Two Truths and a Lie: A Novel (P.S.)

373 Pages·2008·0.86 MB·English

by  Katrina Kittle

Two
Truths
and a
Lie
KATRINA KITTLE
For Montgomery and Degas—
I couldn’t have asked for more faithful friends or better teachers—
and for Judy Keefner,
who helped introduce me to them both.
Contents
Chapter One
Dair was a habitual liar. Not pathological or anything, just… 1
Chapter Two
We have to tell Marielle,” Dair whispered. Peyton nodded,
but… 19
Chapter Three
Peyton felt it the second Dair slipped away from him… 39
Chapter Four
Dair and Marielle walked the dogs home. Dair regretted
skipping… 49
Chapter Five
Dair drove away from Gayle’s fearing for her own mental… 64
Chapter Six
Peyton stood at the grill and searched for something to… 81
Chapter Seven
Dair stuck close to Peyton as Marielle led them downstairs,… 98
Chapter Eight
The dogs followed Dair, her mother, and Matt outside and… 111
Chapter Nine
Marielle and Matt were tucked into Dair and Peyton’s guest… 121
Chapter Ten
Knocking hammered in the back of Peyton’s head. Someone
pounded… 133
Chapter Eleven
Dair walked down Vine Street, calves burning, out of
breath,… 149
Chapter Twelve
As soon as her zoo shift ended, Dair wanted nothing… 159
Chapter Thirteen
What Is Found, What Is Lost, What Is Remembered was… 179
Chapter Fourteen
Both dogs barked and wriggled as Dair entered through the… 186
Chapter Fifteen
Dair heard knocking. Was it that damn chickadee again?
Her… 200
Chapter Sixteen
Peyton almost whimpered along with Shodan as they watched
Dair… 219
Chapter Seventeen
Sitting next to Peyton at the funeral home, sensing his… 233
Chapter Eighteen
Dair sat on Gayle’s back patio in a wicker chair,… 245
Chapter Nineteen
The tension of the long drive, her jangled nerves, her… 256
Chapter Twenty
Peyton sat on Malcolm’s Salvation Army couch watching an
overcast,… 265
Chapter Twenty-One
Dair sat miserably in the circle and wondered what she… 273
Chapter Twenty-Two
The chickadee. The chickadee in her dreams. The chickadee
that… 283
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dair squealed onto her street, sending a little flock of… 301
Chapter Twenty-Four
Peyton pulled onto his street, surprised that Dair’s car was… 306
Chapter Twenty-Five 317
Dair should have known this was where Matt would run,…
Chapter Twenty-Six
Cold seeped through Dair’s jeans and sweater. 328
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Peyton ran down the street toward the zoo, the police… 331
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Dair vaguely remembered parts of the hospital. She couldn’t
keep… 335
Chapter Twenty-Nine
When Dair woke up Monday morning, Peyton was gone. 341
Chapter Thirty
Later that day Peyton and her parents took Dair home. 350
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other Books by Katrina Kittle
Credits
Cover
Copyright
About the Publisher

Chapter One
Dair was a habitual liar. Not pathological or anything,
just…recreational. As she drove through Cincinnati on
her way to Interstate 75, she mulled over the lie she’d tell her husband
when she reached the airport. So often the truth needed a little spicing
up.
What lie would she tell Peyton today? Traffic crawled on Clifton
Avenue, and she cursed, realizing she’d forgotten about the University
of Cincinnati’s football game. She glanced at her watch; she’d be cutting
it close. What could she tell Peyton had made her late?
Dair knew the secret to a good lie was to include as much of the truth
as possible. This meant, however, that she had to be sure to remember
which part was the truth and which part the lie. Forgetting or,
worse—believing her own lies—was a dangerous line she feared to
cross.
Sometimes, though, she lied because the truth was already so amazing
that no one believed it. Sometimes the truth needed to be tampered
with just so people didn’t assume it was a lie.
She checked on the dogs in the rearview mirror. They rode conten-
tedly along in the backseat. The car windows were up, the air-condition-
ing on, the day unseasonably hot for this late, drought-dry October.
Blizzard, their imposing Great Pyrenees, licked Dair’s sleeveless
shoulder, leaving a string of drool. “Our guy is coming home,” she said,
reaching back to pet his long white hair. “We gotta share the bed again.”
Shodan, their black Doberman, looked out the window and yawned
2 / Katrina Kittle
at the Victorian homes passing by, the avenue lined with stately trees
and old gas streetlights.
What were the true things she’d actually done today that she could
shape into a more interesting story? This morning she’d taught her
acting class at the Playhouse in the Park. Then she’d been to the liquor
store, but she didn’t exactly want to tell Peyton that, because he might
ask why she hadn’t just bought the celebratory champagne at the grocery
store. He wouldn’t be suspicious, he’d just be curious, and it would
make her feel too small to explain to him that she’d also had to buy a
bottle of wine to replace the bottle of wine she’d already replaced five
times since he’d been on tour. Dair worried that the same pink-faced
high school boy would be her cashier at the grocery, a boy who’d taken
one of her acting classes, who might someday make an innocent refer-
ence about her wine purchases in front of Peyton.
Dair drove under 1-75 and inched toward the entrance ramp to the
notoriously gridlocked highway. Some damn event always snarled up
the traffic: a Reds or Bengals game at Riverfront Stadium or some concert
at Riverbend…. Dair wanted to kick herself for not opting to go through
downtown. In the car ahead of her, some college-age kids passed a beer
around. She thought longingly of that replacement bottle of wine.
The bottle was from their party stash—the gifts people brought to
gatherings at their house that never got opened before everyone went
home. Dair and Peyton kept them in a cupboard with the bread machine
they rarely used, and it gave Dair great pleasure every time she drew
attention to them, as they left for this cast party or that season opener,
announcing, “Hey, there’s still wine left from the New Year’s party.
Let’s take a bottle with us.” She felt such satisfaction handing Peyton
a bottle identical to the bottle that Craig, perhaps, or Marielle had
brought to their house. Peyton didn’t guess that it was the sixth such
bottle that had been there, the original and all its substitutes wrapped
in newspaper and tucked into someone else’s recycling bin down the
street.
So…she could tell Peyton she’d been to the grocery store and develop
her story from there. What could’ve happened? An armed robbery?
No, too much follow-up. Maybe someone had an epileptic seizure?
Hmm…that had promise, but why would she have to stay