“We’re still investigating.” She put her hand over the phone for a few seconds, then said, “I apologize, but I have a meeting, and I’m already late. I appreciate your call, and I will remember your daughter when this case comes up for trial. If there is any way to bring this before the court, I’ll be in touch. Take care.”
“Thank you. And thank you for taking the time to speak with us,” Liddy said right before the line went dead.
Liddy and Jim stood facing each other, their silence another obstacle between them. Finally, Liddy said, “You know what this means, right? If it’s true Bowers did this before, that Jessie wasn’t the first victim . . . it means she didn’t have to feel guilty. She didn’t need to . . .”
“You can’t think that way. She had no way of knowing if she’d been the first. She believed her silence was the reason other girls were hurt. Knowing what we know now, maybe she was right.”
“The girls he’d assaulted before he came here—if they’d told—he wouldn’t have been at Mid-Coast Regional and Jessie—”
“We can’t go there, Liddy. We can’t blame them any more than the girls who filed the lawsuit should blame Jessie.”
“But if—” Liddy protested.
“There are no ifs. These are kids. Jess was seventeen, so I suspect the others were about the same age. Yes, of course they should have told their parents or a teacher or the police. That’s obvious to us, as adults. But kids aren’t known for always recognizing the long-term consequences of their actions. And something like this—I’m sure they felt embarrassed, ashamed, frightened. Jess told Grace he’d threatened her.
“I wish everyone had done the right thing—the first victim had spoken out, the schools where he’d taught before had blown the whistle on him instead of protecting their district from lawsuits.” He paused to think. “Of course, we don’t know they weren’t sued, or threatened with a suit and maybe settled out of court. There’s a reason he was terminated at two schools before he came here, and I think before this case is over, the truth will come out. We have to trust that ADA Priest will let us know.” Jim brushed away a tear. “But the bottom line is, nothing will make a difference. Jessie will still be gone.”
Liddy decided to go to her shop. She needed to focus on something other than herself, and, she had to admit, she wanted Jim to leave, and there was no graceful way to ask him to go. She’d gone upstairs to take a shower, and when she came back downstairs, she was dressed for work. She found Jim on the front porch.
“My granddad used to sit right here in the afternoons and watch the birds build their nests in the maple trees that used to grow along the driveway. He always said it was relaxing, made him feel like he didn’t have a care in the world. Now I know what he meant,” Jim said when she closed the door behind her.
“Yes, it’s peaceful here. Listen, Jim, I need a distraction. I’m going to the bookshop. I’ll call you if I hear anything from the DA’s office, but I don’t expect to. Not for a while, anyway.” Liddy tried tactfully to make it clear it was time for him to go. “Thanks for coming last night.”
“Thanks for calling me and letting me crash in the guest room.” Jim leaned back against the rocking chair, his eyes closed. Evidently, he didn’t take the hint.
She was trying to find a way to let him know he should probably leave.
“I want you to know I meant what I said. I still love you. I never stopped.” His eyes still closed, he said, “Can we try again? Do you think it’s too late to go back to what we had?”
He opened his eyes and sat forward in the chair. “Don’t answer now. Please just give it some thought before you make a decision.”
Liddy hadn’t really wanted to get into a discussion just then, but she knew Jim deserved an answer. “I thought about this most of the night last night. I just can’t get past what I felt when you left me. Every time I think back on that day, I feel that pain all over again, that sense of desertion.”
“So you’re saying you can’t forgive and forget?”
“I can forgive, but I don’t know how I could ever forget. I just don’t think it would work, Jim,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”
“So you’re saying this is it?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I guess I understand. I just wish things were different.” Jim stood and moved toward the front steps, ready at last to leave. He’d taken his one last shot. He kissed her as if he knew it was the last time. He went down the steps, paused on the sidewalk, then turned back to her. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”
“Thanks, Jim, but it’s not likely. We both need to move on.”
The sound of music drew their attention to the driveway. They both watched as Tuck parked his truck behind Liddy’s car.
Jim glanced back at Liddy. “Looks like you already have.”
He cut across the lawn to his car and got in without looking back.
“This will probably be the last time this year we’ll be sitting here in shorts and T-shirts, so let’s enjoy this warm spell while it lasts. It’s supposed to be in the mid to low forties tomorrow.” Liddy poured from a pitcher of margaritas into glasses that she then passed around. One to Emma, then one to Maggie. She lifted the third in a toast. “To the three of us. Long may we wave.”
“Was that a pun?” Emma turned her left arm to show off her tattoo, the three waves that represented the three of them and all they’d been through together.
“Well, we are as unchanging and as deep as the sea,” Maggie said solemnly, then laughed. “Sorry. I can’t say that with a straight face.”
“We have our deep moments,” Liddy said. “And in some respects, we haven’t changed at all in the years we’ve known each other.”
“True. Here’s to us.” Emma raised her glass and took a sip.
Maggie unwrapped the platter of goodies she’d brought to share: a round of brie encased in puff pastry, a layer of raspberry jam under the pastry, toasted slices of baguette, and some green grapes. Liddy set out small plates and a stack of napkins, then added a knife to the cheese plate. “Help yourselves. The cheese is still warm. I just took it out of the oven before I drove over.”
“Oh, yum.” Emma dived in. “This is the best. Drinks and snacks with my besties on this beautiful deck.”
“Em, I don’t think grown-ups say besties,” Liddy told her.
“Lids, I don’t think adults say grown-ups,” Maggie noted.
“I don’t care. That’s who you are. You’re my people. My bestest people,” Emma told them.
“Oh, well, bestest is much better.” Liddy nodded. “Much more acceptable for a woman of your age and station.”
“I have no station, and I’m feeling old as Stonehenge,” Emma grumbled.
“What have you got to be cranky about? We know you’re over the moon that Chris’s secret girlfriend turned out to be Nat.” Liddy spread brie on a slice of bread. “Isn’t that what you always wanted, Em?”