Together Alone (9 page)

Relieved to catch a glimpse of the old Doug, she left the table and cut him a piece. Then she watched him eat every last bite. The instant he was done, she reached for his hand. “Come. I want to show you something.”

“What?”

“The garage apartment. You won’t recognize the place.”

“Let me get dressed first.”

“No need.” He was wearing a knee-length terrycloth robe. It was comfortable and familiar to Emily. The urbane business consultant was miles away. She didn’t wish him back.

She led him out the kitchen door, down the steps, and across the driveway to the far side of the garage. She pointed at the locks when she opened the door. “They’re new. And I’ve ordered a runner for these stairs.” They started up. “It’ll be safer for a child.”

“Jill did fine without.”

“Jill wouldn’t have sued us if she fell.”

“And this guy will? Maybe it’s a mistake renting to a cop.”

“No mistake. He’s a nice guy. I’m just thinking landlord thoughts.” She led him into the room and smiled. “Different, huh?”

She waited for an answering smile. What she got was something akin to dismay. “The walls look raw.”

“We’ll be painting next week.”

“Well, I suppose anything’s an improvement over that dingy wallpaper and Jill’s awful scribbles.”

Emily didn’t think the scribbles were awful. “I saved them for her. She’ll laugh hysterically over them someday. They’re like a chronicle of her adolescence. John was appalled.”

“When was John here?”

“When he brought Brian over,” she said, but she was sorry John’s name had slipped out. Friends once, Doug and he had drifted apart. Aside from the girls, they had little in common. At times Emily sensed an animosity in Doug toward John. She didn’t ask its cause, didn’t want to know.

“What are the markings over there?” Doug asked.

“We’re putting in a round top window.”

“My God, it’s huge space.”

“It’ll be charming when it’s done.”

“Is it necessary? For five hundred bucks a month? And the ceiling fan’s new. This guy’s getting one hell of a deal.”

“So are we,” Emily said defensively. She was proud of what she had done here. She was tired of being put down. “He’s installing the window himself.”

“Paying for it?”

“No. Providing the labor.”

“I thought you said he was a cop.”

“He worked as a carpenter when he was younger. I told you he offered to help finish the place.”

“This isn’t finishing. It’s reconstructing. Does he know what he’s doing? Have you seen his work? How do you know you won’t end up with a collapsed roof, or a window that leaks?”

“I don’t know for sure,” she argued. “I wouldn’t know for sure even if I hired a contractor.”

“At least a contractor is bonded.”

“A contractor is also expensive, whereas Brian comes cheap. I’ve worked with him for three days now. I’ve heard him talking with the electrician and the plumber. He’s knowledgeable. And anyway, if he does it wrong, he’s the one who’ll have to live with it.”

“We’re the ones who’ll have to fix it.”

“I trust him, Doug,” Emily insisted. “You would, too, if you met him. Why don’t I have him stop over later?” She liked that idea. She wanted Brian to meet Doug.

But Doug gave an impatient wave. “I can’t waste time meeting a tenant. I’m leaving at three. I have to be in Atlanta tonight for an early morning meeting tomorrow.”

“
Three
,” Emily cried in dismay. She had been hoping for four or five, at the least. “That doesn’t give us much time.”

“For what?”

“To
talk.
You promised we would.”

He stared at her, then put his hands on his hips. “Okay. I’m here now. Talk.”

Time, place, atmosphere—all were wrong for what she wanted to say. She had been hoping for a warmer mood, a more intimate setting. But if her choice was between this one or none at all, there was no contest.

So she blurted out, “Jill’s gone, and I’m all alone in this house. I was counting on our being together Thursday, and when that didn’t happen, I was counting on Saturday, and now that’s come and gone, and we’ve done none of the things I was hoping we would. I want us to spend time together, Doug. I want to
do
things together, to have
fun
like we used to.”

“Yeah, well, that would be nice. I could retire. But then who’d pay the bills?”

“Not retire. Just make home time.”

“Emily, I have a business to run.”

“So do other men, but they manage to make time for their wives.”

“Are you saying I don’t manage my time well?”

She thought to pull back, but the words spilled out. “It’s a question of priorities.”

“And you think mine are screwed up? You are
unbelievable.
I’m out there working my tail off so that my wife and daughter can live comfortably, and you stand here and complain? What’s
with
you?”

Ahhh, the guilt. “I’m lonesome.”

“Well, so am I, stuck alone in strange cities, but I’m not paying a bundle to have you tag along.”

“You could call more often. You could tell me about your day and I could tell you about mine.”

“We do that.”

“Not every night, and it’s mostly me doing the telling. There was a time when you used to do it, too.”

