A Woman's Place: A Novel (16 page)

"You won't really notice much of a change," I said, trying to be comfortable and upbeat for me as much as for them. I was feeling hollowed out. "Things'll be pretty much the same as they've always been."

He didn't believe me for a minute. I could see it in his eyes. But he Page 81

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didn't say a word.

"Are you gonna cook, Daddy?" Kikit asked.

"Sometimes."

"And bake cookies with us?"

"I may leave that to your mother."

"What about my medicine?"

"What about it?" he asked.

"Who'll make sure it's here?"

"I will."

Her little face crumpled then. Tears welled and spilled. She rocked on her knees, back and forth, and raised a fist to her eye. "I didn't mean to get thick I didn't mean to really I didn't." "Oh God," I whispered and dragged Johnny with me to the table so that I could hold Kikit, too.

"You didn't do anything, baby. Shhh. This isn't your fault."

"I got thick--sick--and didn't have my medicine-so he got mad at you--"

"No, baby, no, it wasn't that, don't ever think it was that." I had picked up on her rocking, and while Johnny wasn't exactly rocking with us, he wasn't fighting my hold. "This thing between Daddy and me is just between Daddy and me. It's been building for a long time, maybe even longer than you've been alive. We aren't working well together, Daddy and I. We aren't making each other happy. You guys make us happy. But we should be doing more for each other, me and Daddy, and we're not."

"I want you to live here," Kikit said. Her voice was muffled against my breast, her face warm and wet and nuzzling.

"I can't do that now. But you'll see, I'll find someplace to live that you'll just love."

"In Santa Fe?" asked my son, clearly grappling with the puzzle, trying to get the pieces to fit.

"No, sweetie, not in Santa Fe, that's much too far away. I was thinking about something five, maybe ten minutes from here. How does that sound?" It sounded good to me. "And I won't even be traveling so much. Wait'll you see, I'll be with you more than I was before." Especially once we appealed Selwey's decision and got the court order reversed.

"What about Thanksgiving?" he asked.

"Hmm. I haven't given that much thought." It came out sounding like we were off on a new adventure, which wasn't all that bad. The children could relate to adventures. "We could go to Cleveland to be with Grandma. Or--what do you think we should do?" "Have it here like we always do."

"We could do too," Kikit said, hopeful eyes rising from the chenille of my sweater.

"We could," I conceded. Not that I would be at two. There would be Dennis and his parents and the children at one, and me and the children and Brody and Jill and all the family-less friends I usually invited to Page 82

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ours, at the other. Of course, I had no idea where ours would be, or how it would feel to be in a strange place without Dennis, without my mother. And when I thought of having to tell all those friends I would invite that we were separated, I felt a major ache. The court session had been real. Telling Kikit and Johnny was real. Now friends? And Connie-how am I going to tell Connie?

Thanksgiving. Christmas. Johnny's birthday, then Kikit's. They were all family occasions, but it struck me--shook me to think--that they would no longer be the same.

"Mommy," Kikit whined, her head free of my sweater now, "tomorrow is look-see at ballet. Will you bring cupcakes for afterward?" Tomorrow was Tuesday. Not Wednesday, like the judge had said. If Dennis was willing, we could change days for this week, and the judge wouldn't be any the wiser.

But Kikit wasn't done. She was hanging on me now. "And Wednesday is parents' day at the library. I told Lily we would take her, 'cause her mom has to work."

So much for switching days. But I could do both.

No, I couldn't. Dennis told me that in the next instant with the subtlest shake of his head. It was accompanied by the kind of look that warned what would happen if I argued, the same kind of thing that would happen if I wasn't gone by four. No, I didn't want him calling Jack Mulroy. No, I

didn't want to be charged with contempt of court. What I wanted was a reversal of the ruling against me. Carmen was working on that. The best I could do to help was to be a model of obedience. It was now three-thirty-five.

"I'll do Wednesday at the library," I said. "Daddy will do look-see at ballet tomorrow."

"But I want you to. The mother sets it all up, you know, on the table in the back room?"

"Tell you what. I'll buy the cupcakes and Daddy can bring them."

