Things You Won't Say (40 page)

“What a game,” Christie said now, watching Henry’s teammates dog-pile on top of him at home plate.

“It was amazing,” Jamie said. Christie was surprised to hear a catch in Jamie’s voice. But then, Jamie understood how badly Henry had needed this moment.

Christie reached for her purse and started to follow Lou and the kids as they exited the bleachers, but Jamie put a hand on her arm, drawing her back.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you,” Jamie said, her voice low. “How did you know all along there really was a gun?”

Christie looked at her, surprised. “Because it was Mike,” she said without even having to think about her answer. “He never would’ve made that kind of mistake.”

“Oh,” Jamie said. She nodded slowly. “You’re right . . . Well, thank you for helping him. Mike told me about Elroy.”

“Hey, it was nothing,” Christie said quickly. Jamie’s face was a little scrunched, which was a tad alarming, given what had happened the last time Christie had seen her.

“Come on,” Christie said, heading toward the dugout. “Let’s go see Henry.”

They had to wait a few minutes, but finally Henry pulled away from his team and ran over to them.

“Did you see it?” he asked.

“Are you kidding?” Christie said, throwing her arms around her sweaty boy. “You were awesome!”

“I caught it all,” Lou said, holding up a video camera. “I’ll make you a copy so you can watch the highlights.”

Henry grinned. “Thanks,” he said.

“Congrats, sweetheart,” Jamie said. She gave Henry a quick hug, then released him as Mike walked over to them.

“So what’s the plan, champ?” Mike asked, slinging an arm around Henry’s shoulders.

“The guys are going out for pizza,” he said. “Can we go?”

“You bet,” Mike said.

“I’ll get my stuff,” Henry said and ran off toward the dugout again.

There was a pause, then Mike said to Jamie, “Are you guys coming tonight?”

“No, I think Eloise is too tired,” Jamie said. “But thank you.”

“I can take the kids swimming tomorrow,” Mike said. “Should I pick them up around eleven?”

“Sure,” Jamie said.

Whoa,
Christie thought, watching as Mike gave the younger kids hugs and swung Sam around a few times before ruffling his hair. She shot Lou a questioning look, but Jamie’s sister was fixated on some sort of bug that had flown onto her arm, pointing it out to Emily, who was making a disgusted face, as they walked toward the parking lot with Jamie and the other kids.

“Man, do I need a Gatorade,” Mike said, pulling off his baseball cap and running a hand through his hair.

“It sounded like you and Jamie aren’t even living together,” Christie blurted.

“Yeah,” Mike said. “I guess it did.”

“Oh, don’t give me one of your cryptic cop nonanswers,” Christie said. “What’s going on?”

Mike glanced around—probably hoping Henry would save him—but Henry was posing for a team picture.

“Are you separated?” Christie pressed.

“More like a break,” Mike said.

“Does Henry know?” she asked.

“Sort of,” Mike said. “I stay at the house when he’s there. I told him we’re working things out.”

“Are you?” Christie asked.

Mike looked at her for a moment. “I don’t know,” he said.

“Oh,” she said. She looked down at the ground.

“Anyway, can I catch a ride to the pizza place with you?” Mike asked. “I don’t have my cruiser, since I’m not officially back at work yet.”

“What have you been doing for a car?” Christie asked.

“My friend Shawn loaned me his,” Mike said. “But he needed it today.”

“Sure, I’ll drive you,” Christie said. She walked a few steps away to lean against the chain-link fence surrounding the field, needing a moment to think. This was what she’d wanted only a month or so ago—not for Jamie and Mike to separate, exactly, but for her to have another chance with Mike. But the two events were entwined. One was impossible without the other.

Henry was still posing for photos, near one end of the line of players, his red socks pulled up to the knees of his gray uniform, the number 8 boldly stamped on the back of his shirt. As a little boy, Henry had dressed up as a baseball player one Halloween, back when he’d first become interested in the game. Jamie had even bought him a tiny Rawlings glove, which had instantly become Henry’s favorite possession. Christie had gone trick-or-treating with them for an hour or so, then she’d peeled away, because she had a sexy cat costume and a party of her own to go to. She’d walked back to her car parked next to the white picket fence Mike had built, passing a wooden swing hanging over a branch of the maple tree in a corner of the yard.

