Page 112 of Head Under Water

I squeeze against him again, my mind reeling. Mom’s lies, Ruth’s death, Margie’s fall. Will’s love. It all swirls together in my mind, a merciless storm. This will take years to untangle. To fix. To heal.

But for now, I’m alive. He’s alive.

And he loves me.

And when the knock finally comes at the door, and he hugs me close, I think maybe, the rest will be okay too.

CHAPTER FIFTY

THREE MONTHS LATER

This morning I awoke in Will’s bed.

It’s normal now. The smell of him. The weight of his arm draped over my body. His breath tickling my ear. The rhythmic tick of his ceiling fan.

Now, we’re in his truck on our way to visit Margie at the facility where she’s staying for another week. Mom will already be there. She’s always there these days, watching Margie’s physical therapy, helping remind her who she was, sitting with her when she’s forgotten.

She’s coming back to us, slowly. She’s learned to sit up again. To sit on her own. To stand. To speak.

For the first few days off the ventilator, she was a shell of a person. Quiet. She rarely spoke. She cried all the time.

There were times when she looked right through us.

It scared me—I can admit it now, though I refused to then.

But finally, her fire is back. She’s determined to reclaim her old self. Determined not to let him win.

Banks is out on bail awaiting trial. His arrest shocked our town in ways we’re all still coping with. A lot of people don’t believe it. The ones who do have kept quiet, waiting for proof.

We’ve learned a few things since he was arrested, like the fact that it was him at Margie’s house the night Mom saw lights, hoping to catch one of us. Cory. Me. Will.

If he’d had his way, we’d all be dead.

Margie will stand witness against him, as will I. And Will.

George hasn’t agreed to testify, and I don’t think I can blame him. The attorneys say he’ll be subpoenaed anyway, so that’s something.

Then again, he posted Banks’s bail, so I really don’t know what to expect.

Family is complicated.

Things with Mom still aren’t perfect. It’s like something underfoot has shifted, making us a little off kilter in a way that feels irreparable.

I’m trying, I really am. But there’s a pain inside my chest when I think about Ruth, when I see Margie.

I know Mom isn’t fully to blame, and I know she’s not perfect, but it still stings to have to face the fact that she’s a hundred percent human and flawed after all.

She’s always been the one who made things better.

When Will and I arrive at the hospital, Margie beams at us. She pulls us into a hug together, and Will sits down on the bed next to her. I cross the room and hug Mom with stiff arms, taking a seat beside her in one of the chairs along the wall.

It’s not that I feel like punishing her—I think we’ve all been punished enough. It’s just hard. Her betrayal cost us all so much.

We’ll get there someday. I know we will.

Time, I’m realizing—as my scars finally fade—truly does fix most things. But it won’t bring Ruth back.

As if she’s read my thoughts, Mom looks over at me with a sad smile. She opens her purse. “I brought you something.”