Harlan Coben - Play Dead

… of her and David.

Her throat clenched. The parallel dug painfully into her. Oh, God, hadn’t her mother said the same thing to her about David? Hadn’t she warned Laura to stay away from David, warned her without any discernible reason?

‘Please, Laura, trust me. Stop seeing him.’

‘But why?’

‘I beg you. He’s not right for you.’

Laura had not uttered a word to her mother since David’s death. What had she been trying to say back then?

‘We may get married.’

‘Never, Laura. I will not let you marry that man under any conditions.’

But she had defied her mother. She had run off to Australia and married him anyway and now Laura understood something else: her words alone could never stop Gloria from seeing Stan, just as her mother had been powerless to stop her from seeing David.

Laura stared out the window. She wanted to sprint down the hallway, corner her sister, and force her to hear the awful truth. But she knew she could not. Had her mother been in a similar position? Was there something terrible she had wanted to tell Laura about David but for some reason couldn’t? And now a crucial question poked at Laura’s heart with a finger of bone, a question that finally had to be answered:

What had her mother been hiding about David?

Mark Seidman took his usual seat on the uncomfortable wooden benches. He spotted Timmy Daniels practicing his jumpshot. It was an impressive spectacle. Orange rainbow after orange rainbow ended with the ball dropping through the metal circle. Mark’s eyes slid away from the basket and toward Clip Arnstein and the media who were standing off to the side admiring Timmy’s flawless performance.

Mark continued to watch Clip Arnstein. The older man’s arms were folded across his chest. He wore a floppy white hat, shorts and a green Celtics shirt. He looked more like an American tourist than a basketball legend.

‘Nice shooting, kid,’ Clip called out.

Timmy stopped and sprinted over to where Clip was holding the press conference. ‘Thanks.’

The reporters crowded in. ‘Are the Celtics going to repeat as champions, Clip?’

‘I hope so.’

‘Hope?’

‘Doesn’t pay to be too cocky,’ Clip explained.

‘Do you think you can pull it off without David Baskin?’

‘Look, fellas, no team can lose a player like David and not feel it. A guy like White Lightning doesn’t come around very often. Will we be contenders? Yeah, sure, of course we will. Will we be the champions? That, my friends, only time will tell. There are so many factors that come into making a champion. Healthy players and luck, to name just two.’

Mike Logan, the reporter from the Boston Globe who had covered the Celtics for the last decade, stood up. ‘Clip, last year you told us that David Baskin was the world’s best outside shooter and Timmy Daniels was second.’

‘And I was right, wasn’t I, Mike? The three-point contest proved it.’

‘No argument there,’ Mike Logan agreed. ‘My question is this: now that David is dead, is Timmy the world’s best shooter?’

Before Clip could answer, a loud voice from the stands shouted, ‘No!’

The reporters, the Celtics players, and Clip Arnstein turned toward the blonde heckler in the stands. ‘Then who is?’ Logan called back.

Mark stood. ‘You’re looking at him.’

Mary Ayars heard the doorbell chime. The sound echoed through the house, finding Mary in the kitchen with a glass of wine in her hand. Lately, Mary had been drinking a tad more than usual, a tad more than she should. She knew that she was dangerously close to having a drinking problem, that she should really cut back. But the pain of both her guilt and Laura’s continuous rejection gnawed at the back of her brain until she craved just one more glass of white wine. Spanish white wine. Rioja was her favorite.

Mary glanced at the clock. Eleven a.m. Not even noon and she was already on her first glass.

The doorbell sounded again. Mary put down her drink, checked her face in the mirror, and headed toward the front door. She opened it and gasped.

‘Laura!’

‘Hello, Mother,’ Laura replied politely. Her mother looked worn but still her beauty was dazzling. Laura noted that she still looked a good fifteen years younger than her true age of fifty.

Mary tried to gather herself. Her daughter had not uttered one word to her in months, not since she had eloped with… ‘Your father isn’t here.’

‘I didn’t come to see him. I came to see you.’

‘Me?’

‘I think we should talk.’

Mary stepped back and let her daughter enter. They moved into the den and sat down in chairs facing one another. Neither one spoke for several moments.

‘I’m so sorry about David,’ Mary began uneasily. She pressed her palms against her skirt. ‘I’ve been so worried about you.’

‘I’m doing okay.’

She reached out and took her daughter’s hand. Tears started to gather in Mary’s eyes. ‘Please forgive me, Laura. I never meant to hurt you. You know I love you. You know I only want what’s best for you.’

Laura kneeled forward and took her mother in her arms. ‘It’s okay, Mom,’ she said softly. ‘I know you were trying to help.’

‘I love you so much, honey.’

‘I love you, too,’ Laura replied, feeling tremendous guilt for what she had put her mother through. ‘I’m sorry I was so unforgiving.’

‘No. You had every right to be.’ Mary looked up hopefully. ‘Oh, Laura, do you really forgive me? Is it really all behind us?’

Laura nodded. ‘Mom?’

‘Yes, honey.’

‘I want to ask you something important.’

Mary dabbed her eyes with a tissue. ‘What is it, baby?’

‘Why didn’t you like David?’

Mary felt her chest tighten. ‘Oh, Laura, that’s all in the past now.’

‘I’d like to know.’

Mary’s eyes darted around the room as though looking for a safe haven. ‘It’s not important now.’

‘Mother…’

‘You loved him, honey. I was wrong to interfere.’

‘But you must have had a reason.’

‘I guess I did at the time.’

‘You guess?’

‘You… you know how mothers are,’ Mary said, her voice cracking. ‘No man is good enough for my precious baby.’

‘I dated men before David. You never interfered before.’

‘But you were never serious about them,’ Mary answered. ‘Please, can’t we talk about something else?’

Laura ignored her request. ‘But that doesn’t make any sense. You disliked David right away, the first time I mentioned his name to you. Why, Mother?’

A nervous shrug came off of Mary’s beautiful shoulders. ‘I never trusted athletes, I guess. But I was wrong, honey. He was a wonderful man. I’m sure he loved you very much.’

‘What makes you say that now?’

‘I… I don’t know. I guess I just realized I was wrong.’

‘When did this fact dawn on you, Mother?’ Laura demanded. ‘When he died?’

‘No… I mean… Laura, please, I made a mistake. Can’t we just put it behind us?’

‘How can I, Mother?’ Laura shouted. ‘I lost the only man I ever loved. We were forced to secretly elope, and do you know why?’

‘The press must have been hassling – ’

‘No, Mother! We were both used to handling the press. We eloped because my own mother swore the wedding would only take place over her dead body! That’s why we took off for Australia and didn’t tell you!’

Mary started to sob.

‘And now David is dead.’

Mary’s head snapped up. ‘You can’t blame me! I was just…’

‘Just what, Mother? Don’t you understand what happened? Because of some goddamn whim of yours, David and I felt shunned by my own mother. We ran away to Australia because of you!’