Dolores Claiborne - Stephen King [57]
She went out then, closin the door behind her. I made up the bed, and while I did it I thought about what she'd said about how when a bad man has a bad accident, sometimes that can be a great thing, too. I began to see what had been right in front of me all along-what I would have seen sooner if my mind hadn't been flyin around in a blind panic, like a sparrow trapped in an attic room.
By the time we'd had our pie and I'd seen her upstairs for her afternoon nap, the could-do part of it was clear in my mind. I wanted to be shut of Joe, I wanted my kids money back, and most of all, I wanted to make him pay for all he'd put us through especially for all he'd put Selena through. If the son of a bitch had an accident-the right kind of accident-all those things'd happen. The money I couldn't get at while he was alive would come to me when he died. He might've snuck off to get the money in the first place, but he hadn't ever snuck off to make a will cuttin me out. It wasn't a question of brains-the way he got the money showed me he was quite a bit slyer'n I'd given him credit for-but just the way his mind worked. I'm pretty sure that down deep, Joe St George didn't think he was ever gonna die.
And as his wife, everything would come right back to me.
By the time I left Pinewood that afternoon the rain had stopped, and I walked home real slow. I wasn't even halfway there before I'd started to think of the old well behind the woodshed.
I had the house to myself when I got back-the boys were off playin, and Selena had left a note sayin she'd gone over to Mrs Devereaux's to help her do a laundry she did all the sheets from The Harborside Hotel in those days, you know. I didn't have any idear where Joe was and didn't care. The important thing was that his truck was gone, and with the muffler hangin by a thread the way it was, I'd have plenty of warnin if he came back.
I stood there a minute, lookin at Selena's note. It's funny, the little things that finally push a person into makin up her mind-sendin her from could-do to might-do to will-do, so's to speak. Even now I'm not sure if I really meant to kill Joe when I came home from Vera Donovan's that day. I meant to check on the well, yes, but that could have been no more than a game, the way kids play Let's Pretend. If Selena hadn't left that note, I might never have done it and no matter what else comes of this, Andy, Selena must never know that.
The note went somethin like this: Mom-I have gone over to Mrs Devereaux's with Cindy Babcock to help do the hotel wash-they had lots more people over the holiday weekend than they expected, and you know how bad Mrs D's arthritis has gotten. The poor dear sounded at her wits end when she called. I will be back to help with supper. Love and kisses, Sel.
I knew Selena'd come back with no more'n five or seven dollars, but happy as a lark to have it. She'd be happy to go back if Mrs Devereaux or Cindy called again, too, and if she got offered a job as a part-time chambermaid at the hotel next summer, she'd prob'ly try to talk me into lettin her take it. Because money is money, and on the island in those days, tradin back n forth was still the most common way of life and cash a hard commodity to come by. Mrs Devereaux would call again, too, and be delighted to write a hotel reference for Selena if Selena ast her to, because