Chapter One
Noelle had rehearsed for days what she would say, the exact words thatwould set her free. Not just from her marriage but from the sense ofobligation she now viewed as somewhat foolish, like her diamond ringthat snagged on sweaters and pantyhose, and lately, because she'd lostso much weight, had a habit of turning on her finger. Once, whensmoothing lotion over her leg, she'd even cut herself with it. A tiny cut,but it had drawn blood nonetheless.
Now, though, face-to-face with her husband, none of those carefullyworded phrases came to mind. Only the plain hard fact of the matter.
"I'm not coming with you, Robert." She spoke as calmly as she couldwith her heart thudding like bricks being dropped one by one from agreat height. "In fact, I'm not coming home at all."
They were standing outside her grandmother's house, where she'dbeen staying for the past three weeks, since Nana got home from thehospital. But Noelle had run out of excuses. Also, there was Emma tothink of. Their daughter deserved to know the truth.
"That's ridiculous. Of course you are." Robert spoke sternly, as if toan employee who had stepped out of line. He glanced in irritation athis watch. "Now come on, get your things. You're supposed to bepacked already."
"Did you hear what I said? Are you even listening?" Noelle felt suddenlypanic-stricken, as if at any moment she would be sucked like atwig into the swirling eddy of his insistence. "I know this was onlysupposed to be temporary, but I—I changed my mind."
Now Robert was stepping back to eye her warily, a tiny dent of uncertaintymarring his perfect Simonized exterior. He stood with hisback to the boxwood hedge: a well-built man in his forties who appearedtaller than his actual height of five feet eleven inches, with thickmaple-brown hair that fell in a boyish swath over his forehead, reminiscentof JFK, and pale blue eyes that seemed to generate a cold heat,like the sunlight reflecting off his silver Audi 100 parked a few feetaway. He was dressed in khakis and a lightly starched blue shirt open athis throat and rolled up over muscular forearms, yet there was a contrivedlook to it all, as if he were aiming merely for the appearance ofbeing relaxed and casual, traits that no one who knew him well wouldever associate with Robert Van Doren. Even the gray streaking his templesseemed the work of a skillful makeup artist.
One hand was in his pocket; the other clenched about his key ring.She watched him flex his fist repeatedly, knuckles tightening, easing,tightening. The tic in his right eye, which most of the time he managedto control, was acting up. It made her think of a twitching cat's tail—areminder that with Robert you never knew quite what to expect. It washow he maintained the upper hand with friends and enemies alike: bykeeping them off-balance.
"You're not serious." A smile flickered at the corners of his mouth,then died. "This is a joke, right?"
She drew in a breath that felt like something she'd swallowed thatwouldn't go down. The sultry July heat seemed to close about her likea sweaty fist. "Eventually, of course, I'll be getting my own place. Butfor now I think it's best that Emma and I stay here."
There was a beat of silence in which the only sound was the chirringof insects and the faint chug-chug-chug of a sprinkler down the block.Then Robert spoke. "Is it Jeanine? Are you still punishing me for that?I told you. I'm not seeing her. I was never seeing her. It was just that onetime. A mistake. One lousy mistake."
He was lying, of course. She could see it in his eyes. He'd been sleepingaround long before she'd caught him at it. It was almost cornyenough to make her laugh: a cheap affair with his twenty-two-year-oldsecretary. But hadn't she once been in the same position? A girl freshout of college dazzled by her handsome, much older boss. Besides, Jeaninewas no longer the point. She was just the excuse Noelle hadneeded to break loose. In a funny way she was grateful to Jeanine.
"It's not just Jeanine," she said.
"Everything was fine before that," he insisted.
"For you, maybe."
It wasn't just their marriage. It was the house on Ramsey Terrace andthe Filipino maid who came four times a week. It was the country cluband the Junior League teas, the committees and fund-raisers, the endlessrounds of cocktail parties.
"Did the old lady put you up to this?" Robert's eyes narrowed.
"Nana had nothing to do with it." Her grandmother had nevermuch liked Robert, it was true, but she was old-fashioned when itcame to marriage. "In fact, she said I should talk it over with you beforeI made up my mind."
