Page 1 of Connal

Chapter One

“Hey, Mrs. Baker,” the teenager at the drive-through window said, flashing a cheeky grin at Valerie. “What are you doing out this late? It’s a school night.”

“I’m addicted to the little marshmallows in your hot chocolate.” It took her a moment to place him in the former student catalogue in her head: Peter Tate, class of ’21, back row, good grades, easy-going. Future motorcycle mechanic, dating Susan Paulsen. “Don’t you have to tinker on a Harley in the morning, Pete?”

“ATV motors in the afternoon. I’ve switched to rec vehicle repair. Better money around here.” He rolled his eyes. “How do you remember everyone you’ve taught so perfectly?”

Valerie tapped her temple. “You guys brand yourselves on my brain.”

After exchanging her cash for a small cardboard-sleeved cup, she drove off before he could give her the change, and smiled as he yelled a thank-you after her. Peter and Susan both came from solid families, had reasonable ambitions and worked part-time jobs while they attended nursing and trade school respectively. They’d probably never leave Lakeville, but because all their people lived here they’d settle into their own place in the small town, maybe have a couple of kids and hopefully stay together through the best and worst.

Why do you believe love has to last forever? Don’t you realize how irrational and childish your expectations are?

Valerie burned her bottom lip taking a sip of the watery hot chocolate before she put it in the cup holder. Her hand shook as she returned it to the wheel, but gripping it tightly for a few minutes steadied her. Hearing echoes of her dead husband’s voice had plagued her ever since his funeral, as if her brain were trying to redo all the arguments they’d had. At the same time her heart dropped in her chest, a stone that never cracked.

Back then Valerie had said I believe in you, Dale. Now she would have countered with Is having an affair with a student what you consider rational and mature?

Dying before she’d discovered his infidelity had been the best and worst thing Dale Baker had done to her. Best because she’d believed he’d loved her right up until the funeral. Worst because she’d found out the truth in a cemetery. Then the echoes of all the things their friends had said afterward started.

At least the girl wasn’t a minor.

Were you having, you know, problems in the bedroom?

He didn’t deserve you, the cheating jerk.

What those friends had said didn’t match the looks they’d given her. Once they knew Dale had been in love with someone else, the blame for what had happened began to shift from him to the widow he’d left to deal with his mess. She’d already overheard a few nasty remarks from people she had liked that had shaken her badly.

I guess she’s not as nice as she seems.

Maybe he wanted kids but she wanted a career.

She should have realized all the stress she was putting on him.

Parking her car on the old bridge outside town allowed Valerie to stare at Moon Lake. It formed a perfect oval looking glass for the sky, and at night appeared as if filled with stars. Over the years she and Dale had come here dozens of times to have picnics and bird watch. Even from the bridge she could smell the bright freshness of the evergreen forest surrounding the lake, and imagined once more hiking through the trees and grinning with Dale over little discoveries. They’d both loved nature walks.

Is that why you came here, honey? Because it was our favorite place, and you had to ruin that for me, too?

Pushing back the bitterness, Valerie sipped the now-lukewarm hot chocolate while she considered her list of regrets. It started with the usual litany of should-haves. She should have asked Dale where he was going that night, or followed him when he stormed out of the house. She should have insisted they attend couple counseling when he’d talked about divorce. She definitely should have agreed to the separation he’d wanted, instead of telling him she planned to stay at his side and fight for their marriage.

Because she hadn’t done any of those things, Dale had come here exactly one year ago tonight, hung her locket on the railing, jumped off the bridge, and drowned in this lovely, quiet place. Her fingers grazed the smooth surface of the fine silver case, as they had every day since the police had returned it to her.

Valerie often envied her husband now, because his suicide had finished everything: his affair, their marriage, his depression, and all the responsibilities that came with life. He would never again have to worry about her, the house, their finances, his students or the girl with whom he’d had the affair. He would never have to explain himself to Valerie, or anyone else. At the time of his suicide, his parents had each lost their brief battles with cancer. The community college where he had taught English Literature had easily replaced him. Even his young lover had packed up and left town after making that hideous scene at the funeral.

You killed him. He wanted to be with me, you selfish bitch. You’ll pay for this. I swear it.

Closing her eyes didn’t erase the image of Candace Wilcox, Dale’s teaching assistant and lover. Ten years younger than Valerie, the college senior had been friendly, charming, and had even come to their house for dinner several times. She’d actually had liked Candy, and enjoyed the easy way her husband had joked with the girl about their work, his students and the books they had both loved. Valerie had never once suspected they were also sleeping together whenever Dale could sneak away from her.

He never loved you. He loved me. Me.

Thinking about Dale’s funeral still made Valerie’s stomach turn. After screaming the truth about the affair, Candy had thrown a handful of the soil from the grave in Valerie’s face. As the funeral home attendants had hustled the weeping girl out of the cemetery, horrified friends had quickly come to Valerie’s aid, brushing her off and trying to reassure her. All she could remember of the remainder of the service was standing there frozen, tasting dirt in her mouth while everyone had whispered around her.

That must be why he always worked so late, one of Valerie’s co-workers had said later while delivering a sympathy stroganoff. Didn’t you ever suspect he was unfaithful?

Valerie had blamed herself for the better part of a year, but gradually the guilt, grief and shame that Dale’s death had inflicted had eased a little. She’d gone to see a therapist, and then joined an online group for survivors of suicide loss. Gradually she’d cut ties with all of their friends, which had been easy once everyone had started blaming her for her husband’s death. She knew the time had come to leave upstate New York and find another place to start over with her life. The sadness and emptiness she suffered seem to be permanent, however. What Dale had done didn’t change the fact that he had been the love of her life.

Only I wasn’t his.

There had been signs over the last year that Valerie had missed or dismissed. Always patient and understanding, even when they disagreed, Dale began showing flashes of temper over the oddest things. She’d brought up going to Paris for vacation over the summer, something they’d always wanted to do, and he’d told her to stop being idiotic before he’d walked out of the room. One night she’d picked up his phone to answer it while he was in the bathroom and he’d run out with his pants unfastened, yelling for her not to touch it. When she noticed he’d made a large cash withdrawal from their joint checking account and asked him why, he’d blown up at her, claiming she didn’t trust him.