‘Raped?’ he said, feeling uncomfortable even saying the word.
Jennifer stared at the ground intently. It was a few moments before she looked up again.
‘You remember the day after my twenty-first party,’ she said softly. ‘I left the barn, I left you, and went to see Connor to tell him it was over. He wasn’t happy; he almost hit me, in fact. But I did it. I did it because I wanted to be with you.’
‘Your letter . . . you said that you loved Connor . . .’
She took a deep breath before continuing.
‘I finished with Connor and I came to the Lake House to see you. I came to tell you that we could be together. But you weren’t there.’
Jim gave the smallest shake of his head, memories of the day tumbling back like a waterfall.
‘No one was home. I saw Bryn in the boathouse. He said you’d gone into the city and invited me in to wait for you. He gave me a drink, some gin, and we chatted . . .’
Jim closed his eyes. He felt sick at the thought of what she was going to say.
‘He asked about my documentary,’ she continued. ‘Told me how talented I was. I suppose I liked hearing that. The sun was shining through the window and I was happy. I remembered the way you’d made me feel the night before, and hearing your father, the big-name author, flatter me . . . it was almost as if I was in a movie, and I was a more lovely and clever version of myself. He asked me to have a look at his manuscript, and I suppose I didn’t think anything of it when he shut the door of the cabin behind him.’
Jim felt dazed, as if the whole world was spinning.
‘Stop, please,’ he said, his voice barely making it out of his throat.
‘His papers were on his desk and I started to read them,’ she continued. ‘My back was turned and then I felt him behind me and he was kissing my neck, just here.’ She touched a little patch of flesh behind her ear. ‘I was embarrassed and I told him to stop. He said, “Why settle for the boy when you can have the man?”’
Jim thought he saw the glint of a tear in the corner of her eye, but it could have been the moonlight.
‘I said no, but he didn’t listen,’ she said, dipping her head. ‘And then I stopped saying no because it was going to happen anyway.’
She fell silent for a moment, as if there were barely any words left to say.
‘I went and hid,’ she said at last, still looking down. ‘I wanted to hide until I had worked out what to do. But nothing felt right. How could I tell you? How could I not tell you?’
Jim didn’t speak for a moment. A cool breeze rustled through the bulrushes behind them.
‘Why are you only telling me this now?’ he asked finally, his emotions in turmoil.
‘I loved you, Jim. So I figured . . . I figured it was better to keep quiet. Better to write you a letter, tell you it was over, and for us not to see one another again. If I saw you, if I told you what your father had done, it would have forced you to pick a side. What was the point in pursuing it? Who would have believed me if I’d reported it? Was the young, impressionable girl really going to say no to the handsome, successful author? And even if I had pressed charges, how would that have turned out? It would have destroyed your family. You needed money, you needed a father, not a man locked in a foreign jail cell.’
‘I can’t believe he would do that,’ he said, his confusion almost making him feel dizzy. ‘You said . . . you said that you had sex with him. Why are you telling me a different story now?’
‘Because your father was in the hospital—’
‘And now he’s dead,’ he roared, spinning around and letting his eyes settle on the darkness of the lake. In the distance he could make out the silhouette of the boathouse, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
‘My father is dead,’ he repeated more quietly, turning to face her, his voice shaking with emotion. ‘Don’t do this. Don’t come and tell me this. You can’t,’ he said, the thickness in his throat making it difficult to breathe.
Jennifer didn’t take her eyes off him.
‘It wasn’t just my mother’s death that kept me away from Casa D’Or, that kept me apart from you. It was Bryn. And I knew that if I didn’t say anything, if I never gave us one last chance to be toget
her, then he’s won. They’ve won.’
‘No one has won, Jen,’ said Jim so quietly he could barely hear himself.
For a moment they stood there gazing at one another. And then he felt a swell of anger that almost knocked him to one side with the force of its surprise. He didn’t want to believe her; he couldn’t let himself believe her. He owed that to his father, to his father’s memory.
He took a step away from her, and she nodded as if she got the message.