Together Alone (13 page)

She had no sooner entered the kitchen, though, when she spotted Myra coming around the garage from the direction of the apartment. Curious, even a bit concerned, she went outside.

Myra instantly veered her way. “I’ve just had the nicest visit with Detective Stasek and his daughter. What a lovely man he is. I’m afraid I caught him before he’d had a chance to shave, though. I hope I didn’t embarrass him. Did you know that he grew up in Chicago? Imagine, Grannick having someone so worldly on our own police force. I brought daylilies from the garden, and when Detective Stasek didn’t have a vase, I went and got one of mine.”

“That was sweet, Myra.”

“It’s the least I can do. I still can’t believe that he’s living right here on our street. The police department has been needing someone new. Chief Davies has been here too long.”

Emily defended John. “He does a wonderful job.”

“He’s too old. He doesn’t see things. No, we need a fresh eye. Detective Stasek will be good for us.” She frowned. “Funny, you’d have thought his wife would have had a vase or two. Most women do.”

“I’m sure she had some, but he left most of their things behind.”

Myra nodded. “Because of the memories. I can understand that. But it’s good to preserve them, sometimes. That’s why I tend the ground around my willow. Willows can be messy things, growing so large, what with all that pond water to drink and that moist earth to spread their roots in. Did you know that the upper portion of my willow nearly exactly duplicates what’s underground? Nearly, mind you. Not exactly.”

Emily let her ramble. Myra was a bit weird when it came to her willow, but she was a kind woman. It couldn’t have been easy for her, living with Frank, who had been mean to the core. Emily had heard him roar many a night.

She had never suffered anything like that with Doug. He rarely raised his voice, certainly never raised a hand. She was lucky, in that sense.

Maybe she was being too sensitive. Maybe it was the Jill-leaving blues, after all. Maybe she was being selfish, expecting him to be around all the time. Maybe she expected too much, period.

“You know,” Myra was saying, “I remember what you said about the detective not wearing a uniform, being a detective and all, and since that’s the case, I’m going to have him over for tea with Frank. Do you think he would clean himself up if I invited him? Frank doesn’t like beards. He says he wants to see a man’s face when he’s talking to him. He wants to know what he’s up against. When he doesn’t know, he gets angry.”

Emily put a hand on her arm. “Myra, Frank is dead.”

“Yes, but I think we should be cautious, anyway. Frank’s anger is a frightening thing.” She set off for her house.

Emily was watching her cross the cul-de-sac when Brian came quietly around the side of the garage. Indeed, he was unshaven and disheveled, nearly as much as the first time she’d seen him, but he didn’t look at all desperate now—or disreputable, despite Myra’s worry. Emily actually thought he looked wonderfully male, with bedroom eyes and a warm, welcome grin.

“Myra brought flowers,” he said, letting the grin grow crooked and fun.

Suddenly, Emily wasn’t brooding about Doug or longing for Jill. She felt oddly anesthetized. “So she told me. I hope she wasn’t a bother.”

“Nah. She’s sweet, if eccentric. She wanted to tell me that the LeJeunes have rats. She’s worried they’ll spread to her place, or worse, the pond. She asked me how she would know if they did, and if maybe I would come over and take a look. She worries about her willow.”

Emily fought a smile. “Her tree is perfectly safe. The pond doesn’t have rats, and neither do the LeJeunes. What they have is an exterminator who does his preventative thing every three months. His truck is shaped like a rat. Myra jumps to conclusions.”

She let the smile come then, because Brian was smiling, and it was impossible not to catch his good mood.

He stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I came looking for you earlier. Julia and I were going for a walk in the woods. I was going to make you come so we wouldn’t get lost.”

“Obviously, you didn’t. Get lost, that is.” Though she would have loved to have gone. “Is Julia sleeping?”

“Soundly. The exercise wore her out.”

“Sweet.”

“She is.”

Emily liked feeling happy. “Want a beer?”

“Sure.”

She gestured him into the house, pulled two bottles from Doug’s stock in the fridge, and handed him one. “This is my husband’s last vestige of an earlier life. When we were young and poor, we preferred beer to cheap wine. Doug is into better wine now, but when he’s watching a football game, he still wants a beer.”

