On Fire(27)

"My father, Emile, the Grangers. It was a fling, a wake-up call for all  of us, herself included, that something was wrong. She moved up here,  and things have worked out since.

She didn't want Riley to know about Sam--I guess none of us did. "

"Why?" But Straker could guess.

"It's hard for any of us to live up to her expectations," she said.

"It's not that she's hard on us, it's that she believes in us so much.

I suppose we just want to pretend we're as good as she thinks we are.

"

Straker couldn't see it, maybe because Riley didn't think much of him to begin with. "Emile?"

"Emile is her idol. He would want to disappoint her least of all."

Riley sank into a hot bath sprinkled with a few drops of essential oil  of rosemary. It was supposed to revive her. Good. She needed reviving.

She had things to do before nightfall, and she couldn't let her  confusion and anger, her total frustration, get the better of her.

Straker and her mother were down in the kitchen. She could hear  Straker's terse laugh, her mother's strong, confident voice. They were  getting along fine considering she'd warned Riley not fifteen minutes  ago to watch out for him, that he wasn't normal. Her mother and Sig  wouldn't expect him to be charming. Well, no one would.

Her conversation with her mother had been awkward, painful and brief.

Riley shut her eyes and breathed out over the steaming water, tried to  absorb the unexpected news, tried not to picture the bloated body on the  rocks of Labreque Island. Sam Cassain. Her mother. Good God.

She wasn't as put out about being the last to know as she might have  anticipated. She was often oblivious to personal undercurrents.

Rivalries, jealousies, mad crushes, personality conflicts, the  occasional illicit affair. It wasn't that she wasn't interested--more  often than not she just didn't notice. Through example and edict, Emile  had taught her to stay focused on her work.

Yet even he'd known about her mother's affair with the captain of the Encounter.

With deliberate effort, Riley concentrated on her breathing.

Eventually her mind drifted. Her body relaxed. After a while, she became aware the water had cooled. A knock came at the door.

"Riley?"

Straker's voice, like a bucket of boiling water in her tub. Her skin felt as if it were on fire.

"You didn't go down the drain, did you?"

"No, I was just getting out."

She moved, the water stirring, and she went still as she pictured him  out there in the hall, listening. Imagining her in the tub.

"Straker? You still there?"

"I haven't moved a muscle."

His voice was deep and low, like liquid heat down her spine. She kept very still.

"Could you go down and heat up a can of soup or something?

I'm starving. "

"I can do soup," he said, and she thought she detected a trace of knowing humor in his tone.

She waited until she heard his footsteps on the stairs. Her skin was  prune-wrinkled and pink, but she shivered when she stepped out of the  tub. She rubbed herself down with one of her mother's big, soft towels.  Like the rest of the house, the bathroom was tasteful, understated and  comfortable. It bore little resemblance to the series of functional  apartments and houses her parents had rented when she and Sig were  growing up.

Riley could remember when her mother had shared Emile's excitement and  vision for their work, for the center. His growing fame and the  pressures of his single-mindedness--her husband's single-mindedness, her  own--had put a subtle, ever-present strain on everyone.

Relationships weren't easy even when you had everything in common, Riley  thought, sprinkling herself with powder. She and Straker didn't have  anything in common, and whatever was going on between them, it could  hardly be called a relationship. Just because she couldn't stop thinking  about him in the most basic, physical ways didn't mean a thing. He was a  rough, competent, utterly masculine man, and what she was feeling was.  simple biology.                       
       
           



       

So why was she sorry she'd sicced Armistead on him? Why did she want to hear him laugh?

Don't even think it, she warned herself, and quickly pulled on her clothes.

Her mother had a bowl of steaming, homemade bean soup on the kitchen table.

"John's back talking to Sig," she said.

"He doesn't seem as... unbalanced as I expected."

"He believes in Emile."

Her mother looked pained.

"So do I, Riley."

"I didn't mean it that way." She sat in front of the soup, wished she could stop her mother from being so defensive.

"Straker considers himself Emile's friend, but that doesn't mean he  thinks Emile couldn't have" -She stopped abruptly. Couldn't have killed  your ex-lover.

"It doesn't make any difference to him if Emile's done something or not."

"John's always had his own way of looking at things." Her mother  attempted a small smile, twisted her hands together as she paced in her  homey kitchen.

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to put you on the spot.

I'm not proud of myself. For Sam, for not telling you when I found out it was his body you'd found. "

"You don't owe me an apology or an explanation." Riley tried the soup, but she'd lost her appetite.

Mara leaned against the counter and shut her eyes, her regret, her pain, evident. Her father was missing;

Sam Cassain was dead.

"I hadn't seen Sam in ages, not even after the Encounter went down. I didn't want to see him."

"Why did he stop by?"

She shrugged.

"I don't know, just to say hello, he said. He seemed content, almost smug. I think..." She chose her next words carefully.

"I think our affair was a coup for him. I was a scientist, Emile  Labreque's daughter, Richard St. Joe's wife--your mother. I saw that  last week, and frankly, I didn't like it. I didn't like him. I didn't  like myself."

Riley wanted to crawl under the table. This sort of introspective,  heart-to-heart talk with her mother made her squirm. She tried more of  her soup, but her stomach rebelled.

"Sam Cassain was a selfish, greedy man," her mother continued. "His  needs always came first, and he wasn't afraid to ask for what he wanted.  I guess I needed that in my life at one time."

"Mom, I'm not judging you" -- "No." Her smile reached her eyes.

"Of course you're not. It's long, long over. I love your father. We worked things out. That's all that matters."

Riley nodded.

"I guess I'm as thick-headed as Emile. I never suspected a thing. You sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine."

"I plan to head up to Schoodic, stay at Emile's" -Her mother winced.

"I wished you wouldn't."

"I'll be okay. I can't just sit back, I have to do something. If I can  find Emile" -- "You think it'll make a difference?" Mara asked.

Riley ignored the trace of bitterness in her mother's voice.

"I'll be careful," she said.

"I'll go on back and say goodbye to Sig, see what Straker's up to."

"You know where I am if you need me."

When Riley ducked onto the back porch, she found her sister standing  next to a packed overnight bag. Straker was nowhere in sight.

"Straker left," Sig said.

"He told me to tell you he needs room to maneuver and you should go find some whales and dolphins to save."

Riley groaned.

"I hate him. I've hated him since I was six years old."

"You're so full of it. You know, he's better looking than I remembered.  And sexy. My God, don't tell me you haven't noticed. I know it's not  just my raging hormones. Well." She slipped a shawl over her shoulders,  further concealing her pregnancy.

"I've decided to help you look for Emile."

"What? Sig, you're pregnant. You can't."

"I'm not helpless. And Emile's my grandfather, too."

Riley frowned at her sister and searched her face for clues to her real  motives. Sig loved Emile. There was no question of that. But that wasn't  why she'd packed up. Sig had always had a laissez-faire attitude toward  their grandfather. She wasn't one to meddle in his decisions and  actions, whether he was filming a documentary on whales or having his  reputation ripped to shreds by tragedy and reckless accusations. Her  policy, from as long as Riley could remember, was to stay out of it.                       
       
           



       

"It's Matt," Riley said.

"Isn't it?"

Sig made a face. "No wonder Straker snuck off on you. He told me you're a pain in the ass, and you are."

"Sig, you don't think Matt had anything to do with Sam's death, do you?"

But her sister went pale, mumbled, "I don't know," and hoisted her bag onto her shoulder. She leveled her dark eyes on Riley.

"For my sake, and the sake of my babies, I have to find out. He's in  this thing up to his eyeballs, Riley. I just don't know how or why or  where it's all going to end."