I wondered if this was the right moment to broach a delicate subject: the fact that Gran seemed to have forgotten it wasn’t her day to take care of Grace. But Odelia and Chase were discussing other matters, so I decided the topic would keep.
“Have you heard from your mom and dad?” asked Chase as he used a wooden spoon to stir some unknown substance on the stove.
“I’ll talk to them tonight,” said Odelia as she made a valiant attempt to enter food into her daughter’s mouth. Grace was seated in her high chair at the table, and seemed to be having a good time, for she was babbling her secret language, presumably addressing people who weren’t there—perhaps her friends from the daycare center. “Last time we spoke they seemed to be doing fine.”
“Maybe next year we could join them,” Chase suggested as he tasted the food he was preparing. Judging from his frown it wasn’t up to snuff yet.
“I don’t know, Chase,” said Odelia. “I’m not much of a tennis player.”
“Me neither, but they seem like nice people.”
“Yeah, I guess,” said Odelia, but she didn’t sound convinced.
Chase must have picked up on her inflection, for he said,“You know something I don’t?”
“Oh, it’s just that one of them is writing a book, apparently, detailing all the secrets she’s learned about her friends over the years.”
“She’s doing what?”
“She’s a recovering alcoholic herself—Michele Droba’s sister-in-law Isobel. And she deeply feels that secrets are poisonous. They poison our minds and our relationships with others. Which is why she’s been writing her autobiography.”
“It’s not her place to reveal other people’s secrets, though, is it?”
“She seems to believe that it is. That she’s doing her friends a favor.”
“She’s going to reveal Marge and Tex’s secrets, too?”
“I guess so. Which is why Mom and Dad are worried.”
“I didn’t even know your mom and dad had secrets,” said Chase as he took an onion from the larder and started chopping it into little pieces.
“Look at the way Chase is attacking that poor, defenseless onion,” said Dooley.
“It’s a vegetable, Dooley. It’s not a living, breathing creature.”
“Still. He’s feeling the guilt. Just look at him crying.”
“It’ll be fine,” said Chase. “How bad can those secrets be?” He gave his wife a curious look. “Do you know what your parents’ secrets are?”
Odelia smiled as she directed another spoon into Grace’s mouth. This time the food ended up in the right place, and not all over the little girl’s bib. “I’m sure I don’t, babe. And even if I did, what kind of daughter would I be if I told you?”
“I’m your husband, babe. You can tell me anything. I’m very discreet.”
Odelia laughed.“I know. But they’re not my secrets to tell, okay?”
“Okay,” Chase agreed reluctantly, and attacked that poor lonely onion with renewed fervor, throwing a couple of carrots into the mix just because he could.
Dooley looked on with a look of disapproval on his face.“Poor carrots,” he murmured. “What have they ever done to you?”
CHAPTER 9
[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]
Marge was in bed, listening to her husband’s slow, even breathing. It always amazed her how Tex could sleep so soundly, no matter the circumstances. She was one of those people who had a hard time going to sleep at night. She could lie awake for hours if something was going on in her life that worried her. Like now, with this whole business with Isobel’s book. She’d already discussed things with Michele, who said there was nothing that she could do about it.
Their hostess seemed as annoyed about the prospect of their personal lives being laid bare as the rest of them, but Isobel was determined to go through with her‘process’ as she called it. She didn’t seem to care that she was dragging all of them along in her process, unwilling victims in one person’s path to redemption.
She wondered what her husband’s secret might be. Even though Tex said he had no secrets, there must be something, for a worried look had stolen over his face when Michele had told them about the book her sister-in-law was writing. If he didn’t have secrets, why the worried look? She still wanted to believe him, though. After twenty-five years of marriage you’d think she knew this man. Knew everything about him. And yet. How well did you really know a person? Even couples who had been married for years still surprised each other. Things from their past suddenly came to light. Like secret second families or criminal offenses.
She didn’t think Tex was a criminal, though. The thought was laughable. And she didn’t think he had a second family in a different state either. A second wife, kids… Maybe this family had a dog instead of a pair of cats. And he wasn’t a doctor, surely, but maybe an itinerant trader? She glanced down at her hubby, then dismissed the thought once more. How could he have a second family if he had to see his patients every day. He simply didn’t have the opportunity.
But that her husband had a secret, of that she was certain. When she’d broached the subject he’d been dismissive first, then irritated, which was as much an admission of guilt as coming right out and saying what the big secret was.
She took her phone from the nightstand and checked the time. Ten to two. Christ. Wasn’t she ever going to be able to sleep? She’d once read that if you couldn’t sleep you shouldn’t stay in bed but get up and read something—preferably something tedious. That way your brain got distracted from whatever was bothering you and soon got tired, allowing you to switch off. Maybe she should do that now. She’d brought along a couple of the latest bestsellers. Though she knew that if she started reading she’d still be going strong by the time daybreak came. And then she’d be so tired all day she wouldn’t be able to enjoy their time together.
She turned once more, fluffed up her pillow and plunked her head down, willing sleep finally to come.
And that’s when she heard it.
A scream—somewhere nearby.
Immediately she poked her husband in the ribs.“Tex! Wake up!”
“Mhwhatsthatwhat?” muttered the doctor, smacking his lips.
“Did you hear that?” she said, and kept perfectly still.
“Hear what?”
“Shh!”
She listened intently, but all was quiet once more. Almost as if the night had swallowed up the scream and smothered it under a thick blanket. Or maybe she hadn’t heard a scream at all. Maybe it was all in her head. She had been thinking about a particularly successful horror novel she’d brought along to read.
“I don’t hear anything,” said Tex finally.
“I thought I heard a scream,” she said.
“Must be those dogs the Ona woman brought. Even though it said clearly on the invitation ‘No pets allowed.’” He turned over to his side. “There’s always one who can’t follow the rules, isn’t there?” And he promptly went back to sleep.
For a few more minutes Marge lay listening, but no more screams were forthcoming. And finally her eyes drooped closed, and before long, she fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of strange screams in the night, and rabid dogs tearing the flesh from human bones.
[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]
If his wife thought Tex was enjoying a peaceful and unencumbered slumber, she was very much mistaken. While she was lying awake, so was he, only he didn’t feel the need to tell her. It was true he had been asleep, even though it had taken a while, but when she had prodded him in the ribs, he’d been rudely brought out of that hard-won slumber, and once he had, he found it hard to go back to sleep.
And so he lay awake, his arms supporting his head, while he watched his wife sleep. He should never have told Isobel. Then she wouldn’t have been able to put the things he told her in that stupid book of hers. But the woman was so easy to talk to. Maybe it was because of the things she’d gone through, but she had this way of putting you at ease, and extracting confidences from a person. He had always enjoyed talking to her. She was an attractive woman, of course. And in some ways a tragic person. After her husband had killed his brother, in circumstances that still weren’t completely clear to him, he’d fled the country, leaving his wife and daughter to fend for themselves in a hostile world.