Dovetail: A Novel(74)
“By then she was gone, and I didn’t want my younger sisters to know what she’d done. It would have been shameful. They all thought the best of Alice, and that’s how I wanted to leave it.”
What she’d done? None of John’s letters indicated that he or Alice had done anything even remotely shameful. There had to be more to the story. “So what happened? How did Alice wind up getting shot?”
“It was an accident,” Pearl said, sounding pained. “No one intended for anyone to get hurt.” She met his eyes. “I don’t like to talk about it. Now tell me about your progress on the house. What have you been up to lately?”
This was, Joe realized, how both his father and his grandmother operated. When anyone came close to discussing something painful or sensitive, they locked the door and veered away. Changed the subject and never went back. He’d been raised to respect his elders, and the fact that his grandmother was terminally ill made pressing the issue even more difficult, but he had to know what happened. He’d experienced Alice’s death in his dreams countless times and felt the pain of losing her. His grandmother had been the one to bring him to Pullman. They hadn’t met until recently, but her life and his were now irrevocably bound together. She might be stubborn, but he could be too. Dangling these vague hints in front of him but not giving him answers to his questions was wrong. She owed him the truth.
“What have I been up to lately?” He repeated the words back and decided to answer before returning to the subject of Alice. “I was talking to my dad on the phone earlier. He told me the story of his dad dying and why you aren’t on speaking terms.”
A look crossed her face. Relief? Surprise? He wasn’t entirely sure.
“Then you know what happened,” she said.
“I know what he said happened.” Joe kept his voice neutral. “I’m sure you have your own take on it.”
“Did he tell you that we had a huge argument? That he caught me being unfaithful, and that afterward he committed suicide? Hung himself from the rafters of the garage?” Her voice was quiet. She kept her gaze on the floor; suddenly, she looked so beaten down and sad that he wanted to drop the whole subject, walk away, and let the family secrets stay secret. But he’d come to Pullman for a reason. The dreams that had tormented him had been real events, and it looked like those events had tormented his grandmother as well. Kathleen felt that Alice wanted the truth to be known. Joe wasn’t so sure about that, but it was as good a theory as any to explain everything that had happened to him in the last year. Things had been buried for way too long.
He nodded. “That’s the gist of it.”
“There’s always two sides to every story, Joe. Always.” She sighed wearily. “Not that I want to discuss this with my grandson, but to set the record straight, that was the only time I strayed from my marriage. Believe me, I regretted it immediately. Such a mistake.”
Joe nodded. One mistake that set off so much misery. He said, “I’m sorry.”
She looked up at him, tears glinting in her eyes. “There was far more to the story, Joe, not that I want to elaborate. Just believe me when I say I haven’t lived a good life. I am truly sorry for all the pain I’ve caused, but I can’t go back and do things differently. If I could, I would.”
“You could call my dad, tell him that.”
“He won’t even talk to me, so I don’t think that’s an option.” She shook her head sadly.
Her softening gave him an opening. “Howard said Alice died from a gunshot wound. I know John Lawrence was with her when she died. You said it was an accident. What happened? Who shot her?”
Pearl wilted, her body hunched over, her hands clutching her forehead. “Alice . . . ,” she said, her voice cracking. “You have to understand. I loved my sister Alice. I still do. She was good, so good. I never wanted anything bad to happen to her.” She lifted her head, and Joe saw the gleam of tears in her eyes.
He got up and knelt down in front of her. “Do you know what happened? Do you know who killed Alice?” He fought the instinct to give her a reassuring hug. The feeling of loss that accompanied the dream of holding the dying Alice was still fresh. He still felt the rawness, the pain, the grief that a man felt losing the love of his life.
“Yes, I know who killed her.” A sob escaped her. “It was me. God help me—Alice would still be alive if it wasn’t for me.”
“You shot her?”
“It’s haunted me for years. I’m afraid that when I die, I’ll go straight to hell.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
1983
Joe made plans to meet Kathleen at the Pine Cone. It wasn’t even lunchtime yet, but there was no way he could wait until noon to talk to her. He used the pay phone in the lobby before he left his grandmother’s building, putting the coin in the slot with shaky fingers. First he’d heard the details of his grandfather’s death; then his grandmother had admitted she’d been responsible for Alice’s shooting. Good grief, his family had this horrible history of tragedy. He’d gone from childhood to adulthood and never had a clue.
When Marcia answered the phone at the store, he asked to speak to Kathleen. Once she got on the line, he blurted out, “You have to meet me at the restaurant. I need you. I mean, I need to talk to you.”