COUNTERPOINT
An original romantic serialFrom Alina Adams the author of "When a Man Loves a Woman" (DELL 4/00), "Annie's Wild Ride" (AVON 8/98), "Inside Figure Skating" (METROBOOKS 11/00 & 9/99), "Thieves at Heart" (AVON 12/95) and "The Fictitious Marquis" (AVON 6/95)
Available weekly by e-mail from http://www.AlinaAdams.com
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CHAPTER 65
Victoria said, "Did you really?"
"Yes. Right here in this room. She was standing where you were standing. I was standing right over here."
"Did you mean to do it?"
"No."
"It was an accident, then."
"It was my fault."
"What happened?"
"I was playing around. Douglas told me I wasn't supposed to touch the guns, but I was playing around. I liked to play with the guns. I liked to point them and aim and pretend to pull the trigger."
With each word, Robin seemed to be daring Victoria to interrupt him, to condemn him, to berate him. She refused to do any such thing. She held her ground, and she listened. Knowing that in a situation where any wrong move could mean tragedy, the wisest course of action was often no course of action at all. The gun, after all, was still barely an inch away from Robin's hand.
Only it was no longer pointed at her. It was pointed squarely at him.
He said, "I liked to pretend like I was James Bond. Or a pirate. It's pretty immature for a thirteen year old, I know. But, I liked to pretend. One day, I was standing right here, and I had the gun in my hand and my other arm behind my back, and I had my right arm stretched out and my finger on the trigger and I was aiming at that spot on the door, pretending."
"Your mother walked in." It wasn't a question. It was obvious. Gabriel had told her too many similar stories from his days working in the emergency room.
"She surprised me. I didn't expect her to walk in, she wasn't even supposed to be home, and she surprised me. I jumped. Because I was surprised."
"And you pulled the trigger."
"It went off. I heard the gun go off, and I felt it jerk in my hand and I saw her fall. It was like she disappeared. I had one eye closed because I was looking over the gun, and one minute I could see her over the sight, and the next minute I couldn't. She was there, and then she was gone. I didn't even understand it. I didn't think to look for her on the ground. I just didn't know where she'd gone."
The gun was still pointing at Robin. Nevertheless, Victoria took a tentative step toward him. He looked at her queerly, like he couldn't understand what she was doing.
"I destroy everyone who loves me," Robin said, almost explaining it.
"Could I have the gun, please?" Victoria asked.
"Aren't you scared?"
"I'm always scared, Robin. I am scared every minute of every day of my life, because that's just who I happen to be. But I am not scared of you."
"Then why do you want the gun?"
"Because," Victoria said, softly. "I'm scared FOR you."
"I killed her."
"It was an accident."
"It was my fault."
"No." The voice from the doorway made both Robin and Victoria jump. She spun around to see who it had come from. And saw Douglas standing at the threshold. "It was mine."
Robin glared at Victoria accusingly. "Who told you to bring him?"
"I didn't bring him!" Victoria was as confused as Robin.
Douglas said, "Mr. Shaw, the caretaker, called me, Robin. He said you were here, and that you'd sent everybody home."
"So?"
"So, I was worried about you. I thought I would come and see for myself. I took the Cooper jet. Apparently, it landed a few minutes after Victoria's plane did."
Robin smiled. But, it was an expression utterly lacking joy, warmth, or even, actually, any expression.
"Good," Robin said. "I'm glad you're here. Now you can tell Victoria all about it. You can tell her all about me, and what I did."
"I think you've covered most of the story already, son." Douglas, like Victoria, was keeping his voice eerily calm.
"Tell her how dangerous I am. Explain it to her. Explain why she should stay away from me."
"I'm a big girl, Robin, I don't need your daddy to tell me what to do."
"Damn it, don't you get it?" His explosion was all the more shocking when contrasted with how quiet the rest of them were being. "What the bloody hell is wrong with all of you? What do I have to do? Do I have to kill you, too?
Is that the only way you'll believe me?"
"Robin, please*." Victoria had no idea how she wanted to finish that sentence. She was hoping just the desperation in her voice would do the trick.
"Don't you get it, Victoria? I killed my own mother."
"Yes, Robin, I got that part."
"Will you stay away from me, now?"
"Robin!" Now it was Douglas' turn to bark so loudly that they all jumped. Victoria sincerely hoped this standoff would be over soon. Her heart couldn't take much more.
Douglas approached his son with conviction, stopping less than a foot away. "Stop it. Just stop it. I have spent fifteen years watching you punishing yourself for this. It's time to stop, son. It's time to let it go."
"Why? So that you can punish me? You never got a chance to, before, did you?" Robin turned to Victoria to explain, "After it happened, I got so scared, I grabbed some money and I bought a bus ticket to my grandparents in Georgia. I hid out there until Douglas came to get me, and, when he did, I wouldn't see him. Finally, he left, and then a couple of days later he told my grandparents to ship me off to boarding school. You never got a chance to punish me, did you, Douglas? You never even got a chance to yell at me or hit me or anything. Don't think I didn't notice how badly you've wanted to all these years. How every time you look at me, you wish I were never born."
"You're wrong," Douglas said simply. And then, with more fervor, added, "I don't blame you."
"You hate me!"
"I don't."
"You're a liar. I killed your wife. I shot her, in cold blood. Even after the million times you told me not to touch the guns, I came in here and I took it down off the wall, and I shot her."
"It was my fault," Douglas repeated, his voice quavering. To Victoria, Douglas Cooper's voice breaking was the equivalent of Mt. Rushmore tumbling.
Apparently, the effect was the same on Robin. He looked at his father with such disbelief, it didn't seem limited to his face. It was almost like his whole body went into shock.
Douglas said, "I left loaded guns around where a thirteen year old boy could get his hands on them. Do you know why I did it? Because of vanity. Because of pride. I was so damn proud of my collection, I wanted it out there for everyone to see. No, that's not true. I, me, I wanted to be able to see it. I wanted to be able to look up from what I was doing, and see all these priceless guns on the wall, and I wanted to gloat and bask in how terrific it was of me to own them. I didn't think. I never once thought about what could happen. At least not hard enough to consider putting them away."
Robin didn't say a word, he just kept looking at his father, so still he didn't even seem to be breathing.
"I did it, Robin," Douglas said softly. "I killed her. I killed her. It wasn't your fault. It was me. I never hated your for it. I killed her. I'm the one to blame. I - "
Without warning, Robin's knees buckled. He fell forward, seemingly collapsing not so much from his own weight, but from the weight of the words raining down on top of him. His legs gave away, and so did his arms. He didn't even so much as thrust them out for protection. He just fell. No. He crumbled.
Douglas was standing the closest to him, and he caught his son in his arms, stumbling himself from the bulk of the dead weight, so that he too was brought to his knees. He hit the ground, cradling his son, trying to keep Robin from sliding onto the floor, and, for a moment, they just stayed there, swaying slightly, neither one saying a word.
And then, with his arms by his sides and his head buried in his father's shoulder, Robin Cooper began to weep.