"It sounds as if your mind is already made up."
"Yes." She swallowed hard. "Yes, it is."
She dropped her gaze to his long shadow slicing the driveway intotwo neat halves. Late-afternoon sunlight lay in tiger stripes over thegrass beyond, and the summer heat seemed to press down like a hot jar.Birds called from the feeder and she caught the flash of a cardinal outof the corner of her eye. When she looked back up at Robert, she wasshocked to see that there were tears in his eyes.
"Jesus." He exhaled through his teeth, a faint whistling sound. "Jesus,Noelle, how the hell did it come to this?"
How indeed? When eight years ago her first thought each morningupon waking was, How did I get so lucky? Shy, skinny Noelle Jeffers, stilla virgin at twenty-one, how had she managed to catch the eye of hermuch-sought-after boss? A man who might have been a movie star forall the whispered speculation around the office, all the hearts that beatfaster when he was near. She remembered clearly the first time he'dstopped to chat with her. Her pulse had raced, and she'd become sotongue-tied she was certain she'd made a fool of herself. But two dayslater he'd asked her out to dinner.
"I don't know. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot to start with,"she hedged. "I was so young...." Making excuses was easier than castingblame, she'd found.
"We didn't get off on the wrong foot. I did a stupid thing, that's all."He corrected her, almost angrily.
"I'm not punishing you, Robert." Maybe she owed him Jeanine. Afterall, it couldn't have been easy for him those first few years, livingwith a drunk. But that was beside the point.
"Really? Because that's what it feels like." There it was again, thatnasty, grating edge, like a rusty tin can poking up from a neatly tendedflower bed.
"I can't help that." In her head she heard the clipped no-nonsensevoice of Penny Cuthbertson, her therapist at Hazelden: Keep in mind,Noelle, it's far more difficult to reclaim power than to hold on to it in thefirst place.
But Noelle couldn't remember a time when she'd taken a standagainst Robert. From the very beginning he'd been in charge. First asher boss, then as her husband. She'd wanted the wedding ceremony tobe held at St. Vincent's, but Robert had insisted on a grand outdooraffair at the country club instead. And when she was pregnant withEmma, he wouldn't let her near kindly old Dr. Matthews, who'dlooked after her practically since she was a baby herself. (Never mindthat the high-priced obstetrician in Schenectady was off skiing in Aspenwhen she went into labor.) Even when her drinking got so bad shecould no longer hide it, Robert had stepped to the fore. He knewsomeone on the board at Hazelden, an old crony from Stanford.Within hours a room was available.
But now she was taking the lead, and Robert wasn't happy about it.Noelle could almost feel the seismic upheaval taking place in his mind,and as he moved toward her, she automatically took a step backward,edging off the driveway onto the lawn. In eight years of marriage he'dnever once raised a hand to her but for reasons she couldn't quite puther finger on, she was afraid. She realized now that she'd always been alittle bit afraid of her husband. Maybe that's why she had never daredto challenge him; she didn't want to know what he was capable of.
The hand he lifted, though, was conciliatory. "Noelle, please. If youdon't care what it'll do to me, to us, think about Emma." His voice waslow, cajoling.
She felt a hot flare of outrage. "Don't you dare drag Emma into this.That's not fair."
"Is it fair to tear a family apart?"
Suddenly Noelle felt tired. Her head had begun to throb. "Let's callit a draw, okay? It's not you. It's not me. It's everything. Maybe Jeaninewas just the straw that broke the camel's back."
"It's not too late. We could start over."
She shook her head. "Oh, Robert, you know I was never cut out forthat lifestyle. All those parties and committees. If I'd had to listen toAlthea Whitehead drop one more mention of her ski lodge in Telluride,I think I would have screamed." She didn't add that her oldfriends from school, girls she'd practically grown up with, weren't exactlycomfortable with her role as Mrs. Van Doren either. Over theyears they'd drifted away, one by one.
He shot her a withering look. "How do you think my dad built ourbusiness? Working nine to five like the poor slobs punching timeclocks? He threw parties, joined organizations, invited the right peopleto dinner. It's no different now. You think I'd have gotten the variancesfor Cranberry Mall without knowing Carl Devlin's golf handicap orthat Reese Braithwaite prefers Habana Gold Sterlings to HonduranExcaliburs?"
