The Winters(79)

“And then, big surprise, a couple years later, Dani’s mother came back, broke, face hollowed out, teeth gray, hair the color of something you might find washed up on a beach. It was meth, painkillers. Both. I don’t know. She walked across the causeway and around the gate through the forest. She was soaking wet. Rebekah gave her more money. But this time I got her to sign something that said she would never bother us again, but really it was adoption papers Jonah drew up and backdated. Totally illegal. He could lose his license to practice law, go to jail. But we couldn’t mess around anymore. I really thought, I hoped, that this last windfall meant Dani’s mother could indulge all of her addictions, surround herself with the dregs of the earth, and maybe, with any luck, overdose somewhere quickly and quietly to leave us in peace with our child. This was my wish for a troubled young woman. For her to die. And that’s the story I’ve told you about her, and Jonah and Louisa, a story born of the darkest kind of wishful thinking. That’s why all of this is happening now. My horrible thoughts brought a curse upon Asherley, on us.”

“People do desperate things when they’re afraid, Max,” I said. “Dani was better off with you, regardless of the circumstances of her adoption. Can you imagine the life she’d have had with her mother?”

“We told ourselves that. And I wish I could say she had an idyllic childhood. As the years passed, Dani went from being a colicky baby to an enraged toddler to a difficult child. She did not play well with others. She couldn’t keep a friend, sit through a class, behave with nannies. But damn it if Rebekah wasn’t determined to fix what was wrong with her. She took her everywhere, to every expert, tried every cocktail of medication, acupuncture, horse therapy, a dozen different camps. She’d last two days, wet the bed, pick a fight, and come home. She absolutely clung to Rebekah.”

“She sounds like a devoted mother,” I said. “No wonder Dani misses her so much.”

“Ha. That’s what you think? That’s your takeaway? No. Despite how badly she wanted a baby, Rebekah didn’t know what to do with a child, especially a needy, angry one. You’ve been a far better mother to that kid in four months than Rebekah was in thirteen years. Oh, don’t get me wrong. She wanted to be a good mother. She said to me before Dani came, I’ll be the best mother ever, Max. I’ll make every mother in the Hamptons jealous. What she meant was she wanted to be seen as a good mother. That’s all she knew how to do. The pictures she took, the magazine profiles, that cursed social media, every picture told the story of the perfect mother, Rebekah Winter.”

He was right, that was the undisputed narrative. I’d seen the images, visited them over and over for clues on how to be a good mother myself. There she was cuddling the baby in soft focus, the two of them holding hands on the seashore, Rebekah spinning Dani around, throwing her in the air, hosting extravagant birthday parties with ponies and clowns, cheering her from the sidelines with the other perfect mothers. Max continued shattering these images, one by one, his hammer hitting the glass surfaces, the shards piling up around my feet. Their marriage was a financial arrangement. Rebekah was craven and imperious. She broke the law. Her beauty was fake. She was a terrible mother.

“Rebekah became increasingly depressed, frustrated, full of regrets. She would have these anxiety attacks. She wasn’t consumed with guilt so much as buyer’s remorse. Motherhood was harder than she thought it would be. Draining, unfulfilling, one-sided, boring, constant. I wish I could say I made up for it, that I was a good father. My own father was an asshole, distant, distracted, and I carried on that proud family tradition. I became like him, always away somewhere, always busy. Rebekah started drinking more. She snuck cigarettes. Went on lavish vacations, often leaving Dani behind to be cared for by a succession of nannies, none sticking around once she returned. Turns out Dani wasn’t what was missing in our marriage. She was the bomb that destroyed it. And I will never forgive myself for not filling in the gaps Rebekah’s disinterest created, for not being a better father, for letting Rebekah ruin that child. For not trying to be the father she deserved, until it was too late.”

I reached for his hand, but he recoiled.

“Louisa tried. She’s been a good aunt. She took her to New York, to Paris. She’s invested in Dani’s success, at least for Asherley’s sake. But Louisa wasn’t her mother. Dani wanted her mother. She wanted Rebekah. And the more Rebekah pulled away from her, the more clingy and desperate Dani became. She can be like that with me now. You’ve seen it.”

“But Dani doesn’t remember Rebekah this way at all. She idolizes her. Still. To this day.”

“I know. It’s a crazy thing. Kids are remarkably selective in what they want to believe. But a neglected baby monkey will love a fork covered in duct tape if that’s all they’re given to hold. And as Dani got older, she committed the ultimate sin by resembling Rebekah less and less. She was darker, swarthier, bonier, taking after the father, maybe. She tried desperately to win Rebekah’s approval, to gain her attention, even demanded, at eleven, that we let her dye her hair the exact same color as Rebekah’s. I’m ashamed that I ever said yes. But I couldn’t say no to anything that pacified Dani, no one could, least of all Rebekah.

“When she turned twelve, she shot up, got those legs, her real mother’s looks before the drugs ravaged her. And suddenly Rebekah had competition. She resented the attention Dani received, from anyone, especially me. So I pulled away even more, just to keep the peace.