Читать книгу Happily Never After - Kathleen O'Brien - Страница 7

THE BEST VIEW of the tortured and beautiful Mellon house was from the top of the East River Bridge. In winter, when the elm trees had shivered themselves to skeletons, you could see everything, right down to the statue that had toppled over in the fern garden twenty years ago and had never been set right.

Mrs. Mellon must hate to see the sheltering leaves fall, Kelly Ralston thought as she turned right on Market and headed toward the bridge. The proud old woman would hate feeling so exposed. Coeur Volé had been built a hundred years ago, but even then it had been designed for privacy. And that was long before Sebastian’s accident, Mr. Mellon’s death or Sophie’s…

Long before tragedy knocked on the door of Coeur Volé and apparently moved in to stay.

Even so, Kelly—and probably half the population of Cathedral Cove—never crossed the bridge without slowing down to stare. She did it now, though it was a foggy autumn midnight, not winter, and she couldn’t realistically expect to see anything but shadows.

Lillith Griggs, whose restored Jaguar was right in front of Kelly’s, wasn’t slowing down, though. Lightning Lillith, as her husband teasingly called her, was infamous for collecting the most speeding tickets in Cathedral Cove. Of course, she was a lawyer, so she wiggled her way out of a lot of them.

Suddenly the cell phone tucked into Kelly’s cup holder vibrated noisily.

“Hey, I meant to ask you,” Lillith said without preamble. “Did you hear that Sophie’s checked herself out again?”

“No. Really? Is she back at home?” Kelly maneuvered onto the bridge, keeping close to her friend’s car. In an un-characteristic display of caution, Lillith had asked Kelly to follow her home from the bar where they’d had a late dinner. Lillith was ordinarily the most self-confident person Kelly had ever met. But she’d been getting weird phone calls, she said. And for the past few days, she’d had the feeling someone was following her.

Kelly had a horrible thought. “God, Lily. Are you saying you think Sophie’s been following you?”

“Well, no, probably not. Actually, I’m sorry I even mentioned that. I’m probably imagining it all.” Lillith laughed, and for the first time tonight she sounded like herself. “It’s probably just this spooky feeling of having another person living in my own body. Pregnancy is weird, if you really think about it.”

Kelly laughed, but kept both hands on the wheel. The East River Bridge was steep, and they were reaching the peak. “No, it’s not. It’s perfectly normal and wonderful. I can’t wait to hear what Jacob says when you tell him. Promise you’ll call me immediately.”

“I won’t have to. You’ll hear him all the way out to your studio, beating his breast and whooping like the darling dumb jock he is. He’ll be insufferable. He’ll act like his sperm has made a field goal from the fifty-yard line.”

“In a way, it has.” Kelly didn’t pay much attention to Lillith’s acerbic tone. The Griggses had been married six years, and they were silly in love. Kelly had always struggled with a little jealousy, not being very good at the marriage thing herself. And now that there was a Griggs baby on the way…

But just then Kelly caught her first glimpse of the strange, needlelike tower of Coeur Volé piercing the low-lying fog, and she remembered that she had a lot to be grateful for, after all. She might not be as happy as Lily Griggs, but at least she wasn’t cursed.

Her car crested the top of the bridge, just feet behind Lillith’s. Over the phone line she heard Lillith’s sudden intake of breath. “What the hell?”

“What?” Kelly asked, but then she saw it. The stained glass in the highest tower window was glowing. “It’s probably Sophie. She’s always had trouble sleeping, even as a teenager. And now that she spends so much time in institutions—”

She heard a low curse from Lillith’s end, and an ominous, repetitive thumping sound. “Damn it,” Lillith said harshly. “What’s wrong with this damn thing?”

“What?” But suddenly Kelly realized that Lillith’s gasp hadn’t been a reaction to the tower light. She probably hadn’t even seen it.

Something was wrong with Lillith’s car. She was taking the down slope of the bridge much too fast, even for Lightning Lillith. Fog shot from beneath her tires like jet contrails. Her taillights were pulling away, stretching the distance between their two cars.

At the foot of the bridge, hidden at the moment in a blanket of damp silver fog, the road made a sharp right-hand curve to avoid the first of the riverfront mansions. If Lillith didn’t slow down…

“Lily!” Kelly realized she was shouting into the cell phone. But Lillith’s car was still gathering speed, sucked down by gravity, going twice as fast now as Kelly’s. Kelly had to fight the instinct to hit the accelerator, to try to catch her. That would be madness. And yet, it was impossible to accept that there was nothing she could do.

“Lily, for God’s sake, slow down!”

“Damn it.” Lillith’s voice was tight and husky, as if her throat were raw. The thumping sound continued. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What’s happening?”

“The brakes.” And then Lillith’s voice seemed to come from a distance, and Kelly knew she’d dropped the cell phone. “Damn it, damn it. Catch, damn it. Why won’t—”

“Lily! The hand brake! Pull the hand brake!”

Was that the right advice? Kelly’s mind wasn’t working, didn’t have time to work. Maybe Lillith should turn the car in a circle, or try to use the median to interrupt the momentum—

The red sports car changed lanes, deliberately, Kelly thought. Then it clipped the guardrail of the bridge. Yellow and white sparks flew as the two metals kissed. It helped a little, but they were running out of time, running out of bridge. Kelly began to pray.

