Kerry remained very quiet.
“And I hated everyone.” Dar had to stop for a minute, as a vivid memory of that cold day sharpened in her mind’s eye. “All these people getting up and talking about him…they had no clue who he was, or how he’d lived his life.” She slowly shook her head. “They wouldn’t let me talk.”
Kerry just closed her eyes.
“So, I ran,” Dar said. “I ran out of there and kept running, all the way home.”
“From Connecticut?” Kerry asked, very softly.
“Yeah,” Dar replied, just as quietly. “I hitched back…walked…took a bus once in a while. Gave me time to get it out of my system.”
“The anger?”
Dar shook her head. “The grief.”
Kerry regarded the frosted glass in front of her. “You know something, Dar?”
“Mm?” Dar slipped her arm around Kerry’s back.
“I wish I’d had a father worth that kind of feeling.” Kerry’s eyes closed as Dar encircled her arms around her and pulled her close.
Dar rested her cheek against Kerry’s hair. “You do.”
That’s true, Kerry acknowledged. After knowing them less than a year, she was closer to Andrew and Ceci than she had ever been to her own parents after most of her lifetime. She loved Dar’s parents deeply, just as she did their daughter, and she was grateful beyond words that she had them in her life.
Is it even worth staying for the service tonight? “Let’s go home,”
she whispered. “I can’t change how they feel about me, Dar. I’m going to leave them to their hatred and stupidity.”
“All right.” Dar hugged her. “Home sounds good to me, too.”
DAR FOLLOWED KERRY out of the solarium and across the Thicker Than Water 105
quiet, spacious parlor. “It’s a nice place.” she glanced around.
“Plenty of room.”
Kerry slowed her steps and turned around. “I guess it is. I never really thought of it that way, though, because so much of the house was pretty much off limits to us as kids.” She paused, then walked to a painting on the wall and looked at it, and touched the canvas with a curious finger. “We used to get pun-ished for grabbing anything.”
Dar had wandered next to Kerry. “Punished?”
“Yelled at,” Kerry clarified. ‘Sent to our rooms, mostly.” She eyed the painting. “I only got hit once that I remember, and all because of this damn stupid thing.”
“Really?” Dar examined the painting. “What’s there to this that’s worth being hit for?”
“It’s a Renoir.” Kerry indicated the signature. “And I always thought it was way too dull and ugly, so one day I took my box of one hundred and twenty-eight Crayola crayons and changed that.”
Dar bit the inside of her lip, but a tiny snort of laughter escaped anyway. “Oh boy.”
“Mm. Yeah, it wasn’t pretty.” Kerry smiled faintly. “I had to drag one of those antique chairs over here and climb all over it to get all the squares filled in. Did I mention it had been raining outside, and I was covered in mud?”
“Oh, Kerry.” Dar covered her face with one hand. “You want to know something really funny?”
“What? Did you do the same thing when you were a kid?”
Kerry turned and grinned at her. “Don’t tell me that.”
“No.” Dar shook her head. “If I’d shown the least bit of interest in drawing, my mother would have thrown a party. But on the way up here, I was thinking of how much I wish we’d met sooner.” She rested a hand on Kerry’s shoulder. “I would have liked a friend like you.”
Kerry spared a moment to remember the increasingly lonely years after her childhood, a life full of acquaintances and parties, activity and publicity, but very few real friends. She would have loved to have known Dar then, but she also knew the sad reality of the fact that her parents would have prevented their friendship.
“I’m glad we didn’t.” She covered Dar’s hand with her own to soften the words. “I wasn’t ready to know you back then.” Dar cocked her head in mild consternation. “I still believed in my parents, and they…” Kerry glanced away, then back up at Dar’s face.
“I’m glad I met you when I did.”
Dar’s lips twitched into a smile. “Do you really think I’d have let your parents stand between me and a friend, even at that age?
106 Melissa Good We would have been tabloid city: ‘Wild child corrupts senator’s daughter—film at eleven.’”
Kerry had to smile, both at the sentiment and the mental picture.
“Besides,” Dar pointed at the picture, “anyone with the will to color by number a Renoir would have been right up my alley.”
She surprised Kerry with a gentle kiss. “My mother would have adopted you in the vain hope you’d rub off on me.”
Kerry drew in a breath, then released it as a certain tension eased out of her. She put her arms around Dar and simply hugged her as hard as she could. Then she released her. “C’mon. Let me give you the ten cent tour then. I don’t know if I’ll have another chance.” She held out a hand, which Dar took, then led the way through the labyrinth of rooms.
The first place they went was the library. Kerry pushed the door open and was hit with the inimitable smell of a critical mass of books. The room had traditionally dark paneling and a thick wool rug, with heavy leather and brass bound furniture and floor to ceiling shelves of books on all four walls.
“This was a favorite spot,” Kerry said, as Dar roamed around the room and studied the books. “Not so much for the subject matters—I brought my own books in here—but it was always a nice, quiet place to hide in.” She walked to a chair near the corner and settled into it. “Seems a lot smaller now.”
Dar walked to the chair and leaned on it. “I also had a spot I used to disappear with a book into. Wasn’t as cushy as this, but I know what you mean.”
Kerry nodded. “Your dad’s a big reader. Was that really Wuthering Heights on his workbench the other day?”
“Mmhm,” Dar murmured.
“Incredible.” Kerry got up and tugged Dar after her. “One of the good things about all these doors is that you could always escape out one way if anyone official or anything was coming in the other way.” They walked down one hallway and turned into another. “Here’s another favorite spot.” She pushed open a swinging door and peeked into the kitchen.
Dar poked her head in also, to see a large, well laid out room with commercial quality cooking equipment. A tall, black woman entered from the other side, then stopped in surprise at seeing two faces looking back at her.
“Ms. Kerry? Is that you?” the woman asked, setting down a bundle of clothes she’d been carrying. “C’mon in here!”
Kerry eased the door open and entered. “Hello, Betsy. Yes, it is.” She walked over and gave the woman a hug. “Been a while, huh?” A year, to be exact. “You look great.”
Thicker Than Water 107
Betsy smiled. “Honey, so do you.” She looked curiously at Dar. “This your friend?”
It didn’t even feel strange, which, in and of itself, was very odd. “This is my partner, Dar.” Kerry smiled. “Dar Roberts. Dar, this is Betsy Stonewright. She’s been a part of the staff here since before I was born.”
“Now, don’t you be revealing how old I am, Ms. Kerry.”
Betsy shook a finger at her, then extended a hand to Dar. “You take your horns off before you come in here, Ms. Dar?” She had a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “’Cause I heard you had a nice pair of them.”