Lisa Scottoline - Save Me

“How you doing, tater tot?”

“Good! Did you win your case?”

“Not yet. I came home to say hi to my girls.” Leo took Melly’s hand, then spotted the bruise on her arm, frowning. “What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Okay.” Leo came upstairs, and his gaze went to the open suitcase. He avoided Rose’s eye, impassive. “Going to the lake house?”

“Yes, I’ll explain later.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, which smelled of faded aftershave. “Sorry I didn’t mention it to you.”

“No matter.” Leo went to Melly, helping her back into bed, next to the drowsy little spaniel. He picked up the comforter, tucked her in, and sat down next to her. “Mel, didn’t you finish your book yet?”

“Almost.” Melly showed him her bookmark. “I have ten more pages.”

“What? Slacker, get on it. You’ve had that thing for a whole day.”

Melly giggled. “Mom wants me to read American Girl.”

“Why should you read American Girl? You are an American Girl!”

“I know. I don’t want to.”

“Then don’t. Read whatever you want. It’s a free country. I’m a lawyer and I know. Tell Mom, your lawyer said you have First Amendment rights.”

“I will!” Melly’s eyes lit up when she looked at Leo, and Rose could see how much she loved him. They had actually succeeded in creating a family, despite divorce and death, and Rose couldn’t bear to think they could lose it all. She dreaded the conversation to come, but it was time.

“Bedtime, Melly,” she said, managing a smile.

“Kiss, Leo.” Melly held out her arms, and Leo gave her a hug and a grunt, then got up, brushing down his pants.

“Get some sleep, you. I’ll try to come home tomorrow night to see you, but I don’t know if I can.”

“We won’t be here.”

“Oh right. Sorry. Then here’s another kiss to hold you over. Have fun at the lake. Bye now.” Leo gave her another big hug.

“Leo, say good-bye to Googie, too.”

“Bye, Googie.”

“Kiss her!” Melly giggled, playing their game, because Leo would never kiss the dog.

“No way, I don’t kiss dogs, only girls.” Leo stroked the spaniel, who barely opened her eyes. “See ya, Googie.”

Rose went to Melly’s beside, gave her a quick kiss, and patted Googie. “Good night, sweetie. Sleep tight.”

“Mom, did Ms. Canton call when I was in the bath?”

“No.”

“Can we call her again?”

“I will, tomorrow.”

“If she calls tonight, will you wake me up?”

Rose brushed Melly’s hair from her forehead. “I doubt she’ll do that, but if she does, I’ll wake you up. Say your prayers.”

“I will. I’ll say one for Amanda.”

“Me, too. Pleasant dreams.”

Rose followed Leo downstairs, and they both went automatically to the kitchen. She lingered behind the table, while he walked ahead and opened the refrigerator. She didn’t know how to start the conversation, suddenly uncomfortable with her own husband, in her own kitchen. The setting sun came through the window, making spiky shadows of the lavender shoots, like a bed of needles.

“You hungry?” she asked.

“No.” Leo grabbed a Yuengling beer by the neck, turned around, and pulled out a chair, sitting down heavily. “I had a sandwich when I stopped for gas. Sit, please.” He gestured.

“I’m sorry about the lake thing.” Rose sank into her chair, behind the watery Diet Coke she’d had before she went upstairs. Her mouth was dry, and she took a sip, then forced herself to look at him directly. He held her gaze for a second, and she could see the hurt, plain in his eyes. “I decided on the spur of the moment.”

“Right.” Leo’s mouth went tight, and he made much of opening the beer bottle, as if he hadn’t done it with ease, a hundred times before. “You’re not leaving me, are you?”

“No.” Rose laughed, a release of nervous tension. “No, of course not.”

“Good.” Leo leaned back in the chair, regarding her in a remote way. “I got a call from Martin when I was on the way home. His wife saw it on the news and called him. Also Joan called me and told me.”

Rose reddened. Joan was his secretary, and Martin was an old friend from Worhawk. “I’m so sorry.”

“Joan said we’re getting more than a few calls, from clients.”

“Oh, no. I’m sorry, really. What will you say to them? Are you worried-”

“I’ll deal with them, but what gets me is what’s between us. It would have been nice to hear it from you when we met. Or when we got engaged. Or when we got married.”

Rose felt vaguely sick. Leo’s tone was controlled, and he was too kind to yell, which made it worse. Outside, the peaked tops of the trees bent in the wind, and the sky was turning a lurid pink, an unearthly hue.

“I can think of lots of times, going back, when you could have told me, but you didn’t. Even this thing with Amanda, it would have been a good time to mention it.”

“I know. I’m so sorry.”

“It explained a lot to me, like why you were taking it all so hard, so personally. It explains why you’ve been feeling so guilty. So why don’t you tell me now, the whole story?”

Rose swallowed hard. “Okay, well, to keep it simple-”

“Don’t keep it simple. It’s not simple, and I have time.”

Rose nodded. “It happened on Halloween, and I was eighteen years old. I’d just had a fight with my mom.”

“What did you fight about?”

“It was Halloween night, sorry, I said that already, and I was having some friends over, from my job. It was during my year off, after high school, when I was living with her and working, modeling to save money for college. She’d said she’d stopped drinking, and I actually believed her, God knows why. She’d seemed fine for almost a year, doing AA again, so I figured it was okay to have friends over.” Rose paused, trying to remember, and trying not to remember, both at once. “We all had costumes, I was Cleopatra, and we were giving candy to the kids who came to the door, trick-or-treating. My mother said hi to us, everything was fine, then she went upstairs.”

“Okay.”

“Later, she came falling down the stairs, drunk, and, randomly, topless.” Rose felt mortified, even at the memory. “She came down the stairs with no bra or anything, only in her panties and high heels, my high heels, oddly, and she hit on one of my guy friends. She actually tried to sit in his lap, with her breasts in his face, and it was, well, you get the idea.” Rose shook it off. It wasn’t anywhere near the worst part of the story. “Anyway, the party broke up, and I ran out crying. I got into the car, and drove to my old high school. I was in her car, I didn’t have a car. I sat in the parking lot, which was empty. I stopped crying, I calmed down, then I left for home. I was upset, but not too upset to drive, and I hadn’t been drinking.”

“I know that. You don’t have to tell me that. You never drink.”

“Right.” Rose never drank, except for the backsliding the other night in the kitchen. She’d spent her college years partying harder than she should have, then stopped after she’d graduated and started working, full-time. She’d wanted to be a mother, and not her mother. Her mother’s drinking had driven her father away, when she was only ten. Rose hardly remembered him, and he never came around again, though he always sent checks, to support them.

“So what happened?”

“I was driving home, and most of the little kids were done trick-or-treating. It was like nine o’clock. Only the older kids were left, the hoboes and the basketball players, too cool to dress up. But still, I was going slow, the roads were slick from the rain.” Rose could see the scene, in front of her. “Wet leaves were everywhere, so I was careful. She would never want anything to happen to her car, not a scratch. I could see everything. I was paying attention. I didn’t even have the radio on. I was driving fine, I was-”