From the adjoining backyard, Randi’s exasperation was drowned out by the sound of a crying baby.
Clara raised her eyebrows dramatically at Thomas. “Uh-oh,” she said. “Should we go see if Miss Randi needs help?” He nodded obligingly, and she moved to unstrap Maddie from her high chair. A fresh chorus of angry clucks was accompanied by more frantic rustling, and Adele’s wails grew even louder.
“Maybe baby Rrradele was trying to eat the eggs, and the mommy chickens got mad,” Thomas guessed. Clara would have found this explanation more entertaining had she not been horrified he’d picked up on Benny’s behind-closed-doors name for the baby.
“Ah-dele,” she corrected him, leading him by the hand through the back door as Maddie wrapped her pajama-clad drumstick legs around her other hip. “And I doubt it.”
She extended a foot to stop the dog from following them—“Sorry, Pups, not now”—and shivered as she slid the door shut, Pup-Pup’s dejected face peering up at her through the glass. The morning was on the cold side of crisp, the smell of burning leaves was in the air, and there was no mistaking that fall was decidedly here, with winter not far behind. She tightened her arms around Maddie, feeling guilty that she hadn’t stopped to grab their coats.
“I only have two hands!” Randi was yelling, futilely, into the commotion of clucking and wailing. Clara ushered Thomas along beside her as they rushed toward the coop, which was obstructed by yellowing honeysuckle.
“Randi? One get loose again?”
“Oh, thank Buddha.” Her frazzled neighbor’s head appeared around the bush. “Kitchen door’s open—Adele’s in the swing—can you run in? I’m so afraid she’ll thrash her way out. I have to get them…”
“Of course!” Clara corralled the kids as quickly as she could to the screen door, through which she could see the metronome of the plush baby swing ticking soothingly side to side, while Adele defiantly screamed her head off, her face red, her tiny fists clenched with rage.
Thomas ran ahead in with arms outstretched, fingers wiggling, intent on tickling the baby’s bare feet. “I’m not sure she’s in the mood for that,” Clara called out, depositing Maddie on the tile and setting about unstrapping the flailing ball of flesh. She pulled the baby to her chest and bounced her rhythmically. “There now,” she said. Adele sniffled into her collarbone, her runny nose leaving a sticky trail across the front of Clara’s thermal, just as Randi rushed in and slid the door shut behind her.
“Oh, your poor shirt. No good deed goes unpunished,” Randi groaned.
“Now it matches the other side,” Clara said. She’d been joking, but she glanced down for effect and discovered that it was in fact offset by tiny fingerprints of maple syrup. She smiled ruefully at Randi.
“And Rhoda thinks she’s doing the ‘real’ work, getting up early to open the store.”
“That’s just a thing people say so they can play the martyr while saving their sanity. It’s a win-win for the working parent.”
“Stay for a cup of coffee? It’s been one of those weeks. Ooh! And I’m waiting for the second half of one of those Second Date Update segments Izzy does. Right after this set list.” Clara turned to hide her frown, ostensibly scanning the room for something to interest the kids so she could stay. She hadn’t seen Izzy for over a week now and was worried that she’d offended her with the heart-to-heart gone wrong after their dinner. But more than that, she was worried that what she’d said hadn’t swayed her.
Randi reached to turn up the radio that was mounted under a cabinet. One of the more annoying hit songs of late was playing, and Clara was reminded of why she didn’t tune in very often. “Thomas!” Randi clapped her hands brightly. “Adele got some new activity centers. She isn’t big enough for them yet, but I bet you and Maddie could help us figure out what cool things they can do!” Clara was content to snuggle the baby while Randi ducked into the hallway and reappeared with two of those little plastic tables toddlers can use to pull to standing. Soon she had Thomas and Maddie situated, testing every button, light, and lever, and was filling a steaming mug for Clara. “It’s free trade,” she said as she handed it over, as if Clara would have refused it otherwise.
The voice of the DJ piped into the kitchen over the closing notes of the song. “Good morning! If you’re just tuning in, you’re here with Sonny and Day on Freshly Squeezed, and we’ve got Michelle on the line, waiting to find out what’s become of Kevin. Michelle, are you ready as you’ll ever be?”
