Magic hour: a novel (36 page)

Julia smiled. “And I’m thankful for little Alice here, who has shown me so much.” She leaned over and kissed the girl’s cheek.

All Max could think about was how warm Julia’s hand felt in his, how steadied he was by her touch.

“Max?” Ellie said finally.

They were all looking at him. Waiting. He looked at Julia. “I’m thankful to be here.”

NINETEEN

W
INTER CAME TO THE RAIN FOREST LIKE A HORDE OF
greedy relatives, taking up every inch of space and blocking out the light. The rains became earnest in this darkening season of the year, changing from a comforting mist to a constant drizzle.

In the midst of all this dark weather, Alice blossomed; there was no other word for it. Like a fragile orchid, she bloomed within the walls of this house where each day felt more like a home. The girl’s quest for language had been both tireless and desperate. Now she strung two words together regularly—and sometimes three. She knew how to get her ideas and wants across to the two women who had become her world.

As remarkable as Alice’s changes were, Julia’s were perhaps even more surprising. She smiled easier and more often, she made outrageously bad jokes at dinner, and danced with them at the drop of a hat. She’d stopped running every single morning and put on a few much-needed pounds. Most important, she had reclaimed her self-confidence. She was so proud of Alice’s accomplishments. The two of them still spent every waking hour together—doing art projects, working with letters and numbers, taking long walks in the woods. They seemed almost to be communicating telepathically, that’s how close they were. Alice still shadowed Julia everywhere; often, she kept a hand in Julia’s pocket or on her belt. But more and more often, Alice would venture a little ways on her own. Sometimes, she went to “Lellie,” too, showing off some trinket she had made or found. Almost every night, Ellie read her a bedtime story while Julia wrote in her notebook. Lately, Alice had begun to curl up against Ellie for story time. On very good nights, she petted Ellie’s leg and said, “More, Lellie. More.”

All of it, Ellie knew, should have made her happy. It was what Mom and Dad had always dreamed of for their daughters’ future, and that this closeness would finally return in the house on River Road—well, it couldn’t get better than that.

It made Ellie happy.

And it didn’t.

The unhappiness was pale and seldom seen, like a spider’s web in the deep woods. You saw it only when you were looking for it or stumbled off the path. The new and tender closeness of their trio sometimes underscored the solitary edge of her life. A woman who’d fallen in love as often as she had didn’t expect to be approaching forty alone. Even though she was happy for Julia, sometimes Ellie watched her sister’s growing bond with Alice, and it made her heart ache. Whether Julia knew it or not—or admitted it or not—she was becoming Alice’s mother. They would leave this house someday, find their own home, and Ellie would be alone, like before. Only it would be different now because she’d been part of a family again. She didn’t want to go back to her previous life, where work and friends and dreams of falling in love made up the bulk of her life. She didn’t know if it would be enough anymore. Now that she’d lived in a house where a child played games and followed you around and kissed you good-night, would she be okay again on her own?

“You don’t look so good,” Cal said from across the room.

“Yeah? Well, you’re ugly.”

Cal laughed. Taking off his headset, he put down his pencil and walked out of their office. A few moments later he returned with two cups of coffee. “Maybe you need some caffeine.” He handed her the cup.

She looked up at him, wondering why she couldn’t find men like him attractive—men who kept their promises and raised their children and stayed in love. Oh, no. She had to fall head over heels for guys with “issues.” Guys who grew their hair too long and had trouble keeping a job and confused “I do” with “I did” pretty damned fast.

“What I need is a new life.”

He pulled a chair from his desk and set it by hers. “We’re getting to that age.”

“You used to tell me I was crazy when I said things like that.”

He leaned back in the chair and put his feet on her desk. She couldn’t help noticing that the white soles of his tennis shoes were covered with purple ink. Someone had written his youngest daughter’s name on the rubber, surrounded by pink hearts and stars.

It made her heart lurch, that little sight. “It looks like someone wanted to decorate Daddy’s shoes.”

“Sarah thought my shoes were dorky. I never should have given her a set of markers.”

“You’re lucky to have those girls, Cal.” She sighed. “I always thought I’d be the one with three daughters. Both times I got married, I went right off the pill and started praying.” She tried to smile. “I guess I have divorce lawyers instead of babies.”

“You’re thirty-nine, Ellie. Not fifty-nine. The game isn’t over.”

“It just feels that way, huh?”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, for God’s sake, Ellie. Don’t you ever get tired of telling the same story?”

She sat upright. He sounded angry with her. It didn’t make sense. She’d always been able to count on Cal. “What do you mean?”

“We’re pushing forty, but you still act like you’re the homecoming queen, waiting to be swept off her feet by the football captain. It’s not like that. Love rips the shit out of you and puts you back together like a broken toy, with all kinds of cracks and jagged edges. It’s not about the falling in love. It’s about the
landing,
the staying where you said you’d be and working to keep the love strong. You never did get that.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Cal. You’ve got a wife and kids who love you. Lisa—”

“Left me.”

“What?”

“In August,” he said quietly. “We tried the old being separated in the same house—for the girls. But they were too smart for that. Amanda, especially. She’s like Julia was at that age. She sees everything and isn’t afraid to ask hard questions. Lisa moved out of our bedroom before Valentine’s Day. Just before school started, she left for good.”

“And the girls?” Ellie could hardly ask the question.

“They’re with me. Lisa works too much. Every now and again she gets lonely and remembers that she’s a mom and she calls or comes by. She’s in love now. We haven’t heard from her in weeks. Except for the divorce papers. She wants me to sell the house and split the proceeds.”

