Come Home (2 page)

“I don’t know … how you could still love me … after so long, like
three years
.”

“Love doesn’t go away, not this kind of love.” Jill hadn’t seen the girls since that awful night, but the rupture still felt as fresh as yesterday.

“I know … I’m the one who did the bad thing … the way I treated you … you tried so hard to talk to us.”

“Don’t worry about it for a minute. Divorce is hard and weird, and it’s not your fault, at all.” Jill felt Abby’s body shudder with each sob. William would have done anything to get her back for the divorce, even if it meant hurting Abby and Victoria, but she didn’t want to think about him now, just Abby.

“How can you forgive me … I’m such a terrible person … and I knew if I came here, you’d be so nice.”

“Honey, of course I would, and I’m glad you did, even on this sad day. Especially on this sad day. You’ve come … to the right place.” Jill stopped just short of saying,
you’ve come home.

“Thanks, so much.” Abby burrowed her head in Jill’s shoulder. “I really do love you … and I really missed you … so much … and I’m sorry I didn’t call you back … I hoped you knew … I didn’t forget you.”

“I did know, and that’s why I stopped, too. You know that I thought of you and Victoria, all the time.”

“I never stopped loving you … Jill, or wishing … I could see you.”

“I know, sweetie. I always loved you, too. You know that.” Jill felt her chest tighten, her anger like a fist at the ready. She hoped William was burning in hell right this minute. It felt strange to have such hate for him and such love for Abby, both at once. “Breathe, honey. Just breathe, and I have Kleenex here. Want some? That’ll help.”

“Okay … yes … good idea.” Abby released her, and Jill reached for the box of Kleenex, pulled out a few, and handed them to Abby.

“Here we go. Blow your nose, then have a sip of water.”

“Yuck, I’m so snotty … I always cry like such a … dumb baby.” Abby took the tissues, mopped her eyes and cheeks, then blew her nose noisily. “Gross.”

“Here, take some more.” Jill took the dirty tissues, handed Abby a bunch more, and Abby blew her nose again, then surrendered the soiled ones to Jill.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jill handed her another few tissues, and Abby sniffled, wiping her eyes, her tears subsiding.

“I feel like such a … little kid.”

“Everybody feels like a little kid when they cry. Ready for some water?” Jill handed Abby the water glass, and Abby took it with two hands, her fingernails polished dark purple.

“Thanks.” Abby drank thirstily, and Jill appraised her with a maternal eye. Abby’s eyes were bloodshot and sunken, as if she hadn’t been getting enough sleep, and her dress was too thin for the weather, clinging wetly to a body that was shapely, if a little too skinny. Her dark blonde hair dripped with rainwater.

“Need more water?” Jill looked over as Sam returned with the towels.

“Here we go, babe.”

“Thanks.” Jill took the towels and set one on the island as Abby put the water down.

“No more water, thanks.”

“Take a towel.” Jill placed the towel around Abby’s shoulders, rubbing her upper arms to warm her. “Better, honey?”

“Yes, thanks.” Abby’s chest heaved once, then again, and she sniffled.

“More Kleenex?”

“No, thanks. Whew.” Abby seemed to be getting her bearings, straightening up in the seat, blinking to clear her eyes. She dried her face on the towel’s edge, leaving streaks of pinkish blusher and lip gloss. “Oops. Sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Jill handed her the other towel, and Abby flopped it onto her head and twisted it into a turban.

“I just can’t believe Dad’s really gone.” Abby sighed deeply, her lower lip trembling.

“I know, I’m so sorry, honey.”

“Sorry I lost it like that.” Abby shook her head, her lovely eyes shining, brown as earth itself.

“Don’t be. It’s an impossible thing to go through.”

“Well, I’m not buzzed anymore, that’s for sure.”

Jill patted her arm. “Let me get you some coffee, okay? Warm you up?”

“Great, thanks.”

“Still take it black?” Jill got up from the island and went around to the coffeemaker.

“Yes, like you.” Abby brightened, adjusting the towel on her head. She had matured into a natural beauty, but looked more like her younger self without the makeup; she still had her large, round eyes, a small, straight nose, fair skin, and lips shaped like a Cupid’s bow.

“Okay, hang in.” Jill plucked a coffee pod from the bowl and popped it into the machine, then took a mug from the cabinet, slid it under the spout, and hit
BREW
. “How about something to eat?”

