by Joy Fielding
“What do you mean, relative?” Hunter asked, a mock frown on his lips.
“I’ll drink to relative,” Jerrod said, raising his glass of champagne as the others followed suit, stretching their glasses toward one another in a congratulatory toast.
“Careful,” Rain warned. “You can’t cross hands or it’s bad luck.”
“Really? I’ve never heard that,” Becky said.
“Go on,” Peggy instructed Caroline. “One more thing you’re thankful for.”
Caroline tried to come up with a third reason to be grateful other than family, health, and friends. Surely she could think of something. “I’m thankful for the ocean,” she said finally, glancing in its general direction.
“Seriously?” Rain asked.
“I’m thankful the San Diego real estate market is so strong,” Steve said, not waiting to be asked. “I’m thankful I was able to persuade Hunter to let us join you here in beautiful Rosarito to help you celebrate.” He glanced pointedly across the table at his wife. “I’m especially thankful that my mother is such a great cook.”
“You’re so full of shit,” Becky said.
“Is our mother not a great cook?” Steve asked Caroline.
“Our mother is indeed a great cook,” Caroline agreed. “And you are also full of shit.”
Everybody laughed, although Steve’s laugh was muted and his hazel eyes were as lifeless and hard as stones.
“Your turn, Becky,” Rain said.
“I’m sorry, everyone. I’ve had this terrible headache all afternoon, and it seems to be getting worse.” Tears clouded her eyes. She made no move to hide them or brush them aside. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, pushing back her chair and getting to her feet.
“Oh, sit down,” Steve said. “You’re fine. Don’t be such a prima donna.”
“Fuck you.” Becky turned and stomped away.
There was a moment of stunned silence.
“Shouldn’t you go after her?” Fletcher asked Steve as he calmly finished off the last of his champagne.
“What—you think I’m as crazy as she is?”
“I should go check on the kids,” Caroline said, as eager to get away as Becky had been.
“Hurry back.” Hunter stood to kiss her cheek before she left.
“Oh. So sweet,” Caroline heard Rain say as she was walking away.
An elevator was waiting, its doors open, when Caroline reached the far side of the lobby. She stepped inside and pressed the button for the sixth floor. So far the evening had proved less than stellar: first the mix-up with the babysitter, then her guilt at leaving the kids alone, followed by her brother and sister-in-law’s unpleasant bickering. That they no longer seemed to care who heard them was not a good sign. Caroline exited the elevator, doubting her brother’s marriage would survive the year, let alone a decade.
She hurried down the long corridor, convinced with each step that she heard her children’s anguished cries bouncing off the walls. But when she opened the door to her suite, she heard nothing except the reassuring hum of silence. She tiptoed into their bedroom, pausing in the doorway for her eyes to adjust to the dark, then moved toward Michelle’s bed.
The child lay sleeping on her side, her mouth partly open, the covers bunched awkwardly around her waist, her Wonder Woman doll trapped inside their folds. Caroline carefully extricated the doll and drew the sheet up over her daughter’s shoulders, depositing the doll on the pillow next to her head. You’re such an angel when you sleep, she thought, fighting the urge to kiss her cheek. If only you could save some of that sweetness for when you’re awake.
She swiveled toward Samantha’s crib and leaned over its side, a deep sigh escaping her lungs.
Samantha lay on her back, her little arms raised above her head and bent at the elbows, as if she had literally surrendered to sleep. Hunter was right, she thought. I’ve been silly to worry.
The phone rang, its shrill sound a bayonet slicing through the stillness. Caroline bolted for the living room, grabbing the offending object before it could ring again and pressing it tight against her ear. “Hello?” She should have phoned the front desk, told them to hold all calls. What if the phone had rung when she wasn’t around? What if it had woken up the children? What if they’d cried out for her? What if they’d panicked when she hadn’t come running?
“Is this a bad time?” asked the voice on the other end. “You sound peculiar.”
“Mother?” Caroline could barely hear her own voice over the beating of her heart. She thought of the conversation at dinner and suppressed a shudder. Was it possible her mother had sensed they’d been talking about her? She’d always claimed to have eyes in the back of her head, and ears everywhere, that nothing ever escaped her. When Caroline was little, this thought used to terrify her. If she was being honest, it still did. “Is everything all right?”
“Do you care?”
“What do you mean? Of course I care.”
“Is that why I haven’t heard from you all week?”
“Well, I…”
“I’m not complaining, you understand. Just stating facts. I know you’re very busy partying. At least I have one child who is considerate of his mother’s feelings.”
That’s because he’s still laboring under the misconception that you have any, Caroline thought. “Steve’s a good son,” she said. A good son and a lousy husband.
“Too bad you didn’t have boys.”
Caroline almost laughed, remembering her mother’s spontaneous outburst when she’d phoned from her hospital bed to tell her of Samantha’s birth. “Another stinking girl!” her mother had exclaimed.
“I just called to wish you a happy anniversary,” she said now.
A wave of guilt swept over Caroline. She was being too hard on her mother. The woman wasn’t going to change. It was up to Caroline to change the way she reacted to her. She had to be more generous, less judgmental. “Thank you.”
