The Villa

to pay for one night's indiscretion, could he? So I paid." Tears dripped down her cheeks. "And I paid."
    "Linc is Tony's child."
    "He's James's." Helen looked pleadingly at Pilar. "In every way but that one. He doesn't know, neither of them know. I did everything I could to make up for that night. To James, to Linc—God, Pilar, to you. I slept with my best friend's husband. I was young and angry and stupid, and I've never forgiven myself for it. But I did everything I could to make it up. I gave him money, every time he asked for it. I don't even know how much over the years."
    "And you couldn't give any more," Pilar concurred.
    "The night of the party, he told me he had to see me, told me when and where. I refused. It was the first time I'd done so. It made him angry, and that frightened me. If I didn't do as he said, he'd go inside, then and there, and tell James, tell Linc, tell you.
    "I couldn't risk it, couldn't bear it. My baby, Pilar. My little boy with the loose shoelaces. When I went home, I got the gun out of the safe. It's been there for years, I don't know why I thought of it. Don't know why I took it. It was like a veil over my mind. He had music on in the apartment, and a good bottle of wine. He sat and told me his financial troubles. Charmingly, as if we were old, dear friends. I don't remember everything he said; I'm not even sure I heard him. He needed what he liked to call a loan. A quarter of a million this time. He'd be willing, of course, to take half by the end of the week, and give me another month for the rest. It wasn't too much to ask, after all. He'd given me such a fine son.
    "I didn't know the gun was in my hand. I didn't know I'd used it until I saw the red against his white tuxedo shirt. He looked at me, so surprised, just a little annoyed. I could almost imagine him saying, 'Damn, Helen, you've ruined my shirt.' But he didn't, of course. He didn't say anything. I went home and tried to convince myself it had never happened. Never happened at all. I've carried the gun around with me ever since. Everywhere."
    "You could have thrown it away," Pilar said quietly.
    "How could I? What if one of you were arrested? I'd need it then to prove I'd done it myself. I couldn't let him hurt my baby, or James. I thought it could be over. And now… I need to tell James and Linc first. I need to tell them before I talk to the police."
    Cycles, Sophia thought. Sometimes, they needed to be stopped. "If you hadn't used that gun to save my life tonight, you wouldn't have to tell them anything."
    "I love you," Helen said simply.
    "I know it. And this is what happened here tonight. Just exactly what happened." She took Helen by the shoulders. "Pay attention to me. You came back, saw Jerry holding me at gunpoint. He'd brought both guns with him—he'd intended to plant them in my room to implicate me. We'd struggled, and the other gun, the one that killed my father, was on the floor near the doorway. You picked it up, and you shot him before he shot me."
    "Sophia."
    "That's what happened." She took Helen's hand, squeezed it. Took her mother's. "Isn't it, Mama?"
    "Yes. That's exactly what happened. You saved my child. Do you think I wouldn't save yours?"
    "I can't."
    "Yes, you can. You want to make it up to me?" Pilar demanded. "Then you'll do this. I don't care about what happened one night almost thirty years ago, but I care about what happened tonight. I care about what you've been to me most of my life. I'm not going to let someone I love be destroyed. Over what? Over money, over pride, over image? If you love me, if you want to make up for that mistake so long ago, you'll do exactly what Sophie's asking you to do. Tony was her father. Who has more right to decide than she?"
    "Jerry's dead," Sophia said. "He killed, threatened, destroyed, all because of one selfish act by my father. And it ends here. I'm going to go call the police. Someone should take a look at Rene." She leaned forward, brushed her lips over Helen's cheek. "Thank you. For the rest of my life."
     
    Late, late into the night, Sophia sat in the kitchen sipping tea laced with brandy. She'd given her statement, had sat, her hand holding Helen's, as Helen had given hers.
    Justice, she thought, didn't always come as you expected. Helen had said that once. And here it was. Unexpected justice. It hadn't hurt that Rene had been hysterical, had babbled to everyone, including Claremont and Maguire when they'd arrived, that Jerry was a madman, a