"He abused your mother?"
"Yes!" the young woman screamed. "Nothing was ever good enough for him. I hated him. I loved him." Her face twisted into a mask of pain and fear. She stood with her hands in tight fists. "He deserved to die. He should've been the one killed in the accident, not Mom."
"Hannah." Peggy was instantly at her side. "You don't know what you're saying."
Shoving Peggy aside, Hannah faced the others. "You're all alike, aren't you?"
"What happened to your mother?" Troy asked.
"She died. My father was the one who was supposed to be killed, not my mother. I paid my friend Davey to put air in the steering column of Dad's car. He'd lose control of the car and it would crash. It was supposed to be so easy, but then Mom decided to go with him.
"I tried to get her to stay home, but she wouldn't listen. Dad wanted her to come along and she refused him nothing." The words were spat out with such anger that her face was contorted. Bob had never witnessed anything like it.
"He suffered, you know. That was good. It made everything better when I saw how badly he'd been burned. Still, it wasn't enough. I could have killed him in the hospital. I wanted to, but when I saw that he was in agony, I thought death was too good for him."
"Hannah," Peggy cried, "don't say any more. You don't mean any of this."
"Yes, I do," she cried. "I mean every single word. My father was a bastard and I hated him for what he did to my mother and me. I could never have friends, bring them to the house. Every time I had a friend we moved. Dad would lose his job again or the neighbors would hear him beating on Mom. He broke my arm when I was six, you know." Her eyes narrowed. "No, you don't know because no one knew. I couldn't tell the doctors what really happened. I was supposed to have fallen down the stairs." She shook her head, her voice rising. "I made him pay for that, too. Davey helped me. He bought me the roofies and told me how to do it. He said I wouldn't get caught!"
"Hannah Russell, you have the right to remain silent," Troy said, standing. He advanced toward her slowly. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
"Shut up," she screamed so loudly it hurt Bob's ears.
"Hannah, please," Peggy pleaded.
"No... not this time," she screeched. "Then Dad started talking to that shrink and he changed. He wanted to start his life over and be happy. I couldn't let him be happy, not after the hell he'd put me through. He deserved to die. I wanted him dead. Dead," she shouted. "Dead and burned and gone forever."
Troy walked over to Hannah with a pair of handcuffs and when she realized she was about to be arrested, she fell to her knees and broke into deep sobs.
Peggy moved to comfort Hannah, but Bob stopped her. Hannah had murdered her own father. All these weeks, they'd been housing the killer and not known it. Peggy turned to Bob, burying her face in his shoulder.
"It's over now," he whispered soothingly.
"Did you know?" she asked, looking up at him.
He shook his head.
Davis led a sobbing Hannah out to his patrol car. The young woman glanced over her shoulder at Peggy as if silently pleading for help. Peggy held her hand over her mouth. This was difficult for her, Bob knew, but she stood silently beside him.
Then Hannah let loose with a string of swearwords that shocked them all. Even from inside they could hear her clearly. The room went completely still after Troy had driven off.
Roy left soon afterward and only Peggy, Bob and Stewart Samuels remained.
"I'm sorry it came to this," Stewart said. "Sorry I didn't confront the past sooner and deal with these issues."
"We each buried that day as deep as we could," Bob said. "Now it's been unearthed...."
"And now maybe the two of us can get on with our lives."
For the first time since he'd returned from Vietnam, Bob felt that was possible. There would always be guilt, but perhaps he could find a way to expiate his sins.
Fifty-One
The aerobics class seemed easier this Wednesday evening, despite the sweat Grace could feel on her brow. Lunging left, then right as the loud music vibrated through the room, she followed the instructor's lead, using every ounce of energy she had.
Perhaps this surplus of vigor was due to her mood. She was still furious with Will Jefferson. She hadn't seen or heard from Cliff in a week. Once again, his faith in her had been shaken, and somehow she doubted she'd hear from him again. Will's express purpose was to destroy any possibility that Grace might find happiness with another man, but she refused to let him succeed. She didn't understand any of it—his willingness to betray his wife, his insistence on a relationship with Grace or his apparent vindictiveness at her rejection. But, dammit, she wasn't letting him ruin her chances with Cliff!
"Good luck, buster," she muttered under her breath and with a burst of energy finished the program. She hadn't come this close only to lose Cliff without a fight. If he didn't call her soon, she'd go back to sending him notes and e-mails.
"What was that you just said?" Olivia gasped as the music ended. Her reddened face glistened with sweat.
"Never mind," Grace whispered. The cool-down exercises started, her least favorite part of the workout. Grace retrieved her mat from the corner of the room, and placed it next to Olivia's. Perhaps it was her age, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to do some of these stretches. Especially the one in which she had to bend one leg and cross it over the other and then turn to the side. She always seemed to be facing in the wrong direction.
