She's Not There (16 page)

“That's too bad.”

“No. He was a jerk. All he wanted to do was get high and have sex.”

Sounds perfect,
Caroline thought, having done neither in years. “I hope you use protection…”

“Oh, God. Do I look like a complete imbecile?”

“You were arrested for driving under the influence,” Caroline reminded her, the words out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“And we were doing so well.”

“Sorry. I shouldn't have said that.”

“No. I deserved it. It wasn't the smartest decision I ever made.”

“I just don't understand.”

“I know that,” Michelle said sadly.

“Then enlighten me. What made you get behind the wheel of the car that night? What were you thinking?”

“We've been through this a million times. I think the whole point is that I
wasn't
thinking.”

“You could have killed someone. You could have
been
killed.”

“I'd only had a couple of drinks. I didn't think they'd go to my head like that.”

“You're such a smart, beautiful girl,” Caroline persisted, unable to stop herself, “and you keep doing all these self-destructive things. You quit school; you drive drunk; you smoke; you don't eat…”

Michelle jumped to her feet. “That's right. I'm a total fuckup. Unlike your other precious daughter, who I'm sure would have turned out perfect.”

“Whoa. Wait a minute…”

“No.
You
wait a minute. It's my turn to ask
you
something.”

Caroline held her breath.

“What if it had been me that night?”

“What are you talking about?” Caroline asked, although she already knew the answer. “What night?”

“The night Samantha disappeared. What if it had been me?”

“Oh, God. Michelle…”

“Would you have spent fifteen years mourning my loss every damn second of every damn day? Would you have let your marriage fall apart? Would you have flown off to Miami…to Tacoma…to Calgary? Would you have been so desperate to believe the word of an obvious con artist? Tell me, Mother. Would you have given a shit if it had been me?”

“You can't be serious.”

“And you haven't answered my question.”

“Because it's so ridiculous. I love you more than anything in the world. You know that.”

“Still not an answer.”

“What do you want me to say? I would have been distraught, for God's sake…”

“As distraught as you were when you discovered Samantha was missing?”

“I don't understand. This was never a competition.”

“No, it certainly wasn't.” Tears filled Michelle's eyes, and she raised her chin to keep them from falling. “A competition is when everyone has a shot at winning. And I was always going to come in second, wasn't I?”

“That's not true.”

“It
is
true. Samantha was the golden girl. It was true fifteen years ago, and it's even truer now. Just the remote possibility you might see her again makes you happier than I ever could.”

“That's so unfair.” Caroline lowered her head. The next thing she heard was the sound of the front door slamming.

“W
hen did she check in?” Caroline asked.

“Yesterday morning,” Peggy said.

“Why didn't you call me right away?”

“I couldn't until she gave me permission.”

“I had no idea she was even back in town.”

“I don't think anyone did except your brother.”

“Steve knows?”

“He was here all morning.”

“Really?”

Peggy shrugged, as if to say,
Go figure.

“How is she?”

“She's here, isn't she?”

“Here” was the Marigold Hospice on Harney Street in Old Town, a block from the Old Abode Chapel. The hospice was a two-story red brick building that had once served as a drop-in center for the homeless. It had been converted into a facility for the terminally ill two years ago, and Peggy had left her job at San Diego Hospital to become its first director.

“How long does she have?” Caroline asked.

“No way of knowing for sure. The average length of stay is anywhere from three days to two weeks. But you never know. Some last months; others don't last a day. We've had one resident here for almost a year. You just never know.”

“Did you tell her I was coming?”

“I did. She seemed pleased.”

The phone at the reception desk rang. The young Asian volunteer picked it up at the end of its first ring. “Good afternoon. Marigold Hospice,” she announced. “Amy speaking. How can I help you? Yes. I'll transfer your call.” She pressed a series of buttons on the keypad, then replaced the receiver.

Seconds later, a buzzer sounded, signaling that someone was at the front door. Amy stretched toward the big red button on the wall that released the lock and admitted a family of four to the glassed-in foyer. She promptly rose from her seat and opened another door into the beautifully appointed reception area, where Caroline and Peggy were standing in front of four large, overstuffed chairs. The chairs were grouped around a coffee table, in front of a gas fireplace and a large-screen TV. “Would you mind signing in, please?” Amy directed the man and woman to the guest register.

