The Heat of the Moon: A Rachel Goddard Mystery (Rachel Goddard Mysteries) Read online

  He was clearly disturbed, maybe because the staff’s worries had escaped his attention, or because I’d discussed this with my Mother but not with him. He frowned at his plate.

  “I’m sorry,” Mother said. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  The talk stopped dead for a minute and I rushed to fill the gap. “You should see Luke work, Mother. I watched him perform heart surgery on a German shepherd yesterday. A mitral valve replacement. It was amazing.”

  She nodded. “I’m sure it was. What made you decide to specialize in canine and feline cardiology, Luke?”

  He seemed distracted, but he pulled himself back to the conversation. After a sip of water, he said, “I was planning to be a general practice vet, but I worked on a cardiology research project in school and got interested in the field. A lot’s happening, new developments and treatments coming along all the time. We can do a lot more now than we could a few years ago. It’s a good feeling to turn things around dramatically, give an animal a chance to live out a normal life span.”

  “How long did it take to become a specialist?” Michelle asked.

  “Three years, after vet college.”

  With apparent absorption, Michelle asked half a dozen questions about specifics of his cardiology residency, a subject I was certain didn’t interest her in the least. All the while, Mother watched him, assessing, taking in every detail. I could tell, in the way his gaze flicked toward her repeatedly, that he was acutely aware of her scrutiny.

  After a few minutes Mother smiled and said, “Some people might say you should be using your skill to help humans instead of cats and dogs.”

  “Mother,” I breathed, a faint appeal that she seemed not to hear.

  I saw Luke draw back into himself, bar the door, and peer out at her with eyes alert and wary. “Some people can say what they want to.” His voice was tight, strained. “I couldn’t care less. I’ve never met a cat or dog that didn’t deserve a longer life. I can’t say the same for humans.”

  I gulped my wine.

  Mother laughed lightly. “Well, if you’re a confirmed misanthrope, it’s just as well you’ve avoided human patients.”

  The silence following this was more than I could stand. I blurted, “Cats and dogs have been research subjects in a lot of experiments. It’s only fair for the species as a whole to get some benefit from the suffering of—”

  “Rachel,” Mother broke in, her expression bemused. “I agree completely. Why don’t we talk about something more pleasant?”

  Hot blood rose to my face. I pressed my napkin to my mouth, removing beads of perspiration from my upper lip.

  Mother said to Luke, “You’re obviously very successful, to be able to purchase a facility like Dr. McCutcheon’s clinic.”

  “I do all right,” Luke muttered. He cut a sliver from his chicken but didn’t raise it to his mouth.

  “I was surprised when Rachel told me how young you are,” Mother went on. “I wouldn’t have thought someone your age would have the resources for such a big investment.”

  Slowly Luke laid his knife and fork on his plate. “Dr. Goddard,” he said, a faint humorless smile pulling at his lips, “I’m in hock up to my ears, if that’s what you want to know. I couldn’t have done it if Dr. McCutcheon hadn’t financed part of it. But I won’t fail, because I know what I’m doing.”

  Mother’s puzzled face said she had no idea why he’d bristled at her comments. “I’m sure you do.”

  I had to turn this around somehow. It wasn’t beyond the point of rescue yet.

  While I was casting about for something to say, Michelle spoke up. “It must be easier to manage without a family to support.”

  Oh, great. Thanks a lot, Mish. I kicked her under the table and was gratified to see her mouth drop open in surprise.

  “Maybe so,” Luke said, his expression guarded, suspicious.

  Mother sipped her wine, set down the glass, and asked, “Have you ever been married, Luke?”

  The quick “no” I expected didn’t come. I met Luke’s troubled eyes, and felt my stomach lurch with shock even before he spoke.

  “A long time ago,” he said directly to me. “It didn’t last long. I’d almost forgotten it ever happened.”

  “Wow,” Michelle said with a little laugh. “That’s something. Forgetting you were married.”

  Luke flushed darkly. I sipped my water, swallowing hard. How long ago could it have been? He was only thirty-six now.

