The Winters(72)

All the while Dani remained out of our sight. But I could sense her above us, pacing, smoking, hatching plans, our little mad girl in the attic.

Most parties die in the kitchen, and there we found ourselves gathered around the island, Max, Jonah, and I, tired yet vibrating from the residual energy that had abruptly drained from Asherley. Louisa volunteered to check on Dani, Max being too angry still, and I too afraid.

Max reached to touch my face as though to see if a fever had broken. “How are you holding up, Mrs. Winter?”

“I’m okay,” I said, smiling. I meant it. Hours earlier I had stood mortified in front of a crowd of strangers in the greenhouse. But now I was among family, my new family, and I felt buoyed by their sympathy.

“You married a remarkable woman, Max,” Jonah said, pouring scotch into his coffee. “Most would have crumbled after that terrible incident. Louisa told me you really gave it to Dani.”

Just then Louisa returned, holding an empty bottle of champagne. “That’s what you get when you lock me out of a room.” She carefully placed the bottle on the counter. “Dani’s out like a light, all tucked in with her little kitten. She’ll be very hungover tomorrow, but much more reasonable, I suspect. Maybe this time she’ll volunteer for rehab.”

“I’ve already put in a call to intake,” Max said, his hands around a mug of coffee. “And Dr. Sherman’s been notified.”

Louisa slapped the marble. “Listen, why don’t you two go on a honeymoon after all? I know you wanted to take Dani, but if she’s going to rehab . . . We can check in on her while you’re away, can’t we?”

Jonah looked alarmed. “What I saw tonight put the fear of God and of teenage girls in me, this one in particular,” he said. “Almost made me glad we had shit luck in the baby department. No offense, Max. But you two have your hands full.”

The notion of no longer delaying our honeymoon did appeal. Maybe that’s all we needed, space between Dani and us. Not Paris. Somewhere neither of us had any history.

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow,” Max said, letting out a yawn. “All this teenage subterfuge has knocked my lights out. We need our rest to deal with the little beast in the morning.” He put his arm around me and kissed the side of my head.

“Well, we can take a hint,” Louisa said. “Husband, fetch my coat and bag, will you?”

“Oh. Wait,” I said. “Let me change out of your dress.”

“Return it another time. We’ll leave you two alone now. It is your wedding night, after all. And I hope not everything is ruined.”

Louisa gave me a long embrace at the front door. Max walked them under an umbrella to their car. I stood there alone until their taillights disappeared down the drive, inhaling the musty forest smell the rain unleashed. Max joined me back on the porch, scooping me up into his arms so abruptly I let out a yelp.

“May I carry you over the threshold of your home, Mrs. Winter?” He stepped inside and gently placed my bare feet back down on the cold marble. “Welcome to Asherley. What a horribly lovely day we’ve had.”

Despite the earlier drama and the late hour, I was no shy bride that night. I seemed to be using his body to blot out the memory of myself in Rebekah’s cursed dress. I took his hands and placed them where I wanted to erase her: my breasts, where her strange lace had touched me; my waist, where her red sash had cut me in half; and my face, where tiny brushstrokes had painted me into a darker version of myself.

Afterwards Max fell fast asleep, but I drifted in and out for hours. I kept coming up against the two obstacles in the way of my complete happiness. One I could do nothing about. Rebekah’s memory would always permeate our lives, stoked in large part by Dani, who was the second, more complicated obstacle. I felt guilty about my earlier rage, but I still allowed myself the fantasy of a blissful life without her lurking around every corner, sabotaging my happiness, undermining my relationship with Max. Perhaps there was a school she could attend far from here. Maybe Paris for a year. I couldn’t go back to living under the same roof as someone who could pull that kind of stunt, who could careen from generosity to humiliation, from good to evil, from sweet to mean in minutes. It was destabilizing. I thought I’d seen glimmers of something resembling reason, but I was wrong. She needed the kind of help I was not equipped to provide. I was done. The day had sapped me of my last reserves of kindness.

Sleep had finally begun to pull me under when a horrible scream cut through the still, dark house, one so high-pitched and mournful it didn’t sound real at first, or even human.

Max shot upright in bed. “What was that?”

His feet had barely touched the floor before another scream came. This time we knew it was Dani. Max bolted ahead of me downstairs. I needed to hold the balustrade, terror turning my legs to liquid. I caught up to him in the kitchen, where he already had Dani pinned to the floor, her arms and legs flailing beneath him, her eyes horror-stricken.

“Dani, Dani, shh,” Max said, using what seemed to be all his strength to contain her. “It’s all right, it’s all right, you’re all right.”

Her nightgown was filthy at the knees, the collar pulling at her neck as she tried to break free of Max. I fell on the floor beside them, reaching for her hands, her nails black with dirt.

“Dani, what happened?”