A Seahorse in the Thames (16 page)

“Rebecca.” I say my sister’s name for no other reason than to express horror at what she saw. And what she agreed to.

“Oh, she was a mess. I had to drive us back to Santa Barbara. And I had to convince Leanne that Rebecca had a terrible case of the flu to explain the shell-shock. By the next day Leanne didn’t seem to care Rebecca had a nasty case of the flu, ’cause she was already moaning over the disappearance of the bum.”

“And what happened to James?” I ask, finally understanding what Rebecca went through.

“Who knows? My guess is Gavin disposed of the body somehow. Probably took him out in his sailboat and dumped it in the ocean.”

“No one ever came looking for him?”

“Why would they? He was a drifter. No one else around campus was surprised he up and left. He was a bum. That’s what bums do.”

“And Leanne?”

“Well, Leanne took it harder than I thought she would. Three weeks later when the semester was over and we all moved home for the summer she was still miserable. It was pathetic. And it was driving Rebecca nuts.”

“Did she know that James was dead when you guys agreed to stay quiet?”

Mindy shrugs. “I dunno. She didn’t want to talk about it.”

“She never cashed the check,” I continue, though the three of us already know this.

“No, and that was driving Gavin nuts. It was actually driving me nuts, too. Rebecca started talking about telling the truth to Leanne and I told her that was a stupid idea. It would ruin their friendship and probably Leanne’s relationship with her dad. But Rebecca kept saying it was wrong what we did. She wouldn’t let it go. On the day of her car accident she told me she couldn’t live with it anymore. She was going to tell Leanne the truth, that Gavin was responsible for James’ disappearance. I was furious with her but she wouldn’t listen to me.

“I don’t know when she told her but I suspect when Leanne came to get her that night at your house, Leanne already knew something was up with me and Rebecca and her dad, and that it involved James. Rebecca had told her that much. Unless you know something I don’t know, no one knows what happened after Rebecca got into the car with her. Rebecca told me in the hospital she didn’t remember the accident at all. I think Leanne went suicidal when she found out, that’s what I think. Anyway, before I left for Pepperdine, I went to visit Rebecca one last time, at Gavin’s request. I asked her about James. She said she didn’t remember taking James down to see Gavin. And she didn’t remember anything about a check.”

I’m fairly certain Rebecca did remember the check, at least that she had it and it represented something terrible. I’m certain she’d been lying to Mindy and the McNeils when they questioned her about it, using her terrible injuries as a cover-up. I’m also certain Mindy went back to Gavin at some point for more money.

“I take it you didn’t stop at fifty thousand,” I say.

Mindy looks startled.

“Kevin McNeil has accused me of being in partnership with you,” I continue.” He seems to think I am planning to extort money from him.”

Mindy tosses her head.” Look. I’m not the one who’s guilty here. Gavin is the one who killed James. He’s the one who bribed us to play his dirty, little game. It’s not my fault!”

“I think we need to go. We’ll be late,” Priscilla says coolly. She has been silent this whole time.

Mindy looks to Priscilla and then back to me.” Late for what? Are you meeting with him? ‘Cause if you are, remember I’m in on it. That was the deal.”

Priscilla rises from her place at the table. Isabel is still asleep, but she walks to the car and gets in, slamming the door.

“What is
her
problem?” Mindy says to me.

“Thanks, Mindy,” I ignore her question and stand up.

“Hey! What about my half?”

“I never said I was interested in making any money off this terrible story, Mindy. What happened to Leanne and my sister ought never to have happened. But I am glad to finally know the truth. It needed to be told. I appreciate that.”

I start to walk away. Behind me I hear Mindy curse.

I get into the car and start the engine. Mindy is standing by the table with her hands on her hips watching us drive way. She looks livid.

I drive off and am two blocks away when Priscilla says, “So now you know.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“I’m glad we know the truth, Priscilla. I am. I’m glad to know that Rebecca regretted what happened, that she felt remorse over what she did. I’m glad she was not like Mindy. And I think she kept that check because she
did
remember why she had it. That’s the only explanation that makes sense. She just wanted Gavin to think she didn’t. Giving him back the check would’ve meant admitting to him—and to herself—that she remembered what he had done. And that she had been a part of it. And I think when she left with Cosmo, she really wanted to be free of it at last. That’s why she wrote the note.”

