CHAPTER 9
Lucy
Shannon spent most of the afternoon with me as we talked about her dilemma. It was a strange experience for me, watching her shift between tears of anxiety and worry and joy over the new love in her life. She had always been a very grounded, sane person, even as a young child, but listening to her talk about Tanner, I had the odd feeling that she had been taken away by some cult group, brainwashed and returned to us a different person. It was the same Shannon sitting there in my living room, the same beautiful girl who’d brought such joy into her family, but words were coming out of her mouth that were decidedly un-Shannon-like. I felt as though we needed a deprogrammer.
She left about four, saying she had a cello lesson to give at the music store, and she’d been gone no more than fifteen minutes when Julie showed up at my door. I’d tried to reach her on her cell phone to see how the lunch with Ethan had gone, but was only able to get her voice mail, so I’d pulled out my violin, planning to practice for an upcoming ZydaChicks concert.
“I’m interrupting your practice,” Julie said, glancing at the violin in my hand. There was a damp flush to her cheeks that made her look pretty, if uncomfortably warm. I knew she was grappling with hot flashes, something that was still in my future.
“Haven’t even started,” I said, taking her hand with my free one and pulling her into my apartment. “So, how did it go?” I asked, as I put my violin back in its case.
“Not bad.” Julie flopped down on my sofa. The two empty glasses of lemonade were still on the coffee table and I scooped them up and carried them into the kitchen before she could ask who had been there, but she didn’t even seem to notice them.
I glanced at her when I returned to the room. “Are you okay?”
She pressed her hands to her cheeks, which were nearly the color of her red shirt. “I’m just…” She smiled a sort of goofy grin. “Just freaking out, I think,” she said.
“Hot flash?” I asked, although by now I’d guessed it was more than that. She’d just had a conversation about Isabel’s murder. That alone would have been enough to freak her out.
“What?” she said. “Oh, maybe. I don’t even know.” She slipped off her sandals and stretched her legs out on the couch. “I convinced Ethan to take the letter to the police,” she said.
“Oh, that’s excellent.” I felt relieved. I sat down in my armchair again, drawing my legs onto the seat cushion, covering them with my skirt. “Did he take a lot of convincing?”
She nodded. “It took a lot of discussing,” she said. “It was hard and I felt sorry for him.” Julie watched her feet as she flexed them up and down. Then she looked at me. “He just can’t handle the fact that his brother could be guilty after all these years.”
“Of course he can’t,” I said. “What do you think the cops will do with the letter?”
“That’s the scary part,” Julie said. “Ethan has a friend in the police department and he sort of ran it by this guy—in a hypothetical way—to get a sense of what would happen. His friend said they’ll probably start fresh, which I figured they would do. But that means interviewing everyone involved again. I’m guessing that would be me, which is fine, of course. Maybe Ethan and Ned and Izzy’s friends. Mr. Chapman, which worries Ethan.” She bit her lip and looked at me squarely. “And possibly Mom.”
“Ugh,” I said.
“Right. I hope it doesn’t come to that. I’d love to keep her from knowing this is even going on. I could see them badgering her with questions and then she has a heart attack or a stroke or—”
“Julie.” I laughed. One reason my sister could write gripping page-turners was her skill at imagining the worst possible outcome in any situation. I dreaded the scenarios she would be able to create once she learned that Shannon was pregnant. Her ability to turn an event into a catastrophe in her mind had been one of Glen’s many complaints about her. She always worries about everything, he’d whined to me. She never lets herself have any fun. Although there was some truth to the statement, it still infuriated me that he’d made it, that he never took the time to understand the origin of those worries.
“If Mom has to be interviewed, she’ll be fine,” I said. “She would want the truth to come out.” My voice sounded strong, but I too hoped our mother wouldn’t need to be involved in a new investigation.
“I just don’t want her to be hurt any more than she already has been,” Julie said. She pulled a tissue from the pocket of her cropped black slacks, then took off her glasses and began cleaning them.
“She’ll be okay,” I said. “Do you think they’d want to interview me?”
“I doubt it,” she said. “What do you remember about that whole situation?” She held her glasses up to the light, then slipped them on her face again.
I shook my head. “Almost nothing,” I said. “I barely remember anything about the shore at all.You know what I was like—always cowering in the background while everyone else swam or went out in the boat or whatever.” It was as though I hadn’t truly been there. I supposed that I’d repressed most of the memories from the worst summer my family had ever endured. “The other day, though, I remembered when you caught that giant eel and Ethan wanted its guts,” I said.
Julie laughed, and the high flush came to her cheeks again. It made me suspicious. Maybe I wouldn’t have recognized the subtle look of infatuation in her face if I had not just witnessed the same expression in her daughter’s.
“So, what is he like these days?” I probed. “As geeky as he was back then?”
She looked away from me. “He was nice,” she said, and I thought she was trying not to break into a smile. “He…he looked good. I didn’t recognize him at first. He’s a carpenter and he has this amazing body.”
“You’re kidding.” I tried to picture the skinny, gawky kid of my memory with an amazing body.
“And he must have had laser eye surgery, because he wasn’t wearing glasses. His eyes are really blue.”
“Hey,” I said, turning in the chair and putting my feet on the floor. “Are you attracted to him or what?” Julie had shown no interest whatsoever in men since the divorce.
She laughed, shaking her head. “He just looked better than I’d expected, that’s all.”
“If you say so,” I said with a smile. I liked seeing the life and color in her face. It may have been a difficult conversation, but all in all, I thought seeing Ethan Chapman had done her good. Seeing her daughter would be something different altogether, and for the remainder of our conversation, I couldn’t get Shannon out of my mind. I sat there with my sister, knowing a secret that was going to rock her world. It was like looking at someone’s smiling picture on the obituary page.You wanted to warn them: You don’t know it, but you’re going to walk in front of a truck on March 3, 2003. I listened to my sister talk, and I hated having that secret inside me. I needed Shannon to tell Julie soon, for my sake if not for hers.