Her daughter pats her awkwardly on the shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m back now. Everything’s going to be all right.”
And it’s so odd to hear that coming from Avery that Erin stops crying and stares at her. She nods. “Yes. It is. We’re going to be fine. All of us.” And for the first time, she believes it. But there’s still something bothering her. “Avery, I need you to tell me the truth. Did anyone else ever bother you? An older boy?”
Avery turns away. “I don’t want to talk anymore. I’m really tired.”
Erin doesn’t want to push her. She rises from the bed, far from reassured. “Okay, you get some rest.”
She exits the bedroom. She walks down the hall and taps on Michael’s door. He needs to know what Avery has told them; it will be in the news soon enough. As usual, he’s sitting on his bed with his laptop. He takes off his headphones.
She sits down beside him on his bed. “Are you okay?” she asks.
He bursts into tears. She pulls him into a hug, whispers into his hair, much like she had with her daughter. “It’s okay, Michael. Everything is going to be all right.” Her son is the more sensitive one; she knows he needs to let it out. This has all been so awful for him.
Finally, he pulls away from her, wiping his eyes with his hands, and says, a worried look on his face, “What’s going to happen to her?”
“Nothing is going to happen to her. Marion’s death was an accident. Avery was trying to escape—it was self-defense. She’s nine years old. No one is going to blame her or hold her accountable. She’ll be here, with us. We’ll both have to help her, Michael. She’ll need a lot of support.”
He looks away and, after a pause, asks, “What about Dad?”
She chooses her words carefully. “Your father won’t be living with us anymore. But you can still see him all you want, okay?”
He has no response to that. Instead, he says, “I heard . . . what Avery told the detectives. I was listening. It’s all his fault.”
Erin swallows. She wants to agree with him, but she says, “Your father has done some awful things, but he’s not to blame for what Marion did. He had no idea Marion took Avery.” She doesn’t know if Michael will want to have a relationship with his father after everything that’s happened, with what he knows about his father. She won’t try to influence him one way or another.
Michael and Avery have always been closer to her. Which makes sense; she’s spent more time with them. She’s their mother. She’s the more nurturing parent. She knows them better than William does.
Fifty-two
What?” Avery doesn’t like what she just heard her mother say.
They’re sitting at the breakfast table the next morning, Sunday. Avery had slept well, back in her own bed. Michael is a late riser and hasn’t come down yet. Outside, the crowd of media and curious onlookers has dissipated somewhat from the day before. Avery has already snuck a few peeks out the curtained living-room window, despite her mother calling her away, telling her to ignore them, not to worry about them. Ignore them and they’ll go away, she’d said, sounding anxious. But Avery doesn’t want them to go away, and some of them already have. The ones welcoming her home with banners and signs have gone, but the media people are still there, desperate for an interview, a photograph, a story. And she wants to give it to them. She wants to be the center of attention, she wants to be famous, and she wants a lot of money for it. She wants to be in control of her own life. And now her mother is suggesting they hide?
“I just think it might be better,” her mom says, “if we move away from here. You don’t want to go back to the same school, do you, after this?”
Avery thinks quickly. “What about your job?” she asks.
“I can get another job.”
“What about Michael?”
Her mother nods. “I know. I’ve been thinking about that. But I think he might agree. He won’t want to live in the middle of all this craziness either.” She adds, “It might be the best thing for all of us.”
“For you, you mean,” Avery says.
Her mother is taken aback. “No, Avery, this isn’t about me. It’s about what’s best for you. For all of us.” She urges, “We could make a fresh start, where no one knows us.”
Avery shakes her head. “I don’t want to move.”
“Oh.”
“I mean, the news will just follow us everywhere anyway,” Avery says.
“Not if we don’t let it,” her mom counters. “If we don’t talk to them, it will all die down and we can go on with our lives. You don’t want to live under a microscope.”
There she goes again, Avery thinks, telling me what I want. She doesn’t know what I want. “It doesn’t bother me,” she says, and reaches for another piece of toast. Her mother looks speculatively at her. Avery knows what she’s thinking. She’s thinking that she’s just a child and doesn’t know what she’s doing. But Avery knows exactly what she’s doing.
“I think I should talk to them,” Avery says.
“What? No, Avery,” her mother says nervously, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because—because you’re just a child. They’ll exploit you. They’ll take over your life and never leave you alone. They’ll twist everything you say, take things out of context. The press is very powerful—you have no idea what they might do.” She adds in distress, “Whatever they print will follow you forever. You don’t want this to define you.”
“I’m not afraid of them,” Avery says. “I know what to say.”
“Just—no,” her mother insists. “Let’s think about this. Let’s not be rash. You may feel differently in a day or two.”
Avery considers. She can wait a day or two. That might even be better.
* * *
? ? ?
Nora leaves the house, taking the car, saying she’s going to pick up some groceries. She doesn’t normally get groceries on a Sunday morning, but nobody says anything. Al studiously ignores her.
She has to get out of the house, with its claustrophobic atmosphere. It makes her want to scream. The kids have picked up on the fact that there’s something seriously wrong between her and their father—they’ve seen the bruise on her face—but they’re afraid to ask. It’s put something of a damper on the celebration of having Ryan home, and Avery being found alive. She will have to tell them about her and William, before they see it in the news. She knows the police are going to hold a press conference at noon today. It will all come out then, why Marion did what she did. Everyone will know. It makes her feel ill.
She’s thinking about William. Where is he? Is he at home? She drives past the Wooler house and sees that there is still a crowd of media milling around outside, waiting for something to happen. She can’t tell if he’s there or not. His car isn’t there, but it might still be with the police or in the garage.
She drives to the Excelsior Hotel, where she knows he’s been staying. Is he there now? There are no reporters here anymore. She parks and sits inside her car. Does she dare go inside? She might as well wear a scarlet letter on her breast. This is a conservative town. People go to church. They have opinions, they judge. She should know, because she’s one of them.