Page 35 of Heartbreak Bay

“No shit, Mom. I mean, we’re mentioned in at least four of them. You know that, right?”

It’s more than four, and I don’t tell her. “Language, Atlanta.” My heart’s not in it.

“The actress playing you was crappy in the one I watched. They played her like she was probably guilty. And they had that prosecutor on, you know the one. He thinks you got away with murder.”

I’ve seen every one of the documentaries, listened to at least half of the podcasts. Most of them think I got away with it, or at least that I was aware of what Melvin was doing. I wasn’t, and the injustice of it still burns, but I’ve grown a lot of fireproof skin for that kind of stuff. It hurts that my kids have to walk the same inferno. But I know I can’t keep them out of it either.

I put my arm around her and hug her close. She doesn’t pull away. We lean against each other, sipping tea, and it feels good and peaceful and right until Lanny says, “School’s going to be awful today.”

“It’ll be awful for a while,” I agree. “And yet you’re going to go. Right? Head up, shoulders back, face the world. You know how we do it.”

She gulps the last of her tea. I do mine as well. “How come we always have to be the brave ones? How is that fair?”

“Because we can,” I tell her. “Because we have to. And no. It isn’t fair, not even remotely.” I relent a little bit, because I can feel the tension in her. “Let’s make a deal: half a day at school. Then we do something fun.”

“You’ll be here?” She glances over at me, then quickly away.

“In the afternoon I will,” I tell her. “I have to do some work this morning, sweetie. But this is Sam’s day off, so he’ll be here until I get back. Okay?”

She nods and takes our cups into the kitchen. I check my watch—it’s nearly 6:00 a.m. now—and as I do, she yawns and pauses in the doorway. “I think I’ll go back to bed for a little bit,” she says. “Thanks for the tea, Mom. Next time, just come talk to me, okay? I’m not a kid. I can help with stuff.”

I’ve known that for a while, but I’ve been looking at it completely wrong. I’ve seen it as conflict, as pulling away. But people change. God knowsI’vechanged from the naive child I was when I married Melvin Royal to the terrified, paranoid person I was when I arrived at Stillhouse Lake to the woman I am now—who’s maybe got a handle on the fear, if not the paranoia.

Lanny has filled in the spaces of her own life. And shehashelped. She can be my ally, and so can Connor. I only need to let go of the fear that keeps me from seeing that clearly.

At least I know what’s holding me back, even if I can’t get there instantly.

So I hug my daughter and tell her I love her, and I put her in charge of getting her brother up, ready, and to school. I’ve never done it before, but I give her the keys to my SUV. She looks at them, shocked, then at me. “I—I can take them?”

“Yes,” I tell her. “I’ll borrow Sam’s truck. He won’t mind. I know you’ll be careful.” The urge to tell herhowto be careful is strong. I manage to resist.

She clenches those keys so hard I think she’ll hurt herself, and her smile is a golden reward. “Thanks, Mom. I promise, no cruising, no giving rides to friends, no bullshit. Straight to school and back. And I’ll look after Connor.”

I just nod, like it’s an everyday thing that I let my seventeen-year-old drive my car. It isn’t. I know a lot of kids drive by themselves far earlier, but I’ve always been so ... in their lives. It’s tough.

But this is the clearest sign I can give that I trust her, and right now, she needs that.

When that’s settled, I talk to Sam about borrowing his truck for the day; as I thought, he’s just fine with it, barely even pausing before he agrees. He adds, carefully, “Do you need me with you?” And I realize that he’s trying not to express an actual concern, trying to give me the space I need. I put my arms around his neck and savor the gentle kiss we exchange.

“I always need you,” I tell him. “Butwithme might not be helpful this time. Two people looks more threatening than just little old me, and I’m doing some door-knocking in a small town.”

“And having a strange guy with you may tip the scales the wrong way,” he says, and nods. “I get that. But you know I worry, right?”

“I know.” I trace the line of his chin with my finger, relishing the feel of his morning stubble. “I’ll be careful. And Kez will know where I am too. I’ll call in after each stop and tell you where I go next. Deal?”

“Deal. You can bring me back breakfast. What’s good in Valerie? Doughnuts, maybe?”

“Doubtful,” I tell him. “But I can stop for them once I’m back to civilization. Might be two or so, by the time I make the drive to and from. Then maybe we can take the kids to a movie.”

“Got to be some kind of normal life out there waiting,” he says. “I mean it. Be careful.”

“I will.”

Coming back into the area around Stillhouse Lake feels like both a homecoming and a trauma. I can’t really separate those two, not anymore, but I still love the scenery even if I know I’m not welcome in it. I pass the turnoff to the lake, and our old house, and have to resist the impulse to see what the new residents are doing with my old place. I don’t need to stir up old memories and ghosts. There are too many to count.

Besides, the truce might not hold if the Belldenes spot me out here. I don’t need that trouble.

I take the tiny road that leads to Valerie.

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