“Then tell me. Nothing you say leaves this room unless you say it does.”
She was silent so long that I looked at her. Her face wore yearning, though I didn’t know whether it was for Ben the man, or simply for unburdening herself of secrets that had chafed in her veins for too long—and, omigod, did I know how unburdening felt. Discussing the accident and Lily and loss with Edward these past few weeks, breaking down with him the other night, even broaching the forbidden with my mother—tears came to my eyes just thinking about it.
And here was Edward now, reassuring Grace. “We’ll hold him to it. But he’s right about containing this. We can’t do that if we don’t know what we’re dealing with.”
We. I loved him a little more each time he said that word, but my fear also grew. In hosting this meeting, he would be implicated if things went wrong. My shit would become his, again. I had never wanted that.
Seeing my tears, he shot me a silvery stare. Daring me to question his loyalty? Punishing me for the mess?
Unable to decide which, I refocused on Grace, who was going from face to face, bewildered, outnumbered, overpowered. My eyes cleared; I slid an arm through hers. I knew what it was like to be alone in a crowd of people with your life upended and no one at your back. In that instant, I didn’t care about Shanahan. Being a friend in time of need was what I wanted the new me to be.
“I can’t go back,” she whispered, begging me to understand. “He’ll kill me. As soon as he became a somebody, he wanted me gone, so my leaving with Chris meant nothing to him. He already had a new family. That started while we were still married. Smearing me was to justify his own infidelity. And the custody battle? It was just a power thing. That’s what it’s all about with him—power and ego.”
“The problem,” I whispered back, although the three men were close enough to hear, “is that you can’t keep denying it, Grace. You’ve been found.”
Her eyes darkened with momentary resolve. “I’ll disappear again.”
I remembered our discussion of places to go if not Devon, and understood now why she preferred to stay east of the Mississippi. She had most liked the idea of New York, where she might easily get lost. But starting over now wasn’t so easy. Totally aside from his legal issues, her son was no longer two.
“Is that what you want for Chris?” I asked, and for an instant, she seemed to stop breathing.
“Low blow,” she finally said. She looked crushed.
“I know. I’m sorry.” But I wasn’t. I can’t go back, she had just said. But if she didn’t go back, if she didn’t finally tell someone the truth of the past, she could never be whole.
She?
Me.
I was barely grasping that—when her eyes flew back to mine. Her face was the color of chalk. She clamped a hand over her mouth, and her upper body convulsed.
“Bathroom,” I murmured for the sake of the others, but when I put an arm around her shoulder and started to steer her there, firm hands eased me aside and took over.
* * *
I’m not sure what Ben said to Grace after she was done being sick. When they came out, her skin was newly washed, makeup nearly gone, and the soft brown hair around her face was damp. She remained pale but seemed marginally composed.
Composure was an act, of course. Grace was good at acting. You had to be, when you were in your thirties and restarting life with a new identity. By the time thirteen years, or four, had passed, you were a pro. You looked poised; you looked calm. You looked like you knew exactly where you were and what you were doing, like you had reached this point in a perfectly natural progression, even though inside you were terrified.
Grace had to be beyond terrified. I could see it in the way she went straight to the large leather sofa and sank into its corner as her legs gave out. Oh, I knew the corner gambit, too. A corner meant you were shielded on two sides—three, if you sat with your back to the seam, as Grace did, so that the only exposed side was your front.
Edward produced bottles of water from a low cabinet. He gave her one and put the rest on the long, low table.