The Secret Life of Ceecee Wilkes (32 page)

H
er mother looked small and fragile on the TV screen. She’d lost weight, and perhaps she’d also lost her mind. She’d been there?
Where?
What did she mean?

“What the hell is she talking about?” Ken asked. “This is
my
story! She has nothing to do with it.”

Corinne thought of the string of phone messages. Was this the reason for all those calls?

“Have you told her anything about what I’ve uncovered?” Ken sounded accusatory.

“I haven’t even spoken to her,” Corinne said. They were standing in front of the TV in the bedroom, and her arm was around him, her hand clutching the fabric of his T-shirt. “And you certainly haven’t uncovered anything that exonerates Timothy Gleason, have you?”

“Hell, no.”

“Maybe someone told her something confidentially,” Corinne suggested. “You know, as a counselor. And now she feels she has to go public with it.”

“Well, it would have been nice if—”

“Shh,” she said, as Lorraine Baker suddenly appeared on camera.

“I’m here at the home of UVA student counselor Eve Elliott in Charlottesville, where Eve is speaking publicly for the first time about information she has regarding the Timothy Gleason case. Eve? What do you mean, you were there?”

Her mother cleared her throat. “I was there when Genevieve Russell died,” she said.

“She has so totally lost it,” Ken said.

“Shh!” Corinne said.

“Where was that?” Lorraine asked.

“In the cabin on the Neuse River near New Bern.”

“Where Mrs. Russell’s remains were found?”

“Yes.”

“How did you come to be there?”

Her mother’s face suddenly went blank as she looked into the camera, and Corinne recognized her expression: panic. She’d seen that look in the mirror any number of times.

“How did you know the Gleason brothers?” Lorraine tried a different question.

Her mother glanced at Lorraine, then seemed to pull herself together. “I met Tim when I…” She stopped, then shook her head. “My name’s not really Eve Elliott,” she said abruptly. “I was born CeeCee Wilkes, and I met Tim Gleason when I was sixteen years old and…we dated.”

“Oh, my God, Ken, she
has
lost her mind,” Corinne said in disbelief.

“I helped him and his brother with their plan to kidnap Genevieve Russell,” she said.

For a moment, it appeared that even Lorraine was at a loss for words.

“Why?” Lorraine asked. “What made you help them?”

“I…” Her mother licked her lips. “Tim lied to me about why his sister was in prison…he said she’d been wrongly convicted. I stupidly…naively…believed him, and said I would help them.”

“How did you help them?”

“I was supposed to guard her in the cabin. Tim testified that he and Marty left her there alone and that she was gone when he returned, but he was saying that to protect me…or rather, to protect CeeCee Wilkes.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “He has no idea who I am. Who Eve Elliott is.”

“This is bananas,” Corinne whispered. “She’s the last person who would…” Her voice trailed off as her mother continued speaking.

“She went into labor while I was alone with her,” her mother said. “She was early by about a month, and she told me that she’d had problems with hemorrhaging after the birth of her first child. Something to do with having red hair.”

“That’s where she got the redhead thing from,” Ken said.

“Did
you
deliver the baby?” Lorraine asked, and Corinne could still hear the disbelief in her voice.

Her mother nodded. “Yes, and Genevieve hemorrhaged after the baby was born.
No one
killed her.” She spoke that sentence forcefully, directly into the camera. “She died of natural causes.”

“What did you do with the baby?” Lorraine asked.

Her mother hesitated. “I panicked,” she said after a moment. “I left Genevieve there, but I grabbed the baby before I ran out of the cabin. I drove to the house of some people the Gleason brothers knew. They got—”

Corinne didn’t hear whatever her mother said next. She was running dates through her mind. Genevieve Russell had been kidnapped in 1977. The year Corinne was born.

“Oh…my…God,” she said quietly, then to the TV. “You incredible bitch!”

“Shh.” Ken sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning toward the television.

“So they made new IDs for me and for…the baby. I tried to drop her off at the governor’s mansion on my way to Charlottesville, but there was too much security around.”

“Are you saying you kept the baby?” Lorraine asked.

Her mother swallowed, her eyes wide and vacant like a deer blinded by headlights. “Yes,” she said, regaining her composure. “She’s my daughter, Cory.”

