The Seacrest (27 page)

Or had I subconsciously engineering the whole, sordid mess?

Don’t be stupid.

I turned the key. The engine roared to life.

I have to tell Libby. I can't keep something this big to myself.

I put the Jeep into gear and headed for The Seacrest.

Chapter 61

June 5th, 2013

9:30 A.M.

I
stopped to pick up Ace and my DVD of “The Birdcage” at the farm and then headed for The Seacrest. I figured one thing Ian could probably do was watch movies, and if I could provide a little humor for him and Libby, this would be the perfect show.

Ace sat contentedly in the seat beside me, his tongue lolling in the open air. Tunes blasted from the fifties and sixties station on the radio, improving my mood.

“Beautiful day, huh buddy?”

He woofed, and then actually smiled.

I ruffled his coat and downshifted around a tight curve.

“Yesterday” came on the radio, and Paul McCartney’s words reminded me how deeply I loved Libby, how no matter what happened, I’d cherish our times together in youth and over the past few days. But I knew I needed to support her right now, because she had to be going through hell.

How did someone handle the news that an abusive husband who had reportedly died three years earlier was actually alive, coming home, and would need twenty-four-hour-a-day care for the rest of his life?

I decided to be neighborly and gentlemanly—difficult as that was for a grouch like me—and try to help where I could. I was sick and tired of being bitter and depressed. I resigned to reject that version of myself. No more moping around like a wounded animal. No more feeling sorry for myself. And no more hating my brother for something he didn’t do.

Okay, so I could still hate him for stealing my wife. But her death was an accident, and I knew in my heart Jax hadn’t meant to go over that cliff and kill them both. I also realized that maybe I’d subconsciously driven Cora into his arms by not loving her enough.

I felt a lightening of my spirit, as if something dark and heavy lifted away and blew out across the ocean.

I wound the Jeep up the curving oyster shell drive. The mansion loomed into view, bringing so many mixed memories it was almost hard to handle. I realized, in a flash, that nothing would ever be the same.

Rudy’s black sedan wasn’t in the drive, so there would be one less barricade between me and Libby. Fritzi, I could manage. I hoped.

I parked around back and entered through the kitchen. Fritzi was on her knees in front of the dishwasher, leaning in to pry something out of the back. Ace trotted over and nosed her in the side.

“Hello, Ace.” She chuckled and turned to me. “Finn? Come help me. A fork is stuck in the back. My arms aren’t long enough.”

I hurried to her side. “No problem. I’ll get it.”

After a few minutes of wrestling with the utensil wedged into the rack, I backed out and sat on my haunches, handing it to her with a flourish. “
V
oilà.
Here you go.”

“
Danke
, Finn.” She beamed, bright and happy, as if our lives hadn’t changed and been tumbled upside down in the past few weeks in ways that would never come back to normal again.

“And how’s my doggie? How about a nice big bone?” She reached into the fridge for a bone she’d saved for him. “Here you go.”

Ace took it to the rug under the table and began to gnaw on it, his big tail thumping.

Libby came into the kitchen with a tray, looking exhausted. “Finn? What are you…”

“Hi.” I jumped up and took the heavy tray from her, setting it on the kitchen counter. “Can we talk? It’s important.”

Her eyes started to flare, but the anger quickly faded. Deflated now, she leaned against the fridge with eyes closed, massaging her temples. “I guess so.”

I noticed a baby monitor flashing on the counter.

Fritzi rose to the occasion. “I will listen for the mister.” She scooped the dishes off the tray and began to squirt them with soap and water. “You go ahead, Miss Libby.”

“Outside?” I said, nodding toward the summerhouse.

“Okay.” She walked slowly beside me, and we said nothing until we sat in our usual chairs overlooking the sea.  

“I brought a movie,” I said, feeling lame the minute the words left my mouth. “I mean…for Ian.
The Birdcage
.”

Her brows furrowed. “I don’t get it. Why?”

“I thought it would be something he could do in bed, I guess. Maybe cheer him up. You could watch it with him.”

“Oh.”

I’d expected her to erupt in fury when I dared to show up on her property. This zombie reaction was definitely worse.

