“And that’s it?” Garrett said.
“That’s it,” Beth said. “That’s the whole story. My father’s attorney took care of the divorce. I didn’t see David again for several years, and by that point, we were both married to other people. And I made the conscious decision never to think or speak of it again. To anyone, including your father. I’m sorry if you feel betrayed, and I’m even sorrier if you feel I betrayed your father. But that was my decision. It was an event from my past. Mine. Do you understand?”
The twins nodded mechanically, like marionettes.
Beth felt drained. There were other things she wanted to discuss with the kids-the Malibu rum, the whereabouts of the ashes-but those things hardly mattered to her at this moment. The only thing that mattered now was that she had told the one story she’d tried with all her might to forget. The reason she’d tried to forget was because of the expression on David’s face that final morning. It was the look of a man whose dream had been crushed without warning. It was the look of a man who would have loved her forever, who would have taken her for a ride on the back of his dirt bike into infinity.
Beth stood up. She made herself a piece of toast at the counter, ate it in four bites, then went upstairs to her room. Her business with the twins was finished for the time being; they would have to process all they’d heard. What Beth realized before she took a Valium and fell into bed for a nap was that there was one more person she needed to talk to about all of this before she put it to rest for good, and that person was David.
Beth thought of biking or driving out to David’s house that evening before dinner (it grew dark at seven o’clock now, a sign that August had arrived), but Beth didn’t want to talk with David in front of his girls. She let a few days pass. Her relationship with the twins returned to almost normal, however they seemed to bestow upon her a new kind of respect-maybe because she had finally owned up to the truth, or maybe because they had never before imagined her as a person capable of getting married on a whim by a judge wearing Bermuda shorts. When Beth saw Piper, she, too, treated Beth differently, more formally, always calling her “Mrs. Newton.” One night, Beth screwed up the courage to ask Piper where David was working.
“This week, Cliff Road,” Piper said. And then, as if she knew what Beth was planning, she added, “One of the new houses on the left just before you reach Madaket Road.”
Beth decided to go see him the following morning, climbing into the Rover at the ungodly hour of seven o’clock. She wanted to catch him early, say her piece, and leave. Unfortunately, there was a blanket of fog so thick that Beth couldn’t see any of the houses from the road and she worried that she wouldn’t be able to find the right one. But then she spied two huge homes with fresh yellow cedar shingles on the left, and she took a chance and chose the first of the two driveways. There were a number of vans and trucks-one of them David’s.
Beth parked in a spot well out of everyone’s way and climbed out of the car. She began to feel nervous about this plan-after all, David was working. He had a business to run, contracts to fulfill; he didn’t need his old girlfriend showing up to rehash something that happened back in the Ice Age. Beth glanced at her car and considered leaving, but what if he saw her? That would only make things worse.
The house was so new that there was no front door, only an extra-wide arched opening. The floors were plywood, but all of the drywall was hung, and a boy of about eighteen knelt in the hall sticking a screwdriver into an outlet, which seemed to Beth a perilous undertaking. When the boy saw her, he stared for a second-clearly there weren’t many women on these work sites- and Beth was able to ask for David.
“They’re painting on the third floor,” the boy said, finally blinking. Beth wondered if something was wrong with the way she looked-she’d taken extreme care in appearing casual. Khaki shorts, white T-shirt, flip-flops, her hair in a clip. Beth thanked the boy and proceeded up the stairs, two flights, to the third floor, which was comprised of a long hallway with many doors- bedrooms, bathrooms, a big closet. Beth found each one being painted a tasteful color-buttercream, pearl gray, periwinkle- but she did not see David. The kids painting were all teenagers, too. Beth asked one of them if he knew where David was.
“On the deck at the end of the hall, drinking his java,” the young man said. This kid was very pale and had black hair to his shoulders. “You his wife?”
Beth walked away without answering.
At the end of the hall were French doors, one of which was propped open with a gallon can of primer. The doors led to a huge deck that overlooked Maxcy’s Pond, which through the fog, had a dull silver glint, like a pewter plate. David sat in a teak chair, drinking his coffee, reading the newspaper. Beth watched him for a second, his right ankle was propped on his left knee and the paper rested on his legs. His sipped his coffee, turned the page, whistled a few bars from the music inside. Beth realized how enraged she was. At him, at Rosie-God, Rosie- and at herself.
“This is quite a view,” she said.
He swung around so quickly he spilled his coffee. When he stood up, the paper slid off his lap onto the deck.
“Beth,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“I had a sneaking suspicion you didn’t actually work,” Beth said. “And I see now that I was correct.”
David wiped the coffee off his arm with a napkin, then he folded the paper up, but seemed at a loss for what to do with it, so he tucked it between the rails of the deck. It slipped through the rails and fluttered to the ground, three stories below. Beth took the chair next to his.
David gazed glumly at the newspaper below. “I’ve been here since five-thirty getting my guys set up,” he said. “I was taking my coffee break.”
“Not a bad life,” Beth said.
“Why are you here?” David asked. “You certainly didn’t come to praise my choice of career.”
“You know why I came.”
He looked at her in that old, intense way that made the bottom of Beth’s stomach swoop out. “I had nothing to do with it,” David said. “Rosie told them.”
“Oh, I know,” Beth said. “That only makes it worse.”
“She’s been wanting to tell the girls for years,” David said. “She was just waiting for the opportunity to present itself.” David sank into his seat. “Finding out that Piper was dating your son was irresistible.”
“It’s none of her business,” Beth said in a tight voice. She felt herself losing control and she reached for her mental reins. She breathed in through her nose; her ears were ringing with the injustice of it. Rosie kept the secret for twenty-five years only to let it splash at the worst possible time. “It’s nobody’s business but ours. Yours and mine.”
“We were married, Beth.” David looked at her, as if for confirmation, and she nodded. “It’s a part of your past you have to face.”
“But that’s what I mean,” Beth said. “Why shouldn’t I be able to face it when I want, or not at all? It belongs to me. But no one else thinks that way. You don’t believe I have a right to my own past, and neither do my kids. So I was forced to tell them the story about you and me and that summer, the cottage, the blood tests, the cosmos, the judge. I told them everything. Okay? I hope you’re happy.”