Promises to Keep (40 page)

“I’ll go down and make it,” Steffi says, watching as Reece pours a fresh glass of water from the jug on her bedside table and moves the straw to Callie’s mouth.

“We just have to show you something bizarre.”

Callie looks up at Steffi. Reece gently lets her head nestle softly on the pillow, then digs out his BlackBerry and holds up the picture.

“What is that?” Callie is struggling to focus, and Steffi wonders if her eyesight has been affected by the radiation.

“Look closely.” Steffi grins. “It’s Mom and Dad!”

“When did you take that?”

“About five minutes ago,” Reece says.

“That’s awesome,” Callie says. “I knew it.”

“You did?”

“I just hoped. Hey,” she asks, looking up at Steffi, “how’s the guy?”

“Which guy?”

“Because there’s more than one, right, Steff ?” teases Reece.

“Oh shut up, Reece. If you mean Stan, it’s a nonstarter. You were right. He’s not for me.”

“Why don’t you tell Callie about who
is
for you?” Reece smiles.

“Mason isn’t for me, okay?”

“So how come he’s downstairs making salad at the kitchen counter?” Reece shoots back.

“He’s downstairs?” A hint of Callie’s fire. “Bring him up!”

 

Steffi whisks the milk into the chocolate-pudding mix, spooning it carefully into a small glass ramekin. She adds a bowl of tortilla chips, the ever-present guacamole, a bowl of salsa, and some cookies she made earlier, for she knows how much Callie hates being the only one eating in front of an audience of people, all of them watching her.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” she says to Mason.

“Of course! I can’t wait to meet her.”

“It’s . . . shocking to see her now, though. She doesn’t look like that.” She gestures to the photos on the wall, to the glowing, gorgeous, always-smiling Callie and the kids, the photos that Mason admired, that everyone admires every time they walk into the kitchen.

“It’s fine.” He rests a hand on her arm and looks her in the eye. “My mom died of cancer, remember? I know what this is.”

“Okay.” She takes a breath. “Let’s go on up.”

Mason insists on carrying the tray, but Steffi takes it from him when they walk into the bedroom, placing it carefully on the bed.

“You must be Callie.” Mason walks straight over to Callie, and takes her hand. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Sit,” Callie whispers, gesturing to the bed, and Mason sits, still holding her hand.

“Call? I made the pudding. Can I give it to you?” Steffi picks up the bowl, for Callie has to be fed now, her big eyes staring into the eyes of whoever carefully spoons the food into her mouth.

Callie blinks her acquiescence and, like a baby bird, opens her mouth on command as the spoon draws close to her lips.

“I don’t normally look like this,” she says to Mason, in between mouthfuls.

“I realize that.” Mason smiles. “I was admiring the photographs in the kitchen. They’re beautiful.”

“Thanks.”

“You couldn’t have taken them?”

“I set up the shot,” she whispers. “Reece took them.”

“But the photographs all over the house are beautiful. You have exquisite taste.”

“She took them,” Steffi interjects proudly. “Those are all Callie’s.”

“You’re kidding. They’re amazing. God. You should be exhibiting.”

Callie shrugs. “One day.”

“When you’re better,” he says, “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. He runs one of the top galleries in the city. He’d love your work. Those landscapes are extraordinary. Can I do that?”

Callie nods, with a smile. “You really think they’re that good?”

“I think they’re better than that,” he says. “I think they’re stunning.”

Callie’s eyes move to Steff. “Steff ? Can I have a banana?”

“Really?” Steff is delighted. “You’re hungry?”

Callie waits until she leaves the room before turning back to Mason, her hand still in his, and it is clear the banana was a ruse to get Steffi out of the room.

“You’ll look after her, won’t you?” she says slowly.

Mason tries to swallow the lump that has just risen, that has brought with it memories that are just as sweetly painful as this moment is now. He cannot trust himself to speak.

Callie looks to check that Reece is still in the bathroom, and she turns back to Mason.

“You
know
, don’t you?”

And he looks straight into her eyes, and he nods, for he knows exactly what she is saying.

She is dying.

Nobody has spoken about it, the results of the radiation are not known, and yet she knows.

And Mason knows too.

“I know.” She murmurs to herself. “I’m ready.” She looks back up at him. “She doesn’t know she loves you yet, but she will. Okay. It’s okay,” she says, seemingly to herself again, before smiling at him. “You’re the guy, aren’t you?”

Mason doesn’t say anything, just squeezes her hand and leans forward to kiss her on the forehead. “I will look after her. Don’t worry. It’s all going to be okay.”

And as he walks out, the memories of his mother flooding back and the pain of seeing someone dying . . . Steffi’s pain at having to go through this . . . it is all unexpectedly overwhelming.

He doesn’t start crying until he makes it out of the room and into the downstairs bathroom, where he leans his head on the mirror and lets a tear or two run silently down his cheeks.

E
liza has held Lila’s hand the entire time since they stepped off the train at Grand Central Station, and it looks like she won’t let go for the rest of the day.

Jack is sitting on Ed’s lap, bouncing with excitement and teasing Clay, who’s sitting next to Ed, looking around the circus, waiting for something to happen.

“Here you are!” Honor appears at the end of the row, her arms filled with bags of popcorn, closely followed by Walter, who has the drinks and bags of something else.

“Is that cotton candy?” Lila asks incredulously. “They’re not allowed cotton candy. Callie will go nuts.”

Walter shakes his head. “I’m their grandfather and we’re supposed to spoil them.”

“Quite right,” Honor agrees. “We’re supposed to fill them with food they’re not allowed to have at home and let them go to bed three hours late.”

