Chapter 13 #3
Lillith put everything away, grabbed her bag and coat, and left the apartment as fast as she could with her heart pounding.
All the times John had disappeared, was he with Isabelle?
She took a cab back to the office and went to look for Jane, the assistant who had dated the sociopath.
She was sitting at her desk organizing files of brochures of bathroom fixtures when she looked up and saw the expression on Lillith’s face.
She had been there herself and knew how painful it was to realize that someone you loved was a liar and a sociopath, and wasn’t the person you thought you knew.
And Lillith didn’t want to tell her that John was also having an affair with their client. She didn’t want to go back to Isabelle’s apartment. All she said to Jane was, “I think you were right.”
Jane looked pained for her and said “I’m sorry” in a soft voice.
Lillith wanted to know the truth, at least about John’s relationship with Isabelle.
She couldn’t know the truth about the rape, although she strongly suspected that it was true.
He had taken her so violently before he left, it felt like rape to her.
She turned to Jane, feeling sick, wrote down the phone number on the boat, and handed it to her.
“I’m sorry to ask you to do this, but will you call this number and ask for Isabelle Phillips?
If she’s there, hang up, and if she isn’t, it doesn’t matter.
Can you call from your cell?” Jane nodded, picked her cellphone up off her desk, and placed the call, as Lillith stood by looking intense.
The call would tell her just how shamefully John had lied to her.
She wanted to believe he hadn’t, even if he had a dark past, but she wanted to know the rest now, as best she could.
Jane put the call on speaker so Lillith could hear what was said. It rang several times and a male voice with an Australian accent answered. Lillith knew exactly which deckhand it was.
“Lady H,” the voice said pleasantly. Jane asked for Isabelle.
“I’m sorry. They’ve just gone ashore,” he answered.
“They’ll be back in about two hours. May I take a message for her?
” Jane turned to Lillith, who shook her head and gestured to hang up.
Jane thanked him and said it wasn’t important and she’d call later, and she hung up.
Lillith looked at her and nodded. It explained his disappearances.
Whether or not he was a rapist, he was a liar at best. He was sleeping with both women, with Isabelle, and with her.
And now Isabelle was on the boat with John.
That had never even dawned on her as a remote possibility before.
But now she knew. John and Isabelle were lovers and she was on the boat with him.
And Lillith was the fool in the story. She wondered for how long he had been lying to her.
Maybe they had been lovers for years, or ever since Helen died, or before.
But Lillith was the odd man out, the idiot, the woman he used for sex, not the woman he loved.
It nearly broke her heart as she stood there and her eyes filled with tears.
She felt like an idiot, and utterly betrayed. Jane hugged her as she cried.
She sat at her desk feeling dazed, thinking of all his disappearances and excuses.
She bolted out the door at five o’clock and went home.
She couldn’t stay in the office for another minute.
She just wanted to run away and hide. She was certain he had never loved her.
And all of his late-night surprise visits at midnight were only booty calls, not that he couldn’t be without her for another minute as he said, or that he had late-night meetings.
He had Isabelle, and Lillith on the side.
It was a great arrangement for him. There was nothing left to say.
She had to forget him as fast as she could.
He was a heartless liar and a sociopath and as bad as people said.
He and Isabelle were obviously living together at least part of the time.
He wasn’t leaving clothes at Lillith’s apartment, and Isabelle was building a dressing room for him.
On the way home from work, she went to a magazine store near her apartment and bought a copy of the latest Vanity Fair.
She went home and read every word of the article again, and cried while she did.
And whatever he had said to her that they had screwed him and it was all lies, she knew it was all true, even the rape.
She was sure of it now. It had the ring of truth.
—
When Isabelle and John got back to the boat, the steward told her she’d had a call, but the caller hadn’t left a message, and hung up. She found it very strange.
“That’s so odd,” she commented to John on their way to his cabin to drop off their purchases. “I didn’t leave the boat number with anyone, just my cellphone. And I didn’t tell anyone where I was going, not a soul.”
“Maybe it was Angela. Did you leave it with her?” She shook her head.
“No one knows I’m here. I didn’t think you’d want me to tell anyone you were on the boat.”
“Well, it must not have been important if they didn’t leave a message,” he said, not interested in the mystery, and she hurried back up on deck, before John could get amorous again.
They had already made love twice before they went out.
She was still trying to guess who had called, and finally gave up.
John was right. It couldn’t have been important or they’d have called her cell.
But she didn’t remember leaving the boat number with anyone.
Maybe she’d made a mistake and left the boat number for one of her canceled appointments instead of her cell.
—
A second odd occurrence happened on the boat the next day.
Isabelle was cleaning out some bathroom cupboards in her bathroom, after she found some of Helen’s prescriptions still in a drawer.
She threw them away, and checked all the other drawers for anything else left over.
It made her sad to find Helen’s things. In one of the drawers Isabelle wanted to use, she found a red thong.
It looked almost new and was sexy and cute.
It was red lace with a tiny red bow. She took it out and looked at it, and knew that Helen would never have worn anything like it.
It was something a sexy young woman would wear.
And there was no way it could have gotten there, unless its owner had stayed in the owner’s cabin with John.
It was a mystery she didn’t want to solve, but she needed an answer, or she knew it would gnaw at her forever.
She didn’t know what else to do but dangle it on one finger in front of John.
She was half teasing and half serious, but she wondered if he had had a woman on the boat with him over Christmas.
It was before they were together so he had had a right to other women then, but she didn’t like the fact that he had told her how hard the holidays had been and how lonely he had been without her.
It was beginning to appear that it wasn’t true, as evidenced by the red thong.
“Do you know who this belongs to?” she asked him innocently, and he looked blank.
“I have no idea. Maybe Helen, or Gabby.” Isabelle didn’t believe that either of them wore thongs. And Gabby wouldn’t sleep in her father’s cabin, or even come to the boat. She hadn’t been there in years. And then his face brightened.
“I totally forgot. I lent the boat to a friend in February for a few days. It must be his wife’s, lucky guy. Would you ever wear something like that?” he asked, and kissed her.
“No I wouldn’t. Those things always look uncomfortable to me, and slightly obscene.”
“Very appealing though.” He grinned at her and went to his study to check his emails, no longer interested in the thong. Isabelle dropped it in the garbage, and when the maids were turning down the bed later, she smiled at one of them and asked a question.
“What were the people like who stayed on the boat in February?” she asked conversationally, and they both looked confused.
“No one’s been here since Mr. Williams over Christmas, ma’am. He never lends the boat to friends. He only likes guests when he’s here.”
“Oh, right. My mistake,” Isabelle said cheerfully and left the room for dinner.
She knew the answer then. He had had a woman with him over Christmas.
He had a perfect right to, he was single now.
But it meant he had lied to her. Lies were not acceptable.
She and Steve had never lied to each other.
She detested liars. He’d had every right to be with another woman, but what didn’t sit well with her was the lie.
And who was the woman in the red thong who had been there?
—