"Stop." She put her hands over her ears. "Just stop."
Robert abruptly fell silent, scrubbing his face with a hand that appearedless than steady. He looked defeated all of a sudden. "Christ,Noelle, what do you want from me? Do you want me to get down onmy hands and knees and beg?"
Noelle thought for a moment. What exactly did she want from him?Suddenly she knew. "I want a divorce."
His mouth hardened, and he stared suspiciously at this new, possiblydangerous entity that had taken the place of his formerly quiescentwife. When he spoke, all pretense at cajoling had been dropped. Hisvoice was harsh with controlled fury.
"Do what you want," he snarled, jabbing a finger at her, "but don'tthink for one minute I'm going to let you have Emma. I'll fight you,Noelle. I'll do whatever it takes." He loomed close, his face mere inchesfrom hers. His right eyelid was twitching uncontrollably, and she thoughtof Dorian Gray, a handsome man whose real face, hidden in the attic,was monstrous. "You think any judge in his right mind would give youcustody? A woman everybody knows is a drunk?"
Noelle felt the blood drain from her face. He was standing so closeshe could see the hairs in the nostrils of his perfect aristocratic nose, thetiny scar on his chin where his older brother had accidentally struckhim with a hockey stick when Robert was ten. And those eyes, paleblue with a rim of black around the pupils, eyes that seemed to starefixedly, like those of a Siberian husky. For a moment she was certain hewould hit her.
She felt a flash of anger, cold and invigorating. It took all her controlnot to lash back, remind him it had been six years since her last drink,and not even six months since she'd caught him in the arms of anotherwoman. That would have been giving Robert exactly what he wanted,the battle he was far better equipped to wage than she was.
She forced herself to reason with him instead. "You'd only be usingher to get back at me, and—and I know you wouldn't do that toEmma. You're a good father, Robert. You'll still see her. We'll worksomething out."
For a long moment his expression remained stony. Then all at onceit seemed to collapse inward. He blinked, rocking back on his heels.The fist in which his key ring was clutched unfurled slowly. He stareddown at his open palm in wonder almost. Even from where she stood,Noelle could see the red welts in his palm where the keys had bitteninto it.
"You're right," he said. "God, Noelle, I'm sorry. So sorry." Coveringhis face, he began to weep softly. She'd never seen him cry, not like this,and it stunned her into touching his arm lightly in sympathy. When helifted his head, his pale eyes were bloodshot, his misery starkly writtenin a face filled with self-loathing. "It's all my fault. I screwed up. Youhave every right to hate me."
"I don't hate you," she told him, her own throat tightening.
He stared at her with that awful bleak expression, pleading softly,"Can I ask just one favor? Will you give me that much?"
She waited in silence, not quite trusting him.
"Have dinner with me tomorrow night. I'll reserve a table at theStone Mill," he continued in a rush. "We'll talk about Emma, what'sbest for her. That's all, I promise. Like you said, we're her parents, bothof us. Nothing can ever change that."
Noelle hesitated. She didn't doubt he truly cared for Emma. And ifhe was as sincere as he seemed, she owed it to her daughter to accept hisinvitation. At the same time a voice inside her whispered, It's a trap.Don't fall for it.
But that was silly, she told herself. What harm could there be in twocivilized adults sitting down to a meal? They'd be in a public place, andif things turned nasty, she could always leave. Besides, Robert was fartoo careful to risk such a scene.
That's what lawyers are for, persisted the voice. Can you honestly believehe'll give you what you want?
Maybe not. But it was too soon for lawyers. How could it hurt atleast to hear what he had to say? She searched his face for an indication,however small, that she was being set up. But the only thing she sawwas raw, naked appeal.
Nevertheless, it was with great reluctance that Noelle found herselfanswering, "I'll see if I can get Aunt Trish to baby-sit. Nana's not reallyup to it yet."
Robert gave a wan smile. "I'll pick you up around seven, okay?"