Priscilla doesn’t argue with me.

I have to believe it’s because in spite of her earlier misgivings about my wanting to find out the truth about the check, she knows I’m right. Not only does knowing the truth help us understand what probably happened in Leanne’s car that night, it shines a whole new light on what Rebecca was like before the accident robbed her of so much. Yes, she was independent. Yes, she was headstrong. But she had a compassionate heart. And an honest one. I had not known this about her. I thought those were characteristics that came about after the accident, when in reality, Rebecca had always been that way.

We say little as we drive the rest of the way to Dad’s. Priscilla is no doubt lost in troubling thoughts, just like I am, not the least of which is what do we do with the knowledge that James Leahy died in the McNeil house seventeen years ago from a lethal blow to the face.

A
s we take an exit off Interstate 5 for San Juan Capistrano, I sense Priscilla is breathing differently. I try to imagine what she must be feeling, but it’s hard to put myself in her shoes even though she is my twin. Her attitude toward Dad since he divorced Mom has always baffled me.

Our father, Merrill Poole, is not the easiest person to get along with. Even before Rebecca’s accident, Dad was a bit unapproachable, in that he was stingy with showing affection; at least that is how I saw it growing up. He was passionate about his job and I suppose he was very good at what he did—contract negotiations—but that passion kept away from home a lot. When he was home, he seemed happy to be there, but most times he was exhausted from his schedule. He liked his solitude when he was home. I remember him losing himself to weekend sports on TV and the Narcolepsy Couch—my and Priscilla’s name for the sofa in the family room. Dad didn’t mind helping us girls with our homework or teaching us to fix a flat tire or even handing down discipline when we had broken a rule, but I think he liked doing only those fatherly things because he could perform them at a fairly safe distance. There wasn’t a great deal of emotional involvement in helping Priscilla and I understand fractions.

To be fair, I was mad at him, too, when he moved out. It was like he was running away from the family
he
had decided to begin. Worse, he did what the rest of us also really wanted to do and figured we couldn’t: he escaped. I was mad because I felt he was supposed to be the captain. The captain always stays with the sinking ship. But Dad bailed, leaving his wife and daughters to struggle to stay afloat on a boat that seemed doomed.

I couldn’t stay mad at him year after year, though, not like Priscilla did. I didn’t have it within me. I saw what that kind of bitterness did to Priscilla, and my mother, and I just didn’t want to live that way. I’m glad for Priscilla’s sake that she’s decided she has had enough of it herself.

I pull into Dad and Lynne’s driveway. It’s a nice house in a well-to-do neighborhood. Dad and Lynne both work in Irvine, but they choose to live in San Juan Capistrano because the quaint seaside town is slightly removed from the chaos of urban sprawl that starts a few miles away in Mission Viejo and spreads north to Los Angeles like a thick oil spill. Isabel has been awake for the last fifteen minutes and she is eager to get out of her car seat.

“
Un instant, cherie
,” Priscilla says to Isabel over her shoulder. Then she turns to me. “You are going to keep secret what Rebecca asked you to keep secret, right?”

As much as I wanted to know the truth behind that check, I agree with Priscilla on this. I’m glad I was the one to find it, and not Mom, and I’m even glad to know how Rebecca came to have it. But Priscilla is right. Mom and Dad do not
need
to know about it. Some day that may want to know. But this is not the time. I’m sure of it. And it’s not me who should tell them. It is Rebecca’s story to tell.

“Of course,” I answer.

“Good.” Priscilla puts her hand on the handle of the car door. “Well, let’s do this.”

“It will be okay, Pris,” I say, wanting to encourage her.

“Just don’t expect a miracle, Lex,” she says, opening the door.