"It's not the same," she cried, then went all round-eyed. "And Thursday, what about Thursday? Thursday's Halloween. You'll be here for Halloween, won't you? You always take me out, I don't want to go out alone."

"Johnny's going alone this year," Dennis said. "He'll take you with him."

"Da-ad," Johnny protested, and I agreed. Kikit had to be watched every minute to make sure she didn't pop something into her mouth that would make her sick. It was unfair to ask Johnny to do that.

"I don't want to go with Johnny," Kikit declared. "I want Mommy."

"I'll take you," Dennis said.

That gave her pause. There was a tentative, "You will?" Then, still tentative, "So Mommy'll stay home and give out candy?" Page 83

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"Either Mommy or Grandma."

"I want Mommy to. You'll do it, Mommy, won't you?" Of course, I would. I always loved Halloween, bought candy weeks in advance, made special costumes. This year's were done--Kikit's a mouse, Johnny's a pirate. Of course, I would be part of the ritual. "She may not be able to," Dennis said.

Kikit turned on him. "Why not!"

He hitched his chin my way. Kikit looked up at me. I was trying to decide whether to argue with Dennis, or to tell the children the truth or lie, when she pulled back. "Is it because you don't want to live here anymore?"

"I do--"

"You don't love us anymore," she wailed. When I reached for her, she skittered away. Her mouth was turned down, her chin quivering. Releasing Johnny, I came out of my seat, caught her, and pulled her into my arms. I held her there, tightly, tightly, even when she squirmed to escape.

It was a minute before I cleared the emotion that clogged my throat. Then my voice was hoarse, fierce as I bent over the top of her head. "I love you dearly. Never, never think that I don't. You and your brother mean more to me than anything else in the world."

"So why can't you be here?" came the high pitched wail from my middle.

"Because the judge says I can't. He says you'll be with Daddy for most of the week and with me for Wednesdays and Saturdays, just until we get all this worked out."

"But whyT

"I don't know, baby," I crooned against the warmth of her hair, "I don't know, but that's what he said, so that's what we have to do." It was nearing three-forty-five. Time was running out.

"But I'll miss you."

"Bah," I teased. "You'll be too busy to miss me, and whenever you do, you'll call me. You'll call me whenever you want, night or day, both of you." I looked around to include Johnny, only he wasn't there. My eyes flew to Dennis. He shot a thumb toward the hall. Furious that he had just let the child go, I scooped Kikit up and deposited her in her father's arms. "Hold tight, baby," I told her in a tone far gentler than the look I gave Dennis.

Johnny was in his room, sitting with his back to the headboard of the bed. The way he stared at me as I crossed to him nearly broke my heart. I sat and took his hand. He took it back and made a fist against the comforter. I had to settle for holding his wrist.

"This isn't what I want, Johnny. If I had my druthers, things would be different. But I don't have my druthers. Things are out of my hands."

"Moms stay with kids."

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"Usually. Not always. Especially now that so many mothers work."

"So it's easier for you to let Dad stay here? So you can work?"

"No. You kids come before my work. You always have. Dad is staying because the judge said so."

"Since when do judges tell parents what to do?" He was right. "It's a long story, sweetie. Complicated." He crossed his arms on his chest and wore a look that I suspected I had worn myself more than once, when I wanted an explanation for something I felt was wrong. Another cliche wouldn't do.

"The judge thought," I tried, "that, with Grandma being so sick, Daddy would be able to give you and Kikit more attention. It's just for now."

"For how long?"

"Not long."

"How long?"

"I don't know. It could be a few days, or a week, or a month."

"Then what?" "Then, whatever we decide is best for you and Kikit." I heard a noise and looked back to see Dennis in the doorway. He was still holding Kikit. "Everything okay here?" he asked. Johnny didn't say a word.

"Everything is fine," I said. But it wasn't. Kikit's face was streaked with tears. Johnny looked like he was crying inside. And I was bleeding, positively bleeding from the soul.

It was three-fifty.

Johnny's arms were no longer folded, but he continued to stare. I took his hand again, relieved when he allowed it, and tried to mold it to my grasp. "The important thing to remember is what I told Kikit. We'll talk on the phone all the time. I'll go to the library with Kikit on Wednesday and pick you up after practice, and then we'll do something together for dinner. Hey. There's a big game Saturday, isn't there?" He didn't say anything at first. Then he shrugged.