There was a nervous giggle of affirmation and then some dialing.
“Fill me in,” Clara said, shifting the baby so she could stir a splash of milk into her coffee. “Do we like Michelle? Do we think we’re going to like Kevin?”
“I don’t really know. The chickens drowned her out. But that’s okay—the second half is where you get the real story anyway.”
“If you ever get the real story.”
“Don’t be such a skeptic.” Some obligatory chitchat with the elusive Kevin was coming from the radio now, but Randi still had her eyes trained on Clara’s. “With a guy like Benny, what do you have to be so cynical about?”
Clara shrugged. “You’re not my only neighbors, you know.”
“Ah. The good doctor. Sometimes I forget he’s over there. Selective memory, I guess.”
“I wish I had that.”
“Well, I figure listening is about supporting Izzy. Did you get Hallie’s new edition of The Color-Blind Gazette yesterday? With that great profile of her on the second page?”
Clara smiled. “I would have settled for the kid not breaking any more laws, but she did a nice job with this one, didn’t she?”
“Between that and the little spotlight on our charity sale, I was quite impressed.”
“Wait, wait, wait!” Day’s voice cut through the kitchen, sounding positively euphoric. “So you actually lost your cell phone?”
“I did.” Kevin’s laugh was pretty good-natured for someone who’d been put on the spot. He sounded young. Randi’s face lit up, and she lifted a silencing finger, waiting to hear what he had to say. “My replacement finally came in yesterday. I was able to keep my phone number, obviously, but they couldn’t retrieve my contacts. I’ve been kicking myself all week for not knowing how to reach her otherwise. I guess that’s the downside of meeting someone in a bar when you’re drunk…” He stopped and laughed more nervously, as if it had just occurred to him that his mom might be listening.
“So you never got my texts?” Michelle’s voice through the phone line was thick with amazement. She might have just been told that fairies exist.
“I never did. And I never would’ve blown you off.”
Day laughed merrily. “Kevin. This is a landmark case. I mean, this gives hope to jilted women everywhere! Do you realize that is the number-one excuse we invent for you guys when you don’t call? Maybe he lost his phone—he wants to call, but he just can’t! Am I right, Michelle? Tell me you haven’t thought that about, like, every guy who ever hasn’t called you!”
Clara leaned back in her chair, trying to decide whether this guy was telling the truth. Maybe they’d finally just hit on someone who didn’t have the guts to tell the whole listening area, “Hey, I really just was trying for a one-night stand and never had any intention of following up.” She couldn’t help but wonder how this was going over with Izzy. She couldn’t picture her not rolling her eyes behind the scenes.
At the other end of the phone, Michelle was laughing too now, giddy with the prospect of a second date after all. “So right,” she said emphatically.
“Thanks for breaking the mold, Kev,” Day said.
“Speaking of breaking the mold,” Sonny said. “We’ve never done more than one Second Date Update in a morning, but we have a special case here. A surprise involving one of our own staffers. A silent partner, if you will. Izzy, say hi to our listeners.”
Clara and Randi exchanged a look.
There was a bit of scuffling on the air—Clara pictured a micropho
ne perhaps being offered, headphones perhaps being waved away—followed by an awkward silence. “Hi to our listeners,” a meek voice said finally. Randi gripped Clara’s arm in an excited squeeze.
Sonny laughed easily. “Izzy is one of our producers, and what you don’t see—or don’t hear, I should say—is that Izzy helps make Second Date Update possible. She does all the work behind the scenes so we can have all the fun on the air.”
“That’s right,” Day chimed in. “Anyone out there with a happy ending from Second Date Update, you really have Izzy to thank. It starts with her.”
“She knows how to pick ’em,” Sonny agreed. “Which is why we couldn’t resist when we got a private message from someone who’s hoping Izzy will pick him—for herself.”
Clara’s eyes widened in alarm. It couldn’t be. Surely Paul couldn’t be clueless enough to call a radio show over another woman while Kristin was missing.
“I thought Izzy secretly hated this segment?” Randi whispered, as if they might be disturbing the rest of the listeners.
