While My Sister Sleeps (31 page)

Erin came close and said in a low voice, “Tell me more about him.”

Chris didn't want to discuss Peter. He didn't want to think about Robin at all. He had hoped the playground would be an hour's respite.

But Erin had asked. And he was being accused of not wanting to talk. So he said, “He was nice enough.”

She took a turn pushing the swing. “Was it weird seeing him with your mother?”

“Only when I thought about it.”

“Did she behave any differently with him?”

“Like slip him a little love note?”

When Erin was quiet, he glanced her way. She seemed reproachful. “That's not what I mean,” she said under her breath. “I'm wondering what she felt seeing him for the first time after all those years.”

“She didn't say. At least not to me. Maybe she told Molly. Dad and I were down the hall.”

“I can't imagine keeping something like that a secret. I can't imagine living with the fear that it would come out.”

“My father knew.”

“But Robin didn't. What do you think she felt getting that phone call?”

“Surprised?”

“
You
were surprised. She must have felt more—like shocked, afraid, even angry. I can't imagine keeping something like that from Chloe.”

“Well. You're not my mother. You haven't walked in her shoes. Circumstances sometimes make us do things we'd rather not have to do.” How true was
that?

“Boy, did it backfire,” Erin said and gave the swing another push. “Think about your
father
seeing him there. I mean, it's one thing meeting someone your wife used to know, but someone she'd had an affair with? That has to be
humiliating.
”

Chris shot her an uneasy look. To hear her talk, she knew about Liz and was goading him to cough it up.

“What?” she asked innocently.

He shook his head and stopped the swing. “Sandbox time,” he told Chloe as he lifted her out.

Erin persisted. “What was that look for?”

Carrying Chloe to the sandbox, he set her down and,
scrounging up a pail, put her little hand around the shovel and helped her scoop in the sand.

“Talk to me, Chris,” Erin said.

“This is a playground. No heavy talk here.”

“I'm not being critical of your mother. I'm just trying to understand. You have to be feeling plenty.”

“You don't know the half,” he muttered.

“So tell me,” she begged.

Tamping down the sand, he leveled it off, then said, “Watch me, Chloe. Watch what Daddy does.” He flipped the pail quickly, and more slowly lifted it, but the sand was too dry to hold. “Uh-oh. We need water.” He glanced at the water bubbler.

“What half don't I know?” Erin asked, but he took the pail and went to the bubbler. Seconds later, he returned and dribbled water on the collapsed pile of sand.

Next thing he knew, Erin had picked herself up and was walking off. He didn't think anything of it until she passed the stroller, went out the playground gate, and started down the street.

Dismayed, he dropped the pail and scooped up Chloe, who instantly started to cry. He tried to soothe her as he strapped her in the stroller. When soft cooing didn't work, he pulled a bottle from the back. Then he pushed the stroller as fast as he could. Erin was well down the street and around the corner before he caught up.

“What's
with
you?” he said when he finally closed the gap.

She turned and glared.

He held up a hand against her anger, but dropped it quickly. She wasn't the one in the wrong. “I have a problem,” he said.

“Tell me something I don't know.”

“I knew Liz Tocci when I was in college.”

Erin recoiled. “What does
that
mean?”

“I knew her.”

She went pale. “As in … had a
relationship
with her?”

“It only lasted a couple of weeks and ended right after I started seeing you, but there was a little overlap.”

“You were sleeping with
both
of us?”

“No. I broke up with her before you and I ever slept together.”

Erin swallowed. “You never told me this.”

“What was there to tell? It was over and done.”

“
Liz Tocci?
She's old enough to be your
mother.
”

“She's only ten years older than I am.”

“And you thought it was
great?
”

He reached for her hand, but she snatched it away. Feeling no small amount of self-disgust, he said, “It was fun. I was flattered. I was a senior, and I was feeling my oats. I'm not proud of it, Erin. That's why I never told you.”

“But you brought her to Snow Hill.”

“No. I didn't. She wanted to get out of the city. She heard through one of our suppliers that we were looking for a design person. She called me. I arranged for her to meet my mother. That's the sum total of my involvement.”