"You've been in a bad mood all night," Olivia said when they'd completed the class and walked to the dressing room. "What's gotten into you?"
Grace shrugged.
"Cliff?"
She didn't answer. "Do you have time for coffee?" she asked instead.
"I can't," Olivia said regretfully. "Jack's still at work, and I know if I don't literally drag him out of that office, he'll be there half the night."
"Poor Jack."
"Poor Jack nothing. I feel like a widow! We should still be in our honeymoon phase," Olivia complained. "I wish the management would let him hire an assistant editor."
"They should," Grace agreed.
"You're telling me." Olivia reached for her towel and wiped her face. "I can't apologize enough for my brother. I'm so angry with him."
Grace dismissed her friend's concern. Olivia wasn't responsible for Will's behavior. Neither was Charlotte. The best excuse or explanation they'd come up with was some kind of midlife crisis, but neither she nor Olivia had much sympathy with that.
"What are you doing Saturday?" Olivia asked. "Maybe we can go to brunch or the movies or something?"
"Why don't we go to an afternoon show?" She was working at the animal shelter in the morning, and planning to have dinner with Kelly and Paul that evening.
"You're on," Olivia said as she headed to the showers. "I'll call you later and we can pick a movie."
Grace smiled in agreement.
Still feeling out of sorts, Grace returned to the house. Buttercup, ever faithful, was waiting for her when Grace unlocked the door. She turned on the lights and found Sherlock curled up nose to tail, sleeping on her sofa.
"Hello to you, too," she chided as she brought her exercise gear to the laundry room.
The blinking light on her answering machine caught her attention, and she grabbed a pen and paper, then pushed the Play button. At the sound of Cliff's voice, a huge smile broke across her face. She hadn't heard the whole message before she punched out his number.
Cliff answered on the second ring. His hello was gruff, which was typical.
"Hi," Grace said. "I wondered if I'd hear from you."
"I've been busy."
"I know. Me too. How are you?"
"Okay. You?"
"Better now that I've heard from you." Even over the phone line, Grace felt his smile.
"Lisa called this afternoon. She wanted an update on what's happening between us."
"What did you tell her?" Grace carried the phone into the living room, sat on the sofa and moved Sherlock into her lap. The cat didn't like being disturbed, but settled down quickly enough.
"The truth."
"Which is?" Grace asked, stroking glossy black fur.
"That I can't seem to stop loving you, despite my best efforts."
Grace felt tears prick her eyes. "I can't seem to stop loving you, either."
Cliff exhaled softly. "I know it's a little early, but I was hoping you could join me for Thanksgiving again this year."
"Are you flying out to be with Lisa and her family?"
"No. Since I spent time with her this summer I'll probably just stay here."
"Alone?"
He sighed. "Not if I can help it."
"Would you like to have dinner with me and the girls?" Grace didn't know yet what her daughters' plans were, but it would be easy enough to find out.
"Can I invite Cal, too?"
"Of course." Grace remembered that Cal was one of the bachelors who'd been on the auction block. "Speaking of Cal, has he gone out with Linnette McAfee yet?"
"Nope. I don't think she's too thrilled with her mother setting this up," Cliff said wryly. "And Cal's blaming me, since I encouraged him to participate."
"Is Linnette already living in Cedar Cove?" Grace had been too busy to keep up with the latest regarding the clinic. She knew Linnette had accepted the job of physician's assistant. The lot had been cleared and the structure was going up so fast, it was hard to believe that just a few weeks earlier there'd been absolutely nothing in that location.
"Not yet. I gather she'll be moving here next month to help set things up. According to Charlotte, the clinic should be in full operation by the first of the year."
'That's great. And I guess it means Cal will have his date soon."
"Seems that way," Cliff said. "Frankly I think it'll do him good."
"I think so, too."
"Will I see you before Thanksgiving?" she asked.
"Probably."
"I'll take that as a yes."
"Do you want to come out here Friday afternoon after work?"
"I think that can be arranged," Grace said.
They spoke for a few more minutes and by the time Grace hung up, she felt more hopeful than she had in days.
Buttercup walked over to the sofa to receive her share of attention. Sherlock, still reclining on Grace's lap, lazily opened one eye but didn't object to Buttercup's presence. Grace stroked her dog's head, smiling. She'd worked hard to regain Cliff's trust and was determined never to give him reason to doubt her again. This was one lesson she'd learned and learned well.
Fifty-Two
Corrie McAfee looked up from the playing cards in her hand and sighed as she tried to remember which suit went with which. Giving up, she stared helplessly across the table at Peggy, sending her a silent plea.
The two couples had spent a delightful evening together and after dinner had decided to play pinochle. Corrie hadn't played in years, so her skills were weak, and unfortunately Roy took such games far too seriously. Peggy had been more than willing to be her partner, although Corrie could tell her friend's mind wasn't on the game. For that matter, neither was hers.