Wednesday's Child

by Leigh Michaels

  “No. What message?”

  “I found a little something of yours.”

  “Beast!” Robbie screamed and took off for the back yard, crutches flying.

  “Beast,” Clare confirmed.

  “How did he ever get here? I wouldn’t have thought Beast had it in him.”

  Clare shrugged. “The homing instinct is a strong one. And Beast is no dummy. He picked out good old soft-hearted Robbie to follow home from school that day, didn’t he?”

  “Good point.” They followed Robbie back to the patio, where Gary was sitting, feet up on the picnic table, a can of beer in his hand. “Well, hello, stranger,” he said and made a half-hearted move to stand up.

  “Don’t bother,” Layne told him, and picked out a chair.

  Gary settled back. “Have a beer?”

  “No, thanks.” Kyle, she thought, would have been on his feet before she had a chance to tell him not to stand for her; he had beautiful manners. But what good were the manners, she asked herself, when the man underneath didn’t care a rap for common courtesy?

  Manners to Kyle were just that; they were certainly not the symbol of concern for his

  fellow human beings.

  “I’m glad to see you haven’t forgotten your way to the old neighborhood,” he said.

  “Gary, don’t waste your time on sarcasm. You know quite well why I’m not still living

  across the driveway, and I don’t plan to explain it again.”

  “Good for you,” Clare told her. “Gary’s been crying into that beer for a couple of hours now. I’m drinking sangria, Layne. Want a glass?”

  “Of course.” She followed Clare into the kitchen. “What’s eating him?”

  Clare took a pitcher from the refrigerator. “Oh, he had the rest of his life all planned out, and then you had to go throw a wrench into it.” She handed Layne a balloon glass, and smiled.

  “That’s all.”

  “Is he drinking a lot?”

  “No. At least not while he’s here; he’s still on his first beer. Which is more than I can say for myself.” She refilled her own glass with sangria. “You didn’t get the message I left at Wheatlands?”

  “No. I’ve been out looking for the dog since I got home.” Then, aching with curiosity, she added, “Who did you talk to?” Had Kyle cancelled his trip because of Robbie’s dog?

  “One of the maids.”

  “I wonder if Kyle was there, or if he went on to Minneapolis,” Layne said thoughtfully.

  “He was gone. I asked for him when the maid told me you weren’t there. Did you just drive out here on a hunch?”

  “Robbie was certain this was where Beast would have come. It made sense, but I wasn’t as sure as he was that Beast could find his way.”

  “The dog didn’t seem to be suffering any confusion. Look, I know you don’t owe Gary any explanations, but perhaps you should give him a chance to talk to you. He has something on his mind that he won’t tell me about.”

  “The perfect ending to a perfect day,” Layne groaned. “But you’re probably right.”

  Gary was still sitting on the terrace, still sipping the beer, still maintaining his thoughtful silence. Layne sat down and looked out over the yard. The two boys were wrestling with the dog on the grass. For a moment, she closed her eyes and let the sounds and smells of summer carry her back to the old days. That last day of peace – before Robbie broke his ankle, when her biggest concern had been looking for a new job...

  “Clare explained it to me,” Gary said. “Is the game still over when Labor Day comes?”

  Layne opened her eyes and nodded.

  “What will you do then?”

  She sipped her sangria and considered it. It was funny, actually, that she hadn’t given much thought to what would happen to her after the first Monday in September. But of course there was nothing she could do about it now, while she and Kyle were still maintaining the pretense.

  She could hardly start applying for jobs. She was almost afraid to think about what she would do, for fear she would let it slip to Robbie, or to Stephen, that the way they were living was only an act.

  “I suppose I’ll get a job. Look for an apartment. Wait for my divorce.” She shrugged. “Pick up the pieces of my life and put it back together — without Robbie.”

  Gary drained the beer can. “You didn’t mention Kyle.”

  “Should I have? What about him?”

  “Will it be difficult to put your life back together without him?”

