A Mother Would Know (79)

It’s why I pulled back from performing. Nobody wanted to hear me sing, to hear my side. They’d already written it for me.

Ironic that I’d broken things off with Mac in hopes of healing my marriage, but it ended up destroying it. Sure, Darren and I stayed together, but not out of love. At first it was for the kids. Then it was because of Darren’s illness. But we were never the same. We never came back from the damage I’d done.

That’s why the night of Heather’s death, I lied for my son. I didn’t want him enduring what I had in the months after Mac’s death. The horror of being publicly declared a suspect. The endless interrogations. The accusatory whispers and stares around town.

I told the police our fabricated story. That he’d called me after one of Heather’s friends said they hadn’t seen her in over an hour, and the last place she’d been seen was near the edge of the cliff. He’d told me he was with buddies when he heard a scream after one of her friends had flashed a light down the cliff, spotting her body. He hadn’t seen Heather for hours, and never imagined the scream had to do with her. Not until the news spread through the party.

As far as I knew, Hudson and Heather had been getting along great. No problems. They’d been very much in love.

The police had believed our story. I’d thought it was all going to be over after that night.

I had no idea that Hudson would be tried and convicted in the court of public opinion, just as I had been, but with my best friend, Leslie, as the judge and jury. I didn’t know where she could have gotten the idea that he might have done something wrong—how she could have even known to suspect him. But Heather was Leslie’s only child. She and James had never had a great marriage. So, really, Heather had been the most important thing in her life. I knew Leslie would be devastated. But I never thought she’d blame Hudson.

I never thought she’d end up hating us the way she did.

These are the thoughts going through my head as I sit on the edge of a hospital bed, answering the questions lobbed at me from a potbellied policeman with a bushy mustache, Officer Angelo.

I had to have my stomach pumped when I arrived. But I’m feeling moderately better now.

“Ma’am?” he says, grabbing my attention.

I blink. How long have I been silent? “Yes?”

“You were saying how you had made some tea and then went outside. Is that when you believe the sedative might have been deposited into the tea?”

It would be so easy to come to Kendra’s defense. To diffuse the situation. I could make this all go away with one simple lie.

Actually, I’d been having trouble sleeping, so I took the sedative. But I’d forgotten I’d already taken some earlier. I’ve been so forgetful lately.

I could do for Kendra what I’d done all those years ago for Hudson.

“You always choose him.”

Was she right? Do I always choose Hudson over her? I never thought so. They’ve always been so different. Kendra so put-together. So independent. At least, that’s what I’d been led to believe.

Maybe this is my chance to prove her wrong. To be the kind of mother she wants me to be. I picture the look of pure hatred on her face when she talked about how much I’d hurt Darren. She was justified in feeling that way. I had hurt her dad. Is this my penance?

My chance to find redemption?

“Mom?” Hudson comes to my bedside, rests a hand on my arm, effectively yanking me back to reality. “She almost killed you. You need to tell him what happened.”

I nod, remembering how my limbs felt like jelly, how I couldn’t speak or move. My belly quivers at the recollection of the hook and latch locking into place.

I’ve clearly done my daughter a disservice. For years, she’d been making digs at me for my absent parenting, for putting my career first. I’d always gotten defensive, worrying more about protecting myself rather than taking responsibility. It’s time to put Kendra’s needs above my own. Do the right thing. Get her the help she needs. Keep her in a place where she can’t hurt anyone else.

What happened with Hudson doesn’t compare. Giving testimony now isn’t choosing one child over another. It’s choosing between right and wrong. Accident and intentionality.

Nodding at Hudson, I turn to Officer Angelo and tell him the entire story.





29





When we return to the house, it’s the middle of the night, or technically early morning. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt so tired in my life, although I’m not sure it has anything to do with the time. I’m mentally exhausted. Emotionally spent.

“I still can’t believe Kendra would do this. It seems so out of character. Do I really just not know her at all?” I ask as Hudson helps me into bed, pulling the covers up to my chest the way I did for him when he was a child. The tables have officially turned.

Hudson presses his lips together, his face crinkling into a look of pity.

“Oh, god.” I groan. “You knew she was capable of this?”

“I’ve seen this side of her before,” he says sadly. But there’s something besides sadness in his eyes. Fear, maybe. I’ve seen it on his face before. But when?

My pulse quickens.

The album’s release party.

He was so scared to be left alone with Kendra.