His Third Wife

“Bullshit! We were going to have a child together. You can’t keep something like that from me,” Val blurted out.

“I didn’t intend to. I didn’t intend for any of this to happen.”

“Fuck you. Fuck you and your intentions, Jamison. Who cares what you intended to happen? It did,” Val said and she was speaking more about the present than the past. “Did you tell Kerry this? That her son has a brother? Have you even seen the boy?”

“Of course I’ve seen my son,” Jamison said. “And I will tell Kerry when I’m ready to.”

“Well, what’s his name?”

“Jamison. His mother named him Jamison.”

Val erupted in bitter laughter. Angry laughter. “She got you. Man, she got you good,” she said. “You know, the game used to be to have an abortion and get him for the two hundred and fifty dollars, but I guess it’s changed to have the baby and wait until he’s mayor, so you can get two million dollars.”

Jamison responded, “Is that the game you played?”

“It’s the game we both played. I just got better at it.”

“Well, it seems your game is over now,” Jamison said coldly. “Don’t you think?”

“Maybe it’s better that way—that’s what I’ve been thinking.” Val stood up in front of Jamison. “Maybe everything that happened was what was supposed to happen. Because there’s no way I could continue to live here. Not like this.” Val pointed to the door where Mrs. Taylor was still taking up residence on the other side.

“You keep saying that—‘I’m not safe here. I have to watch my back,’ ” Jamison repeated words Val had said in mumbles covered by the strength of the painkillers she’d been taking after the miscarriage when he brought her home.

“Why can’t you see? Why can’t you believe me?”

“Believe what?”

“That she killed our baby! Your mother! She killed our baby!” Val cried so loud it seemed like it was the first time she’d said it.

“You kept saying that when we came home from the hospital. It was just the medication talking,” Jamison said. “You made it up in your head.”

“I didn’t make it up. I told you everything that happened that night. I remember it all.”

“She made you dinner. That doesn’t sound like a killer to me,” Jamison said matter-of-factly.

“There was something in it,” Val said.

“You said that before, but it’s crazy.”

“Why? Why can’t you believe it?”

“Because it’s crazy. Because she’s my mother. And that was her grandchild. Why would she do that?” Jamison listed.

“Because she wants you to herself,” Val said. “And she wants me gone. Just like she wanted Kerry gone.”

“That’s ridiculous. My mother may be a handful, but she just wants me to be happy. So, yes, she did want you gone, but that wasn’t because of the baby. It was because of your actions.” Jamison’s statement took him back to the kitchen that day when his mother had come in from her walk talking about the car—the silver car. Then his mind went back again, way back to a darker time. A dark night with a silver car in it. The Rainforest. The silver Maserati in the driveway. It was the same car at the news station earlier that day.

“My actions? I didn’t do anything! I’ve been—”

“Who was in that car?”

“What car?”

“That silver car. The Maserati.” Jamison stood.

“No one,” Val stumbled with her heart jerking forward in fear.

“Tell me,” Jamison said. “Who was it?”