  “No.” It was flat and uncompromising. “He hasn’t been in my life for nine years. One

  summer isn’t going to change that.”

  “You’re living with him now.”

  “Under the same roof. It’s hardly the same thing – Wheatlands has a pretty large roof.”

  “Do you really think he’ll want custody of Robbie?”

  “He already has that, Gary. He won’t ever let me take him away.” Her voice wasn’t

  despairing or self-pitying, just factual. Kyle had told her what he planned to do, and he would do it.

  “After you’re free... will you want to see me?” The question was hesitant, almost fearful.

  Layne looked at him over the brim of her glass, sipping her wine to give herself a chance to think. Gary wasn’t Prince Charming, but he had been good to her — and good for her — in the last year. She had been almost a recluse, and Gary had forced her to get out of the house, to do things and to make new friends. If it hadn’t been for Gary and Clare, she thought, her whole life would have been focused on Robbie.

  Losing Robbie would be a terrible blow to her, but she would survive it. A year ago it would have been even harder to bear.

  “It doesn’t matter, Layne. What you’re doing this summer, I mean. I was terribly jealous, but I had no right to be. And no reason to be, either. If you tell me it’s nothing but show, I believe that.” He reached for her hand.

  Layne let him hold it. “Of course I want to see you in the autumn, Gary, when this is over,”

  she said. “We’ve been good friends, and...”

  “Can we be more than friends? I still want to marry you, Layne.”

  Gary would never let her down. He would never hurt her, never set out to make her life miserable as Kyle seemed to delight in doing. Gary was a rock.

  Robbie appeared at the edge of the patio. “Can Tony come home with us and stay

  overnight, Mom? He wants to see the tree house.” He saw Layne pull her hand away from

  Gary’s, and he frowned.

  “It’s all right with me, if Clare approves.”

  The boys disappeared into the house.

  Kyle probably won’t like the idea, she thought, but who cares? He didn’t tell me not to allow Robbie’s friends to stay at Wheatlands. Interesting, she thought, that Robbie is already calling Wheatlands home again.

  Had the child’s glance at Gary been merely unfriendly, or was he now actively hostile?

  Probably hostile, Layne decided. Robbie would disapprove of anything that came between his parents right now, and Gary was a primary target. If she decided to marry Gary, Robbie would just have to get used to it.

  But it really wouldn’t be any of Robbie’s business, she realized. If Robbie wasn’t living with her, then she didn’t have to give as much weight to how he felt about it.

  “I don’t know, Gary. I can’t make any plans to start a new marriage until this one is over and done with.”

  He smiled. “I know, honey. It’s all right. You’re uncomfortable talking about it, and

  frankly, so am I. So we’ll just call it a quiet understanding, and we won’t talk about it till you’re free.” He patted her hand.

  That wasn’t what I meant at all, Layne wanted to say.

  But before she found the words Clare came out with a pitcher of sangria and refilled her glass. “Did you give permission for an overnight stay?”

  “Sure. Tony can come home with us if he likes.”

  �
��All right. I just wanted to make sure they weren’t running the old what’s-for-supper con.”

  “What’s that?” Gary asked.

  “The boys came up with that one when they were four. They would ask each of us what

  was on the menu, and coincidentally on the nights that we were having something Tony didn’t like, he was always invited over to Robbie’s house to eat, and vice-versa. It took us weeks to catch on.”

  “If they hadn’t so consistently avoided liver and steamed peas, we probably never would have,” Layne mused.

  “Kids,” Gary grunted. “Can I have another beer, Clare?”

  “Certainly, if you go after it yourself.” Clare sat down with a sigh and put her feet up. “Did you have a good talk?” she asked when Gary had gone inside.

  Layne shrugged. “Gary hears only what he wants to.”

  “We’re ready, Mom,” Robbie said as he burst out the door. “And I’m hungry! We never

  had supper.”

  “I wondered how long it would take you to notice. Go put Beast in the back of the car.”