“No!” Corinne wailed, raising her hands to her mouth. “Oh my God, Ken. Tell me I’m not hearing this.”

The phone rang.

“Don’t pick it up!” she said.

Ken checked the caller identification display. “It’s work,” he said, lifting the receiver to his ear. “Hello?”

“You stole me from my life!” Corinne shouted at the TV while Ken carried the phone into the other room.

Corinne sank to the floor, leaning back against the bed while the room spun around her. Her mother was still speaking, answering Lorraine’s questions, but it was as though their conversation had been muted. She didn’t hear them. Her heart filled with hatred, like a poison entering her bloodstream.
Your mother ruined you,
Ken had said to her more than once. She pictured Irving Russell. The president of the University of Virginia was her father! She thought of the photo of him they always used in the paper and on the news, and of the smiling picture of Genevieve Russell shown in the media. Her mother. Her real mother. The mother who wouldn’t have sucked the breath out of her with a pathological need to keep her safe. Who wouldn’t have made her afraid of the world. They’d had another daughter, too. Corinne had seen her interviewed on
Larry King.
Ken had even mentioned a resemblance between Corinne and the beautiful Vivian.

Ken returned to the bedroom holding the phone limply at his side. His face was bleached of color.

“That was Darren,” he said. “They’re giving me what they call ‘a break.’ ‘Too bad about the Rosedale,’ he said, like it’s no big deal.” He looked at the television, where the footage of her mother’s interview was being repeated. Ken laughed bitterly. “Now we’ve both been screwed by your mother,” he said. He looked at her sitting on the floor, as if only now noticing her. He crouched next to her, his hand on the back of her neck. “Are you all right, Cor?” he asked. “I’m sorry. You must feel—”

The phone rang again and he stood to pick up the receiver from the bed. “It just says
Virginia,
” he said.

She reached for the phone. “That’s Dru’s cell.” She hesitated a moment, then pressed the button as she lifted the receiver to her ear.

“Dru,” she said.

“Oh, Cory.” Dru sounded breathless. “Do you know what’s going on?”

Corinne’s eyes filled at the sound of her sister’s voice. Her treasured baby sister. “It would have been nice if she’d told me before she told the rest of the world,” she said. She watched as Ken, lost in his own disappointment, left the room. “How could she do this to me?”

“She tried to reach you a million times today,” Dru said. “She felt like she had to do it before he was sentenced.”

“I
knew
I didn’t fit in,” Corinne said. “I knew it from the time I was little. I just never realized how much I didn’t fit in. I can’t believe she did everything she said she did. And I can’t believe she had the gall to tell the world about it.”

“I think it’s been so hard for her the past couple of months,” Dru said. “Keeping the secret while the trial’s been going on and everything. Her RA is much worse lately.”

“Don’t defend her to me, Dru,” Corinne said. She heard Ken turn on the TV in the living room. “
You’re
still her daughter. You’ve always known right where you belonged.”

Dru fell silent, and Corinne regretted her words.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “None of this is your fault.”

“Please stay my sister.” Dru’s voice was thick with tears.

“Forever,” Corinne said. “You’re the only good thing about being raised an Elliott. Did Dad…did Jack know all this time?”

“She only told him today. He was as shocked as you are.” Dru paused. “He actually left for a while, but he came back when Lorraine started interviewing her. He’s really upset and angry.”

It was hard to picture Dad angry. “They practically canned Ken,” she said. “They’re giving him a so-called break.”

“Oh, no. Does that mean the award—”

“No award,” Corinne said.

Dru paused. “Mom and Dad are on their way down to see you,” she said. “They left as soon as the press conference was over.”

“I don’t want to see them,” Corinne said. “Call them and tell them to turn around and go home. Why didn’t the cops arrest her?”

“That’s why she got out of here so fast,” Dru said. “She wants a chance to see you first, Cory. I let them take my car.”

“I don’t want to see her,” she repeated.

Dru was quiet again. “You need to talk to her,” she said finally.

“I hate her.” Corinne pounded her fist onto the floor. “I really, truly
hate
her.”

“Please don’t,” Dru pleaded. “She was a good mother. She—”

“To you, maybe,” Corinne said. “You’re her flesh and blood.”