“When’s he due back?”

“Friday.”

“For the weekend?”

“Longer, I hope,” she said in a nonchalant way that made her almost believe it. And why not? She had been making believe for years. “Let’s go outside. We can sit in back and hear Julia if she cries.” She grabbed the phone on the way out and led him to a shady spot beneath a gnarled oak. It was wide enough for both of their backs, with space to spare.

“This is nice,” he said, settling against the bark. “Different from where I was. We had Central Park, but it wasn’t like this.”

“Did you take Julia for walks there?”

“Sometimes. Gayle did it more than me. The nanny did it more than Gayle.” He snorted. “Was I ever a lousy father.”

“Your work kept you busy,” Emily offered.

“Yeah, well, that sounds good, and it was the truth, but it didn’t have to be. I pulled my share of overtime. I didn’t need to do that.”

“You were conscientious.”

“About work, sure. But what about Julia? My priorities were screwed up.”

Emily shrugged. “Tradition says that since you’re the man, you’re the breadwinner, rather than the child-rearer.”

“So, look at me now.”

She was doing just that. “You look pretty together to me.”

“Right now, sure. I’m sitting here with the baby asleep and a beer in my hand and a beautiful woman beside me, but pretty soon the baby’ll wake up and I’ll have to find something for her to do.”

“Why? She has toys to play with,” Emily said, though she might have dwelt longer on the beautiful woman part. She was
starved
for comments like that.

“Toys aren’t enough. You have to
do
things with kids.”

“Uh-huh. Show them how to play with those toys. Read to them. Take them to the park. Mostly
be
with them. You could do whatever you’d normally do on a Sunday, and take Julia right along.”

“She wouldn’t appreciate the Mets.”

“Well. Maybe not. But you could take her along for most else.”

He was looking like he wanted to believe her. “What about kids’ things. Like ballet.”

Emily tried not to smile, he was so serious. “She has a while to go yet.”

“But what’ll I do when the time comes? I don’t know anything about ballet. I wouldn’t know the first thing about putting her in a tutu. I wouldn’t know the first thing about buying one.”

“There’s a ballet store in town. They’ll answer your questions.”

He was frowning at the grass, then at her. “I don’t know the first thing about buying her clothes, period. Okay, she’s set for now, but pretty soon she’ll be outgrowing the things she has. I haven’t ever bought her clothes before.”

“It’s easy.”

“Fine for you to say. You’re a woman. You’ve been through it all. But it won’t be easy for me. I have enough trouble buying my own clothes.”

“Brian,” she insisted, “It’s
easy
. You’ll drive to the nearest department store, go to the children’s section, and tell the salesperson what Julia needs.”

He was skeptical. “How will I know what she needs?”

“You’ll know. When winter sets in, you’ll know that she needs something warm, so you’ll look at the snow-suits, and the one-piece suits are going to look much easier to put on.”

“What if Julia doesn’t like it?”

“Tough,” Emily said gently. “She’ll wear it anyway. By the time she’s older, the two of you will walk into the store, and she’ll tell you which one she likes. Before you know it, she’ll be shopping for herself.”

“What about her hair?”

“Most snowsuits have hoods.”

“I mean, what about haircuts and braids and bows and other things little girls like?”

“I’ve seen your bows. They’re good.”

He made a doubtful sound and looked off.

She touched his arm. “You’ll do fine. Look how far you’ve come. Look at all you’re doing for Julia that you weren’t doing a few months ago.”

“Necessity is the father of invention.”

“Isn’t most of life that way? When it gets so that you can’t do anything with Julia’s hair, you’ll go to a hair shop and have it cut. When you start having to cram her feet into her shoes, you’ll go to a shoe store and get her new ones. When her teeth start rotting and falling out—” He shot her a horrified look. She squeezed his arm. “Just kidding.”

“When do I have to start with the dentist?” he asked weakly.

“When she’s three.”

“What about toilet training?”

Emily sat back. “That depends. Jill was ready when she was eighteen months. Daniel couldn’t have been bothered even at two.” Thought of Daniel brought an old, familiar ache. More quietly, she added, “Maybe he was punishing me ahead of time for leaving him alone in that car.”