“I’d love that, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Great.” Jill felt better at the prospect. If she couldn’t cure something, she’d cook something. “Why don’t I make you some French toast?”

“My favorite.” Abby managed a shaky smile, her eyes glistening. “You remember?”

“Of course.” Jill smiled, then went to the refrigerator and retrieved a carton of eggs, bread, and a plastic bottle of two percent. “But the days of white bread are over. I have only whole wheat.”

“That’s okay. Jeez, I miss your cooking.”

Jill felt her heart ease, seeing Abby recover her composure. She brought the food to the counter, and the coffee brewed behind her, filling the air with a delicious aroma. “Sam, you want some coffee or French toast, too?”

“No, thanks,” Sam answered. He was leaning against the sink, his arms crossed over his chest, with Beef sitting at his side. The rain was beginning to dry on his polo shirt. They both were still dressed from their run, in polo shirts, gym shorts, and sneakers.

Abby sighed, heavily. “Dad died four days ago, on Tuesday. The cops said it was a heart attack, caused by alcohol and prescription meds.”

Jill blinked. “I thought you said he was murdered.”

“I think he was.”

“You do, but the police don’t?”

“Right.” Abby straightened up, her tone newly firm. “I think they’re wrong. Rather, I
know
they’re wrong. You’re a doctor, and you know Dad. He didn’t take any prescription meds. He was murdered, no matter what the police say.”

Jill cracked some eggs into a bowl, hiding her confusion. She’d never known William to take prescription meds, but she’d never known the real William Skyler. He was the ultimate con man, fooling her, Megan, and even his own daughters. “So the police say it wasn’t murder. What do they think it was?”

“They say it was an accidental overdose. The cocktail, whatever that means.”

“It means that certain drugs can kill you, in combination with alcohol.” The coffee was ready, and Jill set the full mug in front of Abby. “What drugs did he take?”

“He didn’t take them.” Abby picked up the coffee and held it in two hands, warming her fingers. “The report came back today and said he had the drugs in his body, but I know he didn’t put them there. He never would have, and I went on the Internet and it doesn’t say those are lethal drugs, anyway.” Abby sipped some coffee, then set it down, sniffling. “The cops found pill bottles in his bedroom, but I never saw them before, and they didn’t dust for fingerprints like on TV, to see how they got there.”

“What pills did they find?” Jill retrieved a fork and beat the eggs.

“Three bottles. Xanax, Vicodin, and one other, T-something.”

“Temezepam?”

“Yes. I
knew
you’d know.” Abby brightened a little.

“They’re common drugs for anxiety and pain, honey.” Jill drizzled a dash of vanilla into the egg mixture, veining the light with the dark, then beat it again.

“Not common for Dad.” Abby shifted forward, and water dripped from a curling tendril that had escaped from the towel turban. “Plus, there was a bottle of whisky in his office, but no glass. When did you ever know Dad to drink out of a
bottle
? Never, and the drugs had to be planted there, by whoever killed him.”

“What does Victoria say?” Jill picked up a pan that had been drying on the counter, cut in a pat of butter, and set it on the stove, firing up the gas.

“She says I just don’t want to accept that Dad’s dead.”

Jill could have guessed as much. Victoria was always the sensible one to Abby’s free spirit. “Couldn’t she be right? It’s a hard thing to deal with—”

“She’s wrong, they all are. I know it, and we’ll prove it.” Abby looked down as Beef trotted over, wagging his tail, sending droplets flying. She rested her hand on his coppery head, where his wet fur spiked at the crown, like a doggie punk rocker. “I missed Beef, too. Remember the day we got him?”

“Sure.” Jill did. It had been a cold, sunny afternoon at a golden retriever rescue in Delaware County. The three girls cooed over a passel of fluffy golden puppies, and Abby scooped up the fattest one, naming him on the spot.
This one is Beef on the hoof!

“Where’s Megan?” Abby asked, adjusting the towel.

“At a sleepover.” Jill opened the bread and dunked a slice into the eggs.

“Aw, I wanted to see her. I miss her, too.”

“You’ll see her in the morning. Stay over with us. Right, Sam?” Jill realized with embarrassment that she hadn’t introduced them, at all. She abandoned the slice of bread. “Yikes, I’m sorry. Abby, this is my fiancé, Sam Becker. Sam, Abby Skyler.”

“Hello, Abby.” Sam smiled at her, with sympathy. “I’m sorry about your loss, and of course you can stay here tonight.”

