The Winters(81)



I thought of how I had frolicked with Maggie in there, planted an imaginary garden, hosted a wedding of all things.

“It was two thirty in the morning by then. I drove back to the crash site with several cans of gasoline from the boathouse. She was dead. I checked to make sure. I placed Rebekah’s rings on her finger and I doused the car and the perimeter, and I watched it burn for a while. I didn’t mean to light up six acres, but it was a small sacrifice, I suppose, to the gods, in exchange for a fire that rendered her body completely unidentifiable, except for three diamonds melted in a pool of gold.”

He straightened up, relieved of some of the weight of the story. “I’ve done many awful, selfish things in my life,” he continued. “But bringing you here, marrying you, lying to you, and now dumping all of this on you are among the worst. Sometimes I think I fell in love with you knowing that everything would come to light, that Dani’s mother would win, that I’d go to jail and Dani would need looking after by someone good. Someone like you. Would you do that? Take care of Dani for me? I do love her, you know. She drives me crazy, but I do.”

Throughout his confession, I passed through every emotion: fear, confusion, anger, resentment. But one rose above the rubble, a dissolute kind of joy. Max had said I was a better mother to Dani than Rebekah ever was. I could be a better wife, too, because now there were no secrets between us and I could help him. I could fix this. Max wasn’t going to lose Dani or Asherley. Nor, for that matter, was I.

“Don’t talk like that, Max,” I said, standing up. “No one is going to jail. Dani’s mother didn’t win anything. You made a horrible mistake, but you didn’t kill Rebekah. Everything you did was to protect Dani. You can’t save Rebekah, but you can save Dani. She needs you here, not in jail. Let me help you. Who else knows about that night? Who else have you told?”

“Nobody. I mean, Jonah drew up the fake adoption papers, but I told them Dani’s mother died of an overdose. Dani has pieces of the truth, as you know. She thinks that woman was my girlfriend, something we can’t disabuse her of. But last night she said she saw something in the greenhouse. And she knew to dig right there.”

I shut my eyes. Rebekah was dead, her body a few feet from where we were sitting. This was a fact. But I was no longer afraid of her, or of his past with Rebekah, or of my future with Dani. Nothing could hurt us. I felt a rush of manic purpose. I took his hands in mine, tugging on them for emphasis.

“Listen to me very carefully. Surrendering to the police won’t undo what happened, what Rebekah did, what Dani’s mother did, what you did. These things are in the past. Right now, today, is what matters. We have each other, we love each other, Dani will get well. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she can put all of this behind her. But we have to do something about the . . . body. Today. Before the police do come back with a warrant and start poking around. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes, I do. I thought the same, but I was afraid to say it. Out loud. It’s why I wanted you to go to Louisa’s. I thought perhaps I could take her out past the barn—”

“No. She can’t stay on the island.” I had never felt more right. A plan was falling into place, my plan, one that would save Dani, Max, and Asherley. “No. I say we . . . we take her out on a boat, on the Aquarama. It’s fast, small. It has that shallow aft.”

“Yes,” he said.

“It’s still cold,” I continued. “There won’t be many boats out on the water. We’ll head out past the bay—”

“No!” he said, throwing my hands off his. “Not ‘we.’ I’ve already implicated you with my confession. You will not be accomplice to anything worse.”

“Max, you can’t do it alone. You know that. You need my help. I’m strong. I’m not squeamish. I can drive. It’s a fussy boat and I know how—”

“No. I can handle it. This is something I have to do alone. I can’t involve you. I’d never forgive myself. I won’t budge on this.”

“I want to help.”

“You want to help? Where’s your phone?”

“Upstairs.”

“Fine.” He tapped in his password and gave me his. “Here’s what you can do. Call the rental company. Tell them to come get the chairs and tables tomorrow afternoon, not today. Then call Louisa. Tell her we’re coming to their house for dinner. This will stop her from checking in on us, plus if we take the boat to their house, it’ll explain why I was spotted out on the water today. Then call Eli. Find out if there are any updates about the warrant or if they’re just letting this go. Then call the rehab. See if Dani’s okay. Find out when she’s out of detox. Tell her doctor we’re not mad at her for calling the police. Find out when we can visit. But before you do any of that, bring me a warm sweater and something to . . . transfer the body into. A thick blanket or something. And some belts. Nothing monogrammed. These are the things you can do for me.”

While unburdening himself of these dark secrets made him seem lighter, more purposeful, I felt heavy. But it was a welcome weight, one that grounded me in my love for him, and for Dani and this place.

When I turned to leave, he grabbed my arm.

“Thank you,” he said, and kissed me. “I will spend the rest of my life and the entirety of my fortune making sure you never regret loving me.”

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