Marcia Talley - Occasion of Revenge

“Mother considered it a lucky break,” he continued, peering down the staircase and studying my face as if to gauge my reaction. “Carson not having to go through the trauma of divorce and all.”

Maybe my father had a lucky break, too, then . The words hovered on the tip of my tongue, but I remembered I was supposed to be a grown-up. I clamped my lips tight and forced myself to look at Darlene’s poor excuse for a son. “My father is devastated by your mother’s death.”

Darryl leered. “Yeah, well, I’m sorry about that.” He started down the steps. “I can think of a lot worse things than being your stepbrother, sis.”

I’d have a better chance of being struck by an asteroid than ever being related to a troglodyte like you . With admirable self-control, I managed a grim smile. “As I said, Darryl. I don’t think that’s very likely.”

“Don’t count on it, Hannah. I’ve seen how your father’s been looking at Deirdre lately.” His teeth gleamed white in the shadows at the head of the stairs. “How does Uncle Darryl grab you?”

The duck I had eaten for dinner rose to the back of my throat, and I thought I might do a Linda Blair all over the loathsome toad. Rather than give him the satisfaction of seeing me rattled, I turned and fled down the stairs, into the lights and comforting din of the crowded restaurant.

And ran smack dab into Ruth, who had been appointed head of the search party sent to find out what was keeping me. “Hannah! You’re red as a beet. Are you OK?”

“That Darryl is a creep.”

“You won’t get any argument from me.” She peered into the depths of my eyes as if more information were hidden there. “What happened?”

“I’ll tell you later. C’mon, let’s get back to the others.”

Paul, looking relieved, stood up when we appeared and held my chair out until I’d settled down into it. He kissed my cheek. “Thank God. I thought maybe you’d fallen in.”

I patted his cheek and managed a smile. “It took longer than I thought.” I’d fill him in later. Paul, who took care of business in men’s rooms as if they had revolving doors, always claimed to be completely baffled by why women took so long to accomplish the same thing, so he accepted my explanation without question.

Deirdre was staring at me curiously. I wondered if my cowlick was misbehaving again, or if I had spinach on my teeth. How old was she, anyway? Twenty-eight? Twenty-nine? How would I feel having a stepmother fifteen years younger than I was? I shook away the thought. The hell with Darryl; he was just rattling my cage. I sprinkled some salt and pepper on my duck and took a bite, surprised to find it hadn’t grown cold, and consoled myself by picturing him behind bars.

Deirdre pushed her soup bowl toward the center of the table and stood. “Well, sports fans. Gotta go.”

Daddy and Paul rose politely. Daddy extended his hand; when Deirdre took it, he covered both their hands with his left. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to stay and see in the New Year with us?” I held my breath, hoping she had other plans. Like having to alphabetize her spice rack. Or neuter her houseplants.

“No, sorry. I’ve got to get back to Bowie. My roommates are having a party and I’m expected to make the pizza.” She turned to us. “Bye. Happy New Year.”

We watched her go, Daddy looking wistful, whether from melancholy over what might have been with Darlene or for some hope of a new relationship with her daughter it was impossible to tell.

I worried about this through the rest of my roast duck, but by the time Mary Ellen cleared the dishes and began hovering tableside for our dessert order, Daddy had remained so cheerful that I knew Darryl was full of baloney.

When my cell phone rang again, catching me in mid-Key lime pie, I hurried to answer it, thinking it had to be Captain Younger.

But I was wrong.

“Hannah, thank goodness I got you!”

I closed my eyes. “Hi, LouElla.”

“No time to chat! Hurry! You’ve got to find Emily and warn her!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” All eyes at our table and several pairs from the adjoining tables glommed on to me.

“Virginia’s gone crazy! She just came over here and demanded my log book.”

That was the silliest thing I ever heard, but there was no use telling LouElla that. “Why would she do that?”

“She hit me in the face. Knocked me over,” LouElla whimpered. “I’m going to have a black eye.”

“I’m sorry, LouElla, but what can I do to help?”

“She’s going to destroy it, obliterate it, wipe it off the face of the earth! Oh, my poor log book!”

An alarm clanged in my head. “What does all this have to do with Emily, LouElla?”

“Emily?” LouElla paused, as if she’d lost her train of thought.

“Yes, Emily. What were you saying about Emily?”

“Oh! It was Emily who told Virginia about my log book. I’m sure Emily didn’t mean any harm by it, and I certainly don’t hold anything against the dear girl, but Virginia says that now Emily’s seen what’s written in it, she’ll have to be stopped.”

I sighed. Another one of LouElla’s loopy conspiracy theories. “That doesn’t make any sense, LouElla. You wrote the log book and she didn’t stop you.”

“That’s what I told her, but Virginia said that nobody’d believe a crazy old witch like me.” She snuffled noisily. “Except she used the B-word.”

“I’m sure you’re overreacting.”

“No, I’m not. You should have seen her face! All red and purple and the veins in her neck popping out.”

I needed to drag LouElla back on track before she wandered down a divergent path. “You said she went looking for Emily?”

“She blames you, Hannah, for messing up her plans. She said there was only one way to make you understand why she had to do it. You were going to find out, firsthand, how it feels.”

How it feels? Adrenaline suddenly shot through my veins, cold as ice water, but I had to ask. I had to be sure. “How what feels, LouElla?”

“How it feels to lose a child.”

I leapt up from my chair, clutching the cell phone to my ear with both hands. “LouElla! Look out your window. Is Virginia’s car still parked in the lane?”

“Just a minute.”

I filled the time with silent prayer: please, oh, please, oh, please, oh…

“She’s just leaving!” LouElla seemed suddenly focused. “But don’t you worry! I’ll follow her. I’m good at it.”

“Don’t hang up!” I shouted. “Wait a minute!”

“It’ll be OK,” LouElla soothed. “I’ve trained with the best.”

“What makes Virginia think she can find Emily, LouElla? It’s New Year’s Eve. The city is packed with people.”

“Emily told her where she was going.”

“Oh, my God!”

“And, Hannah?”

“What?”

“I know for a fact that Virginia owns a gun.”

The phone went dead in my ear.

Everyone stared-Ruth’s mouth ajar, Paul’sbrow deeply furrowed, Daddy’s eyes like slits-as if trying to determine if I’d lost my mind. “We need to find Emily and Dante,” I blurted at last. “Virginia’s come unglued. LouElla thinks she’s on her way here to kill Emily!”

“That’s crazy!” Paul said.

“Maybe so, but there’s usually an element of truth in what LouElla says.” I smiled grimly, thinking about my father. My eyes locked with Paul’s. “Can we afford to take that chance?”

Ruth grabbed my hand and jerked me back into my chair. “But where do we look?”

Paul’s chair screeched against the floor as he scooted closer to me. “Hannah, can you remember where the kids were going?”