Damage Done (15 page)

But she’d have to tell her, or risk some dramatic scene the
night of the event. Rachel pictured her mother, dressed in a couture gown, her
blond hair done up in a fanciful style on top of her head. Savannah would
recognize Dylan, rage spreading across her face, and then she'd collect
herself, aware of the eyes on her, and whisper in Rachel's ear, "How dare
that filthy redbone bastard come here. You poor thing, I'll talk to security,
they'll have him removed."

“What about his father, Rachel?” Savannah asked
impatiently.

"Dylan Easton is the boy's father."

Rachel shoved an enormous bite of chicken salad into her
mouth so she'd have plenty of time to consider what to say after she'd seen
Savannah's response. It was much more emotional than she expected. Savannah
gasped audibly, both hands reaching for the table, gripping the sides. The
color drained from her face, her delicate chin hung slack, and violence took
over her features. It took her a good thirty seconds to compose herself, a
record for a woman who'd mastered the art of self-control in public places.

"Rachel. Have you seen him?" she asked, a frog in
her throat, hands reaching shakily for the glass of ice water.

"Yes, I have. And I'm okay. Really, Mother. It was
surprising, but I survived. There's something else, don't panic."

"I won't panic."

"His law firm donated fifty thousand dollars to
ReachingOut, they’re sponsoring the gala."

"That's impossible, Jameson and I know every firm with
that kind of money in this town,” she said, absently raising a single finger to
signal for the waitress.

“No, I assure you it is possible,” Rachel argued, “I
already deposited the check.”

“What does he do there, is he a secretary?" Savannah
snickered.

The waitress approached, but Savannah's eyes studied her
daughter while she ordered, "A vodka martini, please. No olives."

"No, Mother, he's an attorney. Not that it matters. I
needed to tell you so you wouldn't be surprised if he made an appearance. I
understand your concern, but truly, I’m fine."

“Well, I won't have that boy coming back into your life and
trying to manipulate you with money or his brain dead child or any other thing
he thinks he can use to hurt you. You'll have to return that money. I'll write
you a check for the gala.”

"Listen, I can't give him the money back. I met with
his partners, and they were incredibly supportive, what would it look like in
the community if we returned a check like that? They would be insulted. And
then people might start asking questions, I don’t want gossip bringing those
skeletons out of the closet."

She'd managed to escape any of the rumors that probably
flooded through the town when she'd lost the baby, and the incident had been
kept out of the paper, a benefit of having friends in high places, or low
places, Rachel wasn't sure. But she didn't go this long without it coming up
just to stoke the fire herself.

Savannah reached for the martini the moment the waitress
set it down, her eyes never leaving Rachel's face as she waited for her to
finish.

“Mother, I'm developing a strategy to push ReachingOut into
the community at large, to offer shelter and temporary housing to women leaving
their abusers. I'm not equipped to manage an organization of that size by
myself, I need the exposure and I need the gala to be a hit, and I can’t
alienate donors by letting it get out that I returned a donation because I’m
still bitter over an ex-boyfriend."

"I'm sorry, dumplin', he just makes me so angry. He
has no business bullying his way into your life like that, you know that’s why
he gave you that money, so he could hurt you."

"I understand, Mother, I do.”

Savannah tried to persuade her, tried to guilt her, begged
her, and finally agreed to let it go as long as Rachel swore she'd never let
Dylan get close to her or her children.

She was three martinis in and Rachel was worried they'd be
shopping all day while they waited for the alcohol to wear off. Her mother's
alcoholism had taken flight soon after Frank died, she'd already started to
repeat herself.

"That family should have just stayed gone," she
said a second time, "There was nothing left for them here, and that boy
never deserved you, Rachel."

"I agree, Mother. Please don't let it upset you."

Somehow these conversations always turned into Rachel
trying to comfort her.

