Lovely Girls(53)

Joe was the only good thing that had happened since we’d moved to Shoreham. But I couldn’t stay in a town where my daughter and I had both become pariahs for the sake of a relationship with a man I’d only just met. Although I had to admit, to myself if no one else, that the idea of not seeing Joe again, not hearing his laugh or the warmth in his voice, hollowed me out. I shook my head and pushed the paperwork aside. I needed more caffeine.

I started a pot of coffee, and once it had brewed, I poured myself a mug and went outside to sit on our back patio. When we’d first bought the house, I’d envisioned having an in-ground pool put in back here, maybe with a hot tub on one end or with a soothing waterfall feature. Now I doubted we’d stay long enough to do that. I didn’t want to uproot Alex yet again, but I wasn’t sure keeping her at Shoreham High School was a better prospect. Maybe at this point, it would be better to take her back to Buffalo, to where it was familiar.

Although I hadn’t told Joe the whole story. I hadn’t told him why we’d left Buffalo in the first place.

After Ed died, the immediate response from our community had been kind and sympathetic. I was so overwhelmed with flowers and casseroles, I ran out of vases and refrigerator space. I privately vowed that the next time I had a bereaved friend, I’d give them a gift certificate for a massage or a nice bottle of whiskey.

But then, shortly after the funeral, something changed. The first time I noticed it, I was at the grocery store. I had just run in to buy a few things—the peach yogurt Alex liked, a head of romaine lettuce, a carton of eggs. I spotted Jamie Ryan pushing her cart down the pasta-and-canned-vegetable aisle. I knew Jamie from way back when our daughters were both in grade school and had attended the same gymnastics class. We used to chat on the sidelines while they tumbled around on cushioned mats. We’d always been friendly, even if we weren’t exactly friends.

Jamie had come to Ed’s funeral, I remembered, although I hadn’t had a chance to speak with her. Impulsively, I turned my cart up the next aisle so that I could bump into her and thank her for attending the service. I’d realized, even at that point, that I needed to make more of an effort with people. I needed friends, not just acquaintances. And I thought Jamie seemed like good potential friend material. She always had a mischievous glint in her eye and a wicked sense of humor.

But then, just as I was passing the display of bagged coffee, I heard her, her voice carrying over from the next aisle.

“I know! Not only was she the one driving the car, but I’ve heard that family has a history of emotional problems. Mary Medvin told me the father was ejected from the grounds of a tennis tournament the kids were playing at because he yelled at a chair umpire.”

Jamie’s voice dipped into a whisper, so I couldn’t hear what else she had to say about that. I remembered that weekend. We had been at a juniors tournament in Orlando. Ed asked the umpire whether he was blind and then called him an asshole when he refused to reverse his call. It had been mortifying, and Alex hadn’t spoken to her father for the rest of the weekend. Suddenly, Jamie’s voice rose again.

“I’ve talked to people who don’t think it was an accident. I’m not saying it was intentional, not exactly, but maybe there were some serious underlying emotional issues. I mean, I would hate to think that was true, but just think about her being at school around our kids next year! That doesn’t seem right.”

I had turned around and left, abandoning my cart and its contents in the middle of the aisle.

It hadn’t been the only time I heard ugly insinuations. A neighbor stopped me while I was pulling out the garbage cans one morning to ask me if I planned on letting Alex drive again. She was clearly worried that Alex might run her over. On Thanksgiving, a distant acquaintance cornered me before dinner so that he could lecture me on the likelihood of depression being genetic and symptoms I should watch for in Alex. He didn’t relent even after I told him Ed had never been diagnosed with depression. Alex’s guidance counselor called me in to discuss her concerns over how withdrawn Alex had become, and during the meeting, told me her pet theory that people never really overcome this sort of trauma and Alex might struggle for the rest of her life.

That was when I first got the idea that maybe we should just move.

And the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. We could go somewhere where no one knew Alex as the girl who had been driving the car at the time of the accident that killed her emotionally unstable father. She’d just be another teenage girl. And we’d at least be able to go to the grocery store without having to listen to school moms gossip about her.

It hadn’t quite worked how I’d hoped.

I sipped my coffee and gazed up at the sky, which was a clear blue with white fluffy clouds. It was so absurdly pretty, it almost looked fake, like a painted movie set.

“Kate!”

I turned and saw Lita waving at me from her backyard. She didn’t have a pool either. Instead there was a giant circular trampoline behind her house that I had never seen anyone jump on. Lita skirted it and headed straight toward our shared fence. I made a mental note that if I did stay here, I would have to install a privacy fence. Something so high, Lita wouldn’t be able to peer over it.

“Kate!” she exclaimed. “Have you heard what happened? It’s terrible.”

Lita looked both horrified and delighted in her horror.

I assumed it had something to do with the video of Genevieve Hudson and Coach Townsend having sex. I had no interest in discussing it. As much as I disliked Daphne and was angry for how she’d bullied Alex, she was the victim in this situation. It was sordid and depressing, and I didn’t want to hear Lita gloat about it. And besides, I was so tired, hungover from a lack of sleep and the aftershocks of the adrenaline that had coursed through me all night. I couldn’t think of a single word to say, so I just shook my head mutely.