“She does.”
“Been holding out on us, Iz?” Day’s voice was breezy, though Clara could only imagine how Izzy must be glaring at her right now. “Any dates you’d like to tell us about?”
Izzy cleared her throat. “No,” she said, sounding genuinely confused. “No dates, period.”
“Well, it wasn’t exactly a date,” a male voice cut in. Clara and Randi cocked their heads, like puppies trying to distinguish their owner’s footsteps from the rest. Behind them, an activity table burst into song, and Thomas and Maddie shared a delighted laugh.
“Kind of an unconventional format we’re rolling with here,” Sonny said, “without Izzy to pull it all together offstage. So forgive us for any bumps. But let’s back up and start at the beginning. Paul, welcome! Pretend you’re an ordinary caller, and we don’t have Izzy on the line yet. Tell us about your date, or … what would you call it?”
“I don’t know. She called it a parallel universe. I kind of liked that.”
The doctor’s voice was smooth, well suited for radio, and Clara closed her eyes. Her grasping-at-straws hope that it was anyone other than him faded. When she opened them, Randi was staring dramatically at her. “That Paul?” she mouthed, pointing in the direction of his house, and Clara nodded, dropping her forehead into a hand.
“The timing’s all wrong, I know that,” he continued. “I’ve been going through a divorce and there are … complications. It’s taking longer than it should, and I can’t say I blame anyone for keeping their distance from that.”
“Things with your ex, though, they’re done for good?” Day was using her best suspicious voice, though she was clearly oblivious of the gravity of what Paul had left unsaid.
Paul’s laugh almost disguised his bitterness. Almost. “No question.”
“So if the timing’s bad, why pursue Izzy?”
He sighed. “Have you ever met someone who just makes you feel … different? Better. She never judged me for … you know, the drama. She’s kind, and easy to talk to—she really listens. She’s her own force in the natural world, though I can tell she doesn’t think of herself that way. She’s like … like the call of a whippoorwill high in the trees. Like a river cutting through a ravine. Like a ride on a fast bike, that feeling of freedom.”
“Whoa, buddy. No need to lay it on so thick!” Day and Sonny erupted in laughter.
Izzy still hadn’t said a word.
“We’ve had a few moments,” Paul said. “A good connection. And then we had one great moment. At least, I thought so.”
“Ooh, we’re getting warmer!” Day said.
“Are we talking about something physical here?” Sonny asked, adopting his best man-to-man tone.
“I don’t kiss and tell, so to speak,” Paul said. “But I thought there was … a spark.”
“And then what?” Day again.
“Then nothing. It’s been over a week. I’ve tried going by her house, stuck a note on her door. Left a couple of voice mails. I don’t have her cell number, only what’s in the phone book. But she hasn’t gotten back to me. Then I saw her leaving for work and I thought—you know what, she’s off to this Second Date Update thing, what the hell, why not call. This is what you do, right?”
“Izzy!” Sonny laughed. “I have to say, I did not know you had it in you to ghost someone. You always seem so … I don’t know, approachable. Accessible…”
“I’m not ghosting anyone,” she said. Her irritation was unmistakable, but Clara couldn’t tell if it was directed at Sonny or at Paul. “I’ve been busy, is all.”
Clara bit her lip. Izzy had promised to think on what she’d said about Paul. And evidently that had been enough to keep her away for at least a week. But now he was putting her on the spot. She wanted to cry.
“He called you a mountain stream, Iz,” Day said. “He called you a whippoorwill. Freedom. This guy is like a walking Garth Brooks song.”
“Or is it Randy Travis?” Sonny mused. “John Denver?”
“Whatever it is, I think it’s sweet,” Day said.
“I wasn’t trying to turn it into a joke,” Paul said, and Sonny’s laughter stopped at the edge in his voice. “She’s very different from me is what I mean.” The edge softened, and Dr. Paul reappeared, polished and smart. “Izzy has a calming effect. I like being near her. And she knows what I mean about the whippoorwill.”
“Well, I have to say, that speech alone would knock most women I know right off their feet,” Day said. “Okay. So what gives, Izzy? You know the drill. Paul is calling because he wants to know why you haven’t been responsive.”