Priscilla helps Isabel out and the three of us walk up to the front door. Before I have a chance to ring the doorbell, it opens. Dad has been watching for us. He stands there, dressed in khaki pants and a cotton camp shirt, with a look on his face that I don’t see very often. I guess” apprehensive” describes it best.

His eyes seek out Priscilla first but since I speak to him before she does, he quickly turns his face to me, unwillingly perhaps.

“Hi, Dad,” I lean forward and kiss him on the cheek. “We’re here.”

“Hi,” he says absently but his gaze has already wandered away from me. Again his gaze falls on my sister. “Priscilla,” he says simply.

“Hullo, Dad.” I see my dad’s eyes widen at the accented lilt in her voice.

Dad hasn’t asked us in yet and though I’m sure he will, it’s awkward just standing there while he acclimates himself to the idea that Priscilla has spoken to him. He leans toward her, like he wants to embrace her, but he stops short and just lays his hand on her shoulder for just a moment. He quickly removes it and steps aside.

“Please. Come in.” His voice sounds strange.

We file past him and he seems to notice Isabel for the first time. “You must be Isabel,” he says, in a much calmer tone.

“And this is my seahorse,” Isabel thrusts Clement up so that Dad can get a good look at him. “I’m three.” She hold up her free hand, extending three fingers forward like a fat “w.”

“Very nice to meet you both,” Dad says, a little nervously.

We’ve made it past the flagstone entry when Laird appears at the entrance to the open kitchen area.

“Laird!” I say in surprise. “You’re here!”

I see Priscilla turning her head toward mine, no doubt wondering if I’ve tricked her and that the next person we will see pop out of the kitchen is Lynne.

“Laird wanted to see you very much. And he absolutely insisted on meeting Isabel,” Dad laughs, but it is an anxious laugh. “Lynne is visiting her parents tonight. Um, Laird, this is Priscilla, and this is her daughter—your niece, I guess!—Isabel.”

“Hi,” Laird looks at Priscilla uneasily. He has always known he has a half-sister named Priscilla and that she is my twin. But it’s obvious that actually seeing my genetic clone in the flesh is ponderous to his ten-year-old mind.

“I thought we’d eat out on the patio,” Dad says. “I’ve ordered some pasta and it’s already here, so why don’t we head on out?”

That Dad so quickly gets us to the dinner table is proof that he is wishing to fill every moment we are there so that there are no uncomfortable pauses. I guess I can’t blame him, but rushing out to the patio after just arriving seems a bit poorly timed.

“I think Isabel may want to use the rest room first,” Priscilla says.

“Oh! Oh, sure, Laird, why don’t you show them where the bathroom is?”

Laird takes off down a carpeted hall and Priscilla and Isabel follow. Dad brushes past me and makes for the kitchen. I tag after him.

“Is white wine okay?” He scurries about the kitchen grabbing napkins and glasses. “I have some red, too. But it’s Alfredo I’ve ordered. I got a pizza for the kids. They will probably be happy with root beer, don’t you think?”

“Dad.”

“What?”

“Just relax, okay? Slow down. You’re making
me
nervous.”

He halts his rushing around for a minute and looks at me. “Yeah. Okay. I’m just not used to this.”

“Used to what? Eating?” I grin.

“You know what I mean.” He turns and walks out to the patio with a bottle of white wine, glasses, and a handful of napkins.

I follow him. Within moments, Priscilla, Isabel and Laird have returned and we all take our places around a glass-topped patio table.

It’s a beautiful evening and a slight ocean breeze keeps the flies away as we eat. Dad asks Isabel to tell him all about London and Isabel obliges by eagerly describing their flat overlooking the Thames, as well as her friend Gemma who lives down the hall from her and her distaste for Yorkshire pudding. Isabel’s juvenile chatter mixed with Laird’s occasional comments keeps the mealtime conversation light and casual. Priscilla answers questions as they are asked directly of her, but briefly and without a lot of enthusiasm. She lets Isabel carry most of the conversation.

