Happily Never After

And he’d carried a torch for Sophie for about fifteen years now, although she’d never given him a single ounce of encouragement. The day Sophie’s wedding fell through, Trig had been so angry with Tom that they’d had to call a doctor to sedate him.

She’d never been comfortable around him, but she tried to compose her features. “What do you mean, Trig? Stay away from what one?”

“It’s not safe to be with any of them now,” he said, and the flat warning in his voice made her skin crawl. He frequently didn’t quite make sense. Was this just another of those times?

He still wore his sandy-brown hair in the buzz cut the wrestling coach had required and his muscles were still cut sharp and powerful, as if he thought he might be called on to throw down a few opponents on the mat at any moment.

“People have to pay for their sins,” he said. “And you’d better stay away from him. He’s dangerous when he’s angry. He’ll make you pay.”

Usually she tried to be pleasant to Trig when she encountered him, but today she’d had enough. Today she had nothing left.

“Who?” Her voice was sharp. “Who is dangerous? Who will make me pay?”

Trig rolled his eyes upward.

“Someone upstairs? Who? Do you mean Jacob? Do you mean Tom?”

Trig shook his head slowly. “I mean God.”

WHEN JACOB WAS SUFFICIENTLY talked out and liquored up, which took about three hours, he collapsed into a deep, noisy sleep. And then, wishing he could do the same, Tom went back downstairs.

Everyone was long gone, the house straightened up to perfection. All that remained was a refrigerator full of plastic-covered food and a note from Kelly that read simply “Jacob’s friend Joe will be coming over at nine. I’d appreciate it if you can stay till then. If you can’t, please call me.” And then her telephone number.

It was eight o’clock already. And he didn’t have anywhere to go—just an empty hotel room that he hadn’t even checked into yet. So why not stay?

He started to throw away the note, but he changed his mind and pocketed it instead. He didn’t delude himself. He liked knowing he had her number, even though he’d be a damn fool if he ever called it.

Fresh air. That’s what he needed. Jacob’s pain had filled that bedroom like a poisonous gas, and Tom had been breathing it for hours now. He didn’t know how Jacob had survived the past four days, with nothing but agony for air.

Just one more reason never to get married. Tom had been keeping a list for a decade—and he was up in the hundreds now.

The backyard garden of the Griggs’ house was beautiful, but right now Tom needed open spaces with no walls. He made himself a cup of coffee and went out front to drink it.

He plopped down on the stoop, undoubtedly verboten in a swank neighborhood like this, but so what? He put the coffee on the step below him, between his feet, and stared out into the cool, clear evening.

He liked autumn in Georgia. He liked the crisp little silver stars, swimming in the black sky like minnows. He liked the breeze in the Chinese elm, which hadn’t lost its leaves yet. He liked the smell of wood fires burning in nearby houses.

He shut his eyes. Several streets over, someone’s dog was barking. The sound echoed on the sides of hills three miles away, and the dog must have enjoyed that, because he kept barking. Maybe he imagined he was a wolf.

After ten minutes or so, when the coffee was drained, Tom felt better. His head had cleared enough that he could think.

And the first thing he thought of was Kelly.

On the surface, she hadn’t changed much at all. Still skinny and unaffected, still not quite sure how to control her long, curly hair. Still an honest look in those wide blue eyes, and a vulnerable bow at the top of those full, pink lips. Still about ten times sexier than she had any idea she was.

But on the inside, things had definitely changed.

For one thing, she didn’t love him anymore.

He heard footsteps coming down the sidewalk, not uncommon at eight-thirty in a safe, comfortable neighborhood. He wondered if Kelly was coming back to check on him, to see if he’d stayed as she’d asked.

But it was Samantha Mellon, Sophie’s little sister. He felt his muscles brace. He’d seen Sam scurrying out of Jacob’s house today the minute she’d laid eyes on Tom. He assumed that meant she didn’t trust herself to be polite.

So if she was coming back now, it must mean she’d decided it was time for a little therapeutic rudeness. He climbed down the stairs, down the front walk, hoping he could meet her on the sidewalk. She might get noisy—she had every right to. The important thing was not to wake Jacob.

To his surprise, when she saw him her steps quickened. She reached him with hands outstretched. “Tom!”