  “Any children?” Mother said, her tone so light that she might have been inquiring about a pet or a car.

  I made myself look at him, and I saw the shadow cross his face as he waited just a second too long to answer. “No,” he said.

  I didn’t want to imagine what his hesitation had meant. Mother’s eyes caught mine and held them with naked concern, with sympathy and distress.

  Luke broke the heavy silence. “Did you ever consider getting married again after your husband died?”

  I shot a frantic pleading look at Luke, but he was watching Mother.

  “No,” she said, icing over. “My girls and my work have always been enough.”

  “It couldn’t be easy raising two children alone. How old was your husband when he died?”

  Alarmed, unable to think of a single thing to say or do, I waited for Mother’s reaction.

  Following a pause that seemed interminable, she said, “He was in his early thirties. He was a young lawyer getting established in his career.”

  The statement had a finality about it that didn’t invite further questions. I knew that tone well. I hoped it would stop Luke.

  “Rachel told me you specialize in treating phobias,” he said. “And you’re a master hypnotist. What do you do, hypnotize people and convince them they’re not really scared?”

  Now he was making me mad, deliberately acting like a jerk with no thought to how it affected me.

  “Hypnosis is just one tool among many,” Mother said, her voice cool and level. “And I’m sure you don’t really believe treating deep-seated fears is that easy. Is everybody ready for dessert?”

  For a moment no one spoke. I stared at my plate. I’d eaten almost nothing.

  “Thanks, but I’ll have to pass,” Luke said. He pushed back his chair and stood. “I need to get back to the clinic and check on a surgery patient.”

  Mother also rose. The two of them regarded each other steadily, Luke’s face rigid and Mother’s set in a polite smile. “Well, it was very nice meeting you, Luke.”

  “Thanks for inviting me. Good night.” He dropped his napkin on the table and headed for the door.

  “Michelle?” Mother said. “Help me clear?”

  I would have to see Luke out, say good night to him. As Mother and Michelle began gathering plates, I trailed him to the foyer, where he waited at the door.

  “Come stay with me tonight,” he whispered.

  I shook my head. How could he even suggest it?

  “Why not? Are you afraid your mother won’t approve?”

  “What makes you think I’d go anywhere with you?” I snapped.

  “Aw, shit.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Rachel, we’ve got to talk.”

  “That’s the last thing I want to do right now.”

  He grasped my wrist. “Look at me, for God’s sake.”

  I tugged my arm free. “Just go, Luke.”

  “All right,” he said. “Okay. But we’re going to talk about this, when we’ve got some privacy. Listen—”

  He leaned toward me. I turned away, unable to keep pain from breaking through my fragile wall of anger.

  “I love you, Rachel. Remember that.”

  I stepped around him and opened the door. After he was gone I stood in the foyer for a moment, listening to the murmur of Mother’s and Michelle’s voices from the kitchen.

  Everybody’s got a secret, I thought. Everybody’s got something to hide.

  Chapter Nine

  Mother wouldn’t be quick to probe the wound.
Having exposed Luke’s inadequacies, she’d leave me alone to think about my poor choice. My doubts would do the rest, and she knew it. We’d been through this kind of thing before.

  It was Michelle who couldn’t contain her curiosity for more than twenty-four hours. The next day, a Sunday, I got out of the house early and stayed gone all day, birdwatching with Damian’s three teenage daughters in the woods of Riverbend Park, then wandering around a shopping mall buying shoes and clothes and books I didn’t need.

  When I returned home laden with shopping bags Michelle and Mother were in the kitchen preparing dinner. A note in Mother’s handwriting was tacked to the little bulletin board beside the wall phone: Dr. Campbell called and would like you to call him back. They both watched me jerk the yellow square of paper free of the pushpin and toss it in the trash can, but they didn’t comment, asking me instead what I’d bought.

