A Bend in the Road (24 page)

Sarah couldn’t
sleep that night.

She was going to
lose her brother.

And she was going
to lose Miles Ryan.

As she lay in
bed, she was reminded of the evening she and Miles had first made love in this
room. She remembered it all—the way he’d listened when she told him she
couldn’t have children, his expression when he’d told her that he loved her,
how they’d whispered together for hours afterward, and the peace she’d felt in
his arms.

It had seemed
so right, so perfect.

The hours after
Miles had left produced no answers. If anything, she was more confused than she
had been earlier; now that the shock had passed and she was able to think more
clearly, she knew that no matter what decision she made, nothing would ever be the
same again.

It was over.

If she didn’t
tell Miles, how could she face him in the future? She couldn’t imagine Miles
and Jonah in her home, sitting around the Christmas tree and opening gifts, she
and Brian smiling, pretending that nothing had ever happened.  She couldn’t imagine looking at Missy’s
pictures in his house, or sitting with Jonah, knowing that Brian had killed his
mother. Nor, of course, would it be the right thing to do. Not with Miles
hell-bent on making sure that Otis paid for the crime. She had to tell him the
truth, if for no other reason than to make sure that Otis Timson wasn’t
punished for something he didn’t do. 
More than that, Miles had the right to know what really happened to his
wife. He deserved that.

But if she did
tell him, then what? Would Miles simply believe Brian’s story and let it go?
No, not likely. Brian had broken the law, and once she told him, Brian would be
arrested, her parents would be devastated, Miles would never speak to her
again, and she would lose the man she loved. 
Sarah closed her eyes. She could live with never having met Miles.

But to fall in
love with him and then lose him?

And what was
going to happen to Brian?

She felt sick to
her stomach.

She got out of
bed, slid into a pair of slippers, and went to the living room, wanting
desperately to find something, anything, to think about instead. But even
there, she was reminded of all that had happened, and she knew with sudden
certainty what she had to do. As painful as it was going to be, there was no
other way around it.

• • •

When the phone
rang the following morning, Brian knew it was Sarah on the other end. He’d been
expecting the call, and he reached for the phone before his mother would have
the chance to answer it.

Sarah got right
to the point; Brian listened quietly. In the end, he said that he would. A few
minutes later, his feet leaving footprints in the light snow, Brian made his
way to the car.

His mind wasn’t
on the drive; instead it was on the things he’d said the day before. He had
known when he’d told her that Sarah would be unable to keep his secret. Despite
her worries about him, about her future with Miles, she would want him to turn
himself in. That was her nature; above all, his sister knew what it was like to
be betrayed, and keeping silent would be a betrayal of the worst kind.

It was the
reason, he thought, that he’d told her.

Brian spotted
her just before he parked the car, outside the Episcopal church, where he’d
once attended Missy’s funeral. Sarah was sitting on a bench, one that
overlooked a small cemetery, so old that most of the writing on the headstones
had worn away over the centuries. Even before he stepped out the door, Brian
could see her plainly. She looked forlorn, truly lost in a way that he’d seen
only once before.

Sarah heard him
pull up and turned, though she did not wave. A moment later, Brian sat next to
her.

Sarah, he knew,
must have called in sick. The school where she taught, unlike his, had another
week to go before vacation. As he sat there, he couldn’t help but wonder what
would have happened had he not come home for Thanksgiving and seen Miles at the
house or if Otis hadn’t been arrested. 
“I don’t know what to do,” she finally whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he
said quietly.

“You should be.”

Brian could hear
the bitterness in her tone.

“I don’t want to
go over all of it again, but I need to know that you were telling me the
truth.” She turned to face him. Her cheeks were flushed in the chill, as if
someone had pinched them.

“I was.”

“I mean about all
of it, Brian. Was it really an accident?”

“Yes,” he said.

She nodded,
though his answer didn’t seem to comfort her. “I didn’t sleep last night,” she
said. “Unlike you, I can’t ignore this.”

Brian didn’t
respond. There was nothing he could say.

“Why didn’t you
tell me?” she asked at last. “When it happened, I mean?” “I couldn’t,” Brian
answered. The day before, she had asked the same question, and he had answered
in the same way.