"No, I'll meet you there." If I take my own car, I'll be able to escape, atleast. For some reason the thought did little to dispel her uneasiness.
The Stone Mill, situated along Route 30 about five miles north oftown, was where Robert had taken her on their first date. Overthe years they'd eaten there often, and though she preferred its cuisineto the country club's, Noelle found it equally pretentious. Pulling intothe tree-lined parking lot, she saw the usual assortment of late-modelluxury cars, their hood ornaments twinkling like so many miniaturizedtrophies in the glow of the fairy lights strung from the wisteria over themill's recessed entrance.
As she stepped into the vestibule, the hum of conversation floatedtoward her. She glanced about at the rough stone walls and low-beamceilings lit by candlelight and nodded to an older couple seated at atable near the captain's station, a stout gray-haired man and his equallystout wife. They looked vaguely familiar. Where did she know themfrom? Robert would have been annoyed at her for not remembering,she thought.
She spotted him at a table by the window. Catching sight of her atthe same time, he rose and began winding his way toward her. Despiteherself, she was struck by how handsome he looked. His tailored charcoalsuit hugged his muscled frame like a glove. His brown hair shonewith gold and silver highlights as he ducked to clear a spotlit beam.And she wasn't the only one who'd noticed. Heads turned to follow hisprogress. Eyes flickered with admiration and envy.
For a brief moment Noelle felt as she had on their first date: privilegedmerely to be in the company of such a man. As if she, too, werebathed in the glow he cast.
But she knew what the others didn't: that the bright charm could beflicked off as abruptly as a light switch, followed by either silent coldnessor a stream of criticism. Her dress was too short or too long. Shewas wearing too much makeup. At the party the night before she'dtalked too much or hadn't been lively enough. And for God's sake,wasn't there something she could do about that hair?
"Grant, bow's the rib eye tonight?" Robert stopped to greet themayor, Grant Iverson, clapping him on the shoulder in a gesture of easyfamiliarity that wasn't lost on the diners who glanced their way. Iversonand his blade-thin blond wife, Nancy, beamed up at him, their smilesstretching to include Noelle.
"Bloody, the way I like it." The mayor chuckled, a stocky man in hisearly fifties with heavy jowls bracketing a toothy grin who remindedher of the Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz. He nodded in her generaldirection. "Noelle, nice to see you out and about. Robert tells meyou've been under the weather lately."
"Actually, it's my grandmother—"
But he was already turning back to Robert. Dropping his voice, hegrowled, man to man, "Out celebrating, eh? You son of a gun. You actuallypulled it off."
Robert shrugged modestly. "It could have gone either way."
"Like hell." Iverson winked broadly.
Nancy lifted her glass, square-tipped ruby fingernails twinklingagainst the deeper hue of the wine, wine that, in the old days, Noellewould have had to put away a whole bottle of to get through anevening like this. "Here's to the man of the hour."
Noelle fixed a smile in place, as if she'd known what they were talkingabout. Clearly some business deal had been successfully concluded.With Robert, there was always a deal in the works, one that dependedon long-standing relationships with men such as Iverson, who, let's faceit, wouldn't be sitting here—not on his fat expense account as mayor,at least—had it not been for the Van Dorens' support.
As they sat down at their table, she glanced out the window at thefloodlit water sliding smooth as practiced lies over the millrace. She couldsee her refection in the glass—hollowed eyes, a sharp-boned face surroundedby a cloud of black hair that seemed to flow out into the darknessbeyond. Noelle offered up a tiny prayer: God, help me get through this.
"What was that all about?" she asked, arranging her features in whatshe hoped was a pleasantly neutral expression.
"The new superhighway. They voted on it up in Albany, just this afternoonas a matter of fact. Twenty million in state funds, with tax incentivesfor local linkups." He grinned in triumph.
"Congratulations," she murmured. She didn't have to ask to knowthe Burns Lake exit would be within shouting distance of the mall hewas building.
"Iverson's in pig heaven just thinking of all those tax dollars. Look athim." She caught a note of scorn in his voice for the man whom momentsbefore he'd been heartily clapping on the shoulder.
