She Was the Quiet One. Michele Campbell

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СКАЧАТЬ and raised an eyebrow.

      “Oh, come on, we just got raises,” he said. “YOLO, am I right?”

      She laughed. “You sound like a Moreland girl.”

      “Uh-oh, it’s starting to rub off. Seriously, it’s your birthday, so I’m making an executive decision. We split the seafood tower. You get the Dover sole because I know you want it. I get the filet mignon. Then we order the chocolate lava cake with a candle and two spoons.”

      “Mmm, you always know what I like,” she said.

      “That’s why you married me. So, what do you say?”

      “You’ve got a deal.”

      They placed their orders, and Sarah pushed the thought of money from her mind. It wasn’t something she’d worried about much, before the setbacks of the past few years. Sarah came from a tight-lipped, old-money, old-Odellian family. She grew up in a stately house in a wealthy town in Massachusetts, where life was comfortable, but cold and restrained. Nobody showed off, nobody cried or danced or displayed much emotion of any kind. Her mother wore sensible shoes and tweed skirts, and belonged to the Junior League. Her father commuted into Boston, to a law firm that his own father had worked at before him, and that he would work at till he retired, or died in the harness, whichever came first. They went to dinner at the country club and to church on Sundays, and talked about trimming the hydrangeas and how the neighbors’ house needed painting. Money was never discussed—which was possible only because they had plenty of it, of course.

      Heath arrived at Odell like a whirlwind in junior year, on a tennis scholarship. Most kids who came late in the game never made it to the golden circle, but Heath was different. Kids were bored with each other by then, and Heath—so good-looking, so athletic, so charming—was a sensation. Sarah got assigned to be his peer tutor in math, or she never would’ve gotten near him. They had no classes together, and Sarah didn’t run with the popular crowd. Not that she wanted to; they were a rotten bunch. The same beautiful mean girls Heath sat with at lunch had tormented Sarah since freshman year. Yet Heath took a shine to Sarah, despite the disdain of his friends. Maybe he took a shine to her because his friends didn’t like her, because she was different from them—low-key and nonjudgmental. Heath found refuge in talking to Sarah. He was confident on the surface, but that was an act. His parents were going through a brutal divorce. His father had left his mother for another woman, and Heath’s mother—who’d doted on him and raised him to believe in his own greatness—tried to kill herself. There were lawyers involved, involuntary commitment to a mental institution, money problems. Nobody at school knew except Sarah. She kept Heath’s secrets, and loved that he trusted her. Once he kissed her, that was it, she was done. Though they didn’t get engaged till the end of college. Her parents were none too happy. They thought Heath was beneath her.

      Their first few years as newlyweds were bliss. They lived in the city. She worked in a consulting firm, he freelanced for magazines and wrote his novel on the side. Sarah thought Heath was a literary genius, even if his novel hit a bit too close to home for comfort. It was the story of a relationship between a wealthy young woman and a penniless young man that began at an East Coast boarding school. The boarding school details were lifted straight from their Odell years. The couple was even named Henry and Sophia—H and S, Heath and Sarah. But the resemblance ended there, and the latter half of the book—in which Henry and Sophia move to France and get caught up in a decadent, expat social scene that ends in murder—was searingly brilliant. Sarah wasn’t the only one who thought so. Heath got a book deal, a major one, and had a famous director interested in the film rights. They were on the way to realizing their dreams—well, his dreams. Heath’s big break was well deserved. He was a rare talent, a genius. They’d both known it since high school. The world had now caught on, and was giving him the recognition he deserved.

      They were so happy.

      Then the accusation of plagiarism surfaced. An early reviewer caught it. Whole passages lifted directly from Fitzgerald’s Tender Is the Night, not the revised edition, but the first, convoluted one, that wasn’t widely read. Heath denied it, and Sarah believed him with all her heart. It was only when the publisher pulled the book, prior to publication, that she went out and bought a copy of Tender Is the Night and compared for herself. Heath must’ve thought that nobody would check, because when you put the pages side by side, the plagiarism was obvious. She was almost as angry about his carelessness as his lies. How could he have been so cavalier about something so important to their future? He was used to being admired and adored; that was why. Heath was confident that his transgressions would be overlooked, or forgiven. And she tried to forgive. But it was hard.

      Heath was asked to pay back the advance, which was a problem since they’d already spent it. That hadn’t been Sarah’s doing. She was frugal by nature, but Heath wanted things. A lot of things. New clothes, a car, a better apartment, restaurants, parties. Who was she to say no, when he’d felt so deprived, growing up? Her parents stepped in and lent them the money to pay back the publisher—and never let them forget it.

      Her father had thankfully managed to hush up the scandal, or else Heath would’ve been unemployable in teaching at any reputable school. If it came out, even now, a school like Odell would have no choice but to fire him. Some nights Sarah lay awake, worrying. About the past coming back to haunt them. About Heath’s mental stability, how despondent he’d become when things went wrong, and whether he was susceptible to falling into that deep, dark pit again. She didn’t think so. She prayed not. She was grateful that, with the dorm head job, he’d found something to feel excited about again. She wanted him to be happy. Heath wasn’t a dishonest person. He’d just wanted to succeed so badly—to impress Sarah, to impress her parents—that he’d taken a shortcut to get there. Then he got caught, and felt ashamed, which was why he’d lied. It was a unique situation, far in the past, and unlikely to repeat itself. Besides, they had the children to think about now, and Heath adored his children. He wouldn’t let himself get out of control emotionally again, she was certain.

      Maybe not certain. But hopeful.

      The waitress headed for their table, carrying the seafood tower. Heads turned to admire the dramatic presentation, just as they’d turned when her handsome husband walked in the door a half hour before. People were naturally drawn to Heath. The Moreland girls were crazy about him already. A colleague had said to her that very afternoon: Whenever I see your husband, he’s trailing a gaggle of pretty girls. Sarah didn’t let it bother her. She trusted Heath, and besides, it wasn’t his fault. If she was a student here, she’d follow him around, too. Just look at that incredible smile, as the waitress presented the seafood tower. It was wonderful to see. Heath’s happiness was the only gift Sarah needed.

8

      Bel sat in Mr. Donovan’s classroom in Benchley Hall, watching the hands on the old wall clock creep toward two-twenty, when English class would end. She had a meeting scheduled with Mr. Donovan then, and the thought of it made her queasy. Though she’d been feeling off all day anyway in this awful, sticky heat. Everyone said that the heat wave was unusual, but that didn’t help her sleep at night or eat anything more substantial than a piece of fruit. Heat in L.A. had never bothered her, but the climate here was just evil.

      The fan buzzing in the corner lulled her, and her eyelids drooped. But then Mr. Donovan spoke, and she bolted upright, her eyes flying open. Heath Donovan was the one thing in this new life that made Bel feel wide awake. He stood at the whiteboard, writing out a line from Shelley and explaining the concept of synecdoche. English was her favorite class just because she liked watching him and listening to his voice. Every day, Bel noticed new details about him. A small scar above his eyebrow, a beauty mark on his cheek, how his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the whiteness of his teeth. She paid СКАЧАТЬ