He allowed her to take his hands into hers. This wasn’t what he’d expected, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain if she’d decided not to claw his eyes out.

“Hey, Sam,” he said, smiling. “I hardly recognized you, kiddo. You’ve really grown up.”

Her pretty smile faded. “Yes. I look like Sophie now. Everyone tells me so. Does it—does it make you uncomfortable?”

He laughed. This was really strange. But kind of refreshing. Was it possible she was willing to discuss Sophie openly? He wouldn’t do it, of course, but it was a novel feeling to think he could.

“Of course not,” he said. “Sophie was beautiful. And so are you.”

“Thank you.” She squeezed his hands. “I’m so sorry, Tom. I shouldn’t have avoided you earlier. It’s been so long, and I wanted so much to talk to you. I just didn’t know how to begin.”

“Well, you’re off to a good start. What did you want to talk about?”

She didn’t answer right away. In the moonlight it was difficult to tell, but he thought maybe she was flushing.

“I—I think I just wanted you to know that, in spite of what Mother and Sebastian may have said, not everyone in our family hates you.”

He smiled. “I think that just leaves you, doesn’t it? But I appreciate it, Sam. It’s generous of you.”

She shook her head. “It’s not. It’s merely the truth. I don’t know why you didn’t marry Sophie, but I do know that we’re—” She bit her lower lip, as if she couldn’t think of the perfect word. “Mellons aren’t easy people. And look at Sophie—she can’t even live on her own. She’s not stable, and she never was, not really. So how could you have brought yourself to marry her? I wanted you to know I don’t blame you.”

Now he was the one who didn’t know what to say. He felt as if he’d just received a papal blessing—a blessing he hadn’t asked for and didn’t deserve. “Sam, I’m sorry. I appreciate what you’re saying, but this really isn’t something I’m comfortable talking about.”

She tilted her head to get a better look at him. “Not even to me?”

“Not even to you.”

“I see.” She dropped his hands slowly. “Of course, I understand. I probably shouldn’t have come all the way out here, bothering you when obviously you’re tired.”

“It’s all right, Sam. I’m glad you came. It was good to see you again.”

She still looked slightly crestfallen. He wondered what kind of reception she’d been expecting. Had she thought he would go down on his knees and thank her for the absolution? She must know that the only one who had the right to “forgive” him was Sophie herself. And that wasn’t likely to happen.

She must also know that, in the past ten years, he’d found a way to stop tormenting himself about all of this. He was quite contented now to carry on unforgiven.

But instead she seemed to feel oddly rejected.

“Well, I should go home, anyway,” she said. “Mother will be wondering where I am. I’m the only one she has left now, you know. She gets possessive. It’s…it’s pretty hard.”

“Sam—”

She laughed, a little too loudly. He instinctively glanced toward Jacob’s window, hoping he wouldn’t hear.

“I didn’t mean to whine,” Samantha said. “It’s not that bad, and I remember how you hate melodrama. Sophie told me about that—she said she would have to learn to control herself because emotion irritated you.”

Had he said that? Probably he had. Sophie’s broad, unpredictable and, to his view, overindulged emotions had annoyed the hell out of him. She’d cried for hours, and he hadn’t felt a thing. But perversely, when Kelly had wept in his arms, every tear had been a little drop of fire.

What a bastard he’d been.

Correction. What a bastard he still was.

Just ask Darlene, who had been crying on the telephone this morning. Knowing she could go on for hours, he’d set the phone on the bed and continued packing. When he came back, she’d been gone.

“Sam, look—”

“No, it’s all right, really. I still don’t blame you.” She seemed to be trying to find some middle ground between the eager welcome she’d started with and the uptight formality she’d briefly switched to. It obviously wasn’t easy for her to find the right note. In the end, they didn’t actually know each other very well, in spite of the fact that they’d come within twelve hours of being in-laws.

“I just want to ask you one thing, Tom, and then I’ll go. It’s important. Have you seen Sophie lately? Do you know where she is?”

“Where she is?” Tom frowned. “I thought she was either…in residence somewhere, or at home. Isn’t that the case?”

“Usually. But—” She ran her fingers through her hair. “We don’t know where she is right now. Mother called the clinic in Raleigh, but Sophie is just a voluntary patient, and apparently she checked herself out. She said she was coming home.”

“But she didn’t?”