“Why do we have to sign in?” asked their son, a towheaded boy of about five.

“Safety precaution,” Amy told him. “In case of a fire, we need to know how many people are in the building.”

“Come on, kids,” their mother said. “Let's go see Grandpa.”

“Do you know what room he's in?” Amy asked.

“Oh, yes. Thank you.” The family disappeared down the interior hallway.

“You allow children?” Caroline asked Peggy.

“Children, dogs, cats. You name it. Whatever makes people feel more at home. You're doing a great job, Amy,” Peggy told the young volunteer.

“Thank you, Mrs. Banack.”

“So are you,” Caroline told her friend.

Peggy brushed off the compliment. “Speaking of jobs, I should get back to mine. Becky's in room 104.” She sighed. “Just be prepared. She doesn't look quite the way you remember.”

Caroline took a long, deep breath and entered the interior hallway. Standing in front of the closed door to room 104, she took another deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and knocked.

“Come in,” called the weak but familiar voice.

Caroline pushed open the door, careful to keep her emotions from registering on her face. Not that this was difficult. Her natural physical reaction when confronted with a tragedy of any sort was to shut down. Her face would go blank; she would get almost preternaturally calm. A defense mechanism, Peggy had once explained, although the press never failed to excoriate her for it, tarring her with the labels “cold” and “unemotional,” when the exact opposite was true.

The room was in relative darkness, the only light coming from whatever late-afternoon sun had managed to penetrate the draped window on the far wall. A TV across from the bed was tuned to an all-news channel, a constant scroll of the day's headlines streaming across the bottom of the screen. In the middle of the room was a hospital bed, and in the middle of the bed sat Becky, a gaunt figure wearing a quilted blue housecoat and a short dark wig that sat a little too low on her forehead.

“Caroline,” Becky said in greeting, muting the TV and waving her former sister-in-law toward the easy chair next to the bed. A second chair, this one high-backed and uncomfortable-looking, stood in front of the bathroom.

“Whose stupid idea was this?” Caroline said, the door swinging shut as she approached the bed and leaned in to give Becky a kiss on the cheek. She fought the urge to straighten the wig, fearing that such an intimate gesture might be perceived as presumptuous.

“Definitely not mine,” Becky said. “Sit down. You look terrific. As always.”

“Thanks.” Caroline touched her own hair self-consciously.

“It's really nice to see you again. How have you been?”

Caroline lowered herself into the light brown leather lounger, deciding to focus on Becky's eyes, which were the same intense brown they'd always been. “I'm fine. I'm so sorry you have to go through this.”

“Don't be. It's not your fault.”

“I wish I'd known.”

“You couldn't have done anything.”

“I could have been there for you.”

“Really? Would you have moved to L.A.?”

Caroline was silent.

“Sorry,” Becky said. “I don't mean to sound ungrateful.”

“I deserved it. It's such a cliché, telling someone you'll be there for them when you both know you won't be.”

“I certainly wasn't there for you,” Becky said. There was no need for clarification. Both women understood exactly what she was referring to.

“You had a lot of things on your plate,” Caroline said.

“And we weren't exactly close at that point.”

“Not like we used to be,” Caroline acknowledged. “I never quite understood what happened.”

“What happened,” Becky repeated. “Your mother. Your brother. Your mother.”

Caroline smiled.

“How
is
the dragon lady?”

“Still breathing fire.”

“Yeah. That woman will outlive even Keith Richards. Sorry, I shouldn't talk like that. She
is
your mother.”

“That's all right. It's hard to argue with the truth.”

Although the truth was that, in more ways than not, Becky was exactly like Caroline's mother. She was stubborn, opinionated, and unforgiving. Once you entered her bad books, you stayed there. Neither woman would budge an inch. Mary had never forgiven Becky for persuading Steve to elope to Las Vegas without a word to anyone until the deed was done. Becky had never forgiven Mary for not welcoming her into the family with open arms. It hadn't helped that she'd made absolutely no attempt to win Mary over. Mary liked to be wooed almost as much as she liked to nurse a grudge, and Becky hadn't given her that satisfaction. Steve, an outwardly strong man whose confident swagger belied a surprising weakness at his core, had been caught in the middle, his allegiance constantly vacillating between the two. The marriage was doomed from the start. The fact that it had managed to survive a full three years after the breakup of Caroline's own marriage was a constant source of amazement to her.

