The last secret_ a novel - Mary McGarry Morris [68]
If he goes away and never comes back. But she's afraid to say it.
“So it's okay? It's all right? You don't give a shit about anyone, do you?” Squinting, he stares at her.
She coughs to fill the void in this bizarre dialogue. Again, slowly, tries to restate her offer. He needs help, which she is in a position to provide.
“So, that's it?” He shrugs.
“Whatever happened that night is—”
“What? Shit? Because shit happens, right? So, what do you care?”
“Of course, I care. I've never forgotten. I remember everything, every detail.”
He looks surprised, flattered. “Yeah. Me, too. I still dream about it. About you. Our song, remember?” He wets his lips in a kind of kiss, starts singing the words, then, seeing her cringe back in her chair, whispers, “It's just you were so young. So fresh and soft and—”
“Stop it! Please,” she whispers with a horrified glance at the door, praying the shadow underneath isn't Hilda's.
He laughs. “Smart, that's all I was gonna say. And classy. You still are.” He wiggles his fingers. “Different from her, the girlfriend. Quite a looker though, gotta give him that.”
“Here.” She touches the envelope.
“What's that?”
“Cash.”
He smiles. “How much?”
She writes on her Chronicle notepad and gives him the sheet: $25,000. “Should take care of it, I would think,” she says almost lightly, in case Hilda is listening.
“Take care of what?” he asks folding the paper into his pocket. “You finally gonna hire me? Give me a job?” He laughs. “To do what? Get rid of hubby?”
“This has nothing to do with him.”
“Really? You don't matter? He can go do whatever the hell he wants?” He leans over the desk, leering. “Oh! I get it.” He rubs his thumb and forefinger together. “The girlfriend. Yeah. Okay. Her name's Robin. Robin Gendron, right?” he says.
“That's not important. She doesn't matter.”
“Oh? Maybe you oughta tell hubby that.”
“I told you, this isn't about him.”
“Yeah, just between you and me, right? But then what?”
“I'm sure you'll find something, some other place to start over.” Sickened by its touch, she pushes the envelope closer. “Here. It's yours. Take it.”
Laughing, he waves it between them. “Gotcha! For all the pain and suffering. Cold, hard cash, just make sure the door don't hitcha in your ass on the way out, Eddie.”
“I really should get back to work now,” she says with a stern glance. That's all, she will later recall. A glance.
He gets up, but continues to stand over her. He keeps slapping the envelope on the edge of her desk. “Must be nice being rich. Buy anything you want, huh? Little problem comes your way, just stuff an envelope full of cash and close your eyes.”
The door closes softly. Quietly. She covers her mouth and sits there, trying not to gag.
Carol has called back She wants to come out and stay with Nora. She needs to get away, she says. Nora was right. It's not good being alone, all this thinking, obsessing on the past. But whether Nora wants to hear it or not, every single thing she said the other day is true. And being older, she would know, certainly more than Nora. Everyone tried to talk to Mom, even the cousins. After Nora ran away she finally came to her senses, thank God. This time Nora refuses to argue with her sister. Her decision to work at the lake that summer was to get as far away as she could from her guilt every time she looked at her mother. And running away with Eddie Hawkins was in no way connected to Mr. Blanchard.
“Things're a little crazy here right now,” Nora tells her, doesn't say why. She'll get back to her in a few weeks. Hopefully, they can settle on a date then.
The worst sin is vanity” her mother would say whenever she or Carol fretted over some personal problem. Self-absorption, because it got in the way of so much else, kindness, charity, love. And the truth. “If you're busy helping other people, then you don't have time for petty problems.”
If only she had her mother's strength. Never complaining. Trying hard to be a good teacher and conscientious mother, who put her daughters first, then