“No. At least—”

A leaf skittered past. Samantha glanced behind her, as if she expected to see Sophie walking toward them. For some strange reason, the gesture made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“No, she didn’t come home. We’re not making this public, but Mother and I haven’t heard from her in weeks. And we need to find her. Mother is… She’s…” She reached up and began playing nervously with the buttons on her shirt. “Oh, you don’t care about all this.”

“Yes, I do. What about your mother?”

She looked at him with huge eyes, her fingers still picking at the top button. “She just found out she’s dying. It’s a brain tumor. Inoperable. Funny, I always thought that word was just too cliché. But it really means something. It means there’s no hope.”

“Oh, my God. Sam, I’m sorry.”

“No, you aren’t. She was terrible to you. She’s terrible to everyone. I’m the only one left now, though, and so I get it all.”

For a minute he thought Samantha might cry, too. She deserved to cry, with everything she’d been through—and all the heartbreak that undoubtedly lay ahead, as she nursed a dying mother.

But why bring her tears to him? Did she have no friends, no lover, no intimate of any kind? Surely she hadn’t kept her emotions bottled up for ten full years, waiting for him to materialize and listen?

Or maybe she’d done exactly that. God, these irrationally emotional Mellons! He was sorry for her. No wonder she was on such an emotional seesaw. But frankly, he just didn’t know if he could take it right now. Being with Jacob had sapped him of any strength he had possessed when he’d arrived.

“Sam, I’m sorry, but it’s been a long day, and I think I’d better—”

“I know. You’re tired. I shouldn’t have come. But there’s something else I have to tell you. I hope—hope you’re not staying long in Cathedral Cove.”

“Why?”

“That sounded rude, didn’t it? I didn’t mean it to be. It’s just that Mother is— She’s not herself. There’s no telling what she might say if she ran into you. And Sebastian is here, too, did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t. But so what?”

She tried to smile, but she was opening and shutting that top button repetitively, as if she couldn’t convince herself she had properly fixed it. The overall effect was extremely odd.

“Well,” she said finally, “it’s just that…if you think Mother hates you, you should hear the names Sebastian calls you.”

Tom stifled a yawn. Sebastian Mellon didn’t frighten him in the least. In fact, it might feel wonderful just to take the gloves off and have it out with that effete snob once and for all.

“I’d love to,” he said. “Send him over.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“BRIAN, STOP. I’d like to drive by Jacob’s house one more time, just to be sure he didn’t end up all alone.”

Kelly’s ex-husband, who was giving her a lift home from the dealership, where she’d just deposited her car for service—no one who knew Lillith was likely to postpone routine maintenance anymore—made an annoyed sound.

Even so, he obediently slowed the car and signaled for a right-hand turn.

“What’s the problem?” He glanced over at her. “I thought you said Beckham was keeping an eye on Jacob.”

“I think he is, but I just want to be sure. Tom is—” She was silent a moment, watching the commercial buildings give way to masonry cottages, and then to elegant brick houses with wide, well-manicured lawns. Jacob and Lillith had been able to buy in one of the best Cathedral Cove neighborhoods. Not the truly elite old-money enclave by the river, where the Mellons still reigned, but close enough.

“Tom is what?” Brian sounded grumpy. He had moved to Cathedral Cove and opened up his sporting-goods store only about six years ago, and, like many newcomers, he seemed to think the story of Sophie’s wedding was about seventy-five percent trashy fiction.

And even if it was true, his sympathies naturally lay with Tom Beckham—one, because Tom was just a regular guy, comparatively speaking, and two, because everyone knew those Mellons were a bunch of inbred freaks.

Kelly sighed. “Well, after what he did to Soph—”

“It was ten years ago, for God’s sake,” Brian broke in. “You don’t know what the guy is anymore.”

“Exactly,” she agreed, not in the mood to fight. Besides, Brian’s down-to-earth practicality had always been his most appealing quality. She had felt very comfortable, very safe, in the two years of their marriage. “He’s an unknown quantity. That’s why I want to check.”

“Fine. We’ll check.”

But when they got to Jacob’s street, she could immediately see Tom’s expensive silver sedan in the driveway. She knew it was his because it had been the only car remaining on the street when she had left Jacob’s house after doing the dishes. Also, it had Atlanta license plates, and it just screamed overpaid big-city lawyer.

