Together Alone (43 page)

“You said I was dying for you to leave so I could have my freedom, but if that was so, why wouldn’t I ever let you stay out all night? Imagine the freedom I’d have had
then
. If freedom was all I wanted, I wouldn’t have cared where you went. But I did. Because you are my daughter, and I do love you, even if right now that’s just a word. I don’t feel love right now. Just disappointment.”

“I’m not seeing Carter again.”

“You can have him. I don’t want him.”

“I don’t
either
. He’s not a nice person.”

“That’s not the point.”

Dawn looked at her lap. “I know.”

Celeste remained silent.

“Nice or not,” Dawn admitted, “he was seeing my mother. I was wrong to have gone off with him. I’m sorry.”

The buzzer rang. Slipping her hands into mitts, Celeste took the cookie sheets from the oven. When they were set safely on the burner grates, she tossed the mitts aside and turned off the oven.

“What now?” Dawn asked.

“Now they cool.”

“What now with us?”

“I don’t know. Don’t call me, I’ll call you, you said.”

“I wanted you to call.”

“That wasn’t what you said.”

“It was what I wanted.”

“You have to
tell
me then.”

“I am. I want you to call.”

“Okay. I can.”

Dawn nodded. She moistened her lips. “I keep thinking of Emily not knowing Daniel was dead all those years. I keep thinking that something might happen to you and I wouldn’t know about it.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” Celeste said, but she was touched.

“Carter told me how you two met. What if the next guy is a
real
crazy?”

“Carter
told
you?” Celeste was embarrassed, until she had a thought. “How did he explain
his
placing an ad?”

“A friend placed it for him.”

“Do you believe that?”

“Not anymore.”

“Thank you.”

“You didn’t have to place an ad. There are men in Grannick who’d love to take you out.”

“I wanted to meet new people.”

“Do you still?”

Celeste considered that for the first time since the fiasco of Carter. “Yes. But I’ve been burned. I’ll be more careful.” She would see the widower again. And even the vet, whose shyness might be hiding awe-some things. And there were two new, interesting responses that had come from her ad while she was seeing Carter, so she hadn’t done anything about them. She would. She might even put in a new ad, using “intelligent” instead of “sexy,” as Kay had wanted her to do the first time. It might be interesting to see what that would yield.

She was tempted to tell Dawn about the twenty-five-year-old, but decided against it. Sharing was sick. Besides, Dawn needed to be with college guys. Twenty-five was too old for eighteen—and, ahhhh yes, too young for forty-three.

Fishing a spatula from a drawer, she began freeing cookies from the baking sheet and slipping them into a dish. She felt better—not exactly exuberant, but not depressed over Carter. Life went on. There was hope for her yet.

The cookie on the tip of the spatula was warm and soft, lightly toasted and tempting. Turning, she offered it to Dawn.

T
HE FUNERAL WAS HELD TWO DAYS LATER, ON A
frail yellow December morning, at the cemetery on the outskirts of Grannick.

Emily had been dreading it. She had spent those two days steeling herself, crying softly with Jill, even with Doug, clinging to Brian during those other hours when she simply couldn’t be without. She hadn’t slept much. Though her tears exhausted her, she kept waking to terror and lies and bloody thoughts. She had thought that the funeral would be the worst.

She was wrong. Everything that came before was heart-wrenching, but the inkling of comfort she had felt that horrible night by the willow, when she imagined Daniel finally being buried, took root. The lowering of the little coffin into the ground was more a benediction, Daniel’s long-overdue send-off to a kinder place. Just as Myra had finally relinquished the load she carried, so Emily buried Daniel, with love.

What was to have been a private rite brought out better than half the town. Emily saw friends and acquaintances. Their presence delivered the kind of comfort that the living needed, along with food to the house later, and gentle words, expressing their sorrow in an endless stream of goodwill.

It wasn’t until the next morning that Emily was able to take her first deep, relatively steady breath and sit alone over breakfast with Jill.

“It’s strange for me,” Jill said. “I never knew him.”

“Me, neither, in a way. He was only two, barely formed as a person.”

“I still don’t understand how Frank could have taken him. You can bet
I
’ll look twice at my neighbors when I buy a home someday.”

“Look twice,” Emily begged, “but don’t agonize. You can’t live like that, Jill. If I had second-guessed everything after Daniel, you’d have grown up neurotic. There’s the quality of life to consider. Be positive.”

“Like you. You always are.”

“I’ve always tried.”

“For my sake?”

“Yes. And your father’s. I think now I’m going to try for me.” She watched Jill eat, savoring all the little familiar motions, the things she loved and would miss. “It’s been nice having you home.”

“I’m sorry it was for this.”

“Me too. But it’s good. We needed to know. Try to get your father to talk about it during the drive.” Doug was returning her to Boston later that morning. “He’s having a hard time.”

“More than you. How come?”

“For a long time he refused to think about Daniel. I’ve been mourning for years. He’s just starting.”

“When is it done?”