"Can I come?"

There was another pause, another shrug. His hand lay limp in mine. I gave it an encouraging squeeze.

"When can we see where you're gonna live?" Kikit asked.

"As soon as I find a place."

"So we'll have two homes?"

"Two homes."

Her eyes lit. "Can we build one in the tree, you know, the one I always climb?"

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"No, we cannot."

"Then at Brody's." She came alive then. "That's the best idea, Mommy. You can live at Brody's."

I didn't look at Dennis. "Uh, sorry, baby, but that's out." "Why not?"

"Because Brody's house belongs to Brody. I need something for me."

"He wouldn't mind it if you stayed with him. He loves it when we come." She gasped, put her hand to Dennis's cheek and said, "I know what to do for dinner. Let's get Brody to make us steak soup!" I refused to look at Dennis, but concentrated solely on my children during those last few minutes that I had with them. Kikit found a dozen different ways to ask the same questions, most of which had to do with how she could reach me if she needed me. I tried to be reassuring, directing my answers as much to Johnny as to her, but I felt as though my insides were being pulled, pulled, pulled slowly away from my body. The feeling increased when Dennis started looking at his watch. When he set Kikit down and came toward me--1 think he would have taken my arm if I hadn't risen on my own--I felt a tearing.

"Say good-bye to your mother now," he told the children. Fighting tears, I reached for Johnny. He didn't budge.

"Please, John," I whispered. "I need your help." He let me draw him into a hug. I swallowed against his head and managed a wobbly, "I'll talk with you later, okay?"

"Hold me, Mommy," Kikit cried. "Hold me." Drawing back, I kissed Johnny's forehead, whispered, "I love you, sweetie," and turned to Kikit. She was in my arms in an instant, holding me so tightly she trembled. Or was the trembling mine? No matter. We sat there together on Johnny's bed, holding each other, not saying a word.

"Claire," Dennis said.

I kissed her and whispered, "Gotta go, baby." Her arms tightened. "No, Mommy, don't." Dennis scooped her up from behind, breaking her hold of me. The sight of her reaching for me, arms and legs, even while Dennis drew her away broke my heart.

"Wednesday," was all I could manage, and that, brokenly. I didn't look back again, didn't think I could survive a greater level of loss than that which was already shredding me to bits. I ran down the stairs, grabbed my purse and keys, and ran out the front door to the car. Kikit must have escaped Dennis, because no sooner had I backed out of the driveway, then she bolted from the front door and began running toward the car. Dennis caught her when she was halfway across the yard, swept her up in his arms, and turned back to the house. I nearly stopped. That I didn't was only partly because of Dennis's threat. The rest had to do with knowing that prolonging the parting would only make it worse.

It was bad enough without that. Nothing that had come before had Page 86

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prepared me for the pain of walking out of that house and leaving my children behind. As symbolic moments went, it was brutal. As pearls went, it was black.

My last view of the house that day, burned indelibly in my mind, was of Dennis's rigid back, Kikit's furious feet kicking over his arm, and, off to the side and alone, my first-born, John, staring off down the street after me as I drove away.

I went to the office straight from there, because I was too upset to go anywhere else. Carmen had said I couldn't live with Brody, so I wouldn't, but this was where I worked. What with avoiding unnecessary travel for a while, I would be spending more time than ever here. Neither the court, nor Dennis, nor Carmen could deny me that. Anyway, Brody wasn't around. He was on the Vineyard negotiating with contractors to work on our store there. A fierce tropical storm had blown through in early October. We needed a new roof and siding. He had wanted to postpone the trip after learning the results of the hearing, but I had insisted he go.

I was half sorry now. I kept reliving those final moments, seeing that final scene over and over and over again. I could have used his company. The place was deserted. I left the car and wandered through the lowering dusk to the seaward ledge. The tide was in. Below me, beyond rocks and sand, it rushed forward, fell back, rushed forward, fell back. Had the wind been up, there would have been explosions of spume, but it was as calm a night as the ocean saw, breezy was all.