The Bay At Midnight Part 27

"And she did all of that in addition to making a really beautiful home for him.Yes, she was busy with her work, but so was he.Your mother wasn't a bad wife." I steeled myself, knowing I was coming close to blowing her world apart. "The truth is," I said, "your father had a typical midlife crisis."

She turned her head to look at me then, frowning. "No, he didn't," she said.

"Yes, he did." I was emphatic. I wondered how much I should tell her. "Your mother has let you blame her for everything, but your father was the one who wanted to end the marriage. He wanted to-"

"Are you saying he cheated on her?" She was obviously prepared to argue that point with me. There was a deep furrow between her eyebrows.

I hesitated. "I think that he should be the one to talk to you about that, not me."

"I don't believe it." She folded her arms across her chest, on top of her ever-expanding belly.

"Yes, he had an affair," I said. "The woman he was seeing called your mom to fill her in. Do you know what that did to your mother? Do you care? Her heart was torn out. Imagine if someone you loved...imagine if you suddenly found out that Tanner, who you obviously trust and who is your friend, if you suddenly realized he was seeing someone else behind your back. Imagine that pain. Then multiply it by a thousand, because that's what it was like for your mother."

Shannon stared at me, stunned. For a moment, neither of us spoke.

"Why didn't she ever tell me that?" Her voice was quiet, a whisper.

"Why do you think?" I asked.

"So I wouldn't turn against Dad?"

"Of course."

She looked away from me, gnawing at her lower lip. "I can't believe Dad could do something like that," she said.

"He's human, Shannon. It doesn't make him evil." Glen would kill me. Julie might, too. "He was going through a screwed-up time and sometimes people think an affair will solve their problems. But the bottom line is that your mother is not in love with him anymore. She was hurt too badly and that trust is gone, and I think it became clear to both of them that they weren't right for each other any longer. The main thing they still have in common is that they love you you, and they always will. Your mother's struggled the past couple of years, trying to learn how to be a single woman again when she'd expected to be married to your father for the rest of her life. Finally she's met someone who's both a friend and a...romantic interest. Let her have that, Shannon. She needs that companionship. Please don't be selfish."

The tears were back in her eyes again, but they were soft tears this time, just lying along the base of her thick lower lashes. "Do you think I'm selfish?" she asked.

I hesitated. "I think it's normal for someone your age to be wrapped up in herself," I said. "Which is why it's usually hard for a teenager to be good mother material. You're really going to have to work at it if you keep this baby."

She blinked, and one of the tears trailed slowly down her cheek.

"I told her I didn't want her to meet Tanner," she said.

"Well," I said as I brushed the tear away with my hand, "why don't you fix that?"

CHAPTER 33.

Julie.

Last night, two amazing things happened. While talking with Ethan on the phone, I complained about my writer's block and how Granny Fran's latest adventure was eluding me. He asked me to tell him about the story, and I found that as I described the problem I was having with Chapter Four, I began to get excited about writing the scene. It was a relief to talk about something unrelated to Isabel's death or Shannon's pregnancy for a change, and I was grateful to him for the inspiration. I knew I had to be cautious, though. Writing had always been my refuge, and I didn't want to use it as my escape any longer. I wanted to find a balance between my life and that of my characters. It was time for me to let reality in.

The second amazing thing was a phone call from Shannon in which she'd apologized for her reaction to discovering that I was seeing-and sleeping with-Ethan.

"It's okay with me if you want to date," she said. "I'm sorry I made a scene."

I wondered where her change of heart had come from but decided to enjoy it rather than a.n.a.lyze it.

"Thank you, hon," I said. "That means a lot to me."

"And I want you to meet Tanner when he gets here," she added.

"And I want to meet him," I managed to say.

We decided to have a barbecue at my house once Tanner arrived so that he could meet my mother and Lucy and me all at once.

"Would that make him uncomfortable, though?" I asked. "I mean, would he be overwhelmed having to meet so many people at one time?"

"No, Mom." A little of her usual testiness was back in her voice and I knew our truce was fragile. "He's very cool about social situations and stuff."

"Okay," I said, and then I ended the conversation, afraid that if I dragged it out too long, we could move into dangerous territory-such as her proposed move to Colorado-and lose the ground we were gaining.

So I felt good as I drove to Bay Head Sh.o.r.es to visit Ethan this morning. Since it was the middle of the day in the middle of the week, the Parkway was not clogged with traffic, but I wouldn't have cared one way or another. I would have made that drive to spend twenty minutes with him, if that's all the time either of us could spare.

