Page 121 of Strangers She Knows

“You treated me like a child—”

“We didn’t want you to be afraid,” Kellen said.

Rae glared at Kellen. “I am sorry I was a sucker about Mara Philippi. I’m really sorry I made a promise not to tell you about her. That was a stupid thing to do because I was mad at you.” She looked back and forth between Max and Kellen. “But it’s your fault, too, because you didn’t trust me.”

Kellen’s hackles were up at being so plainly criticized for what she had thought was the right thing to do.

But look at her daughter, sitting straight, speaking up for herself, and not, as Verona had said, letting her grievances fester. When had Rae become so clear-sighted, so mature? When had she become a young woman?

“I’ve never been a parent,” Ruby said softly, “but it seems to me she does have a point.”

Verona leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms, and made a concurring, humming sound.

Max and Kellen exchanged looks.

Kellen nodded at him.

“Look, kid, we’re parents. Your parents.” Max reached for Kellen’s hand and pulled her onto the chair next to him. When they faced Rae, they did so as a united front. “We’re going to make mistakes. And this time, you’re right, we did. You were hurt because of it.”

“And Mom was hurt!” Rae rose up on her knees.

“And Daddy almost died getting you to a hospital,” Kellen reminded her.

“None of that would have happened if you’d told me the truth!” Rae was mad—and offended.

“Maybe,” Kellen said. “Mara Philippi got to the island through guile and deceit. Her goal was to kill me and all who were dear to me. Even if we’d told you, she would have come after us. It would have been different, but one or all of us would have somehow been injured. Daddy’s right. We made a mistake. As you become an adult, we’ll try not to make any more—but we will. So will you. That’s why God made love—so when things go wrong, we’ll always come back to each other.”

Rae stayed on her knees, unwilling to let go of the moment. Finally she dropped back on her heels and sighed. “Yeah.”

Ruby slid old, slow hands through Rae’s hair. “Your mother seems like a very smart woman. Don’t you agree?”

“Yeah.” Rae leaned into the caress as if she craved the comfort—and knew that Ruby craved human contact.

Ruby said to Max and Kellen, “You two have a daughter who is smart and dear, and it’s lovely that you’ve taught her so well.”

“I’m proud of them,” Verona said. “They’re a family.”

“That’s rarer than one might think.” Ruby smiled, but her lips trembled.

“Miss Ruby, what horrible thing happened?” Rae asked. “Guns don’t shoot themselves. Why didn’t you allow my mommy to have her guns? What were you afraid of?”

52

Ruby sighed. “It’s another sad story. Do you really want to hear it?”

Verona said, “I want to hear it. I want to understand.”

“These children—they read my journal.” Ruby spoke to Verona. “They told you about it?”

“Rae told me every word,” Verona assured her.

“Then you know about my father, what he was. He worshipped power, he lived to create fear, and as the war proceeded, he lost more and more control of his newspaper. It wasn’t merely that he was diminished in the eyes of the world; everyone he had crushed and hurt and bullied took the opportunity to laugh in his face.” Ruby smiled as if that pleased her. “After the war ended, he had only one chance to retrieve his power. He had to force me to wed Alfred, that disgusting old man. Alfred still had influence, and he wanted me.”

“That’s atrocious!” Rae’s color was high, her face burned with fury.

“My father was atrocious, a man without honor, and Alfred was unfit for Patrick to wipe his boots on.” Ruby ran a trembling hand across her forehead. “It was so long ago, but I remember…” She looked around the room as if she saw the people as they lived through the scene. “Mother was here with me, and Hermione, when Father brought Alfred up to the attic, this attic, where I still lived.”

At Ruby’s words, images of angry words, of gunfire, of two powerful, elderly men and three women on the defensive filled Kellen’s mind. Max, Verona, Kellen and Rae leaned forward, transfixed by Ruby’s fierce retelling of the story.

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