Abby seemed to be leaning away from Sam, almost recoiling, though she said, “Nice to meet you, Sam.”

“Yes, thanks, Sam,” Jill chimed in, trying to smooth over her own awkwardness. It struck her as odd that Abby and Sam had never met, as if her life had been hacked into pieces, not only the Before and After of two marriages, but the Before and Before and After, of three. She had been a widow when she’d met William, and Sam would be her third husband.

Abby kept an eye on Sam. “Not gonna lie, Sam, I feel like you’re mad at me or something. Are you? Don’t be mad at me, okay?”

Jill tensed, and she could smell the butter starting to burn in the pan. She hated burned butter. She turned off the gas for a moment.

“I’m not angry at you, Abby, I’m concerned,” Sam answered, gently. “You drove here, drunk. That concerns me, for your sake and for the sake of others.”

Jill turned to Abby, puzzled. “You drove? I thought that SUV dropped you off.”

“What SUV? I parked around the corner. I looked up your address online but couldn’t find the street.” Abby looked down as Beef nudged her with his muzzle, his bid to keep getting petted. “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”

“I know you won’t, sweetie.” Jill didn’t have the heart to lecture Abby, not tonight. “What did you have to drink?”

“Just some vodka and orange juice.”

“Hard liquor?” Jill hid her dismay. Abby used to be so wholesome and healthy, a competitive swimmer. All the girls swam, Jill had taught them.

“I’m sorry, I know, I was upset, because of Dad.” Abby stroked Beef, who rested his big head on her lap. “It’s so good to see Beef again. I was worried he died.”

“He’s not that old, is he?”

“Sure he is.” Abby patted the dog, and her wet dress gapped at the neckline, revealing a flowery tattoo above one breast. “He’ll turn ten, this Valentine’s Day.”

“Really?” Jill tried not to stare at the tattoo, lost in time, for a moment.
When did Abby start drinking, or get old enough for a tattoo? When did Beef get so old? Where did all the time go?
Abby had arrived out of nowhere, and it was as if Jill’s past had crashed her present like a house party, leaving her disoriented.

“You said you remembered, Jill. We picked him out on Valentine’s Day. It was Dad’s present, for you.”

“Oh right.” Jill had forgotten that part. She let the moment pass, eyeing Sam’s back as he turned around, tore off a paper towel, and wiped his face and glasses.

“This is such a pretty room.” Abby was looking around the kitchen. “It’s so you, Jill.”

“Thanks.” Jill glanced around, too, proudly. The house was still a work in progress, but the kitchen was warm and homey, ringed by white cabinets and countertops of ivory granite veined with butterscotch. The walls glowed a golden hue, which set off a cherry dining table and kitchen island, where they all ate, used the laptop, or did their homework, like the sun to their family solar system.

“I’m really sorry about the drinking, Jill.”

“I understand.” Jill was curious where she got the liquor, but didn’t want to torture her, not now. “I saw on Facebook that Victoria’s in law school, at Seton Hall. How’s she doing?”

Sam looked over, but he didn’t say anything, and Jill read his mind. He was surprised that she followed the girls on Facebook. She had never told him that.

“Victoria loves law school, which isn’t surprising. She was doing great, until Dad.” Abby paused. “You know how she is. She’ll be fine.”

“You both will, in time, but don’t rush it. Grief takes all the time it needs, no matter what you do.” Jill knew that Victoria would internalize her grief, much like Megan would.

“She lives with some roommates, near school. I was living with Dad in town, but now I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“Why aren’t you in college, honey? You’re so smart.” Jill kept her tone non-judgmental, but Abby still avoided her eye.

“I’m waitressing. I guess you saw, I started at art school but I broke up with Santos and that kind of messed me up. I’ll go back someday, I know it’s a good thing.” Abby seemed to deflate again, her shoulders sloping and her turban sliding to the side. “Anyway, Dad’s memorial service is tomorrow. They already cremated him. Victoria arranged it, I couldn’t deal.” Abby sighed. “Can you come to the service, Jill? And can Megan?”

“We’ll see. I have to ask her. I know she’ll be so sad about your Dad.”

“Afterwards I can take you over to the house, and you can see what I mean. Dad was murdered, I know it.”

Jill felt torn. “I can’t do that, honey, especially not with Megan.”

“But I’ll prove it to you, I’ll show you Dad’s medical papers. You’ll see he didn’t take those drugs, there’s no record of it. You know Dad used to save all his medical stuff in one place, because of his cholesterol.”