To Love and to Perish - By Lisa Bork Page 0,19

I don’t know. Why?”

“I think ‘tippy,’ ‘tippy canoe.’ I can’t even swim. I don’t want to canoe.”

Our mother had stayed on this earth long enough to enroll me in swim lessons. She committed suicide when I was twelve and Erica seven, leaving me to assume the role of surrogate mother to Erica. As a pre-teen and teenager, I could feed Erica, get her to and from school on time, make sure she had on clean clothes, and help her with her homework. My father, an automobile mechanic, was busy running his garage and holding our family together. Erica never got all the little extras like swim lessons.

On the other hand, we did grow up in a lakeside town, where most teenage activities revolved around the water during the summertime. I wouldn’t dump her in the middle of the lake and expect her to swim to shore, but Erica had no genuine fear of the water and could do a decent doggy paddle, especially when in heat for a nearby dog.

But I didn’t want to argue with her when she was being so forthcoming. “So just tell Maury that.”

“I tried, but he brought me a dozen roses and told me he wanted to serenade me in the canoe on the lake.”

Maury has a thing about roses. He used to give them to lots of women. In fact, he was so aggressive about it that one woman filed a complaint with the police. I guessed every woman didn’t want roses … or his attention. And with his current occupation as a floral delivery man, the roses remained plentiful, especially when he pulled the discarded, slightly defective ones out of the trash. But Erica had married him ten months ago, granted on the spur of the moment and in the throes of depression. She wasn’t going to be able to opt out quite so easily.

“Where does the baby come into all this?”

“I told him we would have a baby together. I told him that would bond us. He got all excited.”

“Oh, Erica.” It was just like her to take the quick—yet completely absurd and bound to explode in her face—way out. How could the two of us ever have come from the same womb?

“I know, I know. It was dumb.”

“You’re going to have to tell him the truth. Now.”

She bit her lip. “What if he leaves me?”

“He won’t.” I said this with great confidence. Maury looked at my sister like she was a goddess. Besides, any man with the urge to “bond” wasn’t likely to leave, at least not right away. He probably liked the bonding notion of a child, but I doubted he really wanted to sign up for parenthood, both he and Erica being way too childlike themselves.

“He’s going to be really, really upset, Jolene.”

“Undoubtedly. You’ll have to make it up to him pretty quick.”

“How?”

The answer seemed obvious to me. I just looked at her, eyebrows raised.

Erica cringed. “No. Oh, no.”

I nodded.

“I’m going to have to get in the freakin’ canoe?”

“Wear a life jacket. It’ll be fun.”

“Oh, crap.”

SEVEN

MONDAY MORNING ROLLED AROUND without word from Cory. Given the sports car boutique’s regular hours of nine to five Tuesday through Saturday, I wouldn’t see him again until tomorrow. So I called him from home minutes after Danny climbed onto the school bus, curious to know if he planned on attending Brennan’s bail hearing and arraignment. I had offered to go with him before we parted on Saturday. He said he’d let me know. When he didn’t answer his phone at home, I tried his cell, only to go directly to voicemail. I didn’t bother to leave a message; his phone would record the missed call. Cory could get back to me on his own time.

Ray called me around lunchtime. “Brennan’s got bail trouble. The judge asked for cash bail of $100,000. Apparently Brennan’s not that liquid.”

“He’s got a rich father.”

“Really? Catherine didn’t mention him.”

“You talked to Catherine?” I tried not to let the green monster poke me. I failed. Ray had already chosen me over Catherine a couple years ago now, but I still felt insecure. No wonder all my friends and relatives felt the same about their relationships—they actually had more reason than me.

“Yes. She’s building his defense.”

“Which is?”

“Flimsy. Brennan’s word that he was reaching out to save Gleason, not pushing him, and the photograph itself.”

“How does that help Brennan? It’s part of the evidence against him.”

“Catherine’s going to contend that the picture shows Brennan’s hand reaching out in a position like