“You’re the only one who hates Steven that much.”
“Does your sister know? Or Nick?” she whispered.
“Only Vero.”
She crossed herself as she sagged against the counter. Her voice shook. “That picture they sent … the emails asking for money. I had no idea that website was run by the mob. Or that someone would think I wanted Steven to die. I mean, I’m not saying I never thought about it. Or secretly wished that a bus would come out of nowhere and—”
“Mom.”
She pressed her mouth shut. “I had no idea I would be putting you or the children in danger. It was a misunderstanding. A mistake. I never should have posted on that forum.”
“What were you doing on that website to begin with?”
My mother wrung her hands. “Do you remember how I told you I hired that service to help me fix our computer after your father downloaded all those nasty viruses?” I nodded, recalling the awkward conversation we’d had in my kitchen. “I was so embarrassed and upset about what your father had done, but the technician they sent to the house was so lovely and understanding. She assured me it happens to a lot of people our age. I made her lunch, and she told me all about some of her other clients who had gotten themselves into trouble like that—you know, visiting questionable websites … that some of them couldn’t help it—and their wives had to go to lengthy measures to keep anyone else from finding out. Time got away from us, and before I knew it, she was telling me about this special privacy software. She even helped me install it. And then she showed me this women’s group where she said lots of wives go to complain about their husbands. She showed me how to set up my own email account, separate from your father’s, and she even helped me register a profile on the forum and pick a name. I spent hours reading messages on the group after she left, and she was right; it was so cathartic, Finlay! There were so many other women like me, whose husbands had done foolish things. And some whose partners were just downright terrible, like Steven. I know you don’t like it when I speak unkindly about him, but I’ve been so frustrated and angry, watching the way he treats you, knowing there’s nothing I can do to make it better. He’s so proud of himself and that stupid farm, always rubbing his money and success in your face, and I thought people should know who he really is. That he’s not a nice man. That he hurt someone I love. And I just wanted a place to get those feelings off my chest.” She looked up at me, apologies brimming in her eyes.
For a moment, all I could do was stare at her, trying to make sense of how we got here. I reached for her and pulled her to me, holding her as she cried.
“I didn’t mean to put anyone in danger,” she sobbed against me. “When that picture came, I was sick over it. I was so afraid. When I called and you said Steven was fine, I’ve never felt so relieved. I thought maybe the whole thing had been a joke. A scam. Someone out for my money.”
“Have either of them contacted you since?” Two weeks’ worth of tension slipped from my shoulders when she shook her head. I drew back to look her, wiping tears from her cheeks. “It’s okay, Ma. I don’t think anyone will try to hurt Steven again. I know you’re angry with him. I am, too. He may have been a horrible husband, but he’s trying to be a good father. Delia and Zach love him very much, and they would have been destroyed if anything happened to him.”
My mother’s lip trembled. “I’m so sorry, Finlay. Please”—she shook her head—“don’t tell your father or Georgia about this.”
“I won’t. But you have to swear to me you’re going to delete that email account. We’re going to pretend this never happened. No more forums. No more chat groups.”
She nodded as she dabbed her cheeks with a dish towel, taking a moment to collect herself before carrying the pie and whipped cream to the table. Vero slipped into the kitchen behind her with an armful of dirty dishes. She set them beside the sink, her eyes wide with the question I knew she was dying to ask me. I nodded, a hand pressed to my temple.
“Jesus,” she whispered. “I can’t believe I sent those photos of Steven to your mom. Is she okay?”
“I think so. Just a little shaken up.”
“Has EasyClean contacted her?”
“Not since that night.” I leaned a hip against the counter, exhausted. “I should probably call Steven and tell him it’s safe for him to come home.”