The Silent Sister(104)

“I have talked to him. It doesn’t do any good.”

“Maybe if Jade talked to him?”

I shook my head. That was a really bad idea.

Celia looked down at her hands. She twirled her wedding band around on her finger—a nervous-looking gesture—then raised her eyes to mine again. “I care about you, Riley, because you’re Jade’s daughter,” she said. “I care about Jade more, though. I love her so much that I can’t let you go on thinking she acted out of selfishness. No matter what happens to her or to Jasha Trace or to our family … no matter what happens, I can’t let you feel that way about her. She was young. She thought she was doing the best thing for you by leaving you.”

“I don’t know how to get past that,” I said honestly. “I don’t know how to get past her walking away from me and then starting a whole new family for herself.”

“Well…” She looked unsure of herself. “Maybe I can help you get past it,” she said.

“How?”

She twirled her ring again, her gaze on the floor instead of me. Finally, she raised her eyes to mine.

“She was afraid of the trial,” she said. “Afraid of what might come out.”

My skin prickled and I said nothing, not sure I wanted to hear what she was going to say.

“Jade didn’t ever want you to know any of this,” Celia said. “She doesn’t know I’m here and she’d be furious with me if she knew. But—”

“What are you talking about? She doesn’t want me to know what?”

“Do you have a scar on your forehead?” she asked suddenly.

I nodded slowly. I lifted my bangs and leaned into the light from the table lamp.

Celia walked over to the couch and bent close to me, squinting. “It’s barely visible, isn’t it. That little scar.”

I dropped my bangs over my forehead again, and she sat down on the other end of the couch. “What does my scar have to do with anything?” I asked.

“A lot, actually.” She bit her lower lip, hesitating. Even when she opened her mouth, it was a moment before she spoke. “Steven Davis was your father,” she said finally, the words coming out in a rush.

It took a few seconds for what she’d said to sink in. “Oh, no.” I felt sick. “They were lovers?”

“No! God, no!” She looked horrified. “She had you when she was fifteen, Riley. He was forty. You could hardly call them lovers.” Celia’s cheeks were scarlet. “He raped her. She didn’t think of it as rape back then. It took her years to realize that’s what it was. Back then, she thought it was her fault. But he had total power over her. It happened when they were at a music festival in Italy.”

She said something else, but her words were lost on me. I felt nauseous. All I’d eaten since breakfast were those nacho chips and a beer, and now the room began a slow dizzying spin around my head. I remembered the tape of the Italy trip. I remembered Steven Davis pointing his baton in Lisa’s direction. How, at that small gesture, she stepped away from the group of students and performed for him.

“He asked her to come to his room to talk about a piece of music,” Celia said. “Jade didn’t want to go to his room alone and she got her friend Matty to go with her. But after they were in his room, Steven sent Matty on some errand and Jade was stuck alone with him.”

The room spun wildly and I wasn’t sure I could make it to the bathroom in time. “I feel sick,” I said, getting to my feet, nearly stumbling as I crossed the living room. I shut myself inside the small hall bathroom, where I sat down on the closed toilet seat, my head lowered to my knees, hoping the nausea would pass.

I barely knew where I was. Durham? New Bern? My whole body felt strange, as though it no longer belonged to me. I was conceived during the rape of a barely fifteen-year-old girl by a man she’d trusted—a sick and repulsive man who was my father. How had Lisa felt every time she looked at me? Jeannie had said she’d cuddled me. She didn’t want to part with me. Yet how could she not feel revulsion and anger each time her eyes rested on her “little sister”? I had to be a reminder of the worst time of her life.

“Are you okay?” Celia’s voice came through the bathroom door.

“Yes.” I sounded as weak as I felt. I stood up slowly. Splashing my face with cool water, I caught the briefest glimpse of my pale reflection in the mirror and looked away. I knew now where my dark hair and eyes came from and I didn’t want to see them.

I opened the bathroom door. Celia touched my arm, tentatively, as if afraid I’d bat her hand away. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

I wasn’t sure I could walk all the way to the couch. Instead, I sat down on the carpeted hallway floor, my back against the wall. My phone cut into my hip bone and I pulled it out of my pocket and set it on the floor next to me. “Is that why she killed him?” I looked up at her. “Out of anger? It wasn’t an accident?”

She sat down across from me. “What do you remember about that day?” she asked.

I shook my head slowly, afraid the dizziness would return. “Nothing,” I said. “I was not even two, and I don’t remember anything about it. Danny said I got the scar on my forehead that day, but I don’t remember.”

“I think it’s good you don’t,” Celia wrapped her hands around her knees. “Jade said she was home alone with you, and Steven called to say he was coming over,” she said. “He was the last person she wanted to see, of course. She hadn’t been alone with him since … the day you were conceived.”