As though I had been on a journey in which we're both interested. Not one that would expose her betrayal. I took several gulps of red wine.

"Why, Karoline? Why would you do this to me? To Giulio?"

She shoveled some of the red meat into her mouth, masticated a bit and then opened in a huge guffaw filled with dead cow.

"Do you really think I did something to you?"

I poured another glass. My hand was trembling now as I lifted the wine to my lips. When I found my voice it was deep and strong from anger and disbelief.

"You lied to me about Giulio. He lived in the States for years. From the beginning he wanted to reconcile with me but you denied us both. You lied to him about me. You wrote letters and signed my name. You told him unspeakable things."

"I see."

She put down her knife and fork and poured herself another glass. A full minute passed before she spoke again. During the silence she kept her eyes on me. I wanted to scratch the smile off her face.

"Are you sure I wrote those letters? They were signed by you."

"You know perfectly well you wrote them. I never saw them. When Paolo sent them back you stuffed your dirty little secret in your closet."

"So you say."

"You also didn't tell me that Vera and Ian Williams are not my real parents."

"Not that I'm confessing to anything, but maybe I was protecting you. I've always taken care of you. Maybe I didn't think it was good for you to find out you're adopted."

"Oh my god, Karoline. My god. Listen to yourself. What is wrong with you?"

I was in danger of losing it. I was going to give into the rage and if I did that I'd have no chance of making any sense. Finding any answers. Knowing any peace.

"Giulio killed himself, Karoline."

I kept repeating her name as though I could break through the layers and find her. As though my friend was hidden under a smiling demon's skin.

"You told him horrible lies. You convinced him the love of his life was unfaithful. You picked on him when he was sick and vulnerable. Karoline, he died because of you."

She stood up and flung her glass of wine at me. Red droplets splashed all over the table.

"He didn't die because of me. He died because of you. He believed that you were evil enough to betray him like that. Because you are."

She was screaming by then. Spittle and bits of food spewed from her mouth along with her vitriol.

I got to my feet and shoved the plates across the table. Steak and potatoes and carrots and salad mashed together in a steaming lump at Karoline's feet. She laughed.

"You are a selfish cold bitch. I spent my whole life looking after you and that weakling. All I ever did was keep things nice."

Karoline pushed herself away from the mess and was instantly at my side. Though she was shorter than I, her eyes seemed to be even with mine. Their glow was terrifying. Waves of rage flew off her and slammed into me. I tried to take a step back but she fastened her hand around my wrist with a painfully strong grip.

"You would have been murdered by now if it weren't for me. Some man would have raped and killed you. Your stupidity is boundless. You think you can use somebody and they won't retaliate. I protected you."

Her voice was a screech. I couldn't move. I was a mouse frozen by a lion's roar.

"And how did you repay me? You fucked everything that moved when I wasn't looking. You brought home women you thought could be our friends. We didn't need anyone else. We were perfect on our own."

Karoline flung my hand away and stomped into the living room. I stood and watched. Some of what she said didn't make it to my brain. I couldn't process her mad diatribe.

"Giulio was worse. He left us for that wreck of a man who couldn't even decide if he liked boys or girls. They pretended they were Ozzie and Harriet in their perfect little house on their perfect little street with their perfect little neighbors. In Cleveland of all places. Armpit of the earth."

She paced up and down. Her arms flailed as though punctuating her sentences with exclamation marks.

"I couldn't make him come back. Even to make everything up with you. I figured if I got him back to L.A. he'd never leave again. But nooo..."

Karoline began to pull at her own hair.

"Then the asshole goes and gets cancer. Still he wouldn't come back to me. I would have taken good care of him. Even you would have taken care of him. I tried to make him leave Paolo but nooo..."

She turned to face me again. I saw the tears streaking down her face. Not tears of sadness but from a wrath so all-consuming that it spilled from every pore.

"He killed himself instead. I guess he had the last laugh, didn't he?"

I began to sob. My grief was a river that almost knocked me over with its strength. I stood in the middle of the furious water unable to move or do anything to stop the flow.

"Karoline. Karoline. You're making no sense. You need help. We can go to the hospital. We can get help."

She whirled around on me. Her face was mottled and swollen. She clenched her fists.

"I am so glad you're not next to me at this minute. I would scratch your eyes out. You are a stupid fucking bitch."

The balcony door reverberated as she shoved it open.

"Leave me alone. We will talk about this later."

Her tone was that of an annoyed parent. I almost heard 'young lady' after her directive. She had stopped crying. The muttering and pacing on the balcony was almost worse.

I cried for a long time. I had no idea what to do. The inertia was heavy. It seemed to take a long time to lift myself from under it.

I cleaned the kitchen. Put the ornaments back on the table the way Karoline liked them. Shoved the broken plates and bowls down the garbage chute in the hall. Took a shower and put on my nightgown.

All the while Karoline talked to herself and paced like the sentries outside a royal palace.

I was calmer now. I thought I had some clarity. Karoline was obviously suffering from a mental breakdown. Some kind of personality disorder had suddenly worsened in the last few years. Unbeknownst to the rest of us she had slowly gone crazy.

But things like this could be fixed. I went out on the balcony and sucked in my breath. Karoline sat on top of the balcony wall. She looked back at me and laughed.

"Talk me down, Annie baby. Go ahead."

"Karoline, you shouldn't fool around like that. You could slip."

I walked forward a few steps. She didn't seem to care.

"You don't think I'm serious? Why not?"

"Come down and we'll talk about everything. We can set this right."

"Listen to you. Little goody two-shoes. Set this right she says! Good lord. Shouldn't you be screaming at me for killing your precious Giulio?"

"I care about you right now. I'm afraid you'll fall."

I kept walking toward her.