She sat in
silence for a long moment. “You have to tell him,” she said, staring out over
the headstones. Her voice sounded like a shadow of itself.  “I know,” he whispered.

She lowered her
head, and he thought he saw tears beginning to form. She was worried about him,
but it wasn’t her worry that caused the tears. Sitting beside her, Brian knew
that she was crying for herself.

• • •

Sarah went with
Brian to Miles’s house. As she drove, Brian stared out the window. The movement
of the car seemed to drain Brian of energy, but he was strangely unafraid of
what was coming. His fear, he knew, had been passed to his sister.

They crossed
the bridge, then turned on Madame Moore’s Lane, following the winding curves
until they reached Miles’s driveway. Sarah pulled alongside his pickup and
turned the key, extinguishing sound.

Sarah didn’t
get out right away. Instead, she sat, holding the keys in her lap.  She took a deep breath, then finally faced
him. Her mouth was set in a tight, forced smile of support, then vanished. She
slid her keys into her purse, and Brian pushed open the door. Together they
started toward the house.  Sarah
hesitated at the step, and for a moment, Brian’s eyes darted to the corner of
the porch, where he’d stood so many times. As soon as it happened, he knew that
he would tell Miles about the crime, but just as he had with his sister, he
would keep silent about the other things he had done.

Steeling
herself, Sarah walked to the door and knocked. A moment later, Miles opened the
door.

“Sarah . . .
Brian . . . ,” he said.

“Hi, Miles,”
Sarah answered. Her voice, Brian thought, was surprisingly steady.  At first, no one moved. Still upset from the
day before, Miles and Sarah simply stared at each other, until Miles took a
small step backward.  “Come in,” he
said, leading them inside. He closed the door behind them. “Can I get you something
to drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“How about you,
Brian?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“So what’s up?”

Sarah absently
adjusted her purse strap. “There’s something I . . . I mean we, have to talk to
you about,” she said awkwardly. “Can we sit down?” “Sure,” Miles answered. He
motioned toward the couch.  Brian took a
seat next to Sarah, across from Miles. Brian took a deep breath, almost
starting then, but Sarah cut him off.

“Miles . . .
before we start, I want you to know that I wish I didn’t have to be here. I
wish that more than anything. Try to keep that in mind, okay? This isn’t easy
for any of us.”

“What’s going
on?” he asked.

Sarah glanced
toward Brian. She nodded, and with that, Brian felt his throat suddenly go dry.
He swallowed.

“It was an
accident,” he said.

At that, the
words poured forth, the way he’d rehearsed them a hundred times in his head.
Brian told him everything about that night two years ago, leaving nothing out.
His mind, however, wasn’t on the words.

Instead it was
on Miles’s reaction. At first there was none. As soon as Brian began, Miles
slipped into a different posture, that of someone who wanted to listen
objectively, without interruption, the way he’d been trained as a sheriff.
Brian, he knew, was making a confession, and Miles had learned that silence was
the best way to get an uncensored version of events. It wasn’t until later,
when Brian mentioned Rhett’s Barbecue, that Miles finally began to realize what
Brian was telling him.

Then the shock
set in. As Brian went on, Miles froze, his face draining of color. His hands
tightened reflexively on the armrest. Nonetheless, Brian pressed forward. In
the background, as if from somewhere far away, Brian heard his sister inhale
sharply as he described the accident. He ignored the sound, continuing with his
story, stopping only when he described the next morning in the kitchen, and his
decision to keep silent.

Miles sat like
a statue through it all, and when Brian lapsed into silence, Miles seemed to
take a moment to register everything that Brian had told him.  Then, finally, his eyes focused on Brian, as
if seeing him for the first time.

In a way, Brian
knew he was.

“A dog?” he
rasped out. His voice was low and gravelly, as if he’d been holding his breath
through the confession. “You’re saying she jumped in front of your car because
of a dog?”

“Yes.” Brian
nodded. “A black dog. A big one. There was nothing I could do.” Miles’s eyes
narrowed slightly as he tried to keep control. “Then why did you run?”