“She’s coming here?” Ken asked as he walked back into the room, and Corinne nodded. He grabbed the phone from her hand. “Dru, you call her and tell her to stay home. She comes here, I’ll have the police here to greet her.”

“No.”
Corinne got to her feet. She wasn’t sure what she wanted, but that wasn’t it. The police would catch up with her mother soon enough. She took the phone back from Ken.

“Just tell her not to come here, Dru. Please,” she said. “I’m afraid of what I might do if I see her.”

W
hen she got off the phone, she went into the den, sat down at the computer and pulled up images of her biological family on the Internet. Ken stood behind her, kneading her shoulders as he studied the monitor over the top of her head.

“I don’t look much like…like President Russell, do I?” She couldn’t say the words
my father.
She wondered if she’d ever be able to. The image of Irving Russell on the computer screen was a professional shot, above the caption, A Greeting From The President Of The University Of Virginia. He was handsome, yet she saw the evidence of a difficult life in his face. She reached out and touched the slight bags beneath his eyes, the crevices at the corners of his mouth as he smiled for the camera.

“A little around the eyes, maybe,” Ken said. He bent over to kiss the side of her throat. “I’ll tell you one good thing that can come of this,” he added.

“What?”

“You’re going to be rich. That family’s worth a fortune.”

She craned her neck to look up at him. “Do you think I care about that?”

“I think you should,” he said. “It’s nice not to have to worry about money.”

“Money’s the last thing on my mind right now.” She clicked to another picture, this one the familiar shot of Genevieve Russell used in the media. “I wish I could find more of her,” she said. “This is the one you see everywhere.”

“That’s definitely your mother,” Ken said. “Same nose. Same gorgeous hair.” Ken lifted her long red hair, then let it fall back to her shoulders.

Corinne found a picture of Vivian. “We’re like twins, except for the hair color,” she said.

“You’re prettier,” Ken said, as if it mattered.

Corinne suddenly had an image of Dru, her true sister, so bubbly and full of life. “Oh, Dru.” She buried her head in her hands. “I’m so confused.” She looked up at Ken. “I don’t know who I am,” she said. “I mean, will these people accept me?” She nodded toward the image of Vivian on her computer screen. “No wonder Dru always thought Mom was so normal and I thought she was wacky. She treated us differently from the start.”

“She overcompensated with you,” Ken said. “It was like she was trying to make it up to you for what she’d done and she went overboard. Way overboard.”

“I’m so…” She could barely give words to her emotions. The blood in her veins suddenly felt different. Her arms itched and her legs felt cold. “I don’t know which way is up.” She swiveled her chair around to look at him. “Marry me,” she said. “Please, Ken. Let’s get married and have this baby. Let’s create a real family. We’ll be three people who absolutely belong together. We’ll do everything right with our son or daughter.” She put her hand on her stomach.

Ken nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said.

She got to her feet, joy and relief coursing through her, and put her arms around his neck. “Can we do it soon?” she asked. “Before I start to show? I don’t care if it’s a little wedding. I don’t care if it’s just the two of us with the justice of the peace. I just want to be your wife.”

“Okay,” he said again. His voice was flat. “We’ll work it out.”

It was not the reaction she’d hoped for. “What is there to work out?” she asked. “I know you don’t think the time is right, but we need to be a
family.
”

He nodded. “I know, and I want that. But there’s something I haven’t told you.” He let go of her and lowered himself to the chair near her desk. “I’ve been…cowardly,” he said. “Too chicken to tell you.”

“What?” She sat down again, and he leaned forward to roll her chair close to his.

He took her hands. “You and I have been together for a long time,” he said.

“Almost six years,” Corinne said.

“And you know I love you more than anything, don’t you?”

She nodded. She was certain of it. He told her all the time that he loved her.

“I’ve kept something from you,” he said. “Only one thing, but it’s a…it’s a big thing.”

She wasn’t certain she could handle another surprise today. “What?” she asked.

“My divorce from Felicia,” he said. “It was never really final.”

Corinne recoiled, letting go of his hands. “What do you mean by ‘never really’?”

“I mean…we’re not divorced. When we separated…that’s when she got sick and I couldn’t just…she begged me not to divorce her then, so…” He shrugged. “We had the property settlement drawn up and everything. I just never did the final paper-work.”

Corinne felt anger rise up in her, boiling hot as lava. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this?” she asked.