Ethan had told me that his father would be visiting him, so I picked up sandwiches at the deli for the three of us, wondering what it would be like to see Mr. Chapman again after all these years and what safe topics we might find to talk about. The day was lovely, if too hot, and the smell of the sandwiches in the bag on the pa.s.senger seat was enticing. The only twinge of anxiety I felt was when I turned onto Sh.o.r.e Boulevard and spotted the ca.n.a.l between two of the houses on my right. It was an involuntary reaction, a little twisting of something in my gut, but it had nearly disappeared by the time I reached Ethan's house.

I saw a car behind Ethan's truck in his driveway and a.s.sumed it was his father's, so I parked in front of the house on the street. As I got out of my car, I noticed that a plump, dark-haired woman was sweeping sand from the stoop in front of my old bungalow. How many hundreds of times had I performed that same task on that same front step?

"Hi!" I called, waving with a bit too much enthusiasm.

She looked up and returned my wave, an uncertain smile on her face as she resumed her sweeping. She probably thought I was strange.

I started to knock on Ethan's front screen door, but I could see straight through the house to his backyard and spotted him and his father sitting near the fence, facing the ca.n.a.l. I went into the house, dropped the sandwiches on the tiger-maple counter in the kitchen and walked outside. They didn't see me as I approached and my eyes were drawn to the yard next door, where two little boys played noisily in the circular, above-ground pool under the shade of the oak tree. It bothered me that the mother was sweeping out front instead of in the yard watching them. Something could happen to them in a heartbeat.

"h.e.l.lo!" I called as I neared the men.

Ethan stood when he saw me. Smiling, he moved forward, his hands on my arms as he planted a kiss on my cheek. "Good to see you," he said.

Mr. Chapman was getting to his feet. It appeared to be a struggle for him.

"Don't get up," I said, walking toward him. He was already standing, though, and he took the hand I offered in both of his, his smile warm and kind. His fingers trembled as he held my hand. He seemed so much older than my mother. I understood why Ethan had wanted to protect him from Ned's letter and the resulting investigation.

"Little Julie Bauer," Mr. Chapman said. "How good to see you. You've grown into a handsome woman. Hasn't she, Ethan?"

Ethan grinned at me. "Extremely handsome," he said. He dragged a chair through the sand and set it behind me. "Have a seat," he said.

"It's good to see you, too, Mr. Chapman," I said as I sat down, and the elderly man lowered himself once more onto his chair. "I was very sorry to hear about Ned," I added.

"Thank you," he said with a nod. He was wearing sungla.s.ses in dated, horn-rimmed frames and I wondered how long he had owned them.

"How was the drive?" Ethan asked. He was still standing, leaning against the back of his chair, arms folded across his chest. He had on his jeans and a navy-blue polo shirt, Chapman Joinery Chapman Joinery st.i.tched in red across the pocket. He looked terrific. st.i.tched in red across the pocket. He looked terrific.

"No problem at all," I said. "I brought sandwiches and left them in the kitchen."

"Great," Ethan said. "You hungry, Dad?" He raised his voice a little when he spoke to his father, and I guessed the elderly man was hard-of-hearing.

"Sure." Mr. Chapman nodded.

"Shall I get them?" I started to stand up, but Ethan put his hand on my shoulder.

"Stay here with Dad," he said. He took our drink orders and left me alone with his father.

"Well, Julie." Mr. Chapman folded his hands across his belt buckle. He looked relaxed now that he was not having to exert himself physically. "You've made quite a name for yourself, haven't you?"

"Oh, a bit," I said, smiling. I shifted my chair a few inches in the sand, ostensibly so that I could see Mr. Chapman better, but I really wanted to keep an eye on the two unsupervised boys in the pool next door.

"I see your books at the library and always tell the librarian, 'I knew that author when she was just a little girl,'" he said.

"Thank you."

"I bet you don't know it, but I remember you the best of your siblings," he said.

"Really?" I was surprised. "How come?"

"Because you-" he pointed one long, slightly gnarled finger at me "-you had the most s.p.u.n.k of the three of you," he said.

"You think so?" I asked. I thought that Isabel had had the most s.p.u.n.k of the three of us, but I wasn't prepared to dive into the subject of my older sister.

"Oh, yes," he said. "And you were the smart one, too.You always had a book in your hands and you weren't afraid of anyone or anything.You went over there-" he waved his hand toward the opposite side of the ca.n.a.l "-with the blacks and befriended them. Who else would do something like that? No one living on this side of the ca.n.a.l, that's for sure," he said, answering his own rhetorical question.

