Free Strong 03 - Twice by Lisa Unger Page B

that they were all haunted by something, weren’t they? There was
something
that they didn’t want to be. They didn’t want to repeat the cycle of their family legacy, become an alcoholic, an abusive parent, the victim of a congenital disease, an old woman living alone with no one to look in on her. Everyone lived under the shadow of some fear or dysfunction, didn’t they?
    The phone was ringing softly on the end table beside the couch, maybe twice, maybe three times before she noticed it. She moved over to it quickly and picked it up.
    “Hello?” she said warily, anxious that it might be more bad news. The phone was cold and heavy in her hand.
    “Ms. Ross. It’s Lydia Strong. We wanted to let you know that we’re going to be taking on your case.”
    “I’m so glad,” she said, and she was. Relief washed over her like a wave.
    “There’s paperwork you’ll need to fill out. Would you like us to messenger it to you, or would you prefer to come by?”
    “You saw my daughter today,” she said, not answering the question. “Do you think she’s guilty?”
    There was a pause on the other end of the phone before the girl answered. “No. I don’t.”
    Eleanor was glad to hear it, though she wasn’t sure she believed Lydia Strong. “I’ll come by the office tomorrow around noon, if that’s all right.”
    “That’s fine. We can talk some more then. I have some more questions for you.”
    “Very well,” answered Eleanor. “Good-bye.” She hung up the phone and sighed. They could ask all the questions they wanted. But there were only so many answers she could give.
    L ydia folded Jeffrey’s cell phone and handed it back to him. He took it from her and held her hand in the warm pink waiting room. Everything was pink and roses, smelling of potpourri. Even the bulbs behind the sconce lighting were pink, the reception desk a rose-colored Corian. A very pregnant woman sat across from Lydia reading a copy of
Parenting
magazine. She looked so young and serene, her cheeks glowing with health and color. She had her arm looped with the arm of a young man, who was reading a copy of
Money
. She stared at them in wonder.
Aren’t they terrified?
She was ready to get up and run screaming from the doctor’s office, and these two just radiated peace and joy. The young woman looked up at her,must have felt Lydia’s eyes on her. She gave Lydia a happy, shy smile, and patted her belly. “I’m huge, aren’t I?” she said, her blue eyes shining, “Just a couple more weeks.”
    Lydia smiled back at her. “You’re beautiful,” she said, and meant it. The man smiled at them and returned to his magazine. After a few more moments, a nurse came out and escorted the young couple in to see the doctor. Lydia noticed a soapstone sculpture that sat beneath a lamp on the end table next to the couch where the woman had been sitting. It was the impression of a woman, her head a stone atop her belly, which was a circular nest with another tiny stone nestled in the curve.
Motherhood
.
    “Oh, God,” said Lydia, squeezing Jeffrey’s hand.
    “I’m right here,” he said with an indulgent smile.
    “You damn well better be,” she said. “You’re stuck now … shotgun wedding and all.”
    He laughed and released her hand, put his arm around her and pulled her close. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried,” he whispered in her ear.

chapter seven
    F ord McKirdy pulled his green Taurus into the narrow driveway beneath his Bay Ridge row house. He didn’t bother pulling the car into the garage, but he attached the Club to his steering wheel, took the bag of Chinese takeout from the passenger seat, and locked the doors. Nobody wanted his piece-of-shit car, anyway, which was part of the reason why he drove it.
    He felt heavy and tired as he pulled himself up the red brick steps to his front door. His neighbors in most of the other houses had hung their Christmas lights and decorations, making the block a tacky visual cacophony