“I don’t know that it’s ever completely done, but the wound heals in time. I thought mine had. I was wrong. I guess I got so used to living with the mystery of Daniel’s death that I didn’t see it, only it was there, affecting everything. I didn’t realize how much I needed closure on this.” She thought of how she had clung to her marriage, clung to the house, clung to Grannick, even clung to being a homemaker, so that she would be mothering when Daniel returned. She hadn’t realized she was doing any of it, until Daniel was found.

“I’m thinking of selling the house.”

Jill’s eyes grew large. “Selling it?”

“How would you feel if I did?”

“Uh, strange.”

“Is that a veto of the idea?”

“No, it’s just so sudden.” The words were barely out when a look of understanding crossed her face.

Emily smiled a sad confirmation. “I’m having trouble looking at the Balchs’ house. I see it every time I drive down the street. Then I look in our backyard and see the pond, and my eyes go to their part of the pond, and their backyard, and the willow. I’m not sure I can stay here. What’s done is done. I can’t change it. Daniel is buried somewhere else now.” She pictured the grassy spot where he was. It was a minute before she could speak again. “I don’t think I want to be forever reminded of what happened here. I don’t see what good it would do.”

“Where would you move?”

“Not far. I like Grannick.” The support she had received in the past few days had been convincing. She couldn’t see turning her back on friendships that had been two decades in growing. She did like Grannick. She just didn’t want to see the Balchs’ backyard.

“What about Brian?”

Emily kept her voice slow and easy. “What about him?”

“If you sell, he’ll be without an apartment. You want to stay with him, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“He loves you.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“He didn’t have to.”

“How do you feel about it?”

“You and Daddy aren’t getting back together?”

“No. There’s too much hurt.”

“You have a right to be happy. I want you to be.”

Emily slipped from her chair, wrapped an arm around Jill’s neck, and held on tight. “I love you,” she cried, tears, emotions so close to the surface.

“But you love him, too,” Jill said.

Emily had to pull back to see her grin. “I do.”

“Are you sure you want to take on a baby?”

“No. I’m not sure I want to take on a
man
. I think I need time to find me.”

“So what about him?”

Emily blotted her eyes, sighed, and smiled. “I’ll let you know when I find out, okay?”

Brian took the day off from work. He wanted to spend time with Julia. Well, what he wanted, actually, was to spend time with Julia
and
Emily, but he knew that Emily would be with Jill for most of the morning, and he respected that need.

So he addressed his own need, the one driven by the raw feelings that the past few days had left. He played with Julia while she was still in her crib, ducking under where she couldn’t see him, then popping out and making her laugh. He let her paint his face, then hers, then the bathtub with shaving cream. He let her help him rinse everything off.

Normally of a morning he was distracted, thinking of the day ahead. This morning he was thinking of Julia and took his time.

“Which outfit?” he asked, crouching beside her, examining the pile of clothes that were clean, folded, and waiting.

“Dis.” A little finger dabbed at the one she wanted, then retreated into a fist by her bare belly.

“The red shirt?”

She nodded.

“What about pants? Or a skirt? Wanna wear a skirt? Give the guys at the station a thrill?”

The little finger dabbed again, retreated again.

“Green jeans. Red and green. That’s rushing the season a little. Why don’t we wait on green. Try again.”

“Dis,” Julia said, pointing to red jeans, looking expectantly at Brian.

“
Good
choice, Julia. Hooray for Julia!” He clapped her hands together, whipped out the pants and dressed her up.

They had breakfast at Nell’s, Julia sitting on his lap, while he sat on a stool at the counter. She loved the donuts; everyone loved her. Brian left with a warm feeling that had to do with fresh brewed coffee and new friends, with small-town comforts and the sense that something was right in his life, and the feelings stayed warm through a stop at the police station. Everyone who knew Brian knew Julia. She was the center of attention, and she ate it up, going off with the animal officer to see a lost dog, racing back across the room and into Brian’s arms with a high giggle when they were done.

Back in the Jeep, she fell asleep, which was fine. Brian wanted to drive around some. She was still sleeping when he pulled up at John’s. He climbed out and started up the front walk, intent on letting her sleep longer. Then he stopped and thought of Daniel, and it wasn’t that he worried she would be kidnapped, not from the driveway of the chief of police, just that he wanted to hold her. Returning to the car, he eased her out so smoothly that she didn’t even wake.

John was in the living room, talking on the phone, his casts the only remaining sign of his mishap.

He hung up and grinned. “Huh. What tired her out?”

“Me. We’ve been playing. This is our day together.”

“She’ll remember it when she’s grown.”

“I’m doin’ it for me as much as for her,” Brian cracked. “It may be what
I
remember when I’m in that old rocking chair at the nursing home. How’re the legs?”

John batted at one of the casts. “Dead weight. I need these off. I need to be walking again.” He glanced at his watch. “I need to be back at work. Reading reports isn’t the same as being there when things happen. Did you hear about Hooks?”

“Yeah. I just came from the station.”

“So he’s going back to school?”