Tom must have pulled it into the driveway sometime after she’d gone. That had a settled-in feeling, and she relaxed a little. Jacob was probably fine for tonight.

“I guess Tom did stay,” she said softly. “Good for him.”

“Of course he did,” Brian said. “Guys don’t walk out on their buddies.”

She glanced at him with a wry smile. “Just on their women? Well, you should know.”

“That’s right,” he responded archly, and she could see the white of his teeth as he grinned in the darkness. “Especially if their women are cold-hearted bitches.”

She chuckled. This was an old joke with them, as comfortable now as a well-worn sweater. After two years of a pleasant but fire-free marriage, Brian had confessed that he’d fallen in love with Marie Eller, his lovely, loyal accountant. Kelly had been sad but not quite heartbroken. She knew Brian deserved a passion she simply didn’t feel—and apparently Marie could give him that.

What she’d told Tom today was true. She and Brian had divorced without acrimony, and they’d never stopped being friends.

In fact, right now Marie was the one who was giving Brian a hard time. Last month, she had asked him to move out, telling him she needed “space” and time to think. He was pretty upset, but handling it in his usual sensible way, working hard and hoping for the best.

“Okay, boss-lady, now where? Shall we do the official Sophie’s Wedding World Tour? We’ve checked on the runaway groom. Shall we go by the House of Usher and see how the rest of the weirdos are doing?”

Kelly had heard people call Coeur Volé “the House of Usher” before. She supposed it was inevitable. The Mellons were reclusive, the structure was Gothic and Sophie’s story offered such great fodder for the imagination. But it always seemed a bit cruel to her. It made a joke of things that she knew weren’t funny.

But she decided to ignore it. He didn’t mean anything, really. The working class always bashed the snobbish old guard. She’d done it herself, before Sophie had picked her for a friend.

“No, thanks,” she said. “I’ve had enough drama for one day. Did I tell you Samantha came by to see Jacob? She wasn’t at the service, but she stopped in at the house afterward.”

“Yeah? Did she bring her crazy brother?”

Kelly settled onto the truck’s sensible cloth seats and shut her eyes. Brian had owned this pickup ever since she first met him, and the familiar smell and rhythmic rocking were relaxing.

“You mean Sebastian?” She shook her head sleepily. “No, Sebastian lives somewhere in North Carolina. He’s not even in town.”

“Yes, he is.”

She opened her eyes. “What are you talking about? Sebastian is back in Cathedral Cove? How do you know that?”

“I saw him. Today, in the store. I sold him a hunting knife and a pair of sneakers. Too bad he didn’t want to buy a gun. I would have loved to do a background check on that one. I’ll bet we’d find that he’s been in more loony bins than his sister.”

She sat up straight. “Sebastian is back?”

“That’s what I said, like three times now.” He cut a quick glance her way. “What’s wrong with that? He’s weird, but no weirder than the rest of them.”

“But…” She felt a tightness in the pit of her stomach. What a coincidence that Sebastian should come home right now, just when Lillith died, just when Tom showed up for the first time in ten years.

And Lillith had told Kelly that Sophie was back, too. If all of it was true, this would be the first time the whole Mellon family—and Tom Beckham—had been in Cathedral Cove together since the wedding.

She braided her fingers in her lap. It just didn’t feel right. It felt downright unnatural, as disturbing as if she had looked up and seen the stars crawling out of their prescribed places, sliding slowly into some new, mysterious configuration.

Could this be what Trig had meant when he’d said, “He’s dangerous when he’s angry”? Could he have meant Sebastian? Kelly had seen Sebastian angry only a few times during their teenage years, but it had been a sight to remember. Trig, living next door, might have seen even more.

Was it possible that, in his foggy, incoherent way, Trig had been trying to tell her something important?

“Talk to me, Kel. What’s the big deal about Sebastian being home?”

She tried to focus, to articulate her vague anxieties. “It’s just that…if Sebastian’s here, and Tom’s here…” She paused. “I wonder if he knows Tom’s here?”

“So what if he does? You think Sebastian will hunt down Tom Beckham and kick his ass for what he did to sister Sophie ten years ago? Cripes, will you people ever let that damn story go? It’s over, for God’s sake. Get a grip.”