"I got in a lot of trouble for it," I said. The boys next door were riding on a big, blow-up alligator, and they yelped with glee as they splashed water out of the pool with the wake they created.

"You tried to figure things out for yourself and I liked that about you," Mr. Chapman said. "I know that was hard to do in your family, but you weren't the sort to simply accept your parents' values without questioning them first."

I'd had no idea he had been observing me so keenly when I was a child, and although I couldn't help but enjoy the compliments, I knew my "s.p.u.n.k" had turned out to be more of a liability than an a.s.set.

"My parents were very conservative," I said. I reached down to slide off my sandals, then dug my toes into the warm sand.

"Especially your father," Mr. Chapman agreed. "And you were willing to buck him, weren't you? You were a lot like your mother that way."

My mother never bucked my father, as far as I knew, but I didn't bother to say that. This conversation was social, and I didn't need to delve into my family's dynamics with him.

"I always forget that you and Mom were friends when you were kids," I said. The sun was hot on my arms. I'd put on sunscreen before leaving the house, but I would have to borrow more from Ethan if we sat out here much longer.

"Yes, we were good buddies, just like you and Ethan were," he said. "It's nice you two are back to being friends again." He looked out at the ca.n.a.l. Not a single boat had pa.s.sed by us since I'd sat down. "I'd like to be friendly with your mother again," he said, "but she doesn't even want to talk to me."

I hesitated, not sure what to say. "You know, Mr. Chapman," I began, "it's just that anyone from those days reminds her of a very difficult time for our family." Well, there. We were into the subject now, and it was my own doing.

"Yes," he said. "I realize that. Have the police spoken with her yet?"

I shook my head. "I don't think so."

"It must be very hard for your family to have this opened up again," he said.

"Well, and yours, too," I said.

A fishing boat, loaded with men and gear, glided north through the water in front of us, probably headed for the inlet. We watched it in silence for a moment.

"Do you think Ned killed your sister?" Mr. Chapman asked, and I was taken aback by the directness of the question.

I looked toward my old yard again. The boys were quieter now, their heads bobbing below the edge of the pool where I couldn't see them, then popping up again. They were probably playing the "who can hold his breath the longest" game. I hated that game. I'd forbidden Shannon ever to play it, a rule I'm sure she broke many times when I was not around. What kid wouldn't?

"I don't know what to think, Mr. Chapman," I said. "I can't imagine what else he might have meant in that letter to the police."

He licked his dry, chapped lips. His face looked gaunt to me and I wondered if he were ill, although Ethan had denied that.

"I think Ned's letter may be one of those things we'll never be able to figure out," he said.

"Could Ned have slipped away during the time you said you and he were together that night?" I asked, trying not to sound accusatory.

Mr. Chapman looked disappointed that I'd asked the question and didn't respond. He licked his lips again, looking out at the water.

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "I'm just trying to puzzle it out."

"He was with me at midnight," he said. "That I know for certain. And that's when you said...it happened."

"Well, I was never completely sure of the exact time," I said.

"Ned was with me out here," Mr. Chapman said. "We were watching a meteor shower. And then he went to bed. It had to have been long after midnight by that time. Besides, what possible motive did he have? He adored your sister."

I couldn't tell him my suspicions about his son's relationship with Pamela Durant. I would have to trust that the truth would come out in time.

"I guess you're right," I said.

I was relieved to hear the screen door bang shut as Ethan walked into the yard, and I stood quickly to help him. He was balancing three full gla.s.ses, stacked plastic plates and the sandwiches on a tray. I handed Mr. Chapman his gla.s.s of cream soda.

"I remember how you used to zip around the ca.n.a.l in your little runabout," he said, as Ethan and I sat down and began to eat. "Back and forth, between here and the bay."

"That's as far as I was allowed to go," I said.

"I bet you grew into a h.e.l.lion of a teenager," Mr. Chapman said. He did not seem to be hungry. He had not touched his sandwich.

"Well," I said, "I really didn't. After Isabel died, I became a lot more afraid of things."

Mr. Chapman looked saddened by that news. "That's a shame," he said.

"She won't even go in the boat," Ethan said.

"No?" Mr. Chapman inquired. "Oh, you should. I'm leaving after lunch and I think the two of you should take a ride. It's a beautiful day, not at all crowded on the water."

"How about it?" Ethan raised his eyebrows at me.