The Perfect Husband - Lisa Gardner [115]
“No,” he said, angry enough to lash out with the truth. “So Tess can sleep at night. So she can have her daughter back. So two people can get on with their lives, because we sure as hell aren’t doing a great job of getting on with ours.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He hit the table with his fist. “Yes, you do, Marion. I know you do. I can see it in your eyes. And I know it’s the real reason you came, just like it’s the real reason I called you.”
Her face fired to life. It filled with a venomous rage that froze the breath in his lungs. He knew that kind of anger. He knew that kind of hate.
“He left everything to you, you son of a bitch!” Marion hissed. “He left everything to you.”
J.T. couldn’t think, couldn’t respond. He sat there and took it.
“You hated him. You walked away from him, tossed everything in his face, blackened the family name, and became a first-class loser . . . and he left the bulk of the estate to you! Emma gets a trust fund to keep her shopping until she finally cracks up completely. My child gets a trust fund. You get the rest. You bastard. You bastard, you bastard, you bastard!”
Her face was no longer icy, it was haggard and unbearably tortured. J.T.’s hand began to shake. It was out in the open now. And it hurt more than he’d thought.
“I don’t want the money. I won’t accept it. Take it all.”
“He left it to you, goddammit. The least you could do is accept it!”
“No. He was the bastard, Marion, the fucked-up will only proves it. Take everything. You . . . you deserve it.”
“Don’t you mean I earned it?”
The world stopped spinning. He couldn’t quite grasp all the memories, emotions, and reactions that flooded his head. He whispered faintly, “So you do remember. You really do remember.”
“No!” she declared immediately. Neither of them believed her.
“Marion . . .” He reached out his hand. She immediately shrank back. “What he did to you was so wrong,” J.T. whispered. “My God, he raped you—”
She flinched, but he couldn’t stop. It had to be said. He didn’t know any other way to move on.
“I wasn’t your fault, Marion.” The words tumbled out. He said them almost desperately, not sure how long she would allow him to speak, and having so many things that he just needed to say. “You have to understand that it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t. He was a sick, twisted man who ruined us both for sport. But he’s dead now. He’s dead and we’re alive and we can get through this. We’ll stand together, you and me. Don’t you remember?”
He tried to take her hand, but she still wouldn’t let him.
“Leave me alone,” she whispered. “I am nothing like you, J.T. I’m not some drunken failure.”
“When we were kids, Marion, I used to wish I was a girl. You want to know why?”
She stared at him dubiously.
He continued. “So he would’ve left you alone. I figured if I’d been born the girl, at least he would’ve left you alone.”
He looked at her openly, no more wisecracks, no more defenses, no more protection. He couldn’t be more honest.
And he saw the ice crack. Marion was gone and Merry Berry sat before him, and she looked so unbelievably lost and so unbelievably alone that tears stung his eyes. Oh, God, what had the colonel done to them? And why now, even after the man’s death, couldn’t they make it right?
“I remember the pillow forts,” he whispered with a voice so hoarse it couldn’t be his. “Tell me you remember the pillow forts. Tell me you remember how we used to throw socks at the maid and she’d throw them right back and we would screech and howl and laugh.”
She shook her head. He could see the tears in the corners of her eyes.
“You would come into my room at night, and we would huddle beneath the sheets with a flashlight to read GI Joe comic books. You liked the character Snake. You thought someday he’d come and rescue us.”
“No.”
“And we were always moving and there were new cities and new schools and new kids, but at least we had each other. You used to hold my hand the first day of school and I would tell you everything would be all right.”
“No.”
“And