41 #6
“Jennifer,” Kate said. “Come with us. We can all get away . . .”
“Don’t you recognize me?” Jennifer asked.
“Yes,” Kate said. “From the cemetery.”
“Not just there. From my baby picture. The one my mother showed you. My blue eyes fooled you, didn’t they?”
Kate stared at them, those blue eyes that Belinda had said were just like Conor’s. But they were just like Leo’s too. She remembered when she’d first met Leo, in the lobby of the Ocean House, she had noted how Irish he looked, how his eyes were the color of Galway Bay.
“I don’t want to get away from this place,” Jennifer said, glaring at Kate.
“This is my home. I grew up here. And now it is really mine. My stepfather’s gone, my mother’s gone, my father was never here, and my life is finally about to become mine.
Fuck 1740, fuck every single person who messed with me. Especially you.”
“Me?” Kate asked. She knew that Jennifer was delusional, and she didn’t want to debate with her, but the statement shocked her.
“Do you know how much you ruled my existence?” Jennifer asked.
“First, I had to hear about Conor all the time. How if he loved my mother, she would be so happy, we would have such a wonderful life. She said that all the time, even when she was married to Jonathan. He got sick of it. He was going to divorce her just to shut her up about Conor. So I killed him. If he’d divorced her, we’d have had nothing. They’d have kicked us out of here.”
Kate looked into Jennifer’s eyes and saw anguish and rage. “How old were you when you killed him?”
“Eleven. He didn’t care about me. After he died, I saw all the 1740 men using my mother. Turning girls into an unending stream of Belles.”
Kate saw Jennifer glancing at Caroline, then at Sam.
“You two would be next,” Jennifer said. “That’s how it goes here. Ask Maeve and Suzanne.”
“Stop it, Jen,” Maeve said. “It’s over. Let them go.”
“Oh, now you’re on their side?” Jennifer asked. “You let my mother plant you in the art gallery. You hired Suzanne and sabotaged the wedding. And now you want to let them go waltzing out to tell everyone what you did?”
“I’m sick of it,” Maeve said. “I hate what we’ve done. What you’ve done.”
“Me?” Jennifer asked.
Maeve nodded. “If you hadn’t killed her . . .”
“My mother?” Jennifer asked.
Kate watched Maeve and Jennifer sparring. Maeve shot her a glance that let her know that she was doing this to divert Jennifer, so Kate tapped Caroline’s arm and began inching toward the door.
“Belle deserved it,” Jennifer said. “It was bad enough that she spent the last year planning how to get invited to the wedding and how she had me make that little ring to resemble the one she claims Conor gave her when they were kids . . . It took up every minute of her life, her concentration. It was like I didn’t exist other than to do things to perpetuate the fantasy.
The ring. Stealing Kate’s dress so she could try it on. Cutting up Kate’s veil.”
“What was the point of any of that?” Maeve asked. She was shifting her position so that Jennifer would have to pivot, leaving her back to Kate, Caroline, and Sam. Kate nudged Caroline, and they started moving faster toward the door.
“Her obsession was the point,” Jennifer said. “And I’d had enough.”
“I don’t blame you,” Maeve said. “All that, and you were just at the age for her to turn you into the new Belle.”
“I hated her for that, and I hated you for making her go so crazy,” Jennifer said, turning to face Kate. “Your marriage to Conor was going to finish her off.”
Caroline caught her toe on the rug and stumbled. Kate stopped her from falling. Sam charged forward to the front door and slid the bolt. Kate heard the door open, and she heard Conor’s voice: “Where’s Kate?”
Jennifer must have heard it too. Or maybe Conor’s presence didn’t matter at all.
Maybe she would have killed Kate no matter what, because when Kate looked over, she saw Jennifer holding a knife above her head, charging toward her.
The knife blade flashed silver, and Jennifer gripped the handle so tightly, her fingers were white.
“Conor!” Kate called.
Hearing his name enraged Jennifer even more, and she let out a guttural scream.
Kate tried to fight her off. She grabbed for the knife, felt searing pain as it slashed her palm.
She stumbled and nearly lost her balance.
She backed away from Jennifer, but Jennifer caught her, raised the knife overhead, and brought it down into Kate’s chest, stabbing her over and over.
Kate felt liquid running down her ribs. She looked at the floor and saw it covered with blood.
She couldn’t stand anymore, so she knelt in the blood, then lay down in it.
She heard Conor yelling, crying, saying her name.
She felt him pick her up. She tried to keep her eyes open so she could look into his face.
She saw agony in his eyes, and she wanted to tell him it was okay, she loved him.
She loved him more than anything. They had had their time.
She wouldn’t have traded that for anything.