“What’s wrong, Lib?” Again, the minute the words slipped out I felt like I’d made another huge mistake.
Everything
was wrong. What a stupid question. “I mean. I know you said not to come over. But I just wanted to tell you something…huge.”

With a hint of interest, she glanced at me. “Huge?”

“I went down to the firehouse this morning, asking around. You know, about the fire.”

“Of course.” She sat up now, her eyes focused on mine. “What’d they say?”

My voice caught and it came out throaty and choked. “It was electrical. Supposedly started in the bathroom.”

Her eyes widened, she let out a deep sigh, and she lay back against the chaise lounge again. “Whoa.”

I explained how Jax had thought it was me all those years, and how I’d read through the emails to see if it were true. I also shared the conversation I had with Berra.

Standing up, I faced the sea, crossing my arms over my chest. “The fire wasn’t caused by either of us. But we both thought the other was to blame.”

Libby stood and took my hand, standing beside me, looking out to the deep green swells, the bright winking sun on the boats and sand. “I’m so sorry, Finn.”

I hadn’t expected that. I’d expected shock and surprise. But she’d actually reached past the obvious and addressed the root of my problem, targeting the heart of it.

She got up and hugged me. “So many years of loss. My God. You two could have been real brothers. Friends, maybe.”

A lump swelled in my throat. “It’s killing me, Lib. I rejected him for something he never did. I didn’t give him a chance to explain. I condemned him without evidence.”

She rubbed a hand along my arm to soothe me.

I closed my eyes. “And now he’s gone. It’s too damned late.”

Libby sighed. “How strange,” she said. “It’s like what I did to you.” Her face worked with emotion.

“You’re right.” I stared at her for a long moment. “It’s the
exact
same thing. I hadn’t thought of it that way.” I turned and looked toward the house, as if maybe Ian would be watching out the window. But he couldn’t stand, and unless he dragged himself there, it was impossible.

She sat back on the edge of the chair, her head down. “You’re here, right in front of me, but it’s like you’re gone, too, like Jax.” With tear-filled eyes, she lifted her face to me. “Because I can’t have you.”

“Libby.”

“No, there’s no point. I’m married. He’s alive. He’s here.”

“There
has
to be a way,” I said, trying to choke back my emotions.

“How?” Her shoulders shook. “He’s meek now. He doesn’t speak much. Something happened to his brain, I think, in the explosion.”

“What?” I moved closer to her.

“His whole personality is different, as if he’s regressed to a child, almost. A docile, quiet, obedient child.” She began to weep now, tears streaming freely down her cheeks. “He can barely move. He lies in bed, or sits. He’s going to need very special care. More equipment. A nurse to spell me at night.”

My heart broke for her. “I can help.”

She shook her head. “No. It’s too hard for me to see you. It’s just a reminder of what we can’t have, Finn.”

I settled beside her on the chaise lounge, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “I’d rather be in the same room with you forever, knowing I can’t have you that way, than never see you again.” Her hair smelled so good, her skin felt soft as silk. It was all I could do not to kiss her.

She must’ve felt it, too, for she pulled away and shook her head again. “I don’t know…”

“Think about it. I could do the night shift. Or help during the day. We can research what services are available. We’ll get you some help.”

“Social services is coming later. They’re going to arrange for things he needs. Supplies. Equipment. A chair. A lift. Shower adaptors.”

“Oh, Libby.” I heard the desperation in her tone, saw the defeat in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.” Now it was my turn to understand her pain. “How did our lives turn out this way?”

She cried quietly now, unashamed of the tears tracing her cheeks. “So many years lost.”

“There’s got to be a way we can fix it,” I whispered, stroking her hair.

She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“I’ll think on it,” I said. “But meanwhile, when’s the last time you ate something?”

She blanked out. “I can’t remember. Yesterday, I guess.”

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s have Fritzi fix you up some breakfast. You’ve got to take care of yourself, too.”

I helped her up and we walked slowly toward the house. It upset me that my strong, self-confident woman had changed overnight to a wounded bird.