“But you put in a good word for her.”

“I did not. She got the job on her own. Her credentials were good.”

“How could you
have
her here?” Erin cried, sounding dismayed.

Chris had been totally naïve—either that, or disengaged. Either one was pathetic, not something he wanted to discuss with someone he cared so much about; but hadn't his father said sharing feelings was hard?
If someone disagrees, you feel offended, especially if that someone is the person you love. But the solution isn't to clam up.

So he pushed the words out. “Honestly, I thought, ‘This is someone I used to know, an old friend, and if she can do the job, that's fine.’ There was
never
anything between us after we broke up. I just didn't think about her that way.”

“Then what's the problem now?”

Chris leaned forward. Chloe had fallen asleep, the half-finished bottle fallen to her lap. Straightening, he looked at his wife. “The problem is that Molly fired her, and she's out for revenge. She says if she doesn't get her job back, she'll make something of our relationship.”

“What can she make?”

“Trouble between you and me. She'll show you a picture from back then and one from this year's design conference, and she'll hint that we've been together.”

“Pictures from
this
year's conference?”

“Snow Hill had a booth there, and I'm a Snow. There are pictures of me with Tami, Deirdre, and Gary, too. Hell, they're all posted on the board near Mom's office, and the one with Liz is just like the others. I haven't been with her, Erin. You're my wife. I chose you because I love you. I love Chloe. I love my life. Liz Tocci is an angry person. Apparently her life hasn't gone the way she wanted.”

Erin studied him for the longest time. Finally, she moved behind the stroller and began to push. Her pace was measured.

“Well?” he asked, falling into step.

“Well, what?”

“Are you okay?”

“Of course, I'm okay,” she said angrily. “Did you think I'd go berserk, whine, cry, ask for a divorce because you were with someone before me? I'm annoyed because it took you so long to tell me, that's all. Was it
so hard?
”

“Yes. I feel like a heel.”

“You should. You were wrong. But I'm not an unreasonable person, Chris. If you'd told me about her when we were first dating, it would be a nonissue.”

She pushed the stroller faster. He kept pace. She looked angry. That made him nervous.

After a bit, she returned to a saner speed.

He kept glancing at her. “Liz means nothing to me.” When Erin nodded, he said, “Do you believe me?”

“Given the problem you have talking and what you just managed to say, yes, I believe you.” She shot him a sharp look, but slipped her arm though his.

That was reward enough for him to say more. “You were right. Things changed after we got married. But so did the issues.” They walked on. Her silence became a prod. “I'm good at my work, and I thought I communicated like Dad did at home. Looks like I didn't know what he did.” Her arm draped his more comfortably, but still she didn't speak. So he said, “Turns out he does his talking when he and Mom are alone. How was I supposed to know? An accounting degree doesn't include courses on how to talk to your wife. It isn't that I don't want you to know things, Erin. I just don't like to talk.”

“But don't you feel better when you do?”

He did. Stopping the stroller, he pulled her to him and held her tightly.

“Say it,” she said.

But feeling better about Liz only made room for other emotions. “My sister's dying. I don't know what to do.”

Erin rubbed his back.

“She was a good sister,” he went on. “I didn't always like what she did, but she loved us. Remember the toast she gave at our wedding? Remember how she cut short a trip when Chloe was born? Chloe won't ever know her.” His throat tightened
. He didn't say anything for a while, but Erin seemed to understand. She continued to hold him, there in the middle of the sidewalk. It didn't occur to him to move.

“I think they should turn off the machines. But maybe I'm wrong. If Chloe was lying there like that, I'd want to keep her as long as I could.”

“If she wasn't suffering.”

“Robin isn't. She's comfortable. Sounds awful, but we're getting something out of this. If it had ended last Monday, we wouldn't have known about Peter. Molly wouldn't have been so stressed that she fired Liz, Liz wouldn't have threatened me, you and I wouldn't be talking.” Drawing back, he said, “I don't know what to do.”

“You're there. You're at Snow Hill. That's enough.”

He raised his head. “You're at Snow Hill, too. Dad wants to hire you.”

“Do you?”

“If it's what you want.”