“Yay!” Eliza and Jack both cheer simultaneously. “Can we do that tonight?”

“We’re not going to have much of a choice.” Lila laughs. “It certainly won’t be an early night,” she adds. “Not after we take you to Mars 2112 for dinner, then head back to Bedford.”

The four adults have taken the children into the city, for today is the day of scans, the day they see whether anything has changed, and Callie has asked that today it is just her and Reece who sit down with Mark and find out whether the radiation therapy has worked.

Lila wanted to be there too. Callie squeezed her hand and said she wanted her there for the follow-up, but needed it to be just Reece and herself now.

And they can hardly breathe.

 

They will not let that be known. Not in front of the children, who feel as if it is their birthday, Christmas and summer vacation all rolled into one. Never have they had quite so much attention paid to them, nor had so many fun things presented to them on a plate.

They are on playdates every day, mothers of their friends lavishing attention and praise on them, going to fairs and festivals, theaters and shows every weekend, and now—how great is this!—into New York City for the Big Apple Circus on a weeknight! A Thursday!

No wonder they are jiggling up and down with excitement.

The lights go down and the children roar with laughter as the clown known as Grandma struts into the ring, her handbag clutched tightly to her chest. Walter reaches over and takes Honor’s hand, squeezing it gently; they both smile at their grandchildren’s delight, then stare into the middle distance, not seeing the show, thinking only of their daughter, with a dread that neither of them can voice, and neither of them can shake.

Lila checks her iPhone every few seconds, waiting for some news. She fires texts off to Reece, who gives her short updates.

It is becoming a compulsion. Her leg jiggles up and down, her eyes flicking down to her hand every few seconds.

“Stop,” Ed whispers, putting his hand over hers. “There’s nothing we can do. You have to just breathe.”

“I know,” she says, leaning her head on his shoulder and digging into his popcorn bucket, her own having been finished ages ago.

Potato chips, popcorn, cotton candy, potato chips, popcorn, more cotton candy. The nausea isn’t bad, but it is enough to warrant carrying potato chips everywhere she goes, popping them into her mouth at regular intervals.

And when she isn’t eating potato chips, she is mostly crying, her emotions, already fragile, sent into overdrive with the pregnancy.

 

“If I die,” Callie said the other day, “you have to call her Callie.”

“Don’t say that.” Lila’s eyes teared up instantly, and no amount of willing them away stopped the sobs that quickly followed. Lila lay her head down on Callie’s shoulder and sobbed, Callie weakly stroking her hair.

“Shh,” Callie whispered. “It’s going to be okay.”

“But it’s not. Don’t say that.”

“It is,” she said calmly. “It is. And your baby is a girl, and you’re going to call her Callie.”

“How do you know it’s a girl?” Lila said.

“A feeling,” Callie said. “I’m sure.”

Lila, still undecided, cried some more; but she couldn’t tell Callie that she was still trying to figure out whether to go through with this pregnancy or not.

That night, she couldn’t sleep. Most nights, she couldn’t sleep. She lay in bed, eyes wide open, thinking of Callie. She would wake up, every few minutes it sometimes seemed, to pee, then climb back into bed, wide awake.

That night, she stood in the bathroom for a long time, looking at herself in the mirror, and all of a sudden she felt a peace wash over her.

She would have this baby, she knew. And it would be a girl.

Going back into the bedroom, she tucked in tight behind Ed, who grunted and moved slightly, reaching back to pull her arm over him.

“Ed?” she whispered in his ear.

“Hmmm?”

“We’re going to have a baby,” she said, and when he turned over to take her in his arms she felt, again, wet tears on her cheeks, but now, finally, they were tears of relief. And joy.

 

The circus finishes and Lila sends a text. Then another. Then another.

She looks at Ed and shrugs. “Nothing.”

“They’re probably having more scans,” Ed says. “I’m sure you have to turn your BlackBerry off in there.”

“Okay.” She attempts to calm down. “We’ll try later.”

 

 

M
ason is going to the city today, meeting with a divorce lawyer who is said to be the best of the best, trying to map out his future, although right now it seems there are no decisions that can be made.

Would a judge allow Olivia to stay in London? On what grounds? That she has an English boyfriend? It seems . . . risible. Unlikely. But he is terrified that may be the case.

While he loved some of what London has to offer, the thought of leaving home again fills him with horror.

Home. Not London, certainly. Not even New York—that huge, overdecorated, overgrand apartment that has never felt like his. But Sleepy Hollow. With Fingal, and the animals, and now . . . Steffi.

Is he in love with her? There is no doubt. It crept up on him entirely unawares. He didn’t even consider it until Callie spoke to him, and with such certainty he almost wondered if his late mother were talking through her.

He didn’t realize he had fallen in love with Steffi because he wasn’t looking for it, and because, up until now, he hasn’t known what love is. Infatuation, he thought it was, when younger: mad passion, a feeling that you would rather die than be without the person.

Or, as with Olivia, a disbelief that someone like her would fall in love with someone like him. How could he reject that? Wouldn’t he be mad not to marry her? He’d never find anyone like her again. She told him so herself. On countless occasions.

In London, when his wife started disappearing, even before she announced she was leaving him, he found the bright spots in the loneliness were when he checked his computer to see an email from Steffi in his inbox.

He would find himself reading them with a smile on his face.

He didn’t come back to Sleepy Hollow to see her, but when he heard her voice at the inn that day he realized that, on some level, he had.

And now, sharing a house together, he is getting to know her more; and the more he knows, the more he likes.

Not consciously. Not until he met her sister.