Page 40 of Little Secrets
“Why didn’t you ever marry him?” There was no accusation in Lorna’s voice, just disappointment. “He loved you so much.”
They always seemed to have this conversation whenever Marin came to visit, and she answered the question the way she always did. “It just wasn’t meant to be. We were so young,” she added, neglecting to mention that she’d gotten together with Derek barely a week after she and Sal had broken up.
“You love your husband?”
“Of course,” she said, surprised. Lorna had never asked her that before. “Derek and I have been together a long time.”
“He’s a good husband to you?” the older woman pressed. “And a good father to your boy?”
“Of course he is.” Marin buttered a couple of scones and brought them over to the table. She took a seat beside Lorna. “Why, what did Sal tell you?”
Lorna watched her son through the window. “He don’t like your husband.”
No surprise there.
“He says he’s not good to you.” Lorna’s gaze flicked over Marin briefly. “He says he cheat on you.”
Marin closed her eyes, holding back a sigh. Derek had only been unfaithful thatonetime, early on in the pregnancy, and she can’tbelieve Sal actually told his mother about that. It was barely his business, let alone Lorna’s.
“Derek made a mistake.” Marin felt her face flush. “It won’t happen again.”
“I believe in forgiveness,” Lorna said with a decisive nod. “You’re a good girl, too, Marin. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned after being married for so long, it’s that you must always protect your children. Always. That comes before everything, and I didn’t do that with my son. He protected me, when it should have been the other way around. I think it’s why he don’t trust people now. Why he won’t let himself get close to anyone. Except you,” she added with a small smile. “You have to look out for him, back in the city. Make sure he don’t get lonely.”
Marin squeezed her arm. “We look out for each other.”
An hour later, she was packed and ready to head home. A case of assorted Palermo wines was nestled in the trunk next to her overnight bag. Sal would never let her leave Prosser without wine.
“Don’t work too hard,” she said to Sal, having already said her goodbyes to Lorna. She felt bad leaving them at the farmhouse, but she was eager to get back to Seattle. The farmhouse was surrounded by thousands of rows of grapevines and nothing else, no neighbors for half a mile of rolling hills in any direction, and cell reception was poor. Marin craved the hustle and bustle of the city, the comforts of her own house. And, of course, she missed her boys.
Sal gave her a warm embrace. He smelled great, like grass and fresh air. “Thanks for coming. You were a big help.”
“See you in a week?”
He shook his head. “I’ve got too much to do, and I need to get it all done before the snow comes. I’ll be here through the holidays. But I’ll see you in the new year.” He pulled her in for another hug. “Merry Christmas, Mar.”
Five days later, back in the city, three days before Christmas, Sebastian went missing. Lorna’s words came rushing back, out ofnowhere, like a slap in the face, a throat punch.You must always protect your children. That comes before everything.
At that, Marin has failed. Horrifically.
She’s no better than Lorna in that regard. But after all her time in therapy, she understands that every person is the result of everything they’ve ever been through. Marin grew up with a hypercritical mother, which is why she has a hard time asking for help, and why she always blames herself for everything. Derek grew up dirt poor, which is why it’s so important for him to have money now, and for people toknowhe has money. And Sal grew up with an abusive, alcoholic father, and was barely twenty-one when his dad accidentally fell over the railing of a sixteenth-story balcony the night of his fiftieth birthday party.
That’s the official story, anyway.Officially, nobody was around when it happened, and it was a perfectly plausible theory. Sal Sr. was a legendary drunk, and a sloppy, mean one at that, not exactly known for his coordination or good judgment.
Sal never talks about that night, not even with Marin, who was there at the party, and who stayed long after the other guests had left, helping him clean up. After his parents’ last terrible fight, the one where Lorna had gotten the head injury, they finally separated, and Sal’s father decided to rent an apartment in the city as a place to escape to when things weren’t busy at the winery. This all happened before she and Sal started dating, and by the time she met Sal’s father, he was in full bachelor mode. He threw himself a birthday party to celebrate his fiftieth with his new city friends—guys he played poker with, mostly—and invited his son. Marin encouraged Sal to go, thinking it would be good for them to reconnect. She wanted to meet Sal’s father. She didn’t know what she was in for.
“People can change,” she’d told Sal, which, in hindsight, was stupid. “You said he’s been better since the separation. He’s opening the door. All you have to do is walk through it.”
“You don’t know him like I do, Mar.”
“You’re right, I don’t,” she said. “But remember, I’ll be right there with you.”
Sal Sr. was already drinking by the time they arrived. By the time the party was over at two a.m., he was completely blotto, arguing with Sal, belligerent. Marin was in the apartment’s small kitchen throwing paper plates and Solo cups into a garbage bag, but she could hear them shouting on the balcony. The sliding door was open, and there was a cool breeze fluttering into the apartment. She was tying up the garbage bag when she heard Sal say, “Mom shouldn’t have to divorce you, you sonofabitch. I should just kill you.”
She heard Sal Sr. laugh.Laugh, as if what Sal had just said was the funniest and most ludicrous thing he’d ever heard. Then he said something back that Marin couldn’t make out, something low and threatening. It filled Marin with fear. She left the kitchen, heading straight for the balcony. She should never have encouraged Sal to come. It wasn’t her place. And they needed to leave now, before things got completely out of hand.
But when she stepped onto the balcony, only one of them was still there.
When a body lands on pavement, it doesn’t sound like anything from sixteen stories up. You only imagine the smack, the sound of bones snapping and flesh compressing into the sidewalk, but you don’t actually hear anything from that height. Marin didn’t see the fall, didn’t hear the landing, but it was all she could do not to scream when she looked over the railing and saw the tiny body on the ground below, sixteen floors down. It almost didn’t seem real.
