Lisa Gardner: The Survivors Club

“Uh huh,” Carol said. “So that's the way it is.”

“You have a dirty mind!”

“Damn right. Come on, Dan and I are seeing a sex therapist who has literally banned us from having sex for the next six months. I have to live through someone.”

Both Jillian and Meg looked at her curiously. “Does that work?” Meg asked.

Carol's turn to blush. “Actually… well, yes. It… it takes the pressure off. Sometimes, before, when he would touch me, I would freeze up. I was already thinking, then he's going to want to touch here or touch there and I just couldn't handle that level of intrusion. I wasn't ready. Now-now I know a kiss will be just a kiss. I can focus on that. On him kissing me. And when I do that, all the other things go away. I'm not in the bedroom anymore. It's not dark, the TV's not on. I'm just a woman kissing her husband of over ten years. It's… nice. Honestly, we're dating again.”

“I'm going to cry,” Meg said thickly, and rubbed her eyes. “You're getting to fall in love all over again, and I can't even figure out if I'm ever going to have a normal relationship. Look at me! I'm almost twenty-one, my sister is really my daughter, and the total sum of my sex life boils down to one pedophile whom I thought I loved, and one rapist who was a present from the pedophile. Now that's sick !”

“Molly is your sister,” Jillian said evenly. “You've said yourself it's better to keep it that way.”

“If I'm her mother, then she must have a father. I don't want her to ever ask about her father.”

“Then remove that from the equation. Molly is your little sister, you love her, your parents love her and she is very happy.”

“Molly is very happy.”

“The rest… Meg, you were only thirteen when David first approached you. That's much too young to know better. And you certainly can't blame yourself for being raped. So that means you've made only one mistake, as a thirteen-year-old girl. You're nearly twenty-one now. You're strong, you're resilient, you're smart. You're going to be all right.”

Meg sniffled a little. “What if I meet the right guy, freeze up, and he goes away?”

“Then he's not the right guy,” Carol said firmly.

But Meg was looking at Jillian. “I wasn't raped,” Jillian told her.

“You were assaulted.”

“I… I have moments.”

“You think about your sister,” Meg said quietly.

“I do.”

“Poor guilt-ridden Jillian.”

She didn't deny it. “ Griffin told me something earlier, during his investigation. And it was one of the hardest, saddest, truest things I ever needed to hear: Trisha loves me.”

“She does,” Carol said immediately.

“She does,” Meg seconded.

Jillian smiled at them. “I lost sight of that. I don't know why. But I'm remembering now. I'm… enjoying… my memories of Trish, and that feels good. And Griffin understands that Trish is a part of me, just as I understand that Cindy is a part of him. Sometimes we just talk about them. It feels right.”

“He's a lucky man,” Carol said seriously.

“I'm a lucky woman. Well, and Libby isn't doing so badly either. Have you seen how much she flirts with him? I swear, she hasn't taken this much care with her appearance since she discovered the UPS man was single.”

“Ooh, competition!” Meg teased.

“He definitely has a soft spot for her. Next thing you know, she's going to add the word stud to her picture book.”

Carol and Meg chortled. Jillian rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, too. She felt lucky these days. Sometimes she found herself humming at work for no good reason. Clients seemed less annoying, the days were brighter, the evenings more beautiful. When the weather was nice, she had picnic lunches with Libby and Toppi in the park. And sometimes she left work early, sometimes she came in late, and one day she brought in four giant pots of yellow mums simply because she'd seen them at the florist and thought they were beautiful. Her employees looked at her curiously a lot, but no one complained.

“Speaking of family,” Jillian said.

“We should return to the fold,” Carol agreed.

“Think they're done with the kitchen?” Meg asked. “We could pick up some pizzas.”

Food would be good, they all agreed. They climbed up from the floor and headed downstairs. In the kitchen, Jillian spotted Griffin first. He had Molly perched on his shoulders, running a duster along the top of the kitchen cabinets.

“I'm a dust bunny!” she cried.

“Well look at you,” said Meg and held out her arms for her little sister.

Griffin swooped the giggling girl down onto the ground. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt today, with dust on his left cheek and cobwebs in his hair. Griffin looked good in jeans and a T-shirt. Libby had actually blushed when he'd pulled into their driveway and assisted her into the van.

Right now, his twinkling blue eyes were on Jillian. She felt his gaze as a warmth in her chest. Tonight, they were having Mike Waters over for dinner. Toppi had taken quite a bit of interest in the lanky detective's recovery. She'd bought a new outfit for tonight. You never knew.

Now Griffin opened his arms and wagged a brow in a look that could only be called a leer. She, of course, pretended to look coolly away. In response, he thundered across the kitchen and playfully swept her into his embrace.

Molly shrieked, Meg and Carol smiled. Libby pretended to chastise.

Jillian simply slipped her arms around Griffin 's narrow waist. She leaned into the warmth of his broad chest, felt the strength of his arms around her shoulders. He didn't step back.

“Pizza!” Molly yelled, and they all prepared for dinner.

LISA GARDNER is the author of The Third Victim, The Next Accident, and The Survivors Club, all New York Times bestsellers, as well as The Perfect Husband and The Killing Hour. She lives with her husband and daughter in the New England area, where she is at work on her next novel of suspense, Alone.

Visit her website at www.lisagardner.com.