214 Palmer Street(66)
“You’re welcome,” Stephanie said. “Just trying to do the right thing.”
“One thing I’ve been wondering,” Sarah asked, considering her words carefully. “Was it a coincidence that you were at Maggie Scott’s house when all of this happened? You can tell me. I’m not in a position to make any judgments. You saved my life.”
Stephanie shook her head. “Completely random. I’d love to say I had some premonition, but that’s not the case. Just coincidental good timing.” She tucked her hair behind one ear. “I do have a question for you as well—if you don’t mind.”
“Shoot.” Sarah immediately regretted her choice of words, but neither Bickley seemed to notice.
“Do you believe Gavin’s story—that Clarice killed Jeremy with the machete and that the three of them covered it up because they were afraid?”
“I wasn’t there, of course,” Sarah said, “but I can tell you that he basically said the same thing when I was down in the bomb shelter, and Kirk agreed. So yes, I believe it happened that way.”
The local news had a field day with this story when it all came out. In Gavin’s telling, it was an accident. Just a bunch of kids who’d had too much to drink and were playing around. According to him, Clarice had actually been the one at fault. She’d been waving the machete around and it struck Jeremy, slicing open his abdomen. He’d bled out in minutes.
“It makes me sick that he justified covering it up by saying they were just kids at the time. Just kids,” Stephanie repeated, a bitter note in her voice. “They were old enough to know better. They knew what they were doing.”
“Stephanie,” her mother said, love in her voice. “Don’t go there. Let it be.”
“As you can see, my mother is more forgiving than I am.”
“It’s not a matter of forgiving,” Mrs. Bickley said with a sigh. “I just can’t let it devour me. There’s a quote that has stayed with me over the years: holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; instead, you are the one who will get burned. I’m paraphrasing, but that’s the gist of it.”
“Well put,” Sarah said. There was a long pause and then she added, “All three of us are in the middle of tragedies we didn’t choose. I don’t know that I’ll ever come to terms with everything that happened.”
“You will. In time. It won’t go away completely, but the pain will become manageable and you’ll find things that will make you happy,” Mrs. Bickley said, meeting her eyes with a kind gaze. “If it weren’t for Stephanie here…” She gave her daughter a warm smile. “…I think I would have lost my mind a long time ago. And you’ll have your little one too. You’ll see. Having your baby will go a long way toward healing your pain. A new life is a miracle.”
Sarah’s hand instinctively nestled her stomach. “I needed to hear that. Thank you.”
“Do you know if you’re having a boy or girl?”
“It’s a boy.”
“How nice,” Mrs. Bickley said. “There’s nothing like having a son. Boys really love their mothers.” After a long pause, she added, “You know, Stephanie and I ran into Judy Aden at the grocery store the other day. She and I used to be close friends when the boys were teenagers but that all changed after Jeremy went missing.” Her voice broke on the last few words and it took her a few moments to collect herself. “Everything changed after I lost my son. I would see Judy and Bert out and about and I’d go out of my way not to talk to them. They still had their son, and I didn’t. Even making small talk was too painful for me. But seeing Judy at the store this time was different, now that we know the truth. I’m not sure that we’ll be friends again, but we had a lovely conversation and I feel like a load has been lifted. So thank you for that, Sarah. You’re a brave woman and you’ve helped me more than you’ll ever know.”
“You’re welcome.” It was the right response, but Sarah felt insincere saying the words. She didn’t feel brave. Instead, she felt adrift and scared, but it did help to know that something she’d done had helped Mrs. Bickley find peace after so many years of pain. And maybe someday she’d find her own peace as well.
After a long pause, Mrs. Bickley struggled to her feet. “I do believe we’ve taken enough of your time. Thank you for speaking with us, Sarah. I wish you and your son only the best in the future.”
Your son. Sarah felt a twinge of happiness. She’d been thinking of her little one as the baby, which was accurate, of course, but a son? The word brought an image of the Madonna and child. Mother and son. A connection she’d have for a lifetime.
“Thanks for stopping by.” Sarah accompanied the two women to the front door. “I’m glad we talked.”
In the foyer as they said their goodbyes, Mrs. Bickley pulled Sarah into an embrace. She said, “You take care of yourself.”
“I will.”
Sarah watched the women make their way slowly to the car. They were halfway there when Stephanie turned back, retracing her steps to the door.
“My mom would be appalled that I’m telling you this,” she said, keeping her voice low. “But just between us, when we saw your mother-in-law the other day, she said her greatest wish is that you name the baby after Kirk. She said she’d never ask you to do such a thing, but secretly she and Bert are both hoping you will.” She smiled.