“I have to say I’m surprised. I thought Hunter would be bored to tears by now.”
This time Caroline did laugh, although the sound was muted and caught in her throat. You can’t make this stuff up, she thought. “I’m sorry—are you saying I’m boring?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth. Hunter just strikes me as the type of man who gets bored easily. Stop being so sensitive.”
“I should go, Mother. Everybody’s wait—” The line went dead in Caroline’s hands before she could finish the sentence. She shook her head and hung up, then immediately picked up the phone again and pressed the number for the front desk, telling them to hold all calls until further notice. She doubted there would be any more calls, but she couldn’t take that chance. Her mother usually insisted on having the last word.
She did one final check on the girls before leaving the suite. Neither had been disturbed by her mother’s call. “Just boring old me,” she said as she closed the door behind her and stepped into the hall. A waiter in a white jacket was walking toward her, wheeling a dinner cart. He stopped a few doors away from her and knocked. “Room service,” he called out as Caroline passed by.
“Everything all right?” Hunter asked when she returned to the restaurant.
“Everything’s fine.” Caroline noticed that there were now two empty seats at the table. “Where’s my brother?”
“He gave in to peer pressure soon after you left and went to see if he could persuade Becky to come back,” Peggy said.
Good luck with that, Caroline thought, as a trio of handsome young musicians approached their table. “What’s this?” she asked, as two of the men knelt at her feet and raised their guitars in the air.
“Happy anniversary,” Hunter said.
“Isn’t this just the most romantic thing ever!” Rain exclaimed.
“You’re not bored with me, are you?” Caroline whispered to Hunter as the musicians began their soft serenade.
“Bored with you? Where on earth would you get that idea?”
Caroline shook al
l remaining thoughts of her mother out of her head. She caressed her husband’s cheek. “I love you,” she said.
“Ah,” said Rain, “so sweet.”
—
Half an hour later, the singers had finished their songs, and dessert—flaming crêpes suzette—had been ordered. “I should go check on the kids before it arrives,” Hunter said.
Caroline smiled, grateful she hadn’t had to remind him.
“And I need a sweater,” Rain said, resting a manicured hand on her impressive cleavage. “The girls are getting chilly.”
Caroline watched her husband and Rain go their separate ways at the restaurant’s entrance, Rain to one wing, Hunter to the other.
“Well, that was a lovely little surprise,” Peggy said.
“It was,” Caroline agreed.
“Hunter certainly knows his way around a grand gesture.”
“He certainly knows how to make the rest of us look bad,” Fletcher groused good-naturedly. “Not that there are many of us left.”
“Yes, it’s starting to feel a bit like musical chairs around here,” Jerrod concurred.
“Think your brother and Becky will ever come back?” Peggy asked.
Caroline shook her head. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve already checked out. Frankly, I don’t know why they wanted to come at all.”
“Maybe they hoped a romantic holiday might be good for their marriage.”
Caroline couldn’t argue with that. Hadn’t she been hoping the same thing for hers?
Two waiters approached.
“Would it be too much trouble to hold off on dessert until the others get back?” Caroline asked them. “They should only be a few minutes.”
In reality, it was more like fifteen.
“Sorry I was gone so long,” Hunter said as he reclaimed his seat. “I waited forever for an elevator, then finally gave up and took the stairs. The kids are sound asleep,” he continued before Caroline could ask. He looked around the table. “Where is everyone?”
As if on cue, Rain suddenly appeared, Steve at her side. “Look who I found in the lobby,” she said, gathering her newly acquired shawl around her.
“I was about to send out a search party,” her husband said.
“I forgot I’d already packed the damn thing. Had to unpack my whole suitcase to find it.”
“Serves you right for being so organized,” Peggy said. “I haven’t even started packing.”
“I take it you couldn’t convince Becky to come back,” Caroline said to her brother.
Steve shrugged as he pulled out his chair. “Women,” he said to the men present. “Can’t live with ’em, can’t shoot ’em.”
“Nice talk,” Caroline said.
“Kids okay?” Steve asked Hunter.
“Kids are fine.”
The waiters returned and everyone watched in silence as one prepared the crêpes while the other set them ablaze, the flames stretching like angry claws toward the darkened sky.
—
“Home, sweet home,” Hunter said, waving the keycard in front of the door to their suite. The small light at the lock flashed red, indicating that the door remained locked. He staggered slightly as he tried again and got the same result. “That’s weird. It was working fine earlier.”
“Try mine,” Caroline said. She’d gotten a new one before dinner.
He did, and it worked. “Stupid thing,” Hunter muttered, throwing the keycard down on the coffee table as they entered the living room, then flopping down on the sofa.
“Maybe you had it too close to your cell phone.”
“Maybe. Come sit with me,” he said.
“I’ll just check on the kids.”
“The kids can wait two minutes.”
Caroline walked over to the sofa and sank down beside her husband. He quickly surrounded her with his arms and kissed her neck, his breath warm and carrying the trace of at least one drink too many. The drapes were open and the reflection of the light from the outside lanterns danced on the walls, mixing with the soft glow of the moon. “So, did you enjoy your anniversary after all?”
