Chapter thirty-six
“I like Mr. Riggs, Mom.”
“Well, you don’t really know him, do you?”
LuAnn sat on the edge of her daughter’s bed and fingered the bed covers absentmindedly.
“I have good instincts about these things.”
Mother and daughter exchanged smiles. “Really? Well, maybe you can share some of your insights with me.”
“Seriously, is he going to come back soon?”
LuAnn took a deep breath. “Lisa, we may have to go away soon.”
Lisa’s hopeful smile faded away at this abrupt change of subjects. “Go away? Where?”
“I’m not sure just yet. And it’s not for certain. Uncle Charlie and I haven’t finished talking about it yet.”
“Were you going to include me in those discussions?”
The unfamiliar tone in her daughter’s voice startled LuAnn. “What are you talking about?”
“How many times have we moved in the last six years? Eight? And that’s just as far back as I can remember. God knows how many times we did when I was really little. It’s not fair.” Lisa’s face colored and her voice shook.
LuAnn swept an arm around her shoulders. “Sweetie, I didn’t say it was for certain. I just said maybe.”
“That’s not the point. Okay, so it’s maybe now. Or maybe next month. But then one day it’ll be ‘we’re moving’ and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
LuAnn put her face in Lisa’s long hair. “I know it’s hard on you, baby.”
“I’m not a baby, Mom, not anymore. And I’d really like to know what we’re running from.”
LuAnn stiffened and raised her head back up, her eyes searching out Lisa’s.
“We’re not running from anything. What would we possibly be running from?”
“I was hoping you would tell me. I like it here, I don’t want to leave, and unless you can give me a really good explanation why we have to, I’m not going.”
“Lisa, you’re ten years old and even though you’re a very intelligent and mature ten-year-old, you’re still only a child. So where I go, you go.”
Lisa turned her face away. “Do I have a big trust fund?”
“Yes, why?”
“Because when I turn eighteen I’m going to have my own home and I’m going to stay there until I die. And I don’t want you to ever visit me.”
LuAnn’s cheeks reddened. “Lisa!”
“I mean it. And then maybe I’ll have friends and can do the things I want to do.”
“Lisa Marie Savage, you’ve been all over the world. You’ve done things most people will never get a chance to do their entire lives.”
“Well, you know what?”
“What?” LuAnn shot back.
“Right now, I’d trade with them in a heartbeat.”
Lisa lay down in the bed and put the covers up almost over her head. “And right now, I’d like to be alone.”
LuAnn started to say something and then thought better of it. Biting her lip hard, she raced down the hallway to her room, where she collapsed on the bed.
It was unraveling. She could feel it, like a big ball of twine someone had tossed down a long set of stairs. She rose, went into the bathroom, and started the shower. She pulled off her clothes and stepped under the steaming water. Leaning up against the wall she closed her eyes and tried to tell herself that it would be okay, that in the morning Lisa would be all right, that her love for her mother remained undiminished. This was not the first serious argument mother and daughter had had over the years. Lisa did not just share her mother’s physical attributes; LuAnn’s independence and stubborn streak had been replicated in her daughter. After a few minutes LuAnn finally calmed down and let the soothing water envelop her.
When she opened her eyes another image invaded her thoughts. Matthew Riggs must believe her to be insane by now. Insane and dishonest as hell. Quite a combination if you were trying to make an impression. But she wasn’t. If anything, she felt sorry for him, for having risked his life twice and gotten kicked in the gut both times for his trouble. He was a very attractive man, but she wasn’t looking for a relationship. How could she? How could she even contemplate partnering with someone? She’d be afraid to speak for fear of letting a secret scurry free. With all that, the image of Matt Riggs remained fixed in her head. A very handsome man. Strong, honest, courageous. And there was secrecy in his background too. And hurt. She suddenly cursed out loud that her life wasn’t normal. That she couldn’t attempt even a friendship with him.
She moved her hands fiercely along her limbs as she soaped up and released her frustrations at the same time. The harsh movements against her skin rekindled a disturbing revelation. The last man she had slept with was Duane Harvey over ten years ago. As her fingers moved over her breasts, Riggs’s face appeared again in her thoughts. She shook her head angrily, closed her eyes again, and laid her face against the wall of the shower. The costly imported tile was wet and warm. She remained in that position despite danger signs flashing in her mind. So wet. So warm. So safe. Almost unconsciously her hands dipped to her waist and then over her buttocks and all the while Matthew Riggs resided in her thoughts. She kept her eyes scrunched tight. The fingers of her right hand slithered around to her navel. Her breaths became heavier. Under the sounds of the water, a low moan passed over her lips. A large tear made its way down her face before it was washed away. Ten years. Ten damned years. The fingers of her two hands were touching now, intermeshed in a way, like the gears of a clock. Slow, methodical, reliable. Back and forth... She jerked straight up so quickly she almost smashed her skull against the showerhead.
“Good Lord, LuAnn!” She exclaimed this to herself. She cut off the water and stepped out of the shower. She sat down on the lid of the toilet and hung her head between her knees; the light-headedness was already passing. Her wet hair sprawled across her long, bare legs. The floor became sopping wet as the water poured off her body. She glanced over at the shower, a guilty look on her face. The muscles in her back bunched together, the veins in her arms swelled large. It wasn’t easy. It just wasn’t easy at all.
She rose on unsteady legs, toweled off, and went into the bedroom.
Among the costly furnishings of her bedroom was a very familiar object. The clock her mother had given her ticked away, and as LuAnn listened, her nerves began to reassemble themselves. Thank God she had stuffed it in her bag right before almost being killed in that trailer so many years ago. Even now she would lie awake at night listening to its clunkiness. It skipped every third beat and at around five o’clock in the afternoon it would make a noise like someone had lightly smacked a cymbal. The gears and wires, the guts of the contraption, were tired; but it was like listening to an old friend strum on a weathered guitar, the notes not what they should be, ideally, but holding comfort for her, some peace.
She pulled on a pair of panties and then went back into the bathroom to dry her hair. Looking in the mirror she saw a woman on the brink of something: disaster probably. Should she start seeing a shrink? Didn’t you have to be truthful in therapy in order to make any progress? She mouthed this question to her reflection in the mirror. No, psychotherapy wasn’t going to be an option. As usual, she would just go it alone.
She traced the scar on her face, letting her finger feel each contour of the ridged, damaged skin, in essence reliving the painful events of her past. Never forget, she told herself. It’s all a sham. All a lie.