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“One of yours?” said Devine, pointing at the painting hanging next to the window. It depicted four people in a sailboat.
“Yes. That was us, Dad and the three kids. Mom didn’t like to sail. She got seasick. But Jenny would race her little boat out on the gulf all the time. She was fearless.”
The way she said it made Devine a bit sad. Jenny had clearly intimidated her younger sister, but it seemed her death had also left a void in Alex’s life.
She rose and plucked a framed photo off the mantel and held it out to him. “I used this as the model for the painting.”
He looked at the picture and saw a sleek blue-and-white sailboat with twin sails and a cabin below. At the helm was Curtis Silkwell with a far younger Jenny next to him, one of her hands on the wheel next to her father’s. Off to the side were Alex and Dak.
“Someone took the picture from shore and gave it to us.”
“He obviously liked the painting, if it’s hanging in here.”
“I did that two years after...it happened. It was therapy.”
“I’m sure it was. It took you back to a safe time and a safe place.”
She smiled. “My dad was a daredevil sailor, too, even more than Jenny.”
Devine smiled. “How’d you all handle it?”
“Jenny pretended not to be scared. Dak was terrified and screamed bloody murder the first few times we went out, especially if the seas were rough, but then he got the hang of it.”
“And you?”
“I trusted my dad,” she said simply. She looked up at Devine as she handed him a cup of tea. “I knew he would never do anything to hurt us. And he was always in control even when he seemed not to be. He could do anything.”
“Sounds like you really love him,” said Devine.
“I knew he was this brave war hero from way back. But I never saw that side of him. He never had any of that stuff here. No medals or anything, and he never talked about it, even when we asked him. Well, Jenny and Dak did. I wasn’t interested.”
“It’s been my experience that the people who did the most in war talked about it the least, and the reverse is also true.”
She nodded and looked out the window, where the wind had intensified. It pushed against the glass with the firm pressure of a leviathan’s hand. Then there was a loud smack as possibly a tree limb hit the house; Devine felt his hand dart to his gun.
Get a grip, you idiot.
Alex said, “He was a good congressman and senator. He worked a lot with the state’s governors, especially Angus King, who is now a senator, too, and John Baldacci when he was the governor. My dad really cared about the people who live here.”
“Will you go down to see him?” he asked. “And your mother? She said she tried to call and got no answer. And she hasn’t seen or talked to you since the divorce.”
“It’s complicated, Travis,” she said, her expression tightening. “I’m a different person than I used to be. I don’t want to be different. I want to be happy and I am, sometimes. But sometimes things hit me and wipe the smile right off my face. My anxiety goes through the roof. I can barely breathe. The world feels like it’s closing in on me. It’s not Mom, really, it’s...me. And I don’t want her to see me... like that.”
She seemed to grip the teacup harder, and glanced at the fire. He could see her taking deep, moderating breaths and saying something under her breath. A calming phrase or chant, like she had mentioned.
“You’re safe with me, Alex. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
She gave him a sad smile. “But one day you won’t be here, and I will. ”
Of course, and what a stupid thing for me to say.
He stared at the flames, and couldn’t think of any suitable reply to her honest from-the-gut words.
CHAPTER
39
HE LEFT HER THERE BYthe fire.