Noelle wondered what her father's reaction would be. Out of respectfor her, Dad had been fairly restrained in the pieces the Register ran onVan Doren & Sons. But their brand of progress—the kind that razedhistoric buildings and erected lakeside condos and malls where unspoiledtracts of woodland had stood—had been chafing at him foryears, she knew. Her divorce would be just the excuse he needed to beginfiring with both barrels.
The waiter appeared, a slender young man with a crew cut so blondshe could see the pink outline of his scalp. They both ordered theirusual: diet Pepsi for her, scotch and soda for Robert.
While they were waiting for their drinks, Robert reached across thetable and took Noelle's hand. "I would have ordered champagne, butit's never the same drinking it alone."
She frowned and withdrew her hand to fuss with her napkin. Whywas Robert waxing nostalgic about her drinking? He'd poured her intobed too many times to remember those days fondly. And why was heacting as if yesterday's conversation hadn't even taken place?
She forced herself to hold his gaze. "This morning Emma asked howmuch longer we were staying with Nana, and I told her the truth: thatwe weren't going home."
The smile dropped from Robert's face. He picked up the knife besidehis plate, idly examining it. Pinpoints of reflected light spun andflashed on its polished blade. "What did she say to that?"
"She was afraid you'd be mad." Noelle's throat tightened as she recalledher five-year-old daughter peering up at her in confusion, blueeyes filled with tears.
He cast her a sharp glance. "Christ, Noelle," he swore softly. "Whatdid you expect? Did you think I'd be happy about all this?"
She hesitated before replying, "No, of course not. But is it really thatbig of a change? We hardly ever saw you as it was."
"What are you suggesting?"
"I'm not suggesting anything."
He glared at her, then let out a breath. "Okay, you have a point. Iknow I haven't been around much lately. Between the mall and SandyCreek ... well, you know how it is." He spread his hands in a helplessgesture. "But dammit, you're right, I should have been paying more attentionto you and Em. Then maybe I wouldn't have had to get hit overthe head to be reminded of what really counts." His homespun humilitywas almost sickening in its insincerity.
She refrained from asking how much of his precious time had beentaken up with Jeanine. Coolly she said, "Why don't we stick to discussingEmma?"
He sat back, clearly put out that she wasn't falling for the Hallmarkroutine. "What did you have in mind?"
"How does two nights a week and every other weekend sound?"
"Just dandy. For you." Robert bared his teeth in a cheerless smile.
Noelle shivered as if caught in a sudden draft. When their drinks arrived,she couldn't bring herself to pick up the chilled glass. Gatheringher courage instead, she said, "I'm sure we'll want to discuss this withlawyers at some point. I just thought, well, for the time being ..."
She dropped her eyes to the candle flickering in its ruby glass holder.It reminded her of when she was little, praying in church. Her prayerhad never varied: that one day her mother would be there to tuck herin every night, not just on the rare occasions when Mary was around. Itwasn't like that with her and Emma. Noelle felt a pang at the thoughtof being separated from her daughter, even for one night.
"You're right about lawyers—it's much too soon for that. So I guessthat doesn't leave me much choice. If I have any chance of winning youback, I'll have to go along." His expression was smooth, considering.She must have looked surprised because he gave a short, mirthlesslaugh. "Were you afraid I'd make a scene? Really, darling, you know mebetter than that."
"Let's just say you're used to getting your way." It wasn't an insult.Robert took pride in the fact.
"I have no intention of shirking my responsibility toward either youor my daughter." He lifted his scotch tumbler to his mouth, eyeing herover its rim.
She felt her neck and face grow warm. Money was a touchy subject forher, mainly because she had none of her own. Noelle sometimes thoughtshe'd been happiest as a teenager, working summers and on school holidaysat the Register. But what had been the good of all those high hopesof a career in journalism when all she had to show for it was a handful offreelance articles published in magazines no one had even heard of?
"You've always been generous." She wasn't gilding the lily about that,at least.
"You're the mother of my child. Nothing could ever change that."He picked up his menu. "Shall we order now ... or after you've checkedup on Emma?"