“Do you want me there?”

“Do you want to be there?”

“
Chris.
”

“
Yes
, I want you there. It's a family business, and you're family. And you're good.”

“At what?”

“Anything that involves diplomacy. You're tactful.”

Erin made a sputtering sound. “Not always. I was cheering Molly on when she fired Liz. What'll you do about her, Chris?”

“Call her. I discussed it with Dad. We don't want her reinstated. I'll offer her generous severance.”

“Maybe you shouldn't be the one to call?”

Chris sure didn't want to. But he agreed with his father. “I
made the mess; I have to clean it up. This is my decision. She needs to know it.”

HE
waited only until they got home, before locating her number in the company directory and making the call.

“It took you long enough,” Liz said when she heard his voice. “I'm assuming you'll make the wait worth my while. Do you know your sister actually had the lock to my office changed? I was over early this morning and couldn't get in! I'd like that new key.”

Even if Chris hadn't discussed the situation with Molly, Charlie, and now Erin, the arrogance in Liz's voice would have clinched it.

“No key, Liz. No reinstatement.”

“Excuse me?” she asked in the same haughty tone.

“We'll give you four weeks’ pay and two months’ health coverage.”

“You'll
give
me that?” She laughed. “Apparently you didn't get my point. I can ruin you, Chris.”

“I believe you've been neutralized,” Chris took pleasure in saying. “My whole family knows that you and I were together once. So does my wife. And I honestly don't think anyone else cares. Four weeks’ pay, two months’ health coverage.”

There was a pause. “Are you ready to see pictures in the paper?”

He angled the receiver away from his mouth. “Pictures in the paper?” he asked Erin loudly. “From the Concord design conference?” He was starting to enjoy himself. “That's good publicity for Snow Hill, don't you think?” He spoke back into
the phone. “Great idea, Liz. My wife's covering for Dad—did you know she has a background in PR? We'll get the story to the paper Monday morning, along with a couple of other shots. They may not run them. But it's a good idea. Thanks for suggesting this.”

DAVID'S
phone rang. He was dressed to run but was procrastinating. He hadn't exercised since Monday night.

“Hello?”

“Wayne Ackerman, here. Are you around?”

“Uh, sure, Dr. Ackerman. Is Alexis okay?”

“That's what I want to talk about. Be there in ten minutes.” He hung up before David could tell him where he lived—but, of course, his home address was in the staff file.

His apartment was small and messy. Knowing he couldn't do much about either in ten minutes, he went down the stairs and outside. He was in the parking lot when the BMW purred down the street.

Ackerman parked and climbed out. He wore khaki pants and a black shirt. “Thanks. I know it's Saturday.”

David dismissed that with a hand. “How's Alexis?”

“She was depleted, hence the collapse. She's already feeling stronger. There are some issues that we'll be dealing with, but I'm hoping you'll help us out.”

“Anything. Alexis is a terrific girl.”

“We want to minimize stress, and right now she's stressing about what people are saying. The official diagnosis is exhaustion. She's been burning the candle at both ends. She'll be out of school for a week or two to rest and recoup. Think you can keep collecting her assignments and get them to my office at
the end of each day? Better still, can you drop them at the house once she's home? It'll be good for her to have contact with someone from school.”

What he meant, David knew, was that it would be good for the school to know that one of their own was there. It freed anyone else from stopping by and perhaps guessing the truth. With David as the only conduit, what little news hit the outside world could be sanitized.

David wasn't pleased to be used this way. It put him in a terrible position. But what choice did he have?

“I can do that,” he granted politely.

“You'll be our spokesperson. People will know to ask you how she is.”

“Uh-huh.”

“If there are any questions, just give me a call. The goal is to think ahead and make Alexis's return to school as smooth as possible.”

“A good goal,” David said. Stepping back, he watched the superintendent drive off. And he did go running then. He ran hard and fast, pounding the pavement in self-punishment at having been a coward; but by the time he reentered the parking lot, he was enumerating the facts. Alienating Dr. Ackerman would hurt Alexis.
She
knew David knew the truth. When the time was right, she might open up. For now, he would play by the rules.