The Shadow Box(49)

“Alexander, that’s between Sallie and Ford,” Claire said.

Sallie blushed and felt like running away. She remembered what Edward had told her, that Sloane had been with Claire when Ford confronted her. So Claire knew. When Sallie met her eyes, she saw Claire gazing at her with compassion.

“I’m going to leave now,” Sallie said. “I hope he comes home soon, Alexander.”

“Mrs. Benson, I know he went over to confront you,” Alexander said. “He told me. I told him he shouldn’t. I don’t really know what happened between you—he didn’t go into it—but he was pretty mad when he went over to your house.”

“He was,” Sallie said, and suddenly she was reliving it, seeing Ford’s angry face, hearing his vicious words, and she couldn’t help it—everything spilled out. “He said terrible things about me in front of my husband and children. My son and daughter heard the whole thing.”

“Your son heard all that stuff?” Alexander asked.

“Yes. Charlie’s only seven. And my daughter is nine.”

Alexander buried his face in his hands. Sallie thought he was going to cry.

“That’s it,” Alexander said. “I’m sure he’s hating himself right now—having your kids see. That’s why he’s gone away.”

“What do you mean?” Claire asked.

“That was our life,” Alexander said. “Mom and Dad fighting, us hearing terrible stuff about her. If Ford threw that kind of garbage at Charlie, he’d feel like the worst person on earth.”

He is, Sallie thought and wondered why Alexander was so focused on Charlie when Gwen had been just as devastated. She couldn’t take this anymore, hearing a brother in so much anguish over the person who had done all he could to ruin her life.

“What if he hurts himself?” Alexander asked.

Sallie saw Griffin, dressed for work in a jacket and tie, approach from inside the house. He raised his hand to wave, but she didn’t return the greeting. She just turned away, got into her car. She completely understood the impulse toward suicide. When you hurt people so badly, when you see the effect your behavior has had, you might just want out of this life. She thought of the look on Charlie’s face—and Gwen’s also. If Ford had seen their pain too—and it had affected him—Sallie was glad. She started her car and drove out of Catamount Bluff for the last time.





27





CLAIRE


I watched Sallie speed away. I had seen Ford’s wild fury when he had stumbled into my studio and told Sloane about Edward and Sallie. Sloane’s pain, the sudden anguish, had nearly knocked her down. I could well imagine Ford acting that same unhinged, violent way, telling Sallie’s husband her secret in front of her kids.

“What was that about?” Griffin asked. He had come into the front hall with his cup of coffee, frowned as he watched the trail of dust from Sallie’s SUV driving down the unpaved road. I had brought Fingerbone from my studio into the house; it was sitting right there on the hall table.

I willed Griffin to glance over and see the shadow box. I had planned to show him after breakfast, when we were alone, and then drop it off at the gallery. But the scene with Sallie changed all that.

“I asked a question,” Griffin said, laser focused on Alexander. “What was she here for?”

Alexander and I exchanged a look. There was no good way out here; telling Griffin the truth could flip the mood switch but so could lying. It was odd, I thought. Now that I was mentally on my way to leaving, I didn’t really care anymore. Let Griffin flail around in one of his rages—I knew he had taught Ford how to do the same thing, intimidate people with his moods. He had created a son just like himself.

But Alexander wasn’t like that, and I wanted to protect him. I watched carefully to see how he was going to handle his father’s question. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. I knew his inner struggle so well—it had been my own for so long. Walking on eggshells was our family norm.

“Ford went to Sallie’s house yesterday,” I said to Griffin.

“For what?” Griffin asked.

“Claire, don’t,” Alexander said sharply.

“To speak to her husband and make accusations right in front of her children,” I said.

Griffin listened to me but didn’t react at first. He sipped his coffee. His eyes looked normal. He turned his gaze from me to Alexander.

“Is this true?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Alexander said.

“Are you lying to me?” Griffin asked.

“No, Dad. I knew he was upset, but he didn’t tell me the whole story.”

“Wait,” Griffin said. “You didn’t know the whole story, but you knew some of the story?”

“That’s right,” Alexander said, sounding nervous.

“You knew that he planned to visit the Bensons and make a scene?” Griffin asked. “You came here at six this morning, worried about your brother, and you knew that the whole time but didn’t see fit to tell me?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Is there something else you’re keeping from me?” Griffin asked.

“Dad,” Alexander said. “She asked about the girls, the old girls . . .”