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Errol earned a broken rib and black eye for that stunt, but Marshall realized, despite seeing a number of specialists, Pearl wasn’t getting any better. Rather, she was waking up some mornings in a fearful state, claiming she didn’t know who he was and asking why he was in her bed, and if he planned to hurt her.
He had told Birdie that the fear in Pearl’s sweet eyes, while looking at him, had broken his heart. But then, the following day it wasn’t at all uncommon for her to appear perfectly fine and cognitively sharp as a tack, telling you, with remarkable detail, about a trip to the beach when she was ten years old.
He further explained to Birdie that eventually the good days became the exception and not the rule. It had become clear Marshall needed to find a safe place for Pearl, and to divert his sons and ex-wife from discovering her illness and somehow taking advantage.
Aware of their near obsessive desire to destroy her, he decided to execute his usual strategy of deflection. This time, by marrying another woman, Birdie. A woman who was young and strong of mind, more likely able to sidestep them, as opposed to Pearl, whose moments of lucidity were becoming more the exception.
Eventually, they married and Pearl was painted as the scorned victim who spirited away to West Palm Beach to heal her broken heart by walking the beach, taking Pilates classes, and getting Botox.
In truth, she was living less than twenty miles away, in a high-end memory care facility. One steeped with security and guaranteed anonymity.
At the end of the day, Pearl was safe and she and Mia had been well taken care of and protected. It was the perfect plan. Until Marshall died.
Today, and for some inexplicable reason, walking into Lucas’s home made Birdie feel that same sense of protection prior to when her husband died. Despite knowing the owner felt such deep-seated hostility toward her.
Hostilities based on unknown outcomes from years ago.
In her defense, she didn’t know about the repercussions from Lucas taking that fateful drink, as she was unaware of him losing his chance to play football. Hell, she wasn’t altogether sure of the things she supposedly did know about that night. For very real reasons, those memories were hazy and blurred as well.
Learning this new information made her realize his hatred for her was even more intense than she’d ever imagined.
Her arms held protectively against her stomach, she reached out one hand to run it across the velvety softness of the steel gray sofa. Next to it sat a round, dark wooden table with curved legs that held a cut glass candy dish filled with butterscotch candies.
She smiled. Bernadette’s favorite.
Meandering toward the kitchen, she wasn’t at all surprised to see an indentation in one wall that housed a small desk and chair, bills stacked upright in a holder, and probably in chronological order of their due dates. A large placemat-style paper calendar was laid out on the desk. A calendar that most people within the last few decades had replaced with the one on their phones. She noted a variety of events meticulously plotted each day with perfect handwriting.
Of course they were.
When she had managed her company, she had an assistant who kept her schedule in order, reminding her of the next meeting on the day’s calendar or a dinner appointment.
It came to no surprise Lucas would want to commandeer his own scheduled events.
She meandered toward his kitchen, which was of the gourmet variety. Hers had been as well, before it was seized by her stepsons. The near obsessive organization of her kitchen a result of Angus’s insistence to take over the planning of meals and the stocking of the walk-in pantry.
She smiled as she recalled Angus opening the pantry that first time, a few items falling to the floor, a roll of cling wrap hitting his head on the way down, he said, “Barrows only move when ye gae them a shove.” Which, after a moment of reflection, Birdie translated as, “Woman, these shelves aren’t going to organize themselves.”
Which reminded her, she needed to call Angus. He had to be sick with worry.
Birdie turned toward the domed archway where Lucas stood, leaning against the side with one leg crossed over the other.
“Your house, it’s not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
She gave a slight shrug, “I pictured you in an apartment. One that was cold and detached.”
His eyes bored into her. “So, you thought of me.”
The comment was random and unsettling, so she responded with, “As cold and detached?”
She’d forgotten how tenacious he could be. “Bird,” he said with a softer voice. “Did you think of me?”
She nodded. “When I forgot… not to.”
Everyday. She thought of him. Every single day.
“I thought about you.”