As we eat cheesecake for dessert, I explain to Dad that Priscilla and I have a pretty good idea that Rebecca ran off to get married. We tell him about Cosmo and the likelihood that Rebecca married him last Saturday in Las Vegas. We also tell him we have no idea where they went after that, that it could possibly be Chicago, but no guarantees.

“Wow,” Dad says, absorbing the news pretty well. “Well, if he’s as nice a guy as these people say, then I guess I am happy for her. It’s high time something nice happened to Rebecca. I wish they hadn’t just run off, though.”

“When I find out where she is, I’ll let you know,” I tell him.

“Yes, please. By all means.” He pauses for a moment. “I guess that means she won’t be moving back to the Falkman Center.”

“I highly doubt it.”

He nods. “Think you will need help moving out her things?”

It’s a charitable thing to say. He knows he will not be needed. Clothing, books and knickknacks are Rebecca’s only personal belongings at the Center.

“I’m sure Mom and I can handle it. But thanks.”

When the children are done with their dessert, Isabel asks Laird if she can see his room and the two of them leave. Dad watches them go with an unmistakable pained look on his face. He is dreading being alone with Priscilla and me.

Come on, Dad. Don’t blow it now
, I say in my head. I mentally implore him to make the first move. It seems to take forever, but at last he turns to Priscilla.

“Priscilla, I’m so glad you decided to come home for a visit,” he says and he does sound like really means it.

Priscilla doesn’t say anything though in return. She is probably thinking,
Well, why wouldn’t you be glad? Should I have expected you’d be mad that I came?

“And Isabel is a beautiful little girl,” he continues, although somewhat uneasily.

“Yes,” Priscilla says. “She is the one completely wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. It surprises me to no end that God gave her to me.”

Dad smiles like he thinks he’s making an inroad. I have my doubts, though. I know Priscilla a little better than he does. “Why would it surprise you?” he says.

“Because people like us don’t deserve treasures like Isabel,” she says calmly. Quietly. As if she is only speaking to him.

Dad fidgets a little. “Like us?”

“I know it wasn’t the smartest thing to have kept you at a distance all these years, but closing that distance now doesn’t mean I was wrong about you.”

Oh, Priscilla. Can’t you just let it go?

Dad says nothing for a second but then he sits back in his chair. He looks angry. In a sad kind of way. “Why did you even bother to come, if it’s still going to be like this between you and me?”

“Because the way it is now is not the way it was before,” Priscilla says, and again I get the impression she is purposely talking in low tones. Maybe I should excuse myself.

But I don’t.

“It sure seems like nothing has changed,” Dad says.

“Before, you and I were not honest with each other. I am now being honest with you. I’d like for you to be honest with me.”

“You call this being honest? For Pete’s sake, I thought you were coming so that we could finally be done with all this, Priscilla!”

“That is indeed why I came, Dad. I do want to be done with it.”

“Well, you sure don’t seem like you are to me.”

Priscilla is completely under control. I think maybe she has had this conversation in her head a thousand times. She knows exactly what she will say no matter what comes out of Dad’s mouth.

“That’s because you want to pretend the past never happened. And that’s just not possible. You expect to have something that is impossible to have,” she says. “To be done living in the past does not mean you pretend the past didn’t happen. It means you learn to accept that it did. I’m choosing to accept the past because I want Isabel to know her family. My family is the only one she has. But my choosing this doesn’t change who you are anymore than it changes who I am.”

Dad throws up his hands. But his face looks different. It is like he has been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I’m not entirely sure what this means.

“People,” Dad says, swallowing before he finishes, “can change, Priscilla.”

“I’m sure they can. But the past doesn’t change. It stays the same. And I’m telling you the past is not something you can ignore.”

Dad sighs. “So it’s going to be war between us for the rest of our lives?” he asks sadly.

“No,” Priscilla says calmly.” It’s going to be truth between us. I have made the first move.”

Isabel comes running out of the patio doors. “Mummy! Come see his lizard! Come see!”

“What does Laird have, love?” Priscilla says with ease, turning to her daughter.

“He has a guana!”

“An iguana?”

“Yes, come see!”

“Excuse me,” Priscilla says to Dad and me. She rises from the table and follows a prancing Isabel back into the house.