“I can’t believe you’ve never told me this. We work together every day.
Every
day.”

He looked at her oddly. “When was the last time you asked about my life, El?”

She felt stung by that remark. “I always ask how you’re doing.”

“And you give me five seconds to answer before you launch into something more interesting. Usually about your own life.” He sighed, ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not judging you, Ellie. Simply telling the truth.”

The look in Cal’s eyes was one of pity, and perhaps disappointment.

He stood up slowly. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have said all this. You just got me on a bad day. I’m feeling low. I guess I just wanted a friend to tell me it would be okay.” He headed for the door, grabbed his coat off the rack. “See you tomorrow.”

She was still there, standing in the middle of the office, staring at the closed door when it hit her.

Lisa left me.

I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.

She’d made it about her. Cal had shared with her his pain—and it was a lion’s-sized pain she knew all too well—and she’d said nothing to comfort him, nothing to help.

I just wanted a friend to tell me it would be okay.

Which she hadn’t done.

For years people had made little remarks about her being selfish. Ellie had always brushed them off with a pretty smile. It wasn’t true; whoever said it was either jealous of her or wasn’t a friend.

You’re like me, Ellie,
her dad had said to her once,
a center stage actor. If you marry again, you’d best find someone who doesn’t mind letting you have the spotlight all the time.

When he’d said it, Ellie had taken it as a compliment. She loved that her dad thought of her as a star.

Now, she saw the other meaning of his words, and once she opened that door, once she asked herself,
Is it true?
she was barraged with memories, moments, questions.

Two lost marriages. Both had gone south—she’d thought—because her husbands didn’t love her enough.

Was that because she wanted—needed—too much love? Did she return the amount she took? She’d loved her husbands, adored them. But not enough to follow Alvin to Alaska . . . or to put Sammy through truck driver’s school with the money she earned on the police force.

No wonder her marriages had failed. It had always been her way or the highway, and one by one the men she’d married and the others she’d loved had chosen the highway.

All these years, she’d called
them
the losers.

Maybe it had been her all along.

When Mel came in to work the night shift, Ellie nodded at him, made a point of asking about his family, then raced out to her car.

She pulled up to Cal’s house less than thirty minutes after he’d left the station and parked beneath a huge, bare maple tree. A pretty little birdhouse hung from the lowest branch, swinging gently in the autumn breeze. One of the last dying leaves clung to its rough hewn cedar roof.

Ellie went to the front door and knocked.

Cal opened the door. His face, usually so youthful and smiling, looked older, ruined. She wondered how long he’d looked like that, how often she hadn’t noticed.

“I’m a bitch,” she said miserably. “Can you forgive me?”

A tiny smile tugged at one side of his mouth. “A drama queen apology if ever there was one.”

“I’m not a drama queen.”

“No. You’re a bitch.” His smile evened out, almost reached his eyes. “It’s your beauty. Women like you are just used to being the center of attention.”

She moved toward him. “I am a bitch. A sorry one.”

He looked at her. “Thanks.”

“It’ll be okay, Cal,” she said, hoping late really was better than never.

“You think so?”

She felt as if she were drowning in the dark sadness she saw in his eyes. It so unnerved her, she barely knew what to say. “Lisa loves you,” she said at last. “She’ll remember that and come back.”

“I thought that for a long time, El. Peanut kept saying the same thing. But now I’m not so sure it’s what I even want.”

Ellie’s first reaction was
Peanut knew?
but she wouldn’t fall down that trap again. This wasn’t about her bruised ego. She led Cal to the sofa and sat down beside him. “What
do
you want?”

“Not to be so lonely all the time. Don’t get me wrong. I adore my daughters and they’re my life, but late at night, in bed, I want to turn to someone, just hold her and be held. Lisa and I stopped making love years ago. I thought I’d be less lonely when she was gone, or at least that it wouldn’t make a difference, but it does.” He looked at her, and in those eyes she knew so well, she saw a sadness that was new. “How can a wife in a bed down the hall be more comforting that no wife at all?”

Ellie had gone to sleep next to that kind of loneliness for more winters than she wanted to count.

“Does it get easier?”

She sighed. This was where their conversation had begun. “Be thankful for your kids, Cal. At least you’ll always have someone who loves you.”

M
AX FINISHED HIS ROUNDS AT SIX O’CLOCK.
B
Y SIX-THIRTY HE’D COMPLETED
all his chart notations and signed out.

He was inches from the front door when they paged him.

“Dr. Cerrasin to O.R. two stat.”

“Shit.”

He ran to the O.R.

There, he found his patient, Crystal Smithson, in a hospital gown, in bed, screaming at her husband, who stood in the corner like a kid in a time-out, looking terrified. Crystal’s stomach was huge. She pressed down on it, breathing in gasps until the contraction ended.

Trudi was beside her, holding her hand. At Max’s entrance, she smiled.

“Now, Crystal, I thought I told you I didn’t work Friday nights,” he said, putting on his surgical gloves.

Crystal smiled, but it was frail and tired. “Tell
her
that.” She rubbed her bulging abdomen.

“You might as well learn now,” Trudi said, “kids never listen to you.”

Another contraction hit and Crystal screamed.

“Is she going to be okay?” her husband said, taking a step toward them.

Max moved down to the end of the bed. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

“She’s fully dilated,” Trudi said, moving in beside him, putting lubricant on his gloved fingers.

Max’s examination didn’t take long. He’d delivered enough babies to know that this one was going to be quick. He could feel the baby’s head starting to crown.

“You ready to be a mom, Crystal?”