Chapter 42 #2
“Do you remember that Christmas dress you used to wear years ago? The one with that ugly reindeer stitched on it?”
“My ugly Christmas dress! Of course I do. My mom made it for me before she died. For our ugly sweater party.”
“Do you still have it?” I asked.
“I … do.” She looked at my dad. A quick glance. “But your dad kinda hates it. He likes when I wear short—”
“Nah,” I cut in gently. “Dad just told me the other day he’d love to see you wear some of your old clothes again. The ones you chose for yourself.”
She laughed awkwardly. “You’re funny.”
Not funny.
Changing things.
Poor Amanda.
Sure, what she did back then, cheating with him while he was still married to my mom, wasn’t right.
And we were angry with her for a long time.
But, God, she’d paid for it. Her husband murdered.
And my dad had also cheated on her after childbirth changed her body.
As if stretch marks were sins in the Bible.
Like my mom, Amanda had given him everything.
Her money. Her time. Her youth. Raised his kids with the kind of love a real mom gives.
School lunches packed before sunrise, homework checked at the kitchen table, sitting through fevers and nightmares and teenage tantrums while he went on golf trips.
Doing those ridiculous plastic surgeries for him too.
And still it wasn’t enough.
This pig.
The audacity.
“I’m not joking,” I said loud and clear. “Isn’t that right?” I asked, looking straight at my dad. “Didn’t you say you miss Amanda’s old style?”
He held my gaze like a man staring at a loaded gun.
He wasn’t stupid. The fear in his eyes told me he understood the shift in this house. The new orchestra playing.
I could have ended him right here. One call to Nolan. One mention of Dad missing that night. He and his Porsche caught on the gas station footage near the Seacoast Inn, the night of the murder. And Lucy thought my name was Brian.
If I made that call, Dad would be gone for good. Part of me wanted it so bad. I wanted him to suffer. For my mom. For Grandma. For me too.
But Dad going to jail would hurt my siblings more than it would ever satisfy me. The news would rip through the country and tear open every old wound. Reporters outside again. New documentaries. More gossip at school. A new hell. And my family had been through enough.
So, instead, I would take over for my mom.
I would protect this family now. Just like she did.
But, unlike my mom, I’d protect it from him too.
I’d watch his every move. Every word. I’d allow him to stay for as long as he made my family happy.
The moment he hurt them, cheating, yelling, slapping Markus ever again, anything, he’d be done.
Gone.
Bye-bye.
“Right, Dad?” I asked once more. “Didn’t you say that? How much you miss Amanda’s old style?”
Everyone was watching now. Curious.
“Yes,” he finally said, smiling too wide. “I did say that. I’d love to see the ugly Christmas dress on you.”
Amanda lit up like someone had opened a window to a sunny spring after months of gray winter.
She hurried off toward the bedroom. Ecstatic.
It was strange. She seemed happier with permission to wear what she wanted than with the news of Myers’ death.
“I was also thinking …” I added casually. “Maybe Grandma could move in here with you guys.”
His eyes widened even more. Not surprised. Horrified.
“I mean, you’ve got three guest rooms. One of them is on the first floor. We could hire an in-home nurse too. Amanda once told me she’d love that. For the kids. And for Grandma.”
“Yaaay!” the kids shouted. “Grandma’s gonna live here!”
“That would be amazing,” Ethan said, already smiling.
“Dad, you really okay with this?” Lila asked. Her smile was hopeful but cautious.
“Of course he is,” I said. “It was his idea, right, Dad?”
There it was again. That tiny pause of shock. But then he laughed. A little too loud. A little too forced.
“Yes,” he said. “I did suggest that. I was just thinking how blessed we are and how much Nicole has done for all of us.”
The kids erupted, cheering like they’d just won something.
“How kind of you, Dad,” I said. “Why don’t you get the champagne now to celebrate all this amazing change around here?”
I hugged Grandma again. The kind of hug that says I love you. Thank you. I’m here.
Little arms wrapped around us. Elizabeth first. Then Markus jumping in. Lila and Ethan followed. Warm bodies encircling me.
We stood like that for a while.
Amanda joined too, in her ugly sweater dress, wrapping her arms around all of us. A knot of love and soft smiles.
It felt incredible.
My family.
Just like my mom, my love had no limits when it came to them.
I would protect them. Take their pain. Carry their burdens. Let them live happy and carefree lives. Even if it meant I was the one drowning for them. Even if it meant my tears had to come later, when I was all alone, when no one was watching.
My eyes drifted to my dad. He fumbled with the champagne cork. The bottle popped, and he flinched nervously.