The brown lines of the baseball field bisecting the grass reminded Christie of something. Henry had adored that swing. And Jamie had spent so much time pushing him on it that a patch of grass had been worn away by her footsteps, leaving a streak of brown earth cutting through the green.

Christie glanced at Mike again. He was staring off toward the place where Jamie and the kids had been.

Oh, who was she kidding? Mike had never truly wanted her, not when they’d first been dating and not now. He’d only been grateful for her help. She’d tried to imagine Mike kissing her that night in her apartment, when they’d been interrupted by Henry. But he’d leaned away ever so slightly at the precise moment she leaned in. She’d tried to block out that part of the memory, but there was no unseeing his quick, reflexive action.

She thought of the money Jamie had spent to send Henry to camp, while the broken strap on her sandal flapped with every step. That bit of earth woven through the rich green grass under the swing. The catch in Jamie’s voice when Henry had scored the winning run.

She walked back over to Mike. “You’re a big old idiot,” she said.

“Say what you really think,” he countered, but he was smiling. “Don’t hold back. You need to get over your shyness.”

“You and Jamie were meant for each other,” she said. “Don’t you dare get divorced.”

“Look, it isn’t—”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s none of my business,” she finished for him. “Who cares? I’m your friend and I’m telling you to go home to your wife, who loves you.”

Mike was looking at her strangely. “Since when are you such a fan of Jamie’s?” he asked.

“So she didn’t believe you about the gun,” Christie said. “People make mistakes. Don’t tell me you’ve never made one in your life.”

“It isn’t that easy— How are we talking about this?” Mike asked.

“She’s sorry, Mike. Really sorry,” Christie said. “I can tell. And she loves you. She loves Henry. Jamie loves your family more than anything in the world. That’s got to count for something.”

She let it go then and walked back to the fence, suddenly
remembering something she’d meant to do at the game. She picked up her phone and began to type in a text message.

“Who are you calling?” Mike asked.

“Not Jamie, so calm down,” she said. “I’m texting Lou. I forgot I’m staging an intervention with her tomorrow.”

“An intervention?” Mike furrowed his brow.

“Have you seen her haircut?” Christie asked.

Before Mike could answer, Henry came back to them.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Let’s hit it,” Christie said, putting away her phone.

The three of them left the field, with Henry walking between her and Mike, which, Christie thought, was exactly as it should be.

Chapter Twenty

Two months later

JAMIE WAS STARING AT
the dry-erase board they’d attached to the kitchen wall to use as a family calendar when Lou walked into the room, yawning hugely.

“Sleep okay?” Jamie asked.

“Like a sloth on a fat branch,” Lou said. She grabbed a Honeycrisp apple from the fruit bowl on the counter and crunched into it. “You?”

“Fine,” Jamie lied. She walked over to the coffeemaker and poured herself another cup. She would’ve offered one to Lou, but Lou had sworn off coffee after quitting her barista job, saying it made her feel like she was at work. Jamie added a spoonful of sugar and a dash of cream to her mug—her appetite had resurfaced recently, beckoning back six of the nine pounds she’d lost—then she began taking out the ingredients for waffles. The kids would be hungry when they woke up. They’d all shot up like crocuses over the summer, and Sam had become a really good swimmer, while Emily had lost two more of her baby teeth. Eloise had begun preschool the pre
vious month, and Jamie had worried the transition might be difficult, but Eloise had marched right in on the first day, her new Dora the Explorer backpack firmly in place.

None of the kids seemed to bear scars from that horrible stretch of time in early summer and all that had followed. Jamie only wished she shared her children’s resilience.

“I’m heading out,” Lou called softly. Jamie walked to the front door to see her sister off.

“Dinner at six, right?” Jamie said.

“Yup,” Lou said.

“I can’t wait to meet him,” Jamie said. “He sounds really great.”

Was Lou blushing?

Jamie leaned against the doorframe, watching Lou head toward the secondhand Honda Accord she’d leased. A cool breeze nipped at Jamie’s bare arms and she shivered. Soon the rising sun would burn off the chill, but right now, the promise of fall had encroached upon the day.