  Layne handed him the keys. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “I’ll pick Tony up tomorrow,” Clare said.

  Layne gave her a quick hug. “Come for lunch, then, so we can talk. I’d better take this crowd to the burger barn before they eat the upholstery.”

  The boys and Beast consumed sandwiches and fries at a rate that appalled Layne. When

  she pulled Mr. Hamburg’s ten-dollar bill out of her wallet to finish paying the bill, she began to regret throwing Kyle’s money back at him. He’d had no right to cut off her only source of income, but it was done. There would be no more spending money from Mr. Hamburg, and pride or no pride, she was about two days away from being flat broke. She’d be forced to apologize to Kyle and ask for an allowance.

  Well, he wouldn’t be back for a few days. She’d handle that when she got to it.

  Tony was properly impressed by the floodlighted exterior of Wheatlands, and Robbie

  promptly took him on a tour. They were in such a rush that they nearly bowled over the little uniformed maid who came hurrying down the hall to the front entrance.

  “Robert!” Layne ordered. “Where are your manners?”

  He turned around. “Sorry,” he said and was gone down the hall.

  The maid didn’t seem to notice. “Oh, Mrs. Emerson,” she breathed. “Mr. Kyle has been

  calling and calling... he was terribly upset that you weren’t home yet. And Mr. Stephen has been concerned too.”

  That Stephen had been frightened tore at Layne’s heart. He had enough problems; why

  hadn’t she been thoughtful enough to call? She looked at the big grandfather clock. It was after eleven; plenty late for Stephen to be up. And as for Kyle checking up on her—

  She dashed up the stairs and tapped at Stephen’s door. The young male nurse answered it.

  The relief on his face was apparent.

  Did everyone think we’d been kidnapped? “David, just tell Mr. Stephen we’re home safe, dog and all, and that I’ll be in to see him tomorrow.”

  “He’s been very worried, Mrs. Emerson. We all have.”

  “I’m sorry to have upset everyone. Robbie and I have lived alone for so long, we didn’t think anyone would pay any attention if we were late.”

  “Around here,” David said gently, “everyone pays attention.”

  “I’d forgotten,” Layne mused. “What did the doctor say?”

  David shrugged. “He changed the pain medication. But sometimes nothing that doctors can do seems to make any difference at all. That’s one of the frustrating things about rheumatoid arthritis. It can come and go suddenly with no reason whatever.”

  “It must be so difficult for him. And yet he doesn’t complain.”

  “He gets depressed sometimes. Not as much now that you and Robbie are here, though. I’ll tell him you’ll be in to see him in the morning.”

  It was time to get the boys into bed, she realized as she approached Robbie’s room.

  Muffled conversation was coming from behind the door, and it died instantly as she tapped.

  The boys were already in their pajamas, which utterly astonished her. Robbie had

  graciously given up the top bunk to his guest, and Tony was sitting on the edge of it, swinging his feet. Robbie was already sprawled across the lower bunk, and he scarcely opened his eyes as he murmured, “Gosh, I’m tired, Mom. See you in the morning.”

  “What’s going on, Rob?” Layne was suspicious.

  Robbie’s big blue eyes opened wide. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you’re up to something, Robert Baxter Emerson.” Then she relented. “But if it gets you to bed without protest, I guess I’ll worry about it in the morning.” She leaned over to kiss him goodnight, and something wet and rough scraped across her ankle. Layne jerked upright and hit her head on the top bunk.

  “Did you hurt yourself, Layne?” Tony asked anxiously.

  “No, but I’m probably going to hurt whatever it was that licked me.” She pulled Robbie’s sheet back and peered under the bed. Beast’s beady black eyes laughed back at her. There was scarcely room for the big dog.

  She draped the sheet over Robbie and said, “I didn’t see a thing, Robert. But make sure he’s in the kennel when your father gets home the day after tomorrow. Then you may discuss with him whether Beast stays in the house. And leave me out of it.”