“I did.”
“Liar,” he chided.
“No. It was lovely. It was.”
“You hardly touched your dinner.”
“I wasn’t that hungry.”
“You were worried about the kids.”
“I got over it.”
He kissed her neck again. “Did you enjoy your serenade?”
“Very much.”
“Were you surprised?”
“I was. I didn’t realize you were such a romantic.”
“I can’t take all the credit. It was actually Steve’s idea.”
“Really? Too bad he can’t come up with any good ideas where Becky is concerned.” Caroline’s hand moved to the front of her husband’s pants. “And speaking of coming up…”
Hunter stilled her hand. “I’m really sorry, babe. I think I may have overdone it with the celebratory toasts.”
“Oh, dear.” Caroline tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice. She’d been looking forward all day to making love to her husband, had been fantasizing about prolonged foreplay, maybe even trying something new. “Maybe there’s something I can do about that.”
Hunter moved her hand away from his groin. “Sorry, sweetheart. Not that I wouldn’t appreciate the effort but I’m afraid you’d just be wasting your time.”
“We could try, see what happens.”
“Please don’t make me feel worse about this than I already do,” he said, effectively ending the conversation.
Caroline withdrew her hand, sat up straight.
“Now you’re angry.”
“Just disappointed.”
“We can do it in the morning.”
Sure, Caroline thought. When the kids are up and we’re hurrying to pack and check out.
“And tomorrow night.”
When you’re exhausted from driving and the kids are cranky and we’re unpacking and you’re preoccupied with getting back to work.
“And every night after that for the rest of our lives,” Hunter said, giving her his best little-boy smile. “Please, Caroline. I’m really sorry.”
“I know. Me, too.” She pushed herself off the couch. “I’ll go check on the kids.” Once again she found herself in the doorway of the girls’ bedroom, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dark. So much for romance, she thought, moving toward Michelle’s bed and stepping on something hard.
Wonder Woman, she realized, picking the doll up off the floor and returning her to the pillow beside Michelle’s head. The child immediately swatted the doll away with her hand, although she didn’t wake up. Another rejection, Caroline thought, crossing over to Samantha’s crib.
When she didn’t see her immediately, Caroline assumed that the toddler had merely shifted positions, that she’d somehow turned herself around in her sleep, as she often did, her head now at the opposite end of the crib, her feet where her head should be.
Except her feet weren’t there either.
Caroline leaned in closer, her eyes trying to pierce the darkness, her fingers grasping at the covers, finding nothing but an empty quilt.
Samantha wasn’t there.
No, this can’t be, Caroline thought, panic filling her lungs. It’s impossible. It can’t be.
She moved quickly to the light switch and flipped on the overhead light, then raced back to the crib.
It was empty.
“Samantha?” she called out, wondering if her daughter had somehow managed to climb out of the crib. She fell to her knees, checking under it in case Samantha was lying unconscious on the floor.
She wasn’t there.
“Samantha!”
“Mommy?” Michelle sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes as Caroline began spinning around in helpless circles.
“Samantha!” Caroline called again, hysteria clinging to the name, as she raced through the living room into the master bedroom.
“
What’s going on?” Hunter asked, emerging from the en suite bathroom.
“She’s not there! She’s not there!”
“Mommy?” Michelle cried, coming up behind her.
It was then that Caroline’s rising panic broke loose, exploding violently into the air and filling the suite with screams.
The plane touched down in Calgary at precisely twelve minutes after noon. Caroline’s forehead had been pressed against the window of the small aircraft ever since they’d left San Diego, her eyes following the gradual muting of the sky as it dulled from bright blue to steel gray over the course of the flight.
“It looks like we’ve landed on the moon,” Michelle said from the seat beside her, probably the most words she’d uttered all trip.
It certainly looks cold, Caroline thought, noting the large piles of shoveled snow on the ground along the edge of the runway. She was glad Michelle had persuaded her to wear boots, even though they weren’t lined and likely weren’t waterproof. She was also glad her daughter had insisted she bring her heavy down coat, a coat she’d purchased on impulse immediately following her divorce and had rarely had occasion to wear. In fact, she was glad that Michelle had insisted on accompanying her, even though it gave her one more thing to worry about. Maybe worrying about Michelle would take her mind off the insanity of what she was doing.
“Coming?” Michelle asked from the aisle as the plane was emptying.
Caroline scrambled to her feet, grabbing her coat and overnight bag from the overhead bin. She hadn’t slept more than a few hours all night and she was exhausted. Also hyper. Not a great combination, she thought, following Michelle to the front of the plane. She thanked the flight attendant, then struggled to catch up to her daughter, who was walking very purposefully, her bag thrown across one shoulder, her arms swinging at her sides. Does she always walk this fast? Caroline wondered. And has she always been so thin?
She’s so thin because all she eats is raw fish and vegetables, she thought with her next breath. Or maybe it was the bulky down jacket that was making her hips seem so narrow, her thighs so inconsequential.