The Perfect Marriage(83)

Wayne knew that it was unseemly for him to be so pleased at the prospect that his son was getting away with murder. Even if that someone was James Sommers. And even if Owen never intended for James to die, as Jessica had explained was the case based on Owen’s confession to her.

Nevertheless, what he’d always told Owen was true—the love a parent feels for a child is unconditional. With his treatment seemingly a success, Owen had a long life ahead of him now, and the last thing Wayne wanted was for his son to spend a moment of it behind bars.

He also couldn’t deny that he was happy that James was gone. He would have preferred that Jessica left James, rather than the man dying, but what Wayne really wanted was a chance to get his family back. How that opportunity came about was far less important.

He’d have to proceed slowly with Jessica. She was still grieving, after all. But he knew how much she feared being alone, and she wasn’t getting any younger. She’d come back to him in the end. He knew she would.



When Jessica told Owen that the police had effectively closed the case, her son displayed no emotion whatsoever. He barely reacted to the news at all.

“This makes your father and me very happy,” she told him. “It should make you happy too, Owen.”

“Why?” he said in a defiant voice.

“Because it means you’re going to get to live your life. Go to college. Get a job. Get married, if you want. Have a family of your own someday. I know that you’re going to have to live with what happened for the rest of your life, but there’s no reason that you have to suffer for the next . . . seventy years.”

“But shouldn’t I? Suffer, I mean. What I did was the worst thing that someone could do to someone else. I deserve to suffer.”





Jessica thought about how many times over the past four years she’d feared this day would never come. Now that she’d finally get to see Owen graduate from high school, her pride in his accomplishment was inseparable from her guilt.

It had been less than three months since Alex Miller had told her that he thought Owen was out of criminal jeopardy. Ironically enough, Owen’s escape from prosecution reminded her of his medical status—how Dr. Cammerman had told her that Owen’s cancer was “in remission,” but that he couldn’t guarantee that would always be the case.

The two prognoses—about Owen’s freedom and his health—occurred within a few weeks of one another. Alex Miller said their son would be allowed to return home after he left the hospital, and then Dr. Cammerman discharged him.

After that, Owen had gone back to school and resumed his daily routine. At times, Jessica wondered how much James’s death weighed on him. But more often than not, that question was answered by the look in her son’s eyes. In those moments, she knew what he was thinking as clearly as if he’d voiced it. But he never uttered a word.

She suggested he see a therapist, but he declined.

“Maybe when I get to college,” he said.

College was SUNY Buffalo, his father’s alma mater. It was a good fit because Owen wanted to leave New York City, and the family finances were such that private college tuition was not within their reach.

“I loved it there, O,” his father had said. “And I promise that, unlike my old man, I’ll let you attend Harvard Medical School if you want.”

“The last thing I want to be is a doctor,” Owen said quickly.

Jessica had always refrained from What do you want to be when you get older? types of questions. Largely because Owen’s survival had long been in such doubt. As a result, she had no idea where her son’s interests lay, aside from video games and the violin. Apparently, she could cross doctor off the list of his future career choices. Not that she blamed him. He had already spent enough time in medical facilities for one lifetime.

Owen suggested that he might study art history, which was a little odd. He’d never before expressed an interest in art. Music, yes, but not art. Jessica thought she knew why he’d had that sudden change of heart. It was a form of penance.

“Don’t do that,” she said.

“Why not?” Owen asked.

“Because you can’t bring James back. So trying to do things that you think might’ve made him happy is just a recipe for disaster. It’s best that you come to terms with that now. Because if you don’t, you’re going to spend your life on a wild-goose chase.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Owen said.

He wasn’t smiling, but he often chose to pretend to be serious when he was joking.

“I’m only sharing some hard-earned experience. Don’t live your life in any way that isn’t designed to bring you, or the ones you love, happiness.”

“I had no idea you were so selfish, Mom.” This he said with a smile.

She wasn’t ready to break from the serious nature of the discussion, however. “I’m not saying don’t care about other people. Or that you shouldn’t devote yourself to helping others. That’s all great. But I am saying don’t do it unless it’s what you want to do. Not because your father or I want it, and certainly not because you think it’s going to soothe your guilt over James. The surest path I know to unhappiness is to live your life to meet someone else’s expectations. Especially if that someone else is dead.”