“So fill me in on everything,” Becky instructed. “How's Michelle?”

“She's okay.”

“Just okay?”

“She's a teenager. What can I say?”

“Things still strained with Hunter?”

“We manage. Apparently he's seeing someone.”

“No kidding. Is it serious?”

“According to Michelle, it is. She says they're talking marriage.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“No feelings one way or the other,” Caroline lied.

“Do you think they'll start a family?”

“Probably. From what I understand, she's a lot younger than Hunter.”

“And how do you feel about that?” Becky pressed.

“I can't do anything about the fact that she's younger.”

“I meant about Hunter starting another family.”

“I know.”

Becky nodded understanding. “What about you?”

“What
about
me?” Caroline asked.

“Are you seeing anybody?”

“God, no.”

“Why not? You're a beautiful woman. You're smart. Interesting. I'm sure you could have guys lining up.”

“A lineup of men is the last thing on my mind.”

“What
is
on your mind?” Becky asked.

“Actually, I try
not
to think most of the time.”

“Probably a good idea. So what do you do when you're not thinking?”

“I eat, sleep, go to work. The usual.”

“You went back to teaching?”

“Finally found someone brave enough to hire me.”

“You've had some bad luck.”

“Guess we all have.” Caroline looked toward the TV. Her eyes had adjusted to the dim light. They had yet to adjust to Becky's sunken cheeks and pasty complexion. “I understand my brother's been here.”

“Yeah. I called him yesterday, after I checked in. Checked in to check out,” she said with a wry chuckle.

“I'm surprised you called him.”

“Why?”

“Well, neither of you was exactly the other's biggest fan.”

Becky shrugged, her head falling back onto her pillow. “We needed to talk. I owed him that.”

Caroline waited for her to continue and was almost relieved when she didn't. Whatever unresolved issues Becky and Steve had between them were none of her business. If Becky felt she owed Steve an explanation or an apology for slights either real or imagined, then who was she to argue? If wiping her marital slate clean allowed Becky to die in peace, then she was entitled to the opportunity. Caroline only hoped her brother was mature enough to listen to whatever his ex-wife had to say. “Is there anything I can do for you, anyone you want me to call?”

“No. I never had a lot of friends. You were pretty much it.”

“I'm sorry we lost touch.”

“It wasn't you.”

Caroline nodded. Becky was right. It hadn't been Caroline who'd pulled away. For whatever reasons, their friendship had hit a speed bump after Samantha's birth, and it had pretty much crashed and burned after she'd disappeared, both women too preoccupied with their own problems to make the effort necessary to get it up and running again.

“I owe you an apology,” Becky said now.

“For what?”

“I was so jealous of you. Your perfect marriage, your perfect children, the way you just popped those babies out. You had the perfect life.”

“Not so perfect, as it turned out.”

“No. I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault,” Caroline said, repeating Becky's words.

Becky closed her eyes.

“Do you want me to leave and let you get some sleep?”

“No. Please stay. There are things that need to be said.”

Caroline remained in her seat, saying nothing, watching Becky's chest rise and fall with each labored breath.

“You didn't deserve what happened,” Becky said after a long silence.

Caroline shrugged, even though she knew Becky wasn't watching. She pushed back the tears that threatened.

“Not just Samantha disappearing, but everything that happened afterward. The suspicions, the accusations, the way the press treated you…”

“I don't care about any of that.”

“You lost everything—your marriage…your friends…” She opened her eyes. “What am I talking about? I treated you just as badly. Worse—I was supposed to be family.”

Caroline shook her head, dislodging the tears that had been hovering. “Please don't feel guilty.”

“I think about her, you know. Samantha. Not a day goes by that I don't picture that sweet little face and wonder what happened to her, how her life turned out.”

“You think she's alive?”