  Mother, who enjoyed cooking on the weekends, had prepared one of my favorite dishes, rice with chicken chunks, almonds and raisins, spices and herbs. Michelle complained all through dinner about her school schedule. I was conscious of Mother’s sidelong glances, knew she was judging my demeanor and the state of my appetite. I ate more than I wanted, and told her the food was delicious.

  Michelle and I cleaned up the dishes, at first in silence. After a few minutes she leaned over the open dishwasher and whispered, even though Mother was upstairs and unable to hear, “What are you going to do about Luke? Are you going to keep seeing him? You didn’t know he’d been married, did you? What a rotten way to find out.”

  “It’s no big deal,” I said, not looking at her. I dropped flatware into its basket.

  “I don’t understand why he didn’t tell you something that important.”

  I scraped bits of rice from a plate into the sink before I said, “I haven’t known him long. There are lots of things we don’t know about each other yet.”

  “Well, you know him well enough to sleep with him. You have been sleeping with him, haven’t you?”

  I flipped a wall switch and the garbage disposal roared.

  As soon as the noise stopped, she said, “I can’t help wondering what else he’s hiding.”

  It took an effort to keep my voice level. “Do you think I’ll find out he’s a serial killer? An escaped madman?”

  “Oh, Rachel, be serious.”

  “I am being serious.” I removed the dishwasher liquid from the under-sink cabinet and squeezed the big yellow bottle. Lemon-scented gelatinous detergent oozed into the cup on the dishwasher door. “Exactly what is it you think he’s hiding?”

  “I don’t know.” But her lifted brows, her skeptical eyes, suggested plenty of possibilities.

  “Just drop it, will you?” I slammed the dishwasher door and jabbed a button with my index finger. Water hissed into the machine. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Why are you getting mad at me?” Her tone was instantly hot, affronted. “I’m not the one who lied to you.”

  “He didn’t lie to—Oh, for God’s sake. I’m not going to talk about this.”

  I walked out.

  She followed right behind me, up the hallway toward the stairs. “I don’t know what you see in him anyway. He’s an arrogant s.o.b. All that talk about dogs and cats being more deserving than people. Who does he think he is? What do you want with somebody like that?”

  I stopped and turned so abruptly that she almost collided with me. “I’m asking you for the last time. Drop it.”

  She took a step back, her expression petulant and defensive. When I ran up the stairs she didn’t follow.

  ***

  Later, I was stretched out on the little couch in my room, trying without much success to concentrate on a veterinary journal, when I heard one soft rap on the door.

  “Go away,” I muttered under my breath. Aloud, I said, “Come in.”

  The door opened a few inches and Michelle poked her head in. She dropped my name into the silence between us. “Rachel?”

  For a moment I was swept back to childhood nights, my door slowly swinging open in a slant of moonlight and my sister’s tiny voice reaching for me in the shadows. “Rachel? I had a bad dream.” I would lift the covers and she’d crawl in, snuggling close for safety, her bony knees and elbows pressing against me. It was always me she came to when she was scared. I remembered Mother’s distressed little smile as she brushed back Michelle’s blond wisps one morning and murmured, “Why didn’t you come tell Mommy you had a bad dream?” Michelle, perhaps sensing she’d failed Mother somehow, answered in an uncertain whisper, “I just wanted Rachel. Is that okay?”

  Now my sister said, “I’m really sorry about all this.”

  She withdrew and closed the door. I didn’t know whether she was talking about her own behavior or Luke’s. Certainly not Mother’s.

  On Monday and Tuesday Luke tried repeatedly to get me alone at the clinic, tried to make me listen to him, but I resisted even though I knew I was behaving with the maturity of a twelve-year-old. I was afraid of what else he might tell me. I was afraid he would leave me feeling stupid as well as betrayed.

  He caught up with me at quitting time Tuesday when I was hanging my lab coat in my staff lounge locker. I turned and found him behind me. I tried to step around him, but he grasped my arm and wouldn’t let go.

  “Isn’t it about time you let me explain?”

  “Let go of me. You’re acting like a bully.”

  I saw he was tempted to tell me what I was acting like, but instead he said, “I’ll let go if you’ll promise to listen.”

