The Girl in the Mirror(50)

Blood rushes to my face. I feel like a child, like Daddy is telling me how things are going to be. Do I not get a say in which country I will be inhabiting? I was just starting to relax and enjoy the Seychelles. Adam’s family never met Summer, and they’re so welcoming, so sharing, so generous. Nothing like the Carmichaels.

I force myself to stop and think. There isn’t a hint of apology or doubt in Adam’s voice. Is this what Summer meant when she referred to Adam as masterful? Maybe he’s masterful outside the bedroom as well as inside, and maybe my sister lapped it up. Maybe this is the way Adam and Summer operate. He makes decisions, and she goes along with them.

Still, I have to ask. “Why? Why the hurry?”

“I can’t keep leaving Tarq with my aunt.” He shrugs. “And let’s face it, after what’s happened, neither of us will ever be able to sleep with him on board again. You were scared enough before this tragedy. And then there’s the other thing.” He takes me in his arms and draws my face near. He’s about to kiss me, right in front of everyone—no, he’s whispering in my ear. “The blood.”

“The blood?” I repeat. I want to look away, to avoid his eyes, but Summer wouldn’t do that. I force myself to keep my eyes on his face.

“The blood in the cockpit. What if someone saw it?”

“But the police didn’t see it,” I say. “You said that yourself, that you’re sure they didn’t notice. If they had, they would have said something before we had a chance to clean it up.”

“What about those sailors who moved the boat for us?”

He’s hissing into my ear. I can’t remember the order things happened yesterday, but he must be right. The sailors moved the boat before Adam cleaned up the blood.

I remember the female sailor’s piercing blue eyes. She seemed sympathetic at the time, but now I can imagine her accusing me. The fact that Adam cleaned up the blood so thoroughly might make it worse.

Could the disc be retrieved if I needed it? Maybe with scuba divers, although the marina water is murky, and there’s a strong tide running through. And I would have to explain why I threw the footage of my sister’s death overboard.

I’m not even sure the footage proves it was an accident. I might be accused of jibing the boat deliberately. Grabbing my chance when my sister was standing on the aft deck. Using the autopilot to slam the boat to port.

“The story’s in the Seychelles Nation today,” says Adam. “The Seychellois are big gossips. Imagine if something came out about your dad’s will. People would think all sorts of things, maybe that Iris was pregnant, further along than you. I know it’s mad, but nobody else here knows you. What if someone mouthed off about what a freak Iris was? I want you safely out of here, babe. I’ve got tickets. First class. We leave tomorrow.”

The grass beneath my feet is rocking like the ocean. I gasp for words. Freak? Blood? Tickets out of here?

But he’s right. We have to leave. Adam thinks so, and he doesn’t even know the truth. What if I were unmasked? Who would believe jealous, freakish Iris if she said that her pregnant, soon-to-be-rich sister fell overboard, and she’d just happened to step into her life?





14

The Announcement




Adam takes me for dinner at a French restaurant in the marina. I’m settling in to read the menu when he asks me a question I don’t know how to answer.

I’ve persuaded Adam that we should sleep on the yacht tonight. Despite what happened on Bathsheba, I still love her. I’m grateful to her for getting me to land. I want to spend one last night on board.

Adam agreed, but insisted on leaving Tarquin with Jacqueline. His vehemence surprised me; I had never given a thought to what life was like keeping a toddler safe on a yacht, how vigilant he and Summer had to be. I’ve met plenty of people who live aboard with small children and they’ve always seemed relaxed.

But Adam is a man who has lost his sister-in-law overboard, and his wife is pregnant. I can’t challenge his decision to get off Bathsheba. The only way to leave the Seychelles is by air.

The menu at Chez Marie-France is fabulous—escargots, cuisses de grenouille—but Summer’s taste in food is less adventurous than mine, so I’ve promised myself I’ll order the steak. A year from now I can order whatever the hell I want, but for now I’m playing it safe.

“So, when’s the baby due again?” Adam asks between sips of merlot.

I gape at him, waiting for some cue that this isn’t a trap. Did Daniel tell him?

But his demeanor is too genuine to be faked. He looks at me intently and then hangs his head. “I know I should remember this stuff. I should pay more attention.”

No, honey, you should not remember this stuff. The last thing you should do is pay more attention.

“December,” I say. I can’t risk saying January. If I can get him to believe December, it’s a mighty step in the right direction. Then I just have to hope the fetus makes its appearance at an appropriate time.

If I conceived this morning.

“Oh yeah, December,” Adam mumbles. “I knew that.” He’s a terrible liar, but it’s kind of adorable. “A Christmas baby.”

I beam at him. “You got it.”



Adam joins me in the shower the next morning. I’m sure I locked the door, but I must be mistaken. He’s naked, and I try not to react to my first glimpse of his impressive erection. Summer has seen it a thousand times.