His voice grew slow and pedantic. “Life was simpler in those days. We used to talk about the weather or the lettuce harvest or a new piece of machinery I’d ordered. My work is more complicated now.”

“I’m not dumb. I can understand it.”

“But why do you want to know?”

“Because it’s your work and it interests me.”

He gave her a cold stare. “You’re making things very difficult.”

“How?” she argued, stung. “Is
talking
to me difficult?”

“You’re pressuring me.”

“All I want is a little time.”

“I don’t have it to give,” he ground out. “Christ, Emily, life is tough enough. Don’t make it worse.”

She studied him for a disbelieving minute, then let out a defeated breath. “That wasn’t my intent.”

“Yeah, well, it never is,” he said.

“What does
that
mean?” she cried.

He made for the door. “You’re such an innocent.”

“Is that bad?”

“
Deathly
.” He started down the stairs.

“Doug?” She ran to the door. “
Doug
.” But he didn’t look back, and in seconds he was gone, leaving her vaguely shocked and wondering what in the hell had just happened.

Emily remained in that same vague sense of shock through the few hours that remained of Doug’s stay at home. She didn’t try to talk with him again, but was simply, sweetly there, as she had been for most of the last twenty-one years.

That seemed her role in their marriage. She hadn’t thought twice about it, what with Jill such a major player in her life, but Jill was gone now, back for vacations but moving toward an independent life as surely as the sun moved east to west.

Emily’s future was with Doug. If this weekend was indicative of what that future would be, she didn’t know what she would do.

So she didn’t dwell on it. She folded his clean clothes and packed his bag while he busied himself in the den. To show that she understood the importance of his work, that
she
could compromise, she brought him lunch there. It was an inside version of the picnic that wouldn’t be, and when he finally took a break, she called Jill.

She wanted Jill to hear their voices together. That seemed just as important as leaving her bedroom intact.

B
RIGHT AND EARLY MONDAY MORNING, BRIAN
dressed Julia and drove her to the babysitter’s house. His stomach was tied in knots in anticipation of her crying.

She didn’t let him down. The crying started the minute he took her out of the car.

The fact that she clung to him as though she adored him to pieces and simply couldn’t bear parting with him was small solace. He felt like he was an ogre, turning her over to an executioner, rather than to a woman who had impressed him both with her knowing ways and her references, and he had certainly checked those out. Every last one. Emily’s endorsement was representative of the lot.

“Shhhhh,” he whispered while Julia screamed against his shoulder, “no one’ll hurt you here. You’ll have lots of fun, and I’ll be back to get you later, I will, I’ll be back.”

Janice pried her from Brian’s arms. “Once you’re gone, she’ll be fine. This isn’t unusual, especially at first.” She started off toward the other children.

Julia’s screams rose. Her little arms reached around Janice for Brian. They touched air and Brian’s heart, which was breaking. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” he called, feeling a touch of panic. “We’ve been together every minute for days now. Mine is the only face she’s known. We’re inseparable. I’m all she has.”

“She’ll be fine once you leave, Mr. Stasek.”

“Loud noises frighten her. Bursts of activity. She still misses her mother. She doesn’t understand what happened to Gayle. She’ll think I’m going for good, too. Maybe I should stay.”

Janice was kneeling beside several children who were playing with oversized plastic bricks. “Look, Julia, see the pretty blocks. What do you think they’re building? What are you making, Adam?”

Julia kept crying, kept frantic eyes on Brian, who was feeling more cruel by the minute. “Should I stay?” he called.

“Definitely not. As soon as you leave, she’ll be fine.”

“I put two changes of clothes in the bag. Is that enough?”

“Plenty.”

“And her rabbit. She can’t sleep without it.”

“We’ll make sure she has it.”

“I’ll be right here in town. You have the number. I can be over in five minutes. Should I come by at noon to see how she’s doing?”

“Not unless you want her to start crying again.”

That was assuming she stopped crying now. Brian wanted to think she would, but she seemed caught up in one of the snowballing fits that made mockery of his street smarts.

She used to smile, used to look up from whatever she was doing and beam at Gayle or him. Now her little face was scrunched up and red. He wondered if she would ever smile again.

“If you can’t reach me at my number, call the police station. They know where I am. They’ll come right out and get me.” He figured the reminder of his connections didn’t hurt.

Janice continued to talk softly to Julia, saying things about the toys and the other children and what they would be doing that morning. Something must have sunk in, because while Julia continued to cry, she dared take her eyes off Brian.

He slipped out the door and walked to the Jeep feeling cowardly, traitorous, and frightened.

It occurred to him that the references might be wrong.

But the other children weren’t crying.

