Speaking in Tongues

hand against her cheek, lifted it away and looked at the glistening streak left by her tears on his skin. He kissed her hair.
    “All right. I agree.”
    Megan started to protest.
    But Tate knew that he’d won. Nothing she could say or do at this point would change his decision.
    “I’ll call the dogs to the run. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

Chapter Thirty-one
    “Is it true?” she asked, tears glistening on her cheeks.
    “Oh, yes, honey, it’s true.”
    “You never said anything.”
    “Your mother and I decided not to. Until after Susan died. You know how close Bett is to your aunt. She wanted her never to find out about the affair—it would’ve been too hard for her. The doctors only gave her a year or two to live. We were going to wait to tell you until she’d passed away.”
    “But . . .” Megan whispered.
    He smiled wanly. “That’s right. She’s still alive.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me last year, or two years ago? I was old enough not to say anything to Aunt Susan.”
    Tate examined the wounds on her palms. Pressed his hands against them. He couldn’t speak at first. Finally he said, “The moment passed.”
    “All these years,” she whispered, “I thought I must’ve done something.” She lowered her head to his shoulder. “What a terrible thing I must have been for you. What a reminder.”
    “Honey, I wish I could tell you different. But I can’t. You were half the person I loved most in the world and half the person I most hated.”
    “One time I said something to Mom,” she said, weeping softly. “I’d been with you for the weekend and Mom asked how it went. I said I’d had an okay time but what could you expect? You were just an adequate father. I thought she was going to whip me. She freaked out totally. She said you were the best man she’d ever met and I was never, ever supposed to say that again.”
    Tate smiled. “An adequate father for an inconvenient daughter.”
    “Why didn’t you ever try it again, the two of you?”
    He echoed, “The moment passed.”
    “How much you must love her.”
    Tate laughed sourly to himself at the irony. The child who drove husband and wife apart had now brought them back together—if only for one day.
    How scarce love is, he thought. How rarely does it all come together: the pledge, the assurance, the need, the circumstance, the hungry desire to share minutes with someone else. And the dear desperation too. It’s miraculous when love actually works.
    He looked her over and decided that the two of them, his ex-wife and her daughter, would be fine—now that the truth had been dumped between them. A long time coming but better than never. Oh, yes, they’d do fine.
    Gritty footsteps approached.
    “Now, listen to me,” he said urgently. “When he lets you out find a phone and call Ted Beauridge at Fairfax County Police. Tell him your mother’s probably in jail in Luray or Front Royal—”
    “What?”
    “No time to explain. But she’s there. Tell him to get cops out here. She told them you were here but they might not’ve believed her.”
    The girl looked at him with eyes that reminded him of her mother’s. Not the violet shade, of course—those were Bett’s and Bett’s alone—but the unique mix of the ethereal and the earthy.
    Matthews appeared in the doorway.
    They turned to look at the gaunt man standing before them, his muscular hand pressed to his bloody belly.
    “Okay, get going,” Tate said to her. “Run like hell.”
    “Go on,” Matthews said, and reached forward to take her arm.
    She spun away from him and hugged Tate hard. He felt her arms around his back. Felt her face against his ear, heard her speaking to him, a torrent of fervid words flowing out, coming from a source other than the heart and mind of a seventeen-year-old high school junior.
    “Megan . . .” he began.
    But she took his face in both her hands and said, “Shhh, Daddy. Remember, bears can’t talk.”
    Matthews grabbed her again and pulled her away. Took her to the door.
    He unlocked it and shoved her outside. The door closed with a snap behind her. Through a dirty, barred window Tate saw her sprint down the driveway and disappear through the gate.
    •   •   •
    “So,” Collier said, glancing up at Matthews.
    “So,” he echoed.
    “Outside?” the lawyer asked, looking around at the gloomy place. “Would that be all right? I’d rather.”
    Matthews hesitated for a moment. But then decided, why not? “Yes.