Brian faced her. “Did you know that, statistically speaking, there are more abductions in small towns than large ones? People in small towns live and breathe trust. It may not be wise, but what’s the alternative? We can’t live like we’re under siege. Hell, that’s why I left New York and came here. You weren’t remiss, Emily. My guess is you were a better mother than most.” He sighed. “No parent is perfect. You sure have answers to things that drive
me
to a cold sweat in the middle of the night, and I’ve seen you with Julia. You’re a natural.”

He seemed genuine—not at all patronizing, like Doug had always been. She had never completely believed Doug’s denials. Brian, she did believe. She figured it had to do with his being a cop. And an impartial observer. And having eyes with an eerie power.

They were truly stunning eyes—shiny in the way of steel, without the hardness—and, yes, otherworldly. If he said she hadn’t done wrong, she hadn’t.

“Maybe I should open a day-care center,” she said only half in jest. She knew Doug wouldn’t hear of it, much less guarantee a loan. “I was counting on the apartment taking several months of my time. But it’s done now, and the work I want to do in the house won’t take long. So, who will I be then?”

“You’re a writer.”

“That book was a once in a lifetime thing.”

“Did you enjoy doing it?”

“Yes. It was therapeutic. Writing’s always been that for me.” She studied the grass. “I kept notes after Daniel was taken. They kept me sane.” She tugged at the sleek green blades. “Maybe I’ll do more writing for the
Sun
. Or for friends at the college.” Doug didn’t have to know about either. “Of course, Jill will be home in three and a half weeks, then for Thanksgiving, then again in December, and it’ll be for a whole
month
then. And long before that I’ll have Doug.”

“Next weekend.”

“Uh-huh. That’s right.”

Doug had little to say. He arrived Friday evening, professing to have eaten on the plane, and after briefly allowing for Emily’s questions about London, left to work out at the health club in town. When he returned, he sank down in front of the television, where he stayed until after she had fallen asleep waiting for him. When she awoke in the morning, he was the one who was asleep.

She studied his face, looking for softness, familiarity, hope, but felt distanced. She didn’t know why. In sleep, certainly, his features were no different from before.

She tried to put herself back several years, lying like this, looking at him when things had been better between them, but the only such memories she had went back to the time when they were newly married. And, perhaps, when Daniel was a baby. She remembered the three of them lying in bed, remembered looking from Daniel to Doug and back, marveling at how lucky she was.

She couldn’t remember lying in bed with Doug and Jill. But Jill had come after Daniel. Emily had done far less lying around feeling lucky and far more running around—trying to please Doug, wanting to mother Jill, needing to compensate for her one tragic lapse, which they never, ever discussed. She had learned to follow Doug’s example and keep her thoughts to herself, about Daniel and, increasingly, about the rest of Doug’s life.

She assumed that was the distance she felt now. She wished she were imagining it, but as the weekend passed, it became more and more clear. She and Doug rarely discussed anything. Nor did she confront him on it. He was home for such a short time that she didn’t want any unpleasantness. So she watched him push aside his orange juice, saying that he preferred pineapple juice, and she nodded sweetly when he asked if his shirts would be ironed on time, and when she suggested going out to dinner on Saturday night and he opted for a movie instead, she didn’t argue.

Something inside her snapped, though, when she saw him with Brian. She had been wanting them to meet. But the juxtaposition was too much, the differences between them too stark. There was Brian—wearing jeans, a sweatshirt, and no shoes, carrying Julia, who was dressed the same—talking with Doug, who wore pleated pants, a pressed shirt, and polished loafers. Brian smiled more, skillfully directing the conversation from the apartment, which he took Doug to see, to the fiscal management of Grannick, to the horsepower of Doug’s precious car.

Beside Brian, Doug looked one dimensional and stodgy. Brian looked warmer and kinder and far more attractive to her. And that infuriated Emily. She was angry at Doug for being so strange and superior and aloof, and angry at herself for making the comparison to Brian. Excusing herself, she fled into the house.

Minutes later, Doug joined her and said with enthusiasm, “He’s a nice guy. I’m glad you have someone like him here with you, while I’m away. I worry about your being alone.”

She gave him a sharp look. “I’ve been here alone for years, and you’ve never worried.”