She knew all the questions. She’d wondered about some of them herself.
Jase started pacing again. She could almost see the energy pouring off him.
“What a sham! Edward Harlow, the Reverend Edward Harlow—” he repeated. “I’ve built my life around a sham! Ever since I was sixteen, I’ve tried to live up to the standards he taught me—to work hard, to live honestly, to look forward rather than backward, to respect other people! And all the time he was…”