She repeated my statements in a singsong voice.

"What a sap. You are stupid, Annie dear. Dumb as a post. You can't even tell when you've been outshone."

"Karoline. You're my best friend. We've meant so much to each other. We love each other. Come down and talk to me."

"Love you? I can't stand you! I have my reasons for putting up with you all these years. But none of them has anything to do with love. I cannot imagine anyone loving you. Not really. We all get attracted to your sunny little disposition and your good looks. But very soon afterward your true nature becomes evident. Stupid, selfish, haughty. Indiscriminate. Sex addicted. Oh, I could go on."

I took a step closer. Now I was fairly close. She twisted herself sideways so she could gaze at me.

In the distance I could hear the traffic. Car horns, a screech of tires, an emergency vehicle. The trees outside our building swayed slightly in the darkness. I couldn't see over the wall but it was unlikely that people were out in the garden at this hour.

"Isn't this fun? Isn't honesty just the best policy? You should be honest now. Tell me how you really feel."

"I don't like who you are right now," I admitted.

"Who I am right now. What psychobabble. I yam who I yam, girlfriend. Always was and always will be. Smarter than you, though that's not saying much. Better at manipulating people than you ever dreamed of. Everybody thinks you're the one who managed people and did that horrible job so well. Little did they know that you were my puppet at home. I pulled your strings, you did my dance."

I didn't mean to argue with her. I couldn't help myself.

"Obviously you didn't play your role of puppeteer too well if both Giulio and I defied you."

"Oh how little you know! I kept you in the dark. I have tied your strings so tightly around your life that you'll never recover. You are both the protected and the one people need protection from."

She bent one leg so she could look me straight in the eyes. She began to laugh again, that high hideous cackle that shook with crazy merriment. She stretched out her arms as though she wanted me to grab them. I took the last few steps until I was right beside her.

"You can't change me, Annie dear. I have completely screwed up your life and mine. Giulio never came back to me but he sure as hell didn't mind killing himself for you. You showed me that you never really loved me either. I failed at keeping you as my little Pinocchio, but I sure as shit messed up your life too."

"Maybe you should just kill yourself then, Karoline. If everything is so fucked up why don't you just do it?"

That was when she went over.

Dear Diary, Have you ever thought about suicide? I'll bet nearly everyone has. Personally, I think it's a vindictive, cruel act. Splatter blood everywhere so the people left behind have to clean it all up and feel bad. When I think about it, it seems to be the purest form of revenge.

Chapter 30.

"I don't think she meant to fall," I stammer through my tears. "I think she was so shocked by what I said. I think she wanted me to tell her it was going to be all right. That we'd work it out. That I'd stay with her forever."

Ethan moves around so he can see my face.

"No wonder you feel so guilty. Oh, Anne, that's horrible. So awful and traumatic. I'm not surprised you had your own breakdown."

My eyes burn and my throat is sore. There is so much anguish and guilt pouring out of me. My tears have turned to acid.

"I've been so afraid that I'm a bad person. I probably burned down Vryheid when I was four. I killed two of my uncles. I murdered my best friend when I shouted at her. Instead of calling emergency services, I was haughty enough to think I could deal with her. Then instead of talking to her nicely, I argued with her. I shouted at her. I dared her to do it. I obviously have this terrible anger. What if that monster is still inside me? What if I can't control her?"

We both sit up facing one another now. I am shaking but not with cold. Ethan puts his hand under my chin and forces me to look into his eyes. Those blue understanding eyes.

"Anne, you are not a bad person. You are loving and sweet and thoughtful and kind. You can't even see yourself. Karoline had you twisted around. She convinced you that you were worthless and heartless. That's what psychopaths do. They abuse and hurt and shame."

He puts his hands on both my shoulders.

"You didn't kill Karoline. She got up on that damn wall and she fell. Maybe you startled her with your honesty. But she was up on a railing seven stories above the ground and that was her fault."

He looks as though he wants to shake me. Ensure his words are driven home.

"And I do not for one minute believe you set that village on fire. You were a little girl. You might have dreamt now and then that you would get rid of the place by burning it down. But you couldn't have done the kind of destruction that resulted in two deaths."

I cannot stop crying, but I do hear him. After a minute or two I collapse against him and we lie back down. He caresses my cheek, wipes away the tears. His lips brush against mine. His hands feather my neck and my breasts.

I lean into him. I stop weeping.

"I love you."

"I love you, too," I answer and this time I don't feel reluctant or doubtful.

Ethan pulls me on top of him. Encircles me with his long sturdy arms. Our lips connect. Our tongues find each other's warmth and silk. I shift a little and open my legs. He enters me and we move in slow tender motions.

And the two shall be as one, I whisper to myself, and this time no one contradicts me.

Dear Diary, I've read psychology books that say people's personalities are pretty much fixed by the time they are four. I think they're wrong. People can change. They can get better or worse. Maybe there are some things that are written in stone, like if you're anti-social or something. But the rest can be influenced by the situation. I can point to a few examples in my life, believe you me!

Epilogue: 2013.

In response to recent revelations, the reporters will be here in the morning. I have to get ready for them. Having spent my whole career in the television and movie business, you would think I'd be a natural. I can handle anyone else's book-to-screen press conference. Handling my own is turning out to be completely different.

Outside, the Pacific goes about her daily chores. Nothing will be different for her tomorrow. As for me, I will present a book to the world that will turn the light of millions of eyes onto our family.

I love this ocean. She is wild, untamable, beautiful and ugly. Every day she reacts to her natural rhythms without censure. Waves might be gentle and easy, immediately followed by aggressive ferocity. The water grabs at the sand, pulls it in to blend with the salt, capriciously throws it back again. I love the sound of its fists against the rocks.