Page 93 of Our Little Secret

Thank God.

The last thing she needed this morning was to deal with Gideon.

Just concentrate on Marilee. That’s all that matters.

She had to get control of her runaway emotions, pull herself together, and deal with her daughter.

Grinding her teeth and telling herself over and over that she could handle this, she took in several deep breaths and forced her hands to relax on the steering wheel. She couldn’t handle this. But she had to.

At the Paszeks’ house, she pulled into the leaf-strewn drive of the split-entry home. A porch light was glowing in the still dark morning. The second Brooke made her way to the brick steps, the front door opened, and Renata, Nick’s mother, stepped outside, a glowing half-smoked cigarette in one hand. Disheveled, her dark hair mussed, she was wearing a once-aqua-colored bathrobe that had paled with time. “Come in,” she said with a final puff before poking the remainder of her cigarette into the soil of a potted, untrimmed boxwood and motioning Brooke inside. No reason for introductions; they knew each other, if only as acquaintances, mothers of girls who ran in the same circle. “They’re in the family room,” she said “and Nick’s in trouble. Big trouble.”

She guided Brooke down the half flight to the basement, where she found Marilee seated on the opposite end of a worn leather couch from Nick.

Nick’s father was leaning against the bar at the far end of the long room. Scowling and unshaven, he nodded at Brooke. “Bruno,” he said by way of introduction. “We’ve met?”

“A time or two.” Brooke nodded, her focus on her daughter.

Marilee, wearing a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over her hair, looked upward and at least had the grace to seem embarrassed. Nick too glanced at Brooke, then looked quickly away.

“What’s going on?” Brooke asked.

Silence.

To her daughter she said, “You snuck out and . . . came here?”

When Marilee didn’t respond, Renata said, “We had no idea. I mean, we didn’t hear Nick go out again after the dance, and we didn’t hear them come in.”

Marilee looked up. “Can we just go now?” Before Brooke could answer, she shot to her feet and was out of the room and up the stairs.

“I guess we’re out of here,” Brooke said. “I’m sorry for all of this mess.”

Renata was nodding, reaching into the deep pocket of her robe and coming up with a crumpled pack of cigarettes. “Me too. Nick here is grounded.”

Nick’s head jerked up. “That’s not fair.”

“For life,” Renata added, shaking out a cigarette. “Longer, if I can arrange it with God.”

“Oh Mom!”

“Apologize to Mrs. Harmon.”

“For what?”

“Sneaking her daughter out of the house. For God’s sake, she’s only fifteen!”

“Fourteen,” he corrected.

Renata’s face fell. “Fourteen? A frickin’ baby? Well, that’s worse! Jesus H. Christ, Nicholas, what in heaven’s name were you thinking?”

“He wasn’t,” Bruno said. “At least not with his head.”

Nick sputtered. “Oh Dad, gross!”

“Yeah, maybe.” Bruno hitched his thumb toward the stairs. “Let’s go to your room right now. We’ll go over the facts of life and the facts of the law again.”

“Fuck, Dad, we didn’t do anything!” Nick growled and ran stiff fingers through his dark curls. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“Because I was nineteen once and I remember.”