"There are a million places where that boy could have
sent his son to school," she went on, "It's strange to me that he
would choose a place so near, but when you needed him the most, he couldn't get
far enough away. That's all I'm trying to say. I just want to know that you're
going to be okay, that this won't send you back to a dark place."

"I'm really not worried, Mother. I’m fine. But I've
already talked to Dr. Valentine, I'm staying proactive. I promise. Let's go
look for gowns, okay? And I want to talk to you about helping with the
gala."

She wasn’t fine, she couldn’t stop remembering how he
tasted when he kissed her in her office the week before. She’d gone home and
relived his hands on her a hundred times before she took a sleeping pill and
passed out.

And she hated herself for it. Anything was better than
remembering how his voice vibrated against her skin, or the ache it stirred
inside her when he’d held her against the wall and kissed her. She imagined his
fingers inside of her and how his dick would feel in her mouth.

Anything, even Savannah complaining that Rachel would never
find a gown because she was too tall or too flat chested or too pale, anything
was better than punishing herself for not having the sense to be disgusted by
the thought of him touching her.

Did she have any self-respect?

***

Savannah's vodka wore off and they made their separate ways
back to Harrison Township, Rachel's strapless green Oscar de la Renta draped
carefully over her backseat. She'd have to have it altered, but it was
stunning, and well worth the hefty pricetag- an afternoon of shopping with her
mother. It would make her green eyes greener, and the contoured bodice was
incredibly flattering to her enormous ass and otherwise flat figure. She
promised Savannah she'd make a trip to the stylist in the next few weeks, that
she wouldn't humiliate her mother by showing up with the mousy brown hair she’d
kept in a ponytail for the last three years.

She hit the interstate and her cell rang, it was Sarah.

"Rachel, hey, oh my God, you're never going to believe
what just happened, where are you?" she huffed, excited or terrified,
Rachel couldn't tell.

"I'm driving, what happened?"

"Okay, okay - I'm trying to catch my breath, but I had
to call you," she panted into the phone, "I just ran to the car to
get my phone and call you."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes. Okay, so Nathan and I just went up to the
school, the team was having a session with the grief counselor, which was
weird, we thought they were only going to do that just those few times, but
anyway- " she paused, finally catching her breath, "Anyway, the coach
asked the parents to come in today and so we just left. The counselor brought
in Michael's parents to talk to the boys, to let them know they didn’t think
they were responsible, you know? That they weren't upset with them for what
happened. You are never going to believe this. Michael's father? It’s Dylan
Easton!"

Rachel had hoped their connection would get lost in the
drama of what happened to Michael. She'd spent so long fading into the
wallpaper of their community, there were only a handful of people who
remembered that Dylan was her long time boyfriend, or that she'd wound up in a
mental hospital after he'd left her. She’d wanted to keep it that way. But she
saw now that was foolish, of course their relationship would only add to the
excitement of the gossip, no way it would stay buried.

"Rachel? Did you hear me? Your old boyfriend from when
we were kids, Dylan? He's Michael's father!"

"No, I heard you, I'm sorry," she said, "I
did know, I heard some ladies talking about it at the nail salon last week."

What if somebody had seen him at her office yesterday?

"You already knew? And you didn't tell me on
Saturday?" Sarah yelled, "You whore!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't know for sure, and I've been too
busy with work, and- I didn't even think enough of it to call you, I thought
maybe they were wrong because you'd told me his last name was something
else."

And she knew if it came up that Sarah would ask what
happened between them.

“Whatever, you should have told me! When did y’all break
up? He had to have had him in high school, did he cheat on you?"

"I have no idea, I haven’t thought about him in
years,” she lied, “How did the session go? What did they say?"

Changing the subject was safest.

"Well, it was terrible," Sarah said, her tone
softening, "His poor mother, Rachel, she was so upset and she looked
horrible. She sat there, and her husband had his arm around her and they sat
with Dylan at the front of the room. They were so nice and compassionate, and
the mother cried. But she pulled it together and told the boys that she could
never blame them, that it wasn't their fault. It was all just so heartbreaking.
Everyone was crying. It was just awful."

