Missing Pieces(56)
“She said that he was the one who brought a bunch of boxes over to her house, including the one with the bale hook. And—” Sarah hesitated “—the other day I saw Dean grab Celia really hard and he didn’t let go until she slapped him.”
Jack frowned. “That doesn’t sound like Dean. Or Celia. I mean, Dean’s always had a bit of a temper, but I always thought the two of them got along fine. Maybe it’s just the stress of everything that’s been going on.”
“I don’t know what happened. I just thought you should know what I saw. But that’s not why I wanted to talk to you.” Sarah stood upright, pushing herself away from the barn with one hand. The sharp bite of weathered wood digging into the palm of her hand caused her to wince. She raised her hand to her face and tried to examine the sliver left behind.
“Did you hurt yourself?” Jack asked, reaching for her hand.
Sarah pulled away. “I’m fine.” She tilted her head back and looked up at the night sky. It was black and all encompassing, and she felt as if she was being swallowed up by the night, by this town, by her husband’s past.
“Sarah?” Jack asked uncertainly. He sounded scared.
“Right after the funeral I’m going home,” she said, trying to keep her voice even and unemotional.
“I don’t plan on staying any longer than I have to, either,” Jack said.
“I mean it—the minute the funeral is over I’m getting on a plane and going back home to the girls. And when we’re home we have to talk about where we go from here. I can’t live with a liar, Jack, I just can’t.” Her voice cracked on the final word. Though she had practiced saying these words the entire way back to Celia’s house, it was harder than she thought it would be.
“What? You want me to move out?” Jack asked in surprise.
Sarah straightened her spine as if this simple act could give her the strength to tell him what she had learned. “I told you that I didn’t want any more secrets. No more lies.”
“But I told you...” Jack began.
“Stop it, Jack,” Sarah said loudly. “Stop lying!” Sarah’s voice echoed across the still night air. A face appeared in the kitchen window. Clearly Celia’s. Sarah turned her back to the house and lowered her voice. “In the past few days I learned that your parents did not die in a car accident like you told me.”
“Sarah, I explained why...”
“Let me speak,” Sarah hissed. “I learned that your mother was murdered and your father was the one who murdered her. And I learned that for a time you were the prime suspect. You were arrested, Jack. Arrested. How could you keep that from me? Every time I turn around I learn something else that you’ve lied to me about.” Despite the cool night, Sarah felt heat rise to her face as she spoke. From across the farmyard she heard the creak of a screen door. Celia stepped out onto the porch, her slim frame backlit by the porch lights. She seemed to hesitate between coming toward them to find out what was going on and returning inside. “And if that wasn’t enough, I learned that your cousin’s wife was your girlfriend and that you apparently had a violent temper, got drunk and did drugs.” Sarah realized that she was crying and that her voice had once again risen enough that Celia decided that she needed to come see what was happening.
“Sarah, who the hell have you been talking to?” Jack asked angrily.
“Does it really matter?” she asked wearily. “Practically the entire town thought you killed your mother, Jack. I’m sorry such a terrible thing happened to your family and I’m sorry you felt like you needed to lie to me about it. But I’m done. After the funeral I’m leaving.”
Celia was coming closer.
“Sarah, you’re wrong,” Jack said pleadingly. “I promise you, I never would have hurt my mother. Come back inside—we’ll talk. You know me. I couldn’t do something like that.” He wrapped his hand around her arm, pulling her close. She could feel his hot breath on her cheek. “Please, you’ve got to believe me.” His grip tightened, his fingers biting into her wrist. And for the first time she was scared of her husband.
“Let go of me, Jack, or I’ll scream,” Sarah whispered. Jack dropped her arm.
Celia moved closer, picking up her pace. “Is everything okay?” she called out to them.
“Go tell your old girlfriend that everything’s all right,” she said bitterly. “I just want to be left alone.”
“We’re fine,” he called back to Celia. “We’ll be right in.” To Sarah he said, “You’re wrong, Sarah. You are completely wrong about me. I shouldn’t have lied to you. But I didn’t kill my mother. My father did. Or do you think I killed him, too?”
Sarah didn’t answer and in not responding she knew that she might have crossed the point of no return. For all intents and purposes, she had just called her husband a murderer or at least someone who could be capable of murder. He turned away from her, shaking his head in disgust, and joined Celia, who had stopped in the center of the yard. What if you’re wrong? she asked herself as she stood in the dark shadows of the barn and watched the two of them walk back toward the house. What if you’re wrong and you sent him right back into Celia’s arms? What if you’re wrong and you’ve lost everything?