“I don’t know,”
he said. “I can’t explain why I ran that night. The next thing I knew, I was in
the car.”

“Because you
don’t remember.” The anger in Miles’s tone was unmistakable, barely suppressed.
Ominous.

“I don’t remember
that part of it, no.”

“But the rest of
it you do. You remember everything else about that night.”

“Yes.”

“Then tell me the
real reason you ran that night.”

Sarah reached out
to touch Miles’s arm. “He’s telling the truth, Miles. Believe me—he wouldn’t
lie about this.”

Miles shook off
her hand.

“It’s okay,
Sarah,” Brian said. “He can ask whatever he wants.”

“You’re damn
right I can,” Miles added, his voice lowering even more.  “I don’t remember why I ran,” Brian
answered. “Like I said, I don’t remember even leaving the scene. I remember
being in the car, but that’s it.” Miles stood from the chair, glaring. “And you
expect me to believe that?” he said. “That it wasMissy’s fault?”

“Wait a
minute!” Sarah said, coming to her brother’s defense. “He told you how it
happened! He’s telling the truth!”

Miles swiveled to
face her. “Why the hell should I believe him?”

“Because he’s
here! Because he wanted you to know the truth!”

“Two years later
he wants me to know the truth? How do you know it’s the truth?” He waited for an
answer, but before she could respond, he suddenly took a small step backward.
He turned from Sarah to Brian and back to Sarah again, as he considered what
the answers to his questions meant.

Sarah hadknown
exactly what her brother was going to say. . . .  Which meant . . . that she’d known Otis was innocent. She’d tried
to get him to back off. Let Charlie handle it, she’d said. What if Sims and
Earl were wrong somehow?

She’d said those
things because she’dknown Brian was guilty.

But that made
sense, didn’t it?

Hadn’t she said
that she was close to her brother? Hadn’t she said he was the one person she
could really talk to, and vice versa?

Miles’s
thoughts, fed by adrenaline and anger, raced from one conclusion to the next.

She’dknown but
she hadn’t told him. She’d known and . . . and. . .

Miles stared at
Sarah wordlessly.

Hadn’t she
volunteered to help Jonah, even though it was out of the ordinary?  And hadn’t she befriended him as well? Gone
out with him? Listened to him, tried to help him move on with his life?

Miles’s face
began to twitch with barely suppressed rage.

She’d known all
along.

She’d used him to
assuage her own guilt. Everything they’d had was built on lies.

She betrayed
me.

Miles stood
without moving, without speaking, frozen in place. In the silence, Brian heard
the heater come on.

“You knew,” he
finally rasped out. “You knew he’d killed Missy, didn’t you?” It was then, at
that moment, that Brian understood not only that it was over between Sarah and
Miles, but that, in Miles’s mind, they had never had anything at all. Sarah,
though, seemed baffled, and she answered Miles as if the answer to his question
were obvious.

“Of course.
That’s why I brought him here.”

Miles raised
his hand to stop her, jabbing his finger in her direction with every point he
made.

“No, no . . .
you knew he’d killed her and didn’t tell me. . . . That’s why you knew that
Otis was innocent. . . . That’s why you kept trying to tell me to listen to
Charlie. . . .”

Sarah finally
seemed to register the implication, and she suddenly, frantically, began
shaking her head.

“No—wait—you don’t understand—”

Miles cut her
off, unwilling to listen, each statement more furious than the last.

“You knew all
along. . . .”

“No—”

“You’ve known since
the moment we met.”

“No—”

“That’s why you
offered to help Jonah.”

“No!”

For a moment,
it seemed as if Miles would strike her, but he didn’t. Instead he lashed out in
another direction. He kicked the end table over, sending the lamp crashing.
Sarah flinched and Brian rose from the couch to reach for her; Miles grabbed
him before he could and spun him around. Miles was both stronger and heavier,
and Brian could do nothing to stop him from wrenching his wrist up his back
toward his shoulder blades. Sarah instinctively moved away from the commotion before
she even realized what was happening. Brian didn’t resist, even as pain shot
through his shoulder. He winced, his eyes closing, his face contorting.