  I was close enough to catch the scent of his skin, that wonderful smell that had enveloped me when we made love. Meeting his gaze briefly, I saw nothing but an honest appeal. I nodded, and he released my arm.

  “Okay,” he said. “First, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the marriage—”

  “Your marriage.”

  He drew in a breath. “My marriage. I was twenty-three, and it lasted a little over a year, in legal terms, but we only lived together a few months. We were miserable as hell the whole time. It was a mistake from the start, and we both knew it. I haven’t seen her since the divorce.”

  This sounded well-rehearsed. I wondered how many times he’d said it over in his head. Leaning back against my locker for support, I asked, “Did you have—Is there a child?”

  He took too long to answer. My stomach clenched into a painful knot as he swiped his hair off his forehead and stared at the floor.

  “She—We had a baby.” Luke’s voice was low and flat. “He was premature and he died when he was a week old.” He glanced at me, then away. “The baby was the only reason we got married in the first place. Pure stupidity on my part. I hardly knew the girl.”

  And you don’t know me, I thought. But you’ve already told me you love me. Am I another impulsive mistake? Did you tell her you loved her too?

  “Rachel. Say something.”

  I shook my head. I had nothing to say.

  “Aw, come on, Rachel. Are you going to let this wreck everything?” He moved closer.

  I stepped aside. “Don’t pressure me.”

  “Oh, man, your mother really did a number on us, didn’t she? I’ve got to admire her technique.”

  I bristled. “If you think insulting my mother’s the way to win me over—”

  “You’re a different person when you’re around her, you know that?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But I knew well enough.

  “She’s got you cowed. She’s got you under her thumb, and she doesn’t want some man coming around threatening her control.”

  “Now you’re insulting me.”

  He gripped my arm again. “Rachel, I love you, I think we could be happy together—”

  “We don’t even know each other.” I yanked my arm loose. “Just leave me alone.”

  I bolted, got out of the building and into my car, but I was in too much turmoil to go home, where I would have to face the truth
of what he’d said. I drove around side streets for a long time, avoiding rush hour traffic on the main roads, barely noticing where I was. Every few minutes my cell phone bleeped inside my shoulderbag, but I ignored it.

  I told myself that if I patched things up with Luke and continued the relationship, he’d force me to choose between him and Mother. I couldn’t do that. Mother and Michelle were all I’d ever had, my only family. I wanted Luke desperately, the sight of him and the sound of his voice at work every day tormented me, but my doubts about him and his hostility to Mother would always come between us.

  I told myself I couldn’t trust him, that he might have other secrets that would hurt and shock me. I didn’t know what could be worse, though, than hiding a marriage and child. I was jealous of that nameless, faceless woman who’d been his wife, had his baby. His dead son. His dead marriage. Had he meant to keep it from me forever?

  Finally I told myself that I was nothing but a fraud. Deep under the layers of hurt and blame lay a kernel of simple truth: I was grateful that Mother had uncovered an excuse for me to retreat from Luke’s intensity, his certainty that we belonged together. He overwhelmed me with all that he wanted to give and expected in return.

  But I had no right to hold his secrets against him. God knew I had plenty of secrets of my own.

  Chapter Ten

  Even as I pored over a book on locks, learning about pins and cylinders and levers, even as I assembled what I imagined to be adequate lock-picking tools, I felt a little sick about what I was planning to do. But that didn’t stop me.

  If Mother had kept a file on my childhood problems, it might contain all the information she would never willingly give me. The file might be in her office, but I couldn’t get into her office. I had to hope it was in her study at home, the off-limits place where I’d never before had reason to trespass.

  I shifted my schedule so I’d be free on a Wednesday, Rosario’s day off. That morning I left the house before Mother and Michelle, with the explanation that I’d promised to visit several rehabbers and examine the animals they were working with. I did, in fact, drive over to Vienna and examine a blue jay with a broken wing and a litter of orphaned baby rabbits. When I finished, I returned home.