“Actually,” Paul interjected, “I don’t so much care why. She doesn’t have to say. I just want to change her mind. I just want a chance.”
“Well, I—” Izzy gave a nervous laugh. “Paul, I didn’t even know you actually wanted to date. Like you said, it’s not great timing.”
“I just … I don’t want to put my life on hold anymore. I’ve already wasted so much time.”
“I’m not sure you’re thinking it through. I don’t think this is the venue to discuss this…”
“You caught me. I was trying not to think it through. Like we talked about?”
“We talked about me not thinking things through so much. Not you.”
“Even better.”
Adele had fallen asleep on Clara’s chest, and she wrapped her arms tightly around the baby, evading Randi’s eyes. Paul had laid his trap with impressive cunning. What choice did Izzy have but to say yes?
“Why don’t we just try one real date,” Paul said.
“Freshly Squeezed picks up the tab,” Sonny reminded Izzy. “What do you have to lose?”
“Well…” An awkward silence filled the kitchen.
“Did you know about this?” Randi hissed.
“Why not,” Izzy said. She sounded … well, not unhappy.
“Smart move,” Day crooned. “This one sounds like a keeper, Iz.”
Randi switched off the radio and looked wide-eyed at Clara.
“I saw her pull up on the back of his motorcycle last week,” Clara said. “That was the first I ever saw them together. Though Hallie had mentioned to me that they seemed to be friends. She was worried.”
“Well, yeah.” Randi was shaking her head.
Clara shifted the baby’s weight. “I tried to talk to her about it, and she was pretty defensive. I ended up feeling awful. But maybe it worked, if he hadn’t heard from her…”
There was a scuffle over by the play center, where Thomas and Maddie were at the end of their attention spans for peaceful parallel play. They were battling over a plastic phone receiver, and Randi pulled a face at Clara, who sighed and held out the baby, reluctant to trade in the sleeping bundle for the arguing toddler-preschooler combo.
“I don’t want to get stuck in mom mode,” Randi said softly, setting Adele back into the swing. “And I know Izzy isn’t that much younger than us. But I like her a l
ot. It would be helpful to know how worried we should be.”
“Two minutes, kids,” Clara called. Maddie had come away with the phone and was gumming it greedily. Thomas scowled at her, but she ignored him and turned back to Randi.
“Kristin’s sister came to see me,” Clara said. “She seemed to think we’re right to be worried.”
“Oh, God. Why?”
“Nothing definitive. She just … had suspicions all along.”
Randi shook her head. “You kind of keep getting pulled into this, don’t you?” There was sympathy in her voice, and Clara wondered why she hadn’t been spending more time here, with women who intuitively understood more of what she’d been feeling. Benny’s more distanced approach was practical, she knew, but it had left her sort of … well, alone. Ever since he’d brought up the idea of her going back to work, to find something else to focus her energies on, she’d tried not to mention Kristin. The subject of his suggestion hadn’t come up again, and she wanted to keep it that way.
“Kristin’s been gone five weeks, six?” Randi asked.
“Somewhere in between.”
Randi looked out across their backyards, and Clara followed her gaze toward Kristin’s pretty white Victorian. A strong wind had kicked up, pulling leaves from the suddenly skeletal tree branches with alarming speed. Clara hoped whoever had lit that fire she’d smelled earlier had extinguished all the sparks.
“It’s gone kind of quiet. Do you think they’re even still investigating?”
“Excellent question,” Clara said. “Maybe we’d better find out.”
33
Husband Drowns After Pulling Wife From Riptide|Heroin Epidemic a “Red Level Threat”|Fatal Maternity Ward Fire Raises Safety Questions|Protests Draw Crowds, but Not Change|No Sign of “Black Box” in Flight Wreckage|Famed Couple Announces Split After 20 Years|Failing Grades for Water Quality Were Not Disclosed|Consumer Data Hack Has Deeper Implications|U.S. Gun Violence Year to Date: An Infographic
—A string of email subject lines moved from Izzy’s work email in-box into her trash, unread
Not That I Could Tell: A Novel Page 25