“That’s what he says. He says he wants to be a lawyer.”

“Think he’ll make a good one?”

Brian considered that with his chin against Julia’s warm curls. “I don’t know. He’s a by-the-book cop. I suppose he could be a by-the-book lawyer. That’s good for us, I guess. By-the-book lawyers are easier to handle. It’s the creative ones who stump us. I don’t think Hooks will be one of those.”

“Well put,” John said. He shot another look at his watch. “Can I talk to you about something?”

Brian was swaying from side to side, enjoying Julia’s warmth, feeling content. “Sure.”

“What do you think of Grannick?”

“I like it a lot.”

“Are you planning to stay?”

“I was.” His swaying slowed. He wondered if John was trying to let him down easy. “Is there a problem?”

“No problem. You’re good for the department. You have skills some of the others don’t have. I’m going to be awhile longer getting these legs working. It’s nice knowing you’re around with two good ones.” He paused, pushed his lower lip out, finally said, “What I was worried about is that you might leave if Emily does. How’s she doing?”

“Not bad. As painful as the truth is, it’s good to know it after all this time.”

“I should’ve seen something,” John muttered.

It wasn’t the first time he had told Brian that. He had been agonizing since the body had been found. As always, Brian tried to ease his guilt. “You questioned Frank. You questioned him more than once. He didn’t budge. There wasn’t anything to see.”

“You saw something.”

“Only after Myra nearly hit me over the head with it. Emily’s like you. She keeps saying she should have guessed it. But that’s crazy. Frank might have been mean, but who would have thought he would take a child.”

“Borrowing was the word Myra used. I hear she’s leaving town.”

“Now that Frank’s secret is out, she can.”

“I wouldn’t blame Emily if she did, too. Think she will?”

“No.”

“Have you talked with her about it?”

“Not yet. It’s on my list of things to do today.”

“Huh.” John seemed to relax some. “Well, I don’t want her leaving, any more’n I want you leaving. You can tell her that.” He slid a third look at his watch.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

“My wife. We have a date.”

“Yeah?”

“For lunch. She’ll be along.”

“Want me to wait here ’til she comes?”

“Nah. I have more calls to make. Go enjoy Julia.”

Brian wasn’t sure he would, given what he had to do next, but there was no avoiding it. It was cold. Winter was here. He figured it was now or never.

He drove to the mall, parked outside Lord & Taylor, and found the children’s department without any fuss, but that was the easy part. The hard part lay ahead.

He was feeling slightly daunted confronted with a thousand pieces of clothing, not knowing where to start, when a grandmotherly type approached.

“Julia needs a snowsuit,” he blurted out. “I have no idea what size, style, color, nothing.”

Esther Nelson took him in hand. She asked him how old Julia was, had him stand her up, showed him the options, gave him the pros and cons of each. It turned out that the hardest part of the purchase was deciding between two that were equally adorable, one pink, one lime green. In the end, he simply set Julia in front of the two.

“Which one do you want, toots?”

“Dis,” Julia said, going for the green one without a moment’s pause.

Esther set them up with a hat, mittens, and mitten clips, and then, because Brian was riding high on the fact that it had been painless, he let Julia pick out some new winter clothes, again from a prenarrowed selection. Pushover that he was, he even bought the teddy bear that she couldn’t keep her little hands away from.

Best of all, he left with Esther’s card, a list of the hours she worked, and the assurance that he could call her and she would be there the next time Julia needed clothes.

Grandly buoyed, he took his daughter to the Eatery for lunch. They knew everyone there. Julia babbled to the waitress, proudly waving her bear. She chomped on pieces of chicken, tomato, and olive from Brian’s cobb salad. As far as he could detect, she was in as fine a mood as he was.

So they strolled down the street from the Eatery to the flower shop, where he found a small basket lined with a blue and white fabric that reminded him of the bedroom Emily kept to herself. To the florist’s horror, he made him cut down a beautiful white lily and arrange the blooms with water picks in the basket. Then he set off for the drugstore.

He held Julia while he browsed through the greeting cards. When she began to squirm, he set her down. He picked the card he wanted, one with a barn-and-meadow scene that was as serene as the way Emily made him feel, and paid for it plus half a dozen Butterfingers, at the register. Then he looked around.

“Julia?” he called out. He crossed the front of the store, looking down each aisle. He hurried past the toys and paced the back of the store, searching the aisles from that end. “
Julia?
”

“Daddy daddy daddy.”

It was a minute before he saw a pint-sized person with red pants, a denim jacket, and soft brown curls below the curtain of the photo booth.

“Who’s in here?” he asked, parting the curtains.

Julia had her arms on the seat. She grinned up at him.

“What are you doing?”

She slapped the seat with both hands. “Daddydaddy nagoo.”

“Yeah. Remember we sat there? Remember
all
the times we sat there? Julia didn’t want to sit. Julia didn’t want to smile. All Julia wanted to do was cry.”

She brought her pointer around, touched the black patch of the camera’s eye, and looked questioningly up at him.