"Jane," he presses.
"I did tell you," I say. I walk a few feet further, leaving the front porch and taking a seat on the marble bench that is one of the focal pieces of a large flowerbed that lines the curving driveway and leads all the way down to Meadow Lane. "I told you the same day you told me about Ortega."
"You know what I mean," he says as he takes a seat beside me. "When we were married. Why didn't you tell me then?"
I stand again, unreasonably irritated with him for making me give up my comfortable perch. "It wasn't my story to tell, Bill." Which is a true answer, but not the full answer. I had my own story I could have shared with my husband. But I never once told him about my kidnapping, either.
He sighs, then pinches the bridge of his nose. "I wish you would have." He looks at me.
I lift a shoulder. What the hell am I supposed to say to that?
"It's just that I always liked your brother, but he always kept his distance, you know. Not rude, not usually anyway, but ..."
"But what?"
"Like he was holding on to some big secret."
"He was," I say, thinking that Bill doesn't know the half of it. The kidnapping, sure. But the other secret was me. How could Dallas and Bill ever have been close when I was married to one man and in love with the other?
I shiver and hug myself, and Bill stands up and puts his light jacket over my shoulders.
"It's chilly out," he says. "You should have grabbed a wrap."
I just nod. It's not the morning chill that has made me tremble, but the simple fact that this is all on me. I never should have married Bill. Hell, I never should have fallen in love with my brother.
Even though Dallas and I weren't together then--even though we both believed we would never, ever be together--the bottom line is the same: I'd kept huge secrets in my marriage.
I'm keeping them still.
"Anyway, I'm glad I know now. I understand him better. And I understand you better, too."
At that, my eyes snap to him.
"Your fascination with kidnappings. The books, the articles." He nods, as if to himself. "It makes sense. Dallas is messed up, but you are, too, Janie. And writing is your way of working through what happened to your family."
"It is," I say, because that's one hundred percent true, even if it's not the full truth.
"Does it help?" His voice is gentle, reminding me of why we'd started dating. Why I'd thought that maybe a marriage could work.
"Yeah," I say. "It does."
"Dallas needs to work through it, too. Finding his kidnapper will help."
I don't answer. Mostly, because I don't disagree. But for the first time, it truly hits me that Bill is absolutely right. Finding who took us really will help Dallas put it behind him once and for all. But it needs to be Dallas who finds them. It needs to be Deliverance.
Bill sighs. "Look, I get that this is hard, but talk to him, okay? Because this thing is bigger than me, and even if I wanted to stop it, I couldn't. The investigation into the Sykes kidnapping is officially moving forward. You should try and help him realize that's not a bad thing."
"The funny thing about Dallas is that he tends to see things for himself."
"He sees you, too," Bill says, not understanding just how right he is.
Once again, I say nothing. I just pull his jacket off my shoulders, then pass it to him in a not-so-subtle signal that he should go.
Thankfully, he takes the hint and walks toward his car. He pauses by the driver's door. "I still love you, you know."
"Bill--" There is no disguising the pain in my voice.
"Just tell me--did you ever love me? And don't lie. I'll know if you're lying."