Mary Robb - Down the Rabbit Hole

Elise lowered the mask from her face, bit by bit. She pressed a cool hand to her flushed cheek and blinked back tears—a combination of the relief to be back and sadness for the loss of Martin. She turned the mask over, examined it, saw nothing askew.

“Elise?”

“Yes?” She turned with a start. “What?”

“I don’t understand why you keep pushing these guys away.”

Lifting her gaze to Darth Vader’s mask, she waited for him to speak.

“Elise!”

“Yes.” She looked straight at Molly this time, delighted to see her. “It’s safe. I push men away to feel safe. But in truth, all I feel is empty and alone.”

“What?” Molly couldn’t have looked more shocked if she’d been hit by a bus.

“And you’re right, by the way—about that guy, John? He was sort of charming, but he texts during movies. It made me crazy. And Max—you’re right about him, too. He is nice and sweet and smart and funny and serious. He does like me—I can see it when he looks at me, too. He loves me, in fact. And I love him.”

“What?”

“Look, I know you left Roger at home to feed the kids tonight so you and I could eat at Ferdinand’s, but I need to take a rain check. I’ll buy. But I have to leave right now. I have to find Max and tell him that I’m not a dope anymore. I’ve never been much of a groveler, but . . . well, it’ll be a new adventure, won’t it?”

“What?” Apparently, she’d stunned Molly speechless.

Elise laughed and hurried over to take Molly’s face between her palms—then laughed again, threw her arms around her and squeezed tight. “I love you, too! I know I don’t say it often enough—but that’s going to change. And I want you to know that while I’ll never understand why you married Roger, I’m so very, very glad you did.” She giggled at Molly’s wide-eyed expression and kissed her cheek. “Give my love to him and the kids and tell him thanks for being a great brother. And—ha! Do you hear that? My stomach’s growling. I’ll take Max out to eat . . . I can be dessert.”

“Elise, honey, are you feeling all right? I can drive you home if—”

She chuckled and started to leave, but then stopped. She looked back at the dark display of the dishonored Jedi knight and, despite what she knew to be the truth, she felt a deep and warm gratitude. Risking a tacky straitjacket in a shade outside her color wheel, she walked over to stand before him and murmur softly, “Thanks, Martin.”

“Elise?”

When she turned back to Molly’s fretful expression, she paused a moment to calm down and gather her wits.

“Listen,” she said. “Tell your friend Liz that I’d rather swallow a piano than play one at her party but I am looking forward to attending the event. And tell her, too, that if she can think of something reasonably sane . . . er, more traditional, more inside the box or . . . dull, probably. I don’t know. Just tell her if she decides to do another fund-raiser for dyslexia research I’d like to help.”

“What?”

“Ha! Poor Molly. I promise you, I’m fine. I’m better than fine. I’ll explain everything later, but right now I have to find Max.” She stopped short. “Oh! I have it! I’m brilliant! Your costumes are Roger and Jessica Rabbit—goofy and gorgeous. Max should be Dick Tracy—intelligent, steadfast and fearless. And I’ll be his Tess Trueheart—because I am.”

For all who believe.

And for Tom, who believed in me always.

NEW YORK, 1990

“Highlands?” The four-year-old girl lifted wide, trusting eyes to her grandmother. “Why do they call it that, Gram?”

“It is high country, and very rugged. It’s where my ancestors in Scotland lived, my darling. It’s also wild and grand and beautiful.”

“I love your story about the Beast of the Highlands. Why was he called that?”

“A spell had been cast upon him. At the dawn of each new moon the man was turned into a huge, wild stag, with great, punishing antlers. No one ever saw the creature, though many claimed to have heard his dangerous hooves pounding the earth as he raced through their villages. Of course, it was all a myth.” The old woman smiled. “Now, to finish the story. Thanks to the wonder of magic, the beast was once more turned into a handsome man who embraced the lovely woman who saved him, and they lived happily ever after.” Evelyn Campbell’s voice lowered to a purr as she glanced down to see her little granddaughter’s eyes closing.

As she started to get up, little Beth’s hand shot out, stopping her. “More, Gram. Did the beast ever return?”

“No more tonight, my darling. It’s time for dreamland.”

“Do you think Mommy and Daddy are living happily ever after in heaven?”

The simple question had the old woman blinking back a rush of scalding tears. The loss of her son and his wife on the slick, curving highway in California was a hole in her heart that would never close. “I’m sure of it, love.”

“When I grow up I’m going to tame a beast who is really a handsome prince and we’ll live happily ever after like Mommy and Daddy.”

Evelyn bent over to kiss her granddaughter, looking like a tiny princess in the pretty canopied bed. “That is my hope for you, too. But remember, darling girl, that handsome isn’t what matters. He must have a good heart.”

“How will I know if his heart is good?”

“As we get to know people, they reveal their true selves. Our job is to listen and learn all we can, and then we must trust our own heart.”

“I will, Gram. I promise. ’Night.”

“Good night, my darling Beth.”

“I love the stories you make up, Gram.”

The old woman stood a moment beside the bed, watching as her granddaughter drifted into sleep.

If only she could do the same. But sleep, as well as peace of mind, had eluded her since the accident and the arrival of her precious grandchild.

To add to her pain, just today the doctor had confirmed the dreadful diagnosis, telling her she had little time left. And when she was gone, her son’s last wish would be denied.

He had left behind a letter, written shortly after the birth of his child, asking that his mother assume custody of Beth should anything happen to him and his wife. He had specifically requested that his daughter never fall into the hands of his sister, Darda, with whom he’d had an explosive relationship his entire life.

Richard had been a loyal, loving son. An athlete who also embraced academics. A lawyer who championed the down-and-out. His wife, Cybil, had supported his causes and had worked tirelessly alongside him in the law firm that carried their name.

Darda, on the other hand, was the pampered darling of her father and his first wife. From an early age she’d shown a tendency toward cruelty, and had learned how to wrap her weak father around her finger and obtain her every wish. And, oh, the exotic, outrageous, selfish things she’d wished for. Despite Evelyn’s repeated pleas to her husband to stop giving in to his daughter’s demands, he had adamantly refused. It had brought a painful end to their marriage, and Darda had grown up a spoiled, self-absorbed, bitter young woman.

Evelyn Campbell sighed as she walked from the room. When her illness became too advanced to care for little Beth, she feared what would happen to this sweet, innocent child, since there was no other family member to care for her. She couldn’t bring herself to consider offering her only grandchild up for adoption. There seemed to her only one road left open. As distant as they had become, Darda was all the family left to her.