She hesitated, uncertain how to respond. Was this a test of somekind? Noelle chafed at the idea that she had anything to prove as far asher mothering was concerned. On the other hand, Robert was used toher being overprotective—the legacy of her own mother's benign neglect,she supposed.
"Aunt Trish is baby-sitting," she said. "I'm sure everything's fine."
"I'm sure it is, too."
But the seed had been planted, and after a minute or so Noelle beganto grow restless. "Maybe it wouldn't hurt. Just a quick call to saygood-night."
She excused herself, but when she phoned home, it was her grandmotherwho answered. Nana reported that Trish and Emma were engagedin a heated game of old maid. Emma of course would be up waypast her bedtime, but that was Aunt Trish for you. Noelle had to smile.In some ways her aunt was as much a kid as Emma.
By the time she returned to the table, Robert was already on his secondscotch and soda. She hadn't touched her Pepsi and reached for itnow.
"I should have saved my quarter." Noelle smiled, sipping her drink."Emma was too busy to come to the phone. It looks as if my aunt isturning her into quite the little card sharp."
"She's a smart kid."
"Too smart for her own good sometimes." Noelle was rememberinghow when Emma was only three, she'd figured out a way to climb ontothe kitchen counter where the cookie jar was stored: by pulling openthe oven door to use as a stepstool. "She's a bit of a handful for Nanaright now."
"Knowing your grandmother, she'd be the last to admit it." Hechuckled. "Speaking of which, what's the latest word from the gooddoctor?"
She felt a prickle of irritation, not liking the tone with which hereferred to Hank Reynolds—as if a country doctor were beneath hisconsideration. "She's doing about as well as can be expected." Noellehadn't told him of her grandmother's decision to refuse further treatment.He wouldn't understand ... and probably wouldn't care.
Several minutes later another waiter, a sallow-faced middle-aged manwith an elaborate comb-over, appeared to take their orders. As Noellepeered at the menu in the dim light, its spidery print swam before her.She blinked, struggling to bring it into focus. All at once she felt lightheaded,tipsy almost. A wave of panic, a knee-jerk reaction from theyears when a night out had been little more than an excuse to get drunk,swept over her.
"Darling, are you all right?" Robert's face loomed close.
"Right as rain." One of Nana's favorite expressions, which struck heras silly all of a sudden. What was right about rain? It was cold andspoiled everything; it made her hair frizz. She began to giggle uncontrollably,clapping a hand over her mouth.
Robert eyed her with the same patient, long-suffering expression sheremembered from the old days, but there was something differentabout it now, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Absentlyshe rubbed her arm, recalling his steely grip on her elbow, the thousandand one times he'd had to steer her out of a restaurant or party, all thewhile smiling and chatting as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
"Are you sure? You look pale," he said.
The room reeled. She had to clutch hold of the table to keep fromtipping out of her chair. "It must be something I ate." But lunch washours ago, and she hadn't had a bite since.
"Either that, or a bug you picked up. Half my crew is out sick withthe flu." He covered her hand with his, and this time she didn't pullaway. The room was revolving slowly, dreamily, like a carousel. "Comeon, I'll take you home. Can you make it to the car?"
"I—I think so." But when she stood up, the floor rocked beneath her,and she immediately plopped back down again. She leaned over andwhispered fiercely, "Robert, what's wrong? What's happening to me?"
"You'll be fine. We've got to get you home, that's all."
She nodded, her head bobbing like a balloon on the end of a string.It dawned on her that she'd heard those words before. It was exactlywhat Robert used to say when she was too drunk to manage on herown. Yet she hadn't touched a drop.
He slipped something in my drink. He must have.
In some small, still corner of her mind an alarm bell was going off.She opened her mouth to call for help, but it was too late. The roomappeared to be closing in on her, as if she were viewing it through a rapidlynarrowing lens. The light was fading as well, leaving only a velvetygrayness pricked with starry points of light. The last thing Noelle saw,as she slipped from her chair onto the floor, was the all-too-familiarlook of disgust on the middle-aged waiter's sallow, peering face.
Continues...
Excerpted from The Second Silenceby Eileen Goudge Copyright © 2007 by Eileen Goudge. Excerpted by permission.
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