At the last minute, Lillith swerved, but it was too late. The car was still going much too fast. Though Kelly was now a hundred yards behind, she felt the shudder as Lillith’s car lifted off the asphalt, bumped over the curb, shot across the smooth green grass of an elegant lawn, and finally rammed headfirst into the scarred trunk of an ancient, unyielding oak.

The car seemed for a horrible instant to be trying to climb the tree, but of course it couldn’t be. The nose of the car collapsed like an accordion, and the air exploded with lightning bolts of broken glass.

And then everything was still.

Kelly slammed on her brakes and tumbled out of her car without even stopping to turn off the engine. She was trying to punch in 911 on her cell phone, but her fingers were like rubber, and she misdialed twice before she got through. She ran, but her legs were shaking so hard she twisted her ankle and had to hobble the last few yards.

“We need an ambulance. There’s been a terrible accident.”

“Where are you?”

She looked around. For a moment she couldn’t think where they were. It was so dark. Everything was foggy and silent, except for the hiss of something coming out of Lillith’s car.

“The bridge,” she managed to say. She stumbled over the curb and dropped the telephone. Somehow she found it again, just in time to hear the voice on the other end asking her which bridge.

Which bridge? This bridge. This cruel, dangerous, deadly bridge. But what was it called? She needed to be more coherent. She had always hoped she was the kind of person who would be good in a crisis. But she felt as if her heart and mind had collapsed, just like the hood of Lillith’s car.

“The foot of the East River Bridge,” she said. “The south side, the Destiny Drive side. She hit a tree. Please. Send someone right away.”

Her toe jammed a boulder half-hidden by the fog. Pain streaked up her shin, and once again she dropped the telephone. This time it clattered against other rocks and disappeared into the fog. Kelly felt the ground for it briefly, but then she heard a sound coming from the Jaguar. A low, moaning sound.

“I’m here,” she called out. She scrambled over wet grass until she finally reached the car.

It was the saddest sight she’d ever seen.

Everything gaped unnaturally, pitifully exposed. The right front headlight had been knocked free and was dangling by wires. Both doors had been ripped open, and the trunk was open, too. Even the glove box had been knocked loose.

Lillith’s personal things were scattered all over the ground—her purse, a pair of running shoes tied together by the laces, an old McDonald’s cup with the straw still in it, her billfold with a picture of Jacob smiling, and a Boudoir Boutique sack full of smashed bath beads that filled the air with the scents of sandalwood and vanilla.

It was so wrong. Lillith was always so elegant and organized. Though Kelly knew it didn’t really matter right now, she had to fight the urge to gather up the things, to protect the privacy that had been so heartlessly violated.

“I’m here,” she said again, though she hadn’t heard any more sounds. She rushed to the driver’s side. Lillith was still sitting upright, the lap belt still connected. This old classic sports car didn’t have an air bag, though Jacob was always bugging Lillith to install one.

Under the distorted hood, the hoses were steaming and hissing, as if they were mad with fury. The front tires no longer touched the ground, and when Kelly reached out to touch Lillith, the car wobbled.

“Lily,” she said. “Lily, are you all right?”

Lillith turned her head slowly and tried to speak. Kelly felt the air draining out of her lungs, the strength out of her muscles, but somehow she found the courage to keep from fainting.

It wasn’t even Lillith anymore. Blood coated everything, but under the blood Lillith’s face was crushed. One cheekbone had disappeared entirely, and her eye seemed to melt into the hollow below. Her nose was flat, and something white poked through the bloody mess of skin. And her mouth…

Everything was swollen, and broken and rearranged. Kelly saw a tooth lying in a gleaming pool of blood on Lillith’s chin, and her stomach spasmed, sending a gag of half-digested spaghetti erupting toward her throat.

She fought it back.

“Hold on, Lily,” she said, and suddenly her voice was strong again. “The ambulance is coming.”

Lillith seemed to be trying to shake her head. She closed her eyes—though the one over the sunken cheek wouldn’t shut properly.

“I’ve already called 911,” Kelly said. Miraculously, one of Lillith’s hands seemed untouched. Kelly took it into her own. It was cold. “They’ll be here soon. They’ll know what to do.”

Lillith moved her lips again. Kelly tried to hear—she made out an e, but the consonants were all a bubbling mush of blood.

Maybe it was Kelly.

Or maybe baby.

Or perhaps it was simply Help me.

“Lily,” she said again. In the movies, people always begged dying friends to keep talking. Was there some magic in that? But how could she ask those mangled lips to try to form words?

God, she was useless. The truth was, she had no idea what to do.

“Lily, I love you,” Kelly said, because there was nothing else to say, and because it seemed important. She was aware that tears were flooding down her face.

Lillith nodded a fraction of an inch. Or maybe Kelly just wanted to believe she did. And then Lillith seemed to try to speak again. Kelly leaned forward.

It was as wet and half-formed as before.

But this time it sounded like Sophie.

It was the last word Lillith Griggs ever spoke. She was dead before the ambulance arrived.