She told herself that Brian probably was right. Even lava-hot emotions could do a lot of cooling down in a decade. At the time of the jilting, Sebastian had been very defensive for Sophie. But though Sebastian and Sophie had been inseparable as young people, they must have grown apart through these past few years.

Sophie had spent so much time in institutions. And Sebastian, Kelly had heard, had married out in Raleigh. He had children and a career, stockbroker or something. Obviously, at least to some degree, he had moved on.

They were nearing the Mellon house now. She could see the tower from here. It was completely dark tonight. But that didn’t mean it was empty, only that the lights were out. She shivered, thinking of someone standing up there, in the shadows, looking down.

How much could you see from there?

Could you see the foot of the East River Bridge?

“Brian,” she said suddenly. “Will you sleep at my place tonight? I’ve put a bed in the guest room, so you wouldn’t have to take the sofa.”

He tilted his head, smiling. “Spooky old dump finally starting to give you the creeps?”

“No,” she said quickly. “It’s just that—”

She thought of the waiting, silent trees around her studio. She thought of Lillith’s face covered in blood, and Trig standing in Jacob’s kitchen, talking cryptically about God and danger.

To heck with saving face. Tomorrow she’d be strong. Tonight she needed a friend. “Yes.”

Brian drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Well…. Marie won’t like it.”

“Oh.” She tried to control her disappointment. But the idea of being out there alone tonight, with no car… “Never mind, then. I wouldn’t want to cause trouble between you two. If you think you shouldn’t—”

“I never said that. I just said Marie wouldn’t like it. Maybe that’s a good thing.” He waggled his eyebrows. “A little jealousy might be exactly what the doctor ordered.”

“Thanks,” she said, almost ashamed of the relief that coursed through her. She definitely had to get back to being tough tomorrow. “I appreciate it, Brian. I really do.”

She turned her head and stared out the window. They were approaching the spot where Lillith had hit the tree. In a minute they would have to cross the East River Bridge, over to the area unofficially known as the “Left Bank.” Over there, the houses were smaller, funkier, just starting to come back from a long economic down-slide.

Tight zoning was a luxury the Left Bank couldn’t afford. Artsy yuppie condos were haphazardly mixed in with coffee shops, antiques mini-marts and New Age candle boutiques. Beyond the Left Bank lay the rural fringes, where your neighbors were mostly trees, or people who owned guns and horses and dogs named Zeke.

It was out there that Kelly had bought her new place, a surprisingly charming run-down cottage with a detached garage that made the perfect studio. So though she definitely lived, in Cathedral Cove parlance, far, far on “the wrong side of the bridge,” she loved it. Most of the time.

Just not tonight.

“Look,” Brian said. “Someone has already put up a marker for Lillith.”

Kelly saw it at the same time. On the side of the road, just a couple of feet from the tree, a waist-high circular sign stood, announcing to all passersby that tragedy had visited this spot.

Through the years, she’d seen a hundred roadside markers just like this one. But they had always seemed comfortably impersonal, just small, circular plaques that said Drive Carefully, sometimes decorated with crosses, sometimes with flowers, depending on how recent the accident had been. She had always driven by without much more than a generic whisper of sympathy.

But this one was different. She wondered who had put it there. It hadn’t been there this morning.

Jacob hadn’t been in any shape to think of such a gesture. Someone had, though. At least four arrangements of flowers clustered on and around it—and an elaborate floral wreath had been hooked over the top of the sign, like a crown or a halo.

And there was something else. Was it a ribbon? There was very little wind tonight, and yet the thing—was it fabric?—was fluttering oddly, so light it seemed to defy gravity.

She squinted. What was that, draped over the left side of the wreath, undulating, as if it were alive and trying to get her attention?

It looked almost like a streamer of fog, or moss…or…

Something cold gathered around her heart. No, it couldn’t be that.

The breeze was playing with it.

“Brian, stop,” she cried.

He sighed even as he put on the brakes.

“Now what? Come on, Kel, I’m tired. Whatever it is, can’t it wait until—”

But she had already opened the car door and climbed out. She couldn’t hear the end of his sentence.

She walked over to the marker and took the soft, fluttering, weightless scrap into her numb hands. She turned it over. She traced its familiar, exquisite pattern with disbelieving fingers.