As Lou climbed into her car, Jamie reflected that she still wouldn’t recognize her sister from behind. Christie and Lou had formed a completely unexpected friendship—Jamie still had no idea how it had happened—and Christie had whisked Lou away to the salon where she used to work. Jamie, feeling protective of her younger sister, had almost intervened in Christie’s intervention, but Lou had just laughed and said she didn’t mind. Lou had returned home three hours later, looking dazed, her hair shaped into a layered bob with highlights framing her face.

“It’s crucial that you keep up the highlights,” Christie had instructed Lou. “Go back every four weeks.”

Lou had just nodded, her eyes wide and round—Jamie noticed her eyebrows had been waxed and wondered if other, more delicate parts of her had been, too—and Lou hadn’t ventured anywhere near the salon again.

Christie had given a deep sigh when she’d seen the high
lights growing out. “I did my best,” she’d said, then she’d asked Lou if she could set her up on a blind date. That, at least, had gone well, and Lou was bringing Elroy by for dinner tonight, so he could meet the family.

Jamie had sent Christie an email, asking if she’d come, too.
Sure,
Christie had written back.
I’ll bring the wine.

A friendly toot sounded from a car horn, and Jamie waved at the neighbor driving past. It was the elderly woman down the street who’d ignored them after Mike had been indicted. A week ago, the neighbor had shown up with a casserole, lingering on their doorstep and chatting away as if she’d been in their corner all along.

Mike had brought the kids to visit his parents right after the charges were dropped, partly to escape the reporters who’d returned to camp out in front of the house. He hadn’t asked Jamie to come with them. Knowing her husband needed to escape from her, too, was one of the most painful things she’d endured, along with her father telling her that her mother had died.

Jamie had planned to immerse herself in activity while the kids were gone, to try to distract herself by getting caught up for once—the refrigerator was desperate for a good scrubbing, the kids’ toys begged to be organized, and the attic needed to be cleared out before the floor collapsed under it—but she’d ended up staying in bed, not even bothering to shower or change out of her nightshirt. The quiet and solitude she’d used to fantasize about felt like a form of torture, and the sleep she’d long craved eluded her. The kids phoned every evening, their bright voices bubbling over as they talked about body surfing, picnics on the beach, and a trip with Grandma to a candy store to load up on saltwater taffy. Jamie made sure her voice was equally cheerful, even though she felt as if something heavy was crushing her. Mike came on the line only to say a quick hello, which was almost worse than him not talking to her at all.

On the fourth morning after they’d left, Lou stood at the foot of her bed like an apparition.

“Come on,” her sister had said, yanking back the covers. “Get up.”

“Why?” Jamie had muttered.

“Because you need to,” Lou had said, opening the blinds and flooding the room with sunlight. Lou’s voice was so determined it seemed as if it would take more energy for Jamie to fight her than to succumb, so she’d crawled out of bed and headed for the hot shower Lou had already turned on. It was odd to think their roles had somehow been reversed while she’d been resting.

Lou had driven her to the zoo and directed Jamie to muck out the elephant enclosures and weigh food. At first Jamie had moved slowly, her limbs aching and her eyes gritty, wanting nothing more than to be in the dark nest of her bed. But gradually she’d become aware of her sister. Jamie had brought the kids to visit Lou at the zoo dozens of times, but she’d never spent the whole day here, watching Lou give directions to volunteers and work with the animals. This was her sister’s habitat, Jamie realized with a sense of wonder. She watched how the elephants responded to her sister, and listened as Lou talked to baby Masego in a gentle voice, her movements swift and assured as she examined him, and Jamie was filled with pride.

“How did you know this was exactly what I needed?” she asked Lou as they drove home that night, her muscles pleasantly sore.

“I guess,” Lou said slowly, “because it always helps me.”

Mike had returned to work, too, and he’d been paid for the weeks of salary he’d lost. Gradually, the story had emerged: Jose was supposed to stay home that afternoon and watch his younger brother, but instead he’d turned on the television and slipped out to meet up with a new group of friends—several of whom were gang members. Alejandro had secretly followed
his brother, and when the brawl broke out, he’d become frightened and crawled under a parked car. He’d seen the blood blooming on his brother’s chest, and had watched Jose collapse.