Because I don’t have to think too hard about what would happen if I were to blurt out the truth. If I were to tell Sam that, no, I don’t know her, but we did have a fleeting encounter. That I only noticed her because she was talking to Paul, who was not too traumatized from his memories of Katherine like I first thought, but aware enough to look a cop in the eyes and lie.

Sam would pounce on my confession, on the way it would implicate Paul. If nothing else, I’ve got him for lying to a police officer during an investigation. He won’t walk away from this one, not this time. Not again. I told Charlie, and she went and married him anyway. I feel Sam’s eyes on mine now, conjuring up all the rumors that could come from this very moment. All the stories taking shape in his head, taking on a life of their own.

And Paul.

Paul might say he understands, he might tell me we are fine, but would we be? Would he love me just the same? Lie or implicate your new husband and there goes the marriage, the money, the stability. And really, what’s one tiny, silly, inconsequential lie compared to everything Paul has given me? It’s not a difficult decision.

Especially since I don’t know her; I don’t have anything to add other than that she was in town yesterday afternoon. Something that whoever else ran into her will surely tell Sam, as soon as he makes it to town. Self-preservation, I’ve only been doing it my whole life. The lie comes with surprising ease.

“Sorry. I’ve never seen her before, either.”

8

June 12, 1999
5:53 p.m.

For those first few months after his mother’s funeral, it hurt to see Mrs. Keller again. She was constantly dropping by the house or calling him up to check in, and every time, her voice would hit him like a surprise punch to the underbelly, that moment before you could tighten up your muscles to absorb some of the blow. If he were a funny guy, he’d say it hurt like a mother.

Jax had known Mrs. K all his life, but now he couldn’t talk to her without remembering those days when his mom was withering away and his heart wouldn’t stop pounding. When Mrs. K was a constant presence in their house, taking charge in that way of hers, doing the laundry and making sure the house was clean and everybody got where they needed to be. She was the one who set up the food deliveries, bossing the other moms around and working the sign-up sheet like a four-star general. Jax’s mother wasted away in her wheelchair while their refrigerator busted at the seams. Talk about some sick irony.