“At the time I met you—”

“You said you were divorced.”

“No, I didn’t,” he said hurriedly. “I said I was separated and filing for divorce. That my marriage was over. You jumped to the conclusion that I was divorced and—”

“And you never bothered to set me straight.”

“I felt divorced in my heart.”

She stood up, furious. “You told me you felt married to
me
in your heart.”

“I do,” he said.

“Your heart has nothing to do with what’s legal and what’s not,” she said.

“Corinne…” His eyes pleaded with her to understand. “Felicia knows our marriage is completely over. She knows I’m committed to you. She’s just one of those insecure women who needs to be able to say ‘my husband this and my husband that.’”

“You’ve been sending her money all these years,” Corinne said. “I thought it was alimony.”

“It is, in a way. Just not court-ordered alimony. I send it to her because I care about her. You always said it was so great that she and I still got along. That we communicated.”

“I wouldn’t have said that if I’d known she was still your wife!” Corinne said.

He stood up and tried to put his arms around her, but she brushed them away.

“I know it’s hard for you to understand,” he said, “but the circle she’s in…the social circle…she would have felt humiliated if she had to tell them she was divorced.”

“What about humiliating
me?
” Corinne asked. She felt like hitting him. She’d never wanted to hit anyone in her life.

“You’re stronger than she is,” Ken said.

“Well, that’s a first,” she said. “You’re always telling me I’m weak and how lucky I am to have big strong
you
to lean on.”

Ken sat on the edge of the computer desk. “Look, I admit I’ve been wrong,” he said. “And I’m going to make it right. I’ll divorce Felicia. I don’t know how long it will take for the divorce to go through, but the second it does, you and I can get married.”

“I want you to leave,” she said. The words sounded so foreign in her ears she could hardly believe she’d said them. Neither could Ken.

“What?” he asked, as if he’d misunderstood her.

“You heard me.”

“You can’t kick me out,” he said. “This is my house, too.”

“I don’t care. You can’t stay here right now, because there’s a really good chance I’ll kill you if you do.” She knew the fire behind the words showed in her face, because he backed away from her.

“I love you,” he said. “Please marry me. I want to marry you.”

“That’s just the kind of proposal I’ve yearned for all these years we’ve been together.” She threw her pen at him. “Marry me, darling, as soon as I divorce my wife. You son of a bitch.” She looked for something larger and more lethal to throw.

“You’re angry at your mother, not me,” he said. “Don’t take it out on me.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said.

“You can’t function without me.” Ken picked up her pen from the floor. “You can’t even go to the mall without me. You need me, Cor.”

She walked out of the den, pressing her hands to her ears. “Get out of this house!” she yelled. It felt so good to yell! She wanted to scream.

“Don’t you want me to be here when your mother shows up?” He followed her into the living room.

“No!”

“You’ve forgotten all I’ve done for you,” he said. “You wouldn’t be able to walk out of this house if it weren’t for me. You were afraid of your own shadow before I came along.”

“Oh, it was all you, is that what you think?” she shouted. “I’m the one who had to do the walking out the door. I’m the one who drove on 540 today. I’m the one who’ll have to get on the elevator, who has to do the hard stuff.
You
can’t even tell Felicia you want a divorce.”

She sat down on the sofa, suddenly too drained to stand any longer, and looked up at him. “Do you still love her?” she asked.

He ran his hands through his hair. “Not at all,” he said. “It’s more like I hate her. She tied a noose around my neck and—”

“You are so pathetic,” Corinne said with a groan. “Don’t blame her. You’re the one making the choices. Now get out of here.”

He hesitated, and she thought he was going to continue arguing with her, but instead, he gave in. “All right,” he said. “I’ll be on my cell if you need me. I know you’re furious right now and I don’t blame you. But don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater.”

She gave him a long, hard look, and felt very brave. “I’m not throwing the baby out, no matter what,” she said.

He turned to leave the room. She listened to him pack in the bedroom as she idly surfed the Internet, not really caring about anything on the screen. He was right: she couldn’t function without him. She was terrified to have him leave. The dead-bolt lock on the back door was broken, she remembered. And it had rained earlier, causing the sump pump to produce an occasional
thud
in the basement. She sat frozen at the computer, not typing, barely breathing as she waited for him to go.