And he had every right to be nervous, because I would do anything for the people I loved.
The phone in my pocket vibrated.
The hug loosened as I got the phone out of my pocket.
For a second, I thought it was Detective Nolan again. But the display read Dr. Rothchild.
“Hello?” I answered, stepping away from the table. I dreaded what came next. His calls usually meant one thing.
“Hey, it’s me,” he said. “I’m sorry to do this to you, but I really need you to come in.
We don’t have a single physician on the oncology floor.
Two have COVID, one has the flu, one’s wife is in labor, and Greg has to leave in an hour after a twenty-two-hour shift.
I’m really sorry, but we have two patients in oncology who might pass away tonight. I really need you.”
My hand dragged through my hair. “Shit … Ummm … yeah. Yeah, of course.”
“Thanks, kid.”
The line crackled faintly, but he wasn’t done.
“Oh, before I forget.”
“Yeah?”
“Remember I told you about the Alderwyn patient I met all those years back?”
“Yes.”
“I finally remembered her name. It was Lacey Alderwyn.”
I froze briefly, then nodded. I’d already suspected it. Still, hearing my mother’s name spoken like that unsettled me.
“It was right after that snowstorm,” he went on. “End of March. Eleven years ago.”
March.
Before Zach’s murder.
There it was. No more space left for denial. My mom knew about the cancer before Zach was killed.
“She came in with another woman,” he added.
That made my head lift.
Another woman?
My grandmother was the first thought.
“Was she older?” I asked quietly, eyes drifting toward Grandma in her wheelchair. My heart began to hammer against my ribs. If she’d been there with my mom before Zach was killed … then that would mean she knew about the cancer before my mom went to jail.
“No,” he said.
The word didn’t register at first. Made no sense.
“She came in with a woman in her early thirties,” he said.
As if in slow motion, I turned, and my gaze landed on Amanda.
She stood by the table, laughing as she filled champagne glasses for the adults and sparkling apple cider for the kids. The ugly Christmas sweater dress made her look so innocent. Red knit fabric. A ridiculous stitched reindeer across the chest with dangling wool antlers.
“She had blond hair,” Dr. Rothchild said.
My throat tightened.
Amanda’s hair caught the glow of the lights, almost golden.
“Kinda petite,” he added. “Pretty. Sweet voice. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying this in a creepy way. So don’t get me canceled on social media or something like that.”
His attempt to joke floated past me.
The room felt both too small and too large at the same time. Sound dulled. Markus giggling. Dad’s low chuckle. All of it far away.
Amanda tipped her head back and laughed at something Lila said.
“Hello?” Dr. Rothchild asked.
I heard him.
But for a second, I was mute.
Amanda.
She had been there with my mom. At her cancer appointment. Before Zach was murdered. She knew. She fucking knew!
Myers’ last words looped in my head.
Some woman his friend knew from his AA meetings years back, Myers had said in the hut. Not your mother.
Thinking about it now, it made sense. My mom once told me how much Amanda helped the family when she had to attend college classes and Grandma worked.
There was nobody to drive Dad to his AA meetings when he lost his driver’s license for a while after another DUI.
So Amanda stepped in. Smiling. Helpful. Always there for us.
It was Amanda who had been taking Dad to his AA meetings in the morning.
Waiting outside. Chatting with other members.
Drinking coffee and eating doughnuts while listening to sad stories.
“Hello?” Dr. Rothchild said again. This time sharper.
“Y-yes. Sorry.”
“Do you know any Lacey Alderwyn?” he asked.
Across the room, Amanda laughed at something. She always looked so sweet.
I stared at her.
The woman I thought I knew. The woman who never raised her voice. Who made cookies for school events and volunteered at the homeless shelter.
Her gaze lifted and found mine.
The clink of glasses and the voices around us faded into the background.
Her smile faded first. Then her shoulders froze. Eyes sharpened.
There it was.
Not panic. Not guilt.
Recognition.
And something all-knowing behind it. As if she understood exactly what I’d just learned.
“Do you know these two women?” Dr. Rothchild asked.
My mouth moved before the rest of me caught up.
“I,” I said, still looking at Amanda. “I don’t think so.”
“Yeah, I thought so,” he replied. “See you in a few.”
The line clicked, and I put my phone back into my pocket.
Amanda hadn’t looked away. Her blue eyes were wide now. Searching. Questions in them. And answers at the same time.
“Everything okay?” she finally asked.
I stared at her a moment longer, then smiled warmly.
“Yeah,” I said. “Everything’s okay. But I gotta go in for a shift.”