So maybe something was wrong with Julia.

But if so Janice would call him. Assuming she was on the up and up. But hadn’t Emily had good words for her?

That thought brought him a measure of calm. Emily did that to him, and not only where Julia was concerned. From the minute he had met her, he had felt something peaceful. She was straightforward and honest, settled at a time when his life was anything but. She was the embodiment of the simpler life he needed just then.

By midday, the spot in the apartment over the garage where the arched window would be was halfway to being a gaping hole, and Brian was feeling better. Physical work always satisfied him, all the more so when it required concentration. Breaking through a wall so that the hole fit the window required both brawn and brains.

It took his mind off Julia, for small stretches at least. But he couldn’t forget her for long. She was his responsibility.

Just when he was wondering what she was having for lunch and thinking that he could use some himself, Emily produced a platter of leftover fried chicken and a pitcher of lemonade, set both on the floor along with a pile of napkins, and gestured for him to join her.

“This is above and beyond,” he protested, though the chicken looked more appetizing than anything he had eaten in weeks. It also smelled a damn sight better than he did. Most anything would, he supposed. Emily sure did. “I could’ve gone in town for sandwiches.”

She smiled. “If we don’t eat this, it’ll spoil. I made it for the weekend, but my husband was in and out so fast he couldn’t eat much.”

Her husband was an idiot. “Is he always so busy?”

“It’s worse lately.” Her smile grew sheepish. “I should be grateful. So many people are out of work, and Doug is deluged.”

She passed him a glass of lemonade. He drained it and hunkered down by the chicken. “Gratitude is nice, in theory. I was grateful that Gayle had a career. I had all the pride and respect in the world for her, but I hated it when she wasn’t home when I was.”

“She must have felt the same about your career.”

“Maybe yes, maybe no. She was self-sufficient in nearly every respect. She didn’t need me.”

“But she married you.”

“Not from need. From want.”

“All the nicer.”

Brian wasn’t so sure. “She was on the go all the time. Marriage stood for something settled in her mind. Same with having a baby. She was raised in a traditional family that said marriage and children were musts. Her career didn’t allow much time for them, but without them she would have felt like a failure.”

“Was it the same way with you?” Emily asked.

He reached for a piece of chicken. “My career wasn’t any more generous than hers. I’ve been known to work round the clock for days in a row.”

“On murder investigations?”

“Mm.” He bit into the chicken, salivating even before the meat hit his tongue.

“Did you have to have a body to launch a murder investigation?”

He shook his head and finished what was in his mouth. “But we needed some evidence of foul play. It didn’t have to be physical evidence. In the case of a missing person, it usually wasn’t, not in the sense of blood-stained somethings. But there were other things that could get us involved.”

“Like what?”

“Like a car abandoned where it shouldn’t have been. A wallet thrown in a trash can. Appointments missed. Those cases were always a challenge. Like finding pieces of a puzzle, one by one, and putting them together.”

“How successful were you?”

“I had a pretty good batting average—but it took time, which meant time away from Gayle and from Julia.” He wondered if Julia was taking a nap. He would never forgive himself if she cried herself to sleep. Not that he would ever know, since she wouldn’t say.

He felt discouraged. “There are times when I wonder if we’re going to make it, Julia and me. I’m groping blind on hostile turf.”

“Not hostile, just new. My husband would have felt the same way if he’d had to jump in all of a sudden and mother Jill.”

“He wasn’t a do-it-all father?”

“Not quite,” she drawled, then held up a contrite hand, “which was okay. He had his business, and I was perfectly happy mothering Jill. I didn’t want him worrying about her. So if anyone’s at fault for his not having been involved, it’s me.”

“He’s lucky to have you. Full-time mothers are few and far between these days.”

“I have that luxury because he works.”

“So when will I get to meet him?”

“Soon. He’ll be back.”

“John said he was a business consultant. Does he have an office here in Grannick?”

“In our den. His computer has a fax and a modem, and programs that do incredible things. Several times a day he accesses his mail and messages. It’s ingenious, really. But you must know about all that. Aren’t the police using electronics much more?”

Brian shrugged. “We can match fingerprints, trace license plates, pull up rap sheets faster than we could before. But nothing substitutes for good old-fashioned legwork.” He thought about legwork while he ate, thought about someone changing Julia’s diaper, putting her rabbit in with her to nap, rubbing her back for a bit. “Like raising kids. Computers can’t do it.”

“She’s fine,” Emily assured him, reading his mind. “You’ve called twice. She wasn’t crying either time.”

“She probably cried herself into a stupor.”

“She’s probably intrigued by the other kids.”

“She’s never been with others much. We always had a sister at our place.”

