Everything We Didn't Say(62)

A fleck of spittle hit Juniper on the cheek, but she didn’t move to wipe it away. “Why’d you slash my tires, Ashley?”

Some inscrutable emotion washed across Ashley’s features, but then she steeled her gaze and the moment was gone. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Really? Because I can’t think of a single person in Jericho who would be so spiteful.”

“Spiteful? Are you kidding me? You’re a despicable human being, June.”

That stung. “We were kids. Sullivan and I fell in love—”

“Your little affair was not love. Don’t cheapen my marriage, my life”—Ashley tapped her chest with her knuckles, hard—“by pretending that a few weeks one summer when you were a teenager was anything close to love.”

“It was an accident.”

“Oh, that’s rich. Do you mean that your secret relationship was an accident? Or that Willa was?”

Juniper recoiled as if she had been slapped.

“Thanks for that.” Ashley crossed her arms and gave Juniper a cold, tight smile. “If I had any questions about Willa’s parentage, I don’t anymore. The look on your face is all the proof I need.”

“Does Sullivan—”

“He’s willfully ignorant. And it’s for his own good. I can hardly stand to look at her. My children do not have a half sister.” Ashley gave a little shiver of revulsion.

Poor Willa. Blameless, naive, lovely little Willa. The line where “father” should be on her birth certificate had been intentionally left blank—a bitter tradition for the Baker girls—because June had confessed that in the weeks after the murders she had gone completely off the rails. She didn’t know who the father was. Didn’t want to know. Didn’t care. But that wasn’t true. There had only ever been one possible father, but because Juniper wanted to protect her daughter—and Sullivan and Ashley and, well, everyone—she bore her parents’ quiet shame. She would rather have them believe that she had slept with half the county than chain Sullivan to her when he had already let her go. The girl that June had been was hurt and reeling, and she had believed with the ingenuous certainty of a crushed nineteen-year-old that Willa would be better off without him. That they both would.

Of course, no one came forward. There wasn’t even the faintest whisper of who the father might be, and eventually people stopped wondering. June and Sullivan had hidden their relationship meticulously, making sure the only people who ever saw them together were their siblings. And none of them would ever come forward. Willa was the opposite of a virgin birth—she was anybody’s baby.

But Ashley’s derision changed everything. Juniper was suddenly, unshakably sure that she had made a terrible mistake. The thought shot through her like a bolt of electricity: Sullivan should know.

“She has his eyes,” Juniper said. She didn’t even realize she had spoken out loud until Ashley hissed at her through her pursed lips.

“Shut up. Shut up. Don’t you say that. Sullivan Tate has three children, and they all have my eyes.”

At that moment a cry rang out behind Ashley. “Mama?”

There was a toddler sliding slowly down the steps on her bottom. She was facing them, her chubby arms outstretched toward Ashley as she pitched forward and came precariously close to tumbling headlong.

“Turn around, baby!” Ashley called, her voice, her entire bearing, instantly changed. She took a few hurried steps toward the staircase, twisting her arms in front of her as if to remind the little girl how it was done. “Just like Mommy taught you. On your tummy. That’s a good girl.”

Juniper’s throat felt thick, and unwelcome tears sprang to her eyes. She quickly swiped them away while Ashley’s back was turned.

In spite of everything, it was clear that Ashley was a good mom. She had a beautiful life, beautiful children. What was Juniper doing? What did she hope to accomplish by coming out here and confronting her? Juniper was the outsider, the exile who had abandoned everyone and everything—including her own daughter. She had relegated Willa to a life as nobody’s girl. Or, maybe—horrifyingly—the Butcher’s Girl.

But this. This was her birthright. Willa was Sullivan Tate’s firstborn.

As Juniper watched, the curly-haired toddler finally descended the stairs close enough for Ashley to reach. She swung the child up into her arms and nuzzled her neck while the little girl giggled. “Big girl, Hadley! Look what you did! Mama’s so proud of you!”

Juniper wasn’t sure what to do. She contemplated quietly pulling the door shut and just disappearing, but before she could reach for the handle, Ashley spun around. “Look, Hadley. It’s the lady from the library. Remember her? Should we go to Mom and Tot Hour this week?”

“Ashley—”

“Yes, let’s go. We’ll sit right in the front again. That’ll be fun.” Ashley’s tone was bright and cheerful, but she bored a hole through Juniper with her glare.

She knew that she was supposed to feel scared and ashamed. She knew Ashley expected her to duck her head and run, sufficiently cowed and put well in her place. But though her words were sharp as cut glass, and though her eyes were dark with hate, Juniper could see something else in Ashley.

Ashley Tate was ruthless, but she was also frightened. It might seem like she held all the cards—house, husband, heritage and all—but if they were playing a game, Juniper was the wild card and Willa trumped all. What would happen if she simply told the truth? If she confessed to Sullivan that he had another daughter? Maybe he already knew. Maybe he just didn’t dare to reveal her secret. It was obvious that Ashley was terror-stricken by the very thought.