Rachel was sick with the thought of any parent being in so
much pain. She wondered if she would have the grace to comfort other children
as she waited for her own to finish his slow decline into the grave. She wasn't
sure she could be that woman.

"Did they tell y'all what's happening with
Michael?" she asked.

"The doctors told them last week that he isn’t going
to make it, they already met with the kids on his team at Ellis. It was all so
unexpected, the coaches didn’t know until the last minute that they wanted to
talk to the team, I think we just didn't even know what kinds of questions to
ask, or if we should ask at all, you know?"

"No, I understand, I can't imagine how they must be
feeling right now."

"I want to talk, but Nathan is walking up and he'll
give me a hard time for racing to call you," Sarah said, "I'll call
you later."

Rachel tried not to vomit. Maybe Dylan had cheated on her,
too. Why would that have been so hard to believe? She’d refused to have sex
with him, he must have been fucking other girls. She reached into her purse for
the Valium, it was already half-empty. She'd have to call and ask Dr. Valentine
for a refill. And then he'd want to schedule an appointment.

Goddammit.

Ordinarily she'd be annoyed with the group of skinny
bitches with the platinum hair who congregated at the front door of Steps
Beyond Childcare Center at the end of their long days filled with facials,
tennis lessons and sushi luncheons, and she'd think things like, "Hurry
the fuck up, nothing important happened in your life today, get your spawn, get
in your car and go home."

But today she felt more pity than annoyance, and hoped they
all knew just how precious every moment with their children was. She walked
towards the group as quickly as she could with a smile and a wave of
acknowledgment, praying they'd think she was in a hurry and wouldn't slow her
down with interrogations about Kenneth and the kid from the football game.

"Hey Rach," Mary Elizabeth called as she breezed
by, "You hear about old DA Addison? Arrested for drunk driving! Can you
believe that?"

"That's terrible," Rachel called back, "Hope
nobody was hurt!"

Thank God for some new personal tragedy to keep them
occupied.

When she walked into the classroom, Lauren smiled and ran
over shouting, "Mommy! Mommy!"

It was something she hadn't done much lately, she was
growing too big and independent. Rachel took the time to savor it. She gathered
her into her arms and squeezed, felt her warm little body and thought how small
and fragile she felt, and thanked the gods for keeping her safe and happy. How
lucky she was not to be sitting near her in a hospital room, the clock ticking
away at the hours left before she would lose her forever.

"Hello, my precious most beautiful girl, did you have
a wonderful day?" she asked her sweetly, pressing her face into Lauren's
curls and taking note of her smell, play-doh and strawberry shampoo.

"Of course I did, and I'm going to be the belle of
your ball, Daddy is going to dance with me all night," she said.

She and Kenneth had agreed the kids could attend for a
short while, and then Kenneth's parents would take them for the night. The gala
was Lauren's favorite topic of late, she was always sharing her latest
fantasies about fancy gowns and glass slippers.

"Wait until you see the gown your mémère and I found
for you today, my angel, you're going to love it."

And she did. They'd picked out a delicate pink silk gown,
trimmed in lace, something straight out of a Jane Austen novel, complete with
gathered sleeves, an empire waist and tiny matching gloves that would reach
above her elbow. Her fourth birthday was around the corner, and Rachel had a tiara
to give her, the perfect little accessory to make Lauren feel on top of the
world. She hugged her close and silently promised her all the magic any
princess could dream of.

But even holding her own healthy baby hadn't dulled the
pain she'd felt when she pictured Michael's mother trying to pull herself
together to comfort a room full of teenagers who felt responsible for killing
another boy on a football field, or the agony she must be feeling as she waits
for the nightmare to end. To lose her baby when she had, it had been terrifying
and traumatizing. The thought of losing Hunter or Lauren, that was unbearable.

Rachel felt compelled to do something for her, to give her
a token of sympathy, something to let her know how much she hurt for her.