“Then this is good.”

He figured she ought to know, since she had raised an only child, herself. “Hard to imagine Julia interacting with other children.”

“She won’t yet. But she sees them. She imitates them. She learns that she can’t have every toy the minute she wants it. And she learns that even though her father leaves her, he always comes back to get her and take her home.”

He remembered the nightmare of leaving her that morning. “It kills me to think she’s feeling abandoned.”

“You give her too much credit. Not that she isn’t bright. Not that she isn’t the brightest one there,” this said, with a knowing half-smile, “but kids are fickle. They’re easily distracted. Show them a new toy and they’re fine. She may cry each morning when you leave—”

“That doesn’t stop?” he interrupted, appalled.

“Eventually. Jill cried for the longest time when I left her with her playgroup. We were very close, even then.”

“I’ll bet you miss her a lot.”

Emily studied the broken-down wall. “Six weeks and counting ’til fall break. That’s why this is good. It distracts me.” She frowned at the window. “What if it rains tonight?”

He willingly leaped from parenthood to carpentry and the surer footing he had there. “We’ll stretch a tarp over the hole before we leave. Two guys from the station are coming by first thing tomorrow to help with the window. We’ll have it in by noon.”

Shortly after noon on the following day, Emily sat in the very same spot, feeling awed. The arched window looked spectacular. She was starved for the sunlight and the cheer it added. Doug hadn’t called last night. After the fiasco of the weekend, that hurt. She had hoped he would want to apologize, or mend fences, or simply see how she was. Apparently not.

“So, what do you think?” Brian asked. He stood tall above her, regarding the window with a well-deserved pride.

She let the sight of him lighten her mood. He was so different from Doug, so positive, so
earthy
in a clean, sexy way. “It makes the room into something special. Jill will be angry we didn’t think to do it when she was around.” She offered up a sandwich. “Roast beef on rye, with Russian dressing.”

“I thought it was my turn to buy lunch.”

“Tomorrow,” she promised, figuring that otherwise he would argue. Lunch was a small price to pay for his help, not to mention his company. He was easy on the mind. She liked him.

He sat down beside her and unwrapped the sandwich. “How is she doing—your daughter?”

Emily sighed. “She isn’t as wild about classes as she was about orientation, but she’ll be fine.” At least, Emily kept telling herself that. Jill had suddenly realized there was more to college than parties. She was feeling intimidated and lonesome. And she kept asking about Doug.

“You two ought to plan a vacation,” she’d said. “A real going-away kind of trip, now that I’m gone. My roommate’s parents just got back from Bermuda, kind of to celebrate their freedom. They loved it.”

“Your father travels all week.” No
way
would he spring for a weekend away, what with the other expenses they had. Emily knew enough not to ask. “Staying home is his vacation.”

“But it’s not much of one for you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Really, Mom? Are you okay without me?”

“How are you doing without her?” Brian asked.

Emily was a minute in separating his question from the one Jill had asked, and another in deciding how honest to be. She could gloss over the loss and say she was fine. But she was tired of doing that. It wasn’t the truth, not really. “I miss her.” She patted her heart. “There’s a big hole where her presence has always been. She’s been my world for a long time.” She took a breath. “But I’d better get used to it, right? This was what I raised her for, to let her go.” She had read that on a mug once. It sounded good.

“Did you ever work?”

From another mug. “Every mother works.”

“Outside the home.”

“No. Not formally. I dropped out of college to marry Doug. When Jill got old enough for school, I started taking courses down the street, but more for my own sake than for that of a job.”

“Did you get your degree?”

She nodded. “In English. I’ve always loved to write. I write for the local paper sometimes. Fill in for the regular reporter.”

“Do you really?”

“Yup. It’s fun.”

“I’ll bet.”

“While I was getting my degree, I got to know the professors. I grade papers for them sometimes, or help organize their research, like their own personal editor. It’s a loose arrangement. We swap—my work for a free ride taking extra courses. I’ve taken some good ones. Criminology. Abnormal Psychology. People interest me. Their motives. Why they go wrong or crack up or do bizarre things. Why a gunman randomly opens fire in a crowded subway. Why a motorist plows his car into a crowd of Christmas shoppers. What really happened to the Lindbergh baby.”

“He was kidnapped,” Brian said.

“Some say his father took him as a prank, then the prank went awry.” The thought of it gave Emily a bone-deep chill, still she had read it, had taken in every last argument for and against the theory.

Brian was thoughtful as he ate. Finally, he shook his head. “There was the ladder used in the kidnapping, the ransom note, the money—all traced to Hauptmann. He had a record. He had escaped from a German jail.”