Jonathan Kellerman: The Murderer's Daughter

No big puzzle: At a moment when the poor thing felt husband-to-be should take precedence, all she could think about was husband-who-was.

A thirty-year-old Portland firefighter when Bev met him, Greg had the equilibrium and easy confidence of a man whose body worked perfectly. Till it didn’t.

The cancer that had ended his life was so rare there was no treatment protocol. Bev had watched him waste away.

Who could blame her for abandoning hope? It had taken Grace a long time to get the sweet, warmhearted young woman to see that the concept of future could still be relevant. Now Bev was about to embark on a second attempt at faith, good for her!

“I’m not terrified, Dr. Blades. I guess I’m just... anxious. Okay, honest? I’m scared as heck.”

Grace said, “Then you’re ahead of the game.”

“Pardon?”

“If you were totally terrified, it would be understandable, Bev. Anything less than terror is heroism.”

Bev stared. “You’re serious.”

“I am.”

Bev looked doubtful.

Grace said, “When did you start feeling anxious?” Deliberately downgrading from “scared.” It was her job to recontextualize.

Bev said, “I guess... a few weeks ago.”

“As the wedding date grew near.”

Nod.

“Until then, for the most part, would you say you were pretty happy?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Of course...”

“I’m marrying Brian. He’s wonderful.”

“But...”

“No buts,” said Bev. She burst into tears. “I feel disloyal! Like I’m cheating on Greg!”

“You loved Greg. It’s only natural you’d feel obligated to him.”

Bev sniffed.

Grace said, “To everyone else, Greg is a memory. To you he’s the other man.”

That unleashed another torrent of sobs.

Grace let Bev cry for a while, then leaned in close and dried Bev’s eyes and squeezed her hand. When Bev took a deep breath, Grace settled her back in her chair in a posture of forced relaxation.

In matters of healing, the body initiates and the mind follows. Malcolm had told her that. Only once, but it stuck.

And it worked: Bev’s facial muscles slackened. The tears stopped.

Grace gave her the softest smile she could muster. Bev smiled back.

A casual glance could register them as two pretty young women hanging out in a pleasant, well-lit room.

When the time was right, Grace said, “Because Greg loved you so much, we know one thing for sure.”

Bev looked at her through tear-smudged eyes. “What?”

“He’d absolutely want you to be happy.”

Silence.

Finally, Bev said, “Yes, I know.” That sounded like a confession.

Grace said, “Still, that bothers you.”

No answer.

Grace tried another tack. “Maybe instead of looking at Greg as laying siege to your emotions you could start thinking of him as a partner.”

“A partner in what?”

“The life that awaits you,” said Grace.

“Life,” said Bev. As if the idea was distasteful.

Grace said, “Let’s be clear: What you and Greg had together was profound. And profound things just don’t vanish because social niceties say they should. That doesn’t make you unfaithful to Greg. Or to Brian.”

“But still,” said Bev. “I do feel unfaithful. Yes, you’re right, to both of them.”

“To Greg for letting joy into your life. To Brian because you think about Greg.”

“Yes.”

“That makes total sense, honey. But think of it this way: The three of you — Brian and you and Greg — could tackle the agenda as a team.”

“I... what agenda?”

“The agenda of what lies in store for Bev. The agenda of Bev deserves to be happy,” said Grace. “Approved by unanimous voice vote.” She smiled. “For what it’s worth, I second the motion.”

Bev shifted in her chair. Her lips set grimly. “I guess.”

Grace knew she’d come on too strong. She let Bev sit there and ponder for a while and when Bev hadn’t shifted out of the relaxed position and her facial muscles had loosened again, she took another tack.

“Officially, your wedding’s a celebration. But there’s no need for you to snap into joy instantaneously just because you’ve printed invitations and people will be sitting in church. An emotionally shallow person could pull that off. But you remember what I told you last year: You’re emotionally substantial.”

Silence.

“You feel deeply, Bev. You always have. Those stories you told me about taking care of wounded animals.”

Makes two of us, girlfriend.

Nothing from Bev. Then, finally, a slow nod.

“Feeling deeply is a virtue, Bev. It allows life to take on meaning and at some point your joy will be even greater than if you’d simply drifted with the currents.”

Long silence. “I sure hope so.”

Grace placed a hand on Bev’s shoulder. “Of course you can’t see that, right now. How could you? But it’ll happen, there’ll be joy in your future but flavored with even greater depth than if you didn’t go through this, right now. That will be sweet.”

Bev stared at her. Muttered, “Thank you.”

Grace kept her hand on Bev’s shoulder. Exerting just enough pressure to let Bev know she was cared for. Cared about.

“Take your time. Feel whatever you need to feel. Eventually, you’ll sense that Greg’s on board. That he approves and wants you to be happy because that’s what people who love unconditionally do.”

The outer edges of Beverly’s lips tugged wider, as if manipulated by a puppeteer. “You’re scary, Dr. Blades.”

Grace had heard that so many times. “Me?” she said, innocently.

“Scary-smart is what I mean. It’s like you have a direct view into here.” Patting her breast.

“Thanks for the compliment, Bev, but smart has nothing to do with it. Whatever I know comes from working at understanding people.” Grace leaned forward. “Because once we get past the nonsense, we’re all the same. Yet unique at the same time. No one has lived your life or thought your thoughts or felt your feelings. Even so, if I was in your situation, I’m pretty sure I’d feel exactly the same way.”

“You would?” Amazed.

The honest answer: W ho knows?

Grace said, “Of course.”

“So what would you do about it?”

Grace smiled. “I’d go talk to someone scary-smart. Because we all need help from time to time.”

Flashing to Malcolm. Sophie. The new experience of sleeping in a clean, sweet-smelling bed. Breakfast. Dinner. Tentative attempts to hug, however briefly.

Human touch Grace had to train herself to tolerate. Thinking about all that brought a smile to her lips, which was perfect, the moment called for a smile, let Bev think it was all about her.

Sighing, Bev hugged herself. “I appreciate what you’re saying, Dr. Blades, but once I get back home... it might be difficult.”

“It might be. But you’ll handle it. You always do.”

Bev pinged her lower lip with a finger. The finger that bore her diamond-chip ring. Brian, a plumber’s assistant, splurging at Zales. “You’re saying sometimes life needs to be difficult to be meaningful.”

“I’m saying when we’re well put together emotionally, Bev — as you are — we learn to trust ourselves.”

Oh, do we...

Bev took a long time before she spoke next. “I guess I need to just roll with it.”

Grace said nothing.

Bev said, “Okay, I need to roll with it even if that means thinking about Greg.”

“Don’t fight thinking about Greg. Greg was precious to you,” said Grace. “Why would you exile him from your consciousness?”

Bev thought some more, face tightening as if struggling with a weighty puzzle. “On the flight from Portland, Dr. Blades, I spent most of the time remembering. One memory really stuck with me. Like it was glued to my brain. There was a lake. We used to take a canoe and Greg would row me. He was so strong. Muscles on muscles. Each time he moved the oar, they rippled. The sun made them glisten. Sometimes we’d start out on a sunny day and it would rain and he’d be dripping with sweat and rain and just shine. ”