“It’s none of your business what I do.” Maeve thought of conversations she’d heard over the years, her parents’ distrust of this Conor O’Kane, how they’d both wanted to be rid of him, how her mother pounded the table at the mention of his name. She would be doing them a favor. She could end it for them all. “You know, Mom and Dad don’t even like you. Nobody does. And they sure don’t trust you. They know you’re a liar. Even my grandfather doesn’t like you. He said he wished you’d go away. You don’t have proof of anything.”
Maeve saw a flinch. Good, she thought. Maybe her jab landed. His white smoke circled her, and she remembered being a child scared by him but thrilled too. She could feel it again, the danger of him manifesting as desire. She throbbed where the seam had cut in.
“Don’t be so sure. You have no idea what I know.” He pulled a flat woolen flask from inside his jacket, unscrewed the lid, and took a long pull. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand then held the flask out.
She scoffed. “Drop dead.”
His head tilted. He filled his cheeks with air then blew the boozy breath into her face. “Maybe I do have proof. Maybe I could sink your whole perfect family.”
“You don’t. And it’s your word against mine. Now, if you don’t mind ...”
He wagged his finger at her. “Have it your way.”
Behind the wheel of the car, Maeve shook. “Oh, I hate him!”
Wendy climbed from the back seat into the front. “He’s still there.”
Maeve looked in the rearview mirror. A flash of high beams blinded her, then retreated. The black car spun and peeled in a circle, pebbles plinking against the fender like hailstones.
Maeve checked the time. She was past curfew. “My dad is going to kill me.”
Wendy laughed oddly, put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, no,” she whispered. Maeve pointed at a rip in that precious dress as if that were the problem. “That? That’s from before. No, I was thinking. If I was voted prom queen, my parents would definitely find out I wasn’t there. I didn’t think of that. I was so mad. And fucking Brett. It’s almost funny how embarrassed he would be.” She laughed wryly. “Guess we’re in for it now.”
Maeve turned the key in the ignition, and the engine sputtered to a purr. “Do you want me to take you back? To the school?”
Wendy shrugged. “It’s too late. Doesn’t matter.”
Maeve drove in silence, relishing the feeling of Wendy’s hand on her thigh. She imagined telling her parents about Wendy, about herself, imagined finding the words to make them understand. She thought of Wendy’s mother and how cruel she had been. No way her parents would be like that. But then again, they were there on that porch swing, that perfect couple, golden and true, the American dream. Could they reject her? What would rejection even look like? The truth was Maeve had no idea what they would do. What Wendy said looped in her head like a skipping record.We’re in for it now. We’re in for it now. We’re in for it now.
Chapter Fifteen
1979
Every light was on when Maeve pulled up to the house. When her mother opened the back door, Maeve braced herself for another scolding, for the grounding that would come at the end.
“Where have you been? Jesus, you had me worried sick. Your dad took my car. He’s out looking for you right now!”
“Mom, I’m only an hour late.”
“Wendy Walker’s mother called me.”
One thousand thoughts fired in Maeve’s brain, a hail of arrows. She swore words at herself she’d never dare say out loud, certainly not in front of her mother.Be cool, be cool, be cool.“What did she want?”
“You don’t know? There was an accident. Apparently, Wendy’s prom date hit a tree. He’s in the hospital. Him and another boy.”
At Wendy’s request, Maeve had dropped her off at the corner in case her parents were waiting up. What if Brett had been waiting at her house? Had he forced her into the truck? Was she with him? Was she hurt?
“There was a girl with them, but it wasn’t Wendy. They can’t find her!” Her voice was shrill. “She was frantic, calling all Wendy’s friends.Dad even tried to find you at that party. He called from a pay phone and said the car wasn’t there.”
Maeve tried to think of what to say, but it was like she was turned to stone.
“Maeve. Maeve! For God’s sake! Snap out of it. Get in the house!” Her mother followed her in, let the screen door slam. “Have you been drinking?”
“No!” Maeve said, answering a question she knew she could be honest about. “You can smell my breath, I swear.”
Lights shone in the driveway. Her mother exhaled hotly. “There’s your father. We can straighten this out now.”
“When did Mrs. Walker call? I mean, like, what time was the accident?”
