Page 43 of Unspoken Tides

Even as she said it, her heart was flooded with feeling. Not just for Ingrid but for him. Her greatest love. The man she’d pledged her life to. She’d spent so much time demonizing him that she hadn’t remembered how much she still loved him.

“She’s getting ready for bed.”

“That’s ridiculous. It’s not late.”

“She has to get up at four thirty to get to hair and makeup on time.”

Hilary wrung her hands. Why hadn’t she eaten something small? A sandwich? A piece of chicken? A handful of peanuts? Was she really so incapable of taking care of herself?

“I’ve come all this way, Rodrick. I miss her so much. Please.”

Rodrick set his jaw. “I can’t let you in.”

Hilary couldn’t control her voice, and it splintered. “Why not?”

“Because. Legally, this is my house. And I have a contractual obligation to ensure that the actress upstairs is well taken care of.”

“I’m her mother. I’m supposed to take care of her, too.”

“Her agent relies on me. The entire crew relies on me! If Ingrid Salt doesn’t get enough sleep and can’t work, hundreds of people will be out of their jobs. Do you really want that guilt on your shoulders?”

Hilary was stricken. His manipulation tactics had gotten so much better in the year they’d spent apart. She wrapped her hand around her neck as her thoughts raced.

And then, in a moment of insanity, she raised her chin to the glowing window upstairs and cried, “Ingrid! Ingrid, can you come downstairs, please? It’s me! It’s Mom!”

Rodrick hissed, “Keep your voice down! She’s sleeping!”

But Hilary didn’t believe him. How could she? She let out another cry, asking Ingrid to come to the window, at least. “I just want to see your face. I love you, honey. I love you so much.”

Tears drifted down her cheeks as she called for her daughter. Suddenly, Rodrick stepped out on the front stoop and slammed the door behind him. “This is why she doesn’t want anything to do with you. Can’t you see how crazy you look?”

Hilary felt as though she’d been smacked. She gaped at him. She wanted to remind him that he’d spent the better part of a year keeping Ingrid from her, that she would do anything to be with her. That she would fly halfway around the world just to see her perform on opening night. But she knew that anything she said would ricochet. There wasn’t an ounce of compassion in his face.

One final time, Hilary raised her head to call for Ingrid. “Ingrid, baby, please. Come downstairs. I just want to see you.”

But Rodrick took another step forward, which forced Hilary down to the walkway. She felt like a wounded dog. Her chin quivered with sorrow.

“This isn’t the last you’ll hear from me,” Hilary said ominously. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

Rodrick rolled his eyes. “Do whatever you need to do, Hilary. See if I care.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glowered.

Hilary stuttered, alternating between looking upstairs at the window and eyeing her ex-husband. From the back of the house came the sound of a French woman, who said, “Rodrick? Do you need any help?”

And then, impossibly, Rodrick responded to her in French. “Non, ma chérie. J’arrive.” Meaning: No, my darling. I’m coming back.

Hilary stumbled back as the look in Rodrick’s eyes intensified. He’d learned to speak French for someone—a woman he presumably loved enough to twist his tongue to create new tones. He’d made millions of dollars off the back of their daughter’s fame. This was the man Hilary had thought she’d loved. Yet now, he was the monster lurking at the mouth of the cave. An ominous shadow. She had to run.

Chapter Eighteen

July 2005 - Los Angeles, California

Feeling like a zombie, Hilary wandered down Mulholland Drive and got a cab to take her to a hotel in West Hollywood, one with very clean sheets and an extensive minibar. This was essential, as she couldn’t sleep a wink and needed some way to pass the time. She flicked through bad television all night long, bathing in the ghoulish glow of infomercials and sitcoms that had long since been canceled, sipping from whatever she wanted. Bags formed under her eyes, and she got ice from the ice maker upstairs, wrapped them in a washcloth, and put them on her face. It didn’t help.

When she was sure Stella was awake, Hilary called the East Coast. Stella answered on the first ring.

“Hilary.”

Hilary smiled into the phone. “How did you know it was me?”

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