  “Yes, Mom.” And as she closed the door behind her, she heard a sleepy, “Thanks, Mom.”

  The phone was ringing beside Kyle’s bed. She carried it over to the dressing table and let it ring seven times before she decided that the staff had all gone on vacation. She might as well answer it, she decided. If there was one thing Kyle was, it was persistent; he’d call till three in the morning if she wanted to push him that far.

  “So you finally got home,” he said as soon as she picked it up.

  “I didn’t realize I had a curfew.” Layne reached for her cold cream.

  “Where have you been?”

  “Looking for the dog.”

  “I presume you found him or you’d still be looking. What is so darned valuable about that mutt?”

  “I’d advise you not to call him a mutt when Robbie can hear you. He has a prejudice

  against people who don’t understand Beast’s worth.”

  Kyle grunted. “I suppose that means the dog is sleeping on the foot of his bed right now.”

  “He most certainly isn’t.” Layne was proud of the note of artistic distaste in her voice.

  “Robbie knows quite well how you feel about Beast being in the house.”

  And besides, she told herself, Beast isn’t on the bed, he’s under it.

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  “When you figure it out, let me know. How was your flight?”

  “Like most of them. When they invent a faster way of getting from one city to another, I’m going to invest in it.” He hesitated, as if wondering if she’d be interested, then added, “I’ve already got a look at the site, by the way. It’s near the airport, so we drove by.”

  “Does it look promising?”

  “Yes. It’s a good location for a shopping center. But I don’t know if I want to build it. It’s a long way from home.”

  “A long way from Robbie, you mean?”

  There was a brief pause. “Yeah. A long way from Robbie.” He sounded a little gruff.

  He really does love Robbie, she realized. “He misses you already, Kyle. He was angry when you left, but he’s over it now.” Amazing, she thought, that it was so much easier to talk to him on the phone.

  “Well, I miss him too. Tell him I’ll see him tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? So soon? I thought you were coming home on Thursday.”

  He sounded half-amused, half-angry. “I am, Layne. But it’s after midnight — so it’s

  actually Wednesday right now.”

  “Oh. Sorry.�
��

  “No, you’re not sorry. You’re relieved. But at least you’re honest.” He hesitated. “I’m glad you found the dog. Sleep well.”

  “You too, Kyle. See you tomorrow.”

  She put the phone down slowly, a little puzzled by his attitude. Then she realized that perhaps it was easier for Kyle, too, when they weren’t in the same room. At least she couldn’t throw money at him over the telephone.

  I might even miss him, she thought as she went to make her bed on the long couch in the sitting room.

  Then she shook her head ruefully. How could she miss the constant conflict and the need to be always on guard when he was there?

  She pulled sheets and a light blanket out of the small chest that served as a coffee table, and then stopped short. Kyle was in Minneapolis. Why should she spend another night in discomfort on that couch when he would never know — or care — where she slept?

  She was tucked into the big canopied bed and half-asleep when suddenly it came to her.

  The tone of Kyle’s voice had been almost forlorn. He had sounded lonely.

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Layne,” she told herself crossly. “He’s no more lonely than you are — unless he’s missing Jessica.”

  She punched the pillow into her favorite shape and dropped off into her first sound sleep in three weeks.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Stephen sat on the sun porch, the breeze coming in through wide windows and ruffling his white hair. He looked up with a smile as Layne came in. “You had us frightened last night, young woman,” he scolded, but his tone was light.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about calling, because I didn’t realize anyone would notice.”

  “You do have a history of disappearing abruptly, Layne,” he said gently.

  “Oh.” She pulled up a small chair and sat down beside him. “I’d forgotten all about that.”

  “The rest of us haven’t.”

  Layne was afraid he would pursue it further, but Stephen Emerson was too sensitive a man to push her for an explanation she certainly didn’t want to give.

  “I’m glad Robbie found his dog. Beast is obviously very fond of him.” He pointed through the window to where the boy and the dog were playing on the lawn.