The Red Hunter(19)

Claudia would return to bed and entertain the parade of fears, dark imaginings, wonderings about death. That’s what happened last night after the door fell and the police officer had left. She just lay there for hours. Sometimes, even now, she still thought about “it,” the event that divided her life into before and after. Sometimes, she still remembered that night in vivid detail, moments flashing back on her—his flat, empty eyes, the hard, mean grip of his hand on her arm, the smell of him, his odor. He was dead now. She never thought “before” that she’d ever wish anyone dead. But she had wished it, and he was dead and she was glad. But that moment, it was alive and well. Her shrink said that it was normal. Some things don’t leave us, he said. We just learn to live with them better. And those memories, they do fade some. They will—some.

“So are you going to call that guy?” asked Raven. Claudia posted the photo on Instagram. It was pretty and bright, Raven a dark-eyed angel in the golden morning sun. That door finally fell off. Time to get started on the barn. #needahandyman

She was gratified to get three likes almost instantly. Validation in the palm of your hand.

“Who?” asked Claudia absently, moving toward the car.

“The hot one,” said Raven. “From yesterday. I think he liked you.”

“The handyman?” said Claudia. “Don’t be silly. He didn’t like me. He wants a job.”

God, but yes, he was hot. Again that dark thought presented itself. Would he have come over and pried off that door, just so she’d call? No. Who would do that?

“Are you going to give him one? A job.”

Claudia glanced over at her daughter, who was smiling slyly. Was her fifteen-year-old being filthy? No. No. At fifteen Claudia had had no idea about anything like that, of course, she didn’t. Certainly, Claudia had never discussed it with Raven. They’d talked about sex, about how it worked, about boundaries, about treating her body with respect, protecting herself on all levels. They’d had talks about biology and all its implications; they’d talked about disease, about pregnancy. But they hadn’t talked about pleasure, giving and receiving. No, that wasn’t part of the dialogue. Certainly not. Claudia was positive that Raven was still a virgin. Positive. No way Claudia wouldn’t be looped in on that.

“I don’t know whether I’m going to give him—work,” said Claudia impatiently. “I have to check his references. Did you do all your homework?”

“You should know,” said Raven. “You checked it last night.”

“Right,” said Claudia. She put the truck in reverse and swung around to head up the long drive. “And moving forward, are you going to try to keep it together?”

“I’ll try,” said Raven, sullen again.

“What people think of you,” she said. “It doesn’t matter.”

Raven blew out breath. “Trust me, Mom. It matters. What if you had to go somewhere all day where you knew no one? Where everyone else has known each other forever, and look at you like you’re some kind of freak? If you had no one to sit with at lunch.”

“I’d hold my head up high, focus on my work, and bring a book so that I always had something to do. You’ll make friends. You’ve only been at this school for a few weeks. You’ll find the cool people. Or they’ll find you.”

“There aren’t any cool people,” said Raven. “We live in a town called Lost Valley. Cool people do not live in a place with a name like that.”

Guilt, worry, anxiety—the three furies of motherhood. They swirled around the car, shrieking and laughing. You never should have brought her here. What if she never does meet anyone cool? Maybe she’s marked by what happened to you. Maybe . . .

“I want the test,” said Raven. “I’ve been talking to Dad about it. Ella thinks it’s time.”

“Ella thinks it’s time?” said Claudia, slamming her foot on the brake and bringing the vehicle to such a sharp halt that it jerked them both forward. The name was like acid in her throat. “She is not part of this conversation.”

Raven lifted her palms, widening her eyes. “Okay,” she said, as though she were placating a crazy person. “Oh. Kay.”

Ella, Ayers’s girlfriend. Ella, who was everything Claudia might have been if not for the night that shattered her life with Ayers. In the years since their divorce, there had been other women in Ayers’s life, one or two men in Claudia’s (no one serious enough to introduce to Raven). But never anyone who was around for very long. Ella, tall, gorgeous, publishing executive, childless by choice, faultlessly kind yogi, who loved Raven like her own, had been dating Ayers for two years now. She was more or less living at his apartment, though she still maintained her own. Claudia would have to be a small, mean person to hate the lovely, sweet Ella—who truly had only ever been kind to Claudia and Raven. But she did. Why was it only Claudia who could see beneath that perfect fa?ade to the vain, vacuous, self-serving bitch beneath? Claudia rested her head on the steering wheel, listening to the birds sing outside the window. They were going to be late for school.

“Have you thought about it?” asked Claudia into the space between her arms. Then she looked back at her daughter, who stared sulkily down at her nails. “You want the test and I get why you do. But have you really thought about how the results would affect you?”