I wouldn’t give up. No matter what the circumstances, I’d be with her, even if it meant I had to wait on her disabled husband, just to be in the same house.

Somehow. Some way. I’d figure it out.

“Come on. Let’s ask Fritzi for some blueberry pancakes.”

Chapter 62

June 15th, 2013

I
went back to The Seacrest to help each day, in spite of Libby’s protests. Rudy and Fritzi, on the other hand, seemed grateful for my help, even though they both were well aware that she and I had intimately reconnected before Ian came home.

Libby assured her father that we had broken it off, once she knew her husband was alive, but I wondered if she was doing it more for herself, or for him. I wasn’t sure how Rudy felt about Ian, how much he knew about the past. In spite of everything, he welcomed me back into the home like old times, and I fell into the old role of good ol’ Finn from the garden and stables, asked to come inside to handle a few more jobs.

On the second day, Ian refused to eat the cereal I brought up to him, pushing it away and uttering one word. “Crap.”

I’d asked him what he wanted instead, but he said nothing, just turned his eyes dull and defocused, staring at the television. I left the tray on the bedside table, but he hadn’t touched it by lunch.

At the end of the first week, a few more hints of nastiness poked up through the supposed childlike façade.

I had decided to pick up a dozen donuts that morning, and stopped by The Dunkin Donuts near Paines Creek Road to choose an assortment of tempting confections.

Libby, her father and Fritzi, had been working hard. They still hadn’t found an aid to come by at night to watch Ian, and had been taking exhausting shifts. They needed a break, and although they liked to eat healthy, I didn’t think they’d care if I brought a few sugary treats into the house for a change.

Libby accepted a donut with a wan smile. She sat back down at the kitchen table with her coffee and her lemon-filled powdered donut, her eyes glazed. “Thanks, Finn.”

Fritzi frowned, pretending to be offended and usurped, then smiled and picked two glazed donuts out of the box and set them on a plate. “Well. I guess I don’t have to make breakfast.
Wunderbar!
”

Rudy was still sleeping, having taken the night shift.

“Is Ian up yet?” I asked. It was only seven, but he’d been waking earlier over the past few days.

Libby nodded. “I think so. I heard him mumbling on the monitor. I was just about to make eggs.”

Fritzi started to jump up. “That’s my job, little missy.”

I held up a hand. “No. These donuts and a glass of milk should take care of him. You gals need a rest.”

I set aside a chocolate glazed—my favorite—then carried the rest of the box upstairs with a tumbler full of cold milk.

“Morning, big guy,” I said, maneuvering my way through the doorway.

He lay back in bed, still flat on his pillows, uttering a low grunt.

It didn’t faze me. “Hungry? I brought a special treat. You can pick whatever you like.”

As hard as it had been for me to help care for a man who hurt my Libby in years gone by, I made myself face the fact that he was changed now, a completely different man. Crippled, probably brain damaged, and helpless, I had to let it go.  

I headed for the bed and flipped back the cover of the box. “What kind do you like?”

He stared at the ceiling.

“Oh, okay. Want me to help you up?” I set the donuts and milk down on the bed table and reached for his controller, pushing the UP button. Slowly and with some creaking and squeaking, the head of the bed rose higher.

He still lay like a lump, so I reached behind and adjusted his pillow. “There you go. Better?”

He grunted again. “Guess so.”

At least he was talking now.

“Comfy?”

“I have to take a leak.”

I tried not to show any reaction, but I hadn’t done
this
before. “Okay.” I forced a smile. “How do I help you?”

He pointed to the urinal on the table by the window. “I’ll need that.” He wiggled a bit in bed to get his arms over the covers, then pulled down the sheet and blanket to expose his pajama bottoms. “And I need you to stop being so fucking cheerful,” he added.

Whoa.
Where had that come from?

“Sorry,” I said, trying to sound less like a cheery nurse. “I haven’t done this much.”

He took the urinal from me. “No kidding.”

I turned my back and walked to the window to open the blinds. “Let me know if you need help,” I said.

“I’m done.” With a rustle of clothing, he covered up. “Why do they have a freakin’ gardener doing nurse work, anyway?”