Chapter 25
BAILEY
“Evelyn had autism,” Paula says. “She was funny in a lot of ways. Brilliant in others. But as you can probably guess, she wasn’t always the easiest to connect with. Or to raise.”
Autism. I don’t know much about the condition other than what I’ve seen in the movies and at Noah’s daycare. One of the kids there had it and always seemed to be melting down.
“That had to be difficult,” Ben says.
Paula nods. “Very much so. It takes someone special to raise an autistic child. Not everyone is cut out for it. Evelyn’s birth mother Nina certainly wasn’t. Neither was Francesca.”
“Francesca?” I ask.
“Don’s second wife,” Paula says. “She wanted everything to revolve around her. When Don prioritized his daughter, she left. I could have called that one from a mile away, but men will be men. Even someone like Don.”
I want to roll my eyes. Someone like Don. Like the man is some kind of saint. “So why did you stay when the others didn’t?” I blurt, annoyed.
Paula laces her fingers together and sets her hands in her lap. “I didn’t meet Evelyn until she was sixteen. I didn’t have the same challenges Francesca and Nina did. By the time I came around, Evelyn was mostly self-sufficient. That’s not to say we didn’t have our share of problems.”
Ben leans in. “Like what?”
“Evelyn was always looking for connection. She wanted to fit in, to make friends. But that was difficult for her. Teenagers are mean, even at a private school. She was bullied. There were suicide attempts.”
I feel Ben’s gaze on me. I don’t turn his way.
Paula continues: “Don was beside himself every time it happened. He didn’t understand it. To him, Evelyn was perfect. Beautiful in every way. He blamed himself. He pulled her out of school.”
“How many attempts were there?” Ben asks.
The question hangs there, Paula tapping her bottle of San Pellegrino before finally answering. “Three. One happened before I married Don and two after.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, struggling to process this new information, not sure how to reconcile it with my hate.
“It wasn’t easy,” Paula says. “Don took a sabbatical. We spent every day with her. I did what I could to cheer her up, but it was Don who really brought her back to life. He poured himself into her every chance he got.”
I try to imagine Donald Nash in this light and struggle to do so. From the video clips I’d watched, he’d seemed so full of himself, so self-absorbed. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. Maybe I’d misjudged the man.
“He truly believed he could save her,” Paula says.
“Though I didn’t always share his optimism.
” She looks away for a moment, seemingly lost in a memory.
When she turns back, her eyes are wet. “Evelyn walked in on me crying once, a few weeks after she came home from the hospital after one of her suicide attempts. When she asked me what was wrong, I told her what she did made me sad. I said I didn’t want to lose her.
” Paula gives a sudden laugh and wipes her eyes.
“Do you know what the girl did after that?”
I shake my head.
“She picked flowers. She hid them in these funny places only I would find. In my purse. In my makeup drawer. All around my closet. I even found one in the pocket of my jacket once. I sometimes spotted her in the garden picking them. Evelyn didn’t always know how to talk to me, but she always made sure I knew I was loved.
“Evelyn seemed to improve from there, especially when Don fostered her creativity. She had real artistic talent. He helped her channel that talent. We flew to Italy a few times, and he introduced her to the greats. Botticelli and Caravaggio. Da Vinci. Raphael. After that, she really took off. She went to college and got a job in graphic design after graduation.”
“She was able to do that?” Ben asks, before adding, “I’m sorry if that’s a rude question. I don’t know much about autism.”
“Oh, yes. She was more than capable of living life on her own. And once she started to do that, it was a huge relief for Don. For both of us, really. Things settled down. It relieved the pressure. Evelyn flourished. We thought she was going to be okay.”
“What changed?” I ask.
“She met someone.”
I straighten. “Who?”
“A man. His name was Adrian Wallace.”
“A romantic interest?” Ben asks.
Paula nods. “Yes. It wasn’t the first time she dated someone. There were a few men before Adrian, but they never lasted. Adrian was different.”
“Different how?” I ask, feeling myself being pulled into the story against my will. “He didn’t treat her well?”
“Quite the opposite, actually. He treated her very well. They shared the same taste in music. Both of them loved art. Adrian was very attentive to her needs. He worshiped the ground she walked on. He was very kind to both Don and me. He seemed like a real catch.”
Ben tilts his head. “And that was a problem, why?”
“It wasn’t,” Paula says. “Not in and of itself.”
“What, then?” I ask, my impatience building.
Paula takes a drink of water, then sets the bottle aside.
“I didn’t trust him at first. Don didn’t either.
He seemed a little too eager to please Evelyn.
He was a little too interested. It wasn’t normal.
Like I said, even though Evelyn wanted to connect with people, it was difficult for her.
Especially when it came to men. She didn’t know how to talk to them.
She was, well, awkward. Most men weren’t willing to put up with that aspect of her personality. ”
“But Adrian was?” I ask.
“Yes. He was quite taken with her. Don and I couldn’t put our finger on it. The relationship moved really fast.”
Ben shifts in the chair. “Honestly, a lot of couples move quickly. Besides Evelyn’s autism, that doesn’t sound all that out of the ordinary.”
“That’s what I told Don,” Paula says. “It took a while, but Adrian grew on me. I could see why Evelyn was so infatuated with him. He was easy company. Very likable. But Don never came around. He was always a little suspicious of Adrian. Well, more than a little. A lot. I eventually had to tell him to calm down, especially after they moved in together.” She shakes her head.
“That didn’t go well at all. We only found out because we stopped by Evelyn’s condo for lunch and Adrian’s things were everywhere.
She told us then, just blurted it out. ‘We live together now.’ We were both shocked.
They’d only been together for four months. Don flipped his lid.”
I shift on the couch. I can’t handle this any longer. As sad and complicated as Evelyn’s story is, it doesn’t change the fact that she killed my family. I need to know where this is going.
“What does any of this have to do with me?”
“Bailey,” Ben says, casting me a mind-your-manners look. “Let her finish.”
“It’s okay,” Paula says, surveying me. “If I was in your shoes, I’d ask the same question. But I’m not sure what I have to share with you will help you find much peace.”
I feel my skin prickle, goosebumps rising along my arms. The way this woman is looking at me—like whatever it is she has to share will upend my world—sets off an internal alarm. For the briefest of seconds, I consider telling her to keep it to herself, but I know I can’t do that.
“Please, just tell me,” I say, bracing myself.
Paula raises her hand as if to rub her cheek, hesitates, and then returns it to her lap with a sigh. “The day your family died, Evelyn wasn’t the one driving. Adrian was.”