Dad watches her go and then turns back to me, shaking his head.

“She is so stubborn,” he says

“She is just like you,” I reply.

“For crying out loud, it’s been, what, fifteen years since the divorce? It’s time she realized life isn’t always perfect.”

“Dad, we all dealt with what happened to our family in different ways—” but he cuts me off.

“But you got over it! It didn’t scar you for life!”

Well, that’s not exactly true. I have my scars. Any child of divorce does.

“The accident and your leaving Mom hurt me, too. In lots of ways.”

And Dad shakes his head like he’s annoyed with me. “I am not talking about
that
. I am talking about Lynne! It’s not like I planned it.”

Okay, I am a little confused. “I thought we
were
talking about Lynne.”

“I’m not talking about Lynne
after
the accident. I’m talking about Lynne
before
the accident! I didn’t plan that! I didn’t want that to happen. It just did.”

My mouth drops open. I feel my lips separate as the shock of what my father is saying envelops me. Lynne before the accident.
Lynne before the accident
.

“What are you saying?” I whisper.

“What?” Dad looks at me. He’d been talking to the air off to his left.

“What are you saying?” I say again, a little louder.

“What do you mean, what am I saying?”

“What do you mean ‘Lynne before the accident’?”

Now his mouth drops open as the same kind of nauseating shock envelops him.

He doesn’t say anything at first. But he doesn’t need to. I’m finally beginning to understand why Priscilla has held onto her bitterness for so long. Dad had been with Lynne
before
the accident. Priscilla had known this. Somehow she had known. She must have seen them together. And he’d assumed, all these years, that she had told me; that she had ratted on him to me. He assumed I knew but that I’d chosen to overlook his faults. He didn’t know Priscilla had kept his secret from me. Priscilla had let me think the worst thing my father had done was that he fell in love with another woman while mired in grief for his gravely wounded first-born child.

It all makes sense.

It was why Priscilla had stopped talking to Dad a few months before he moved out. It was why Priscilla reacted the way she did in the restaurant when Dad told us he was marrying Lynne, like him falling in love with her was something that had just happened within the last few months. It was why, just days ago, Priscilla refused to discuss with me why she had such a falling out with Dad all those years ago. It was why earlier today she had bolted from her beach chair when I said the horror of Rebecca’s accident had destroyed our parents’ marriage.

Priscilla had known that Dad was cheating on Mom
before
Rebecca got hurt. Dad didn’t run into the arms of another woman because of the accident. He was already involved with Lynne when he got the call in Tokyo.

This is what Priscilla meant minutes ago when she said it was not war she wanted between herself and Dad. It was truth. She wanted them to be honest with each other. Honest about the past. And the truth was, Rebecca’s accident was not the cause of the disintegration of my parents’ marriage, though it figured in. It was just ordinary, ages-old infidelity.

I cannot stop the tears that are forming in my eyes.

“She didn’t tell you,” Dad is saying, almost whispering it. “She never told you, did she?”

He leans forward and places his head in his hands.

He had been dead wrong about Priscilla.

And I had been dead wrong about him.

I am still in a state of stunned shock when Priscilla, Isabel and Laird come back out to the patio a few minutes later. I hastily get up under the pretense of wanting to take the wine glasses into the kitchen. But I’ve already caught Priscilla’s attention. She is eyeing me, wondering what Dad said while she was in the house that has upset me.

I flee the patio with the glasses and hope with all my heart that she doesn’t follow me. Wise Priscilla. She does not.

I spend several long minutes taking deep breaths and willing my trembling heart to be still. For the first time in a couple days my incision is pounding with pain
.

Do not think about it now,
I tell myself.
Do
not! Do not
!

I want to leave. I want to get in my car and go home where I can take in this new knowledge on my own turf. But Priscilla and my dad are finally speaking to one another after fifteen years of silence. I can’t suggest leaving until Priscilla is ready to go. I wash the glasses and place them in a drainer, focusing on the task of washing, trying at the same time to cleanse my mind of troubling thoughts.