Deep Down True

by Juliette Fay

  With no more conversation than was necessary to descend the ladder, carry it to the parking lot, and tie it to the roof, they were soon seated in his car.

  “You okay?” he asked, glancing intermittently at her, as if sharp focus might cause her to disappear altogether. “You seemed a little terrified up there.”

  “Well . . . I guess I was a little.”

  “And now?”

  “Still slightly terrified,” she admitted worriedly.

  “Okay,” he said, starting the motor. “Good to know.” He let the motor idle a moment as he stared out at the barren trees. “Feel like grabbing a bite at Keeney’s?”

  “Yes,” she said, desperately thankful that her fear hadn’t driven him away. “I’m starving.”

  They ordered burgers and fries and each had a beer. He asked her more about her childhood in Watertown, and she told him anything she could remember that was the least bit interesting. Thanks to Connie, she even talked about her father’s suicide.

  He told her about growing up in Cranston, Rhode Island, the only child of Dorotea Consilina Sakimoto and Takashi Sakimoto—also the only European-Asian kid anyone in his neighborhood had ever met. “Not so easy. I got called ‘half-breed’ or—my personal favorite—‘half-Chink’ quite a bit,” he said wryly. “But then I could also make you a damn good pasta e fagioli or miso soup, depending on your mood. Unusual situations have their benefits.”

  Feathers of light dusted across Nipmuc Pond as the sun descended behind the evergreens on the far shore. He took her home. She was afraid that he would kiss her again, then not sure if she was disappointed when he didn’t.

  About an hour later, the kids arrived—travel-weary, tripping over each other to tell her the highlights of the week, slightly sunburned yet needing to press themselves against her, tugging at her elbows, leaning into her as if she were the only source of heat in the blustery chill of the night. Kenneth hauled their bags in, kissed and hugged them with more familiarity than he had in months, and gave her a weary nod. “Thanks,” he murmured. “It was a great trip.”

  “Good.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow.” And he went out to the idling car where Tina was waiting.

  On Sunday, Alder and Jet returned, driving Connie’s Vanagon. “My car’s not done yet,” Alder explained. “And we needed to get back.”

  They stood in the mudroom. Jet wore a denim jacket over her sweatshirt—the warmest outerwear she seemed to own. Her backpack still hung from her shoulders. Without the black eyeliner, she looked pale and very young. Dana put her hands on Jet’s cool cheeks. “Should we ask your mom’s cousin if you can stay with us for a while?” she said. The girl’s eyes went wide and shiny, and she let the backpack slip to the floor with a thunk.

  Later, when Morgan and Grady were in bed and Jet was taking a bubble bath, Alder came looking for Dana. She was in the office, squinting at the computer spreadsheet she had devised to track her budget.

  “How’s it look?” Alder asked.

  “Actually, it looks a little better than I thought it would. Not by much, but I’ll take it.”

  “I just wanted to say thanks about Jet and everything. She’s a little freaked right now.”

  “Of course she is. And I’m very happy to have her.” Dana gave a little smirk. “But you knew I would be.”

  Alder shrugged. “You have a thing for strays. You’re like . . . adoptive.”

  “I don’t know about that. I wasn’t so sure about taking you in.”

  “Oh, please. That was a slam dunk. You just didn’t feel like going up against Connie.”

  Dana laughed out loud and wagged a finger at her niece. “Alder Garrett, you are . . . I don’t know, but you’re something!”

  Alder grinned and leaned up against the desk. “Okay, so I think I have a plan.”

  A wisp of anxiety stirred in Dana’s chest. “Let’s hear it,” she said.

  “Well, Jet’s mom is in rehab for four weeks, so she gets out a couple days before Christmas. The last week or so, she’s supposed to have visits and stuff, and Jet’s a little, you know . . .”

  “Unsure.”

  “Yeah, she’s seriously unsure. So I thought I’d stay and hang with her till she gets through it.”

  “You talked to your mother about this?”

  “Yeah, she wasn’t exactly psyched, but I negotiated pretty hard.”

  “What does she get in return for letting you stay here another month?”

  Alder wound her finger around the string on her hoodie. “Home by New Year’s,” she said. “For good. No bullshit.”

  “That sounds like a direct quote.”

  “Very direct.”

  Dana sighed. It was hard to think about losing Alder, but then again, a whole additional month was really more than she could have expected. The tip of Alder’s finger was turning purple from the tightly wound hoodie string, and Dana reached up and tugged at her hand to loosen the tourniquet. “She’s very lucky to have you,” she told Alder. “And very generous to share you with me.”

  Alder gave a sheepish smile. “I didn’t tell her about Christmas, yet.”

  “Where’s Christmas going to be?”

  “Here.”

  CHAPTER 45

  THE HEAVY GLASS DOOR WAS ALREADY UNLOCKED when Dana got to work on Monday morning just before eight. She let herself in and peeked into Tony’s office. “Hi,” she said.

  He looked up from the paperwork on his desk, and his fingers reached for one another and laced, as if they were fencing in some untamed creature hiding there among the patient charts and professional journals. “Hi,” he said, his eyes taking in every inch of her.

  “You’re in early.”

  “Just trying to keep ahead of the curve,” he said lightly. “Practically more paperwork than dentistry for me to do around here.”

  “Thanks again for helping me out on Saturday. You should have seen Grady’s face.”

  “Yeah?”

  “He kept saying, ‘You were up on the roof ? Of my school? With a ladder?’ As if I had gone to the Arctic Circle on foot or something.”

  Tony smiled, and she watched the smooth skin around his eyes press itself into perfect little folds. “He’ll be telling that story for the rest of his life.”

  She loved the thought of that. After a moment their mutual delight began to feel silly, and she said, “I guess I better get to work.”

  “Okeydoke.” He turned back to his papers.

  “Okeydoke”? she thought as she booted up her computer. That doesn’t sound like him. She didn’t have long to ponder, though, because at that moment Marie came in with a walking cast on her foot. Dana jumped up to help her with the door. “What happened?” she asked.

  “Don’t ask,” said Marie. And apparently she meant it, because the question never did get answered, even at lunchtime, with the three of them sitting around the tiny table coming up with nothing better to talk about than current events and possible enhancements to the waiting area. After about twenty minutes, they all found reasons to return to their work.

  “Can I talk to you?” Tony said, appearing in the doorway as she reached up to file a chart.

  A faint chord of worry chimed in Dana’s head. It sounded serious—maybe about the kiss?—but she still hadn’t worked out how she felt about that and wasn’t ready for a confrontation. “Well, okay, but patients should be arriving any minute . . .”

  “This won’t take too long.”

  She followed him into his office, and he sat down in the wooden Windsor chair, leaving her the upholstered one. Oh, Lord, she thought, the bad-news chair.

  “I just got a phone call from Kendra,” he said. “She’s in her second trimester now, and the nausea’s gone. She wants to come back to work starting next week.” His expression softened into regret. “Dana, I’d like to keep you on staff forever, but legally I’m obligated to take her back.”

  “Oh,” she murmured, feeling as if she’d been pushed off a cliff with no assurance
of water in the river below. “Well, that’s good for her, I guess. I never had morning sickness, but I hear it’s awful. Must be such a relief to have that behind her . . .”

  A hint of amusement warmed Tony’s face. It was that toddler-doing-something-adorable look that Alder gave her sometimes. “That’s a very Dana reaction,” he said. “But I know you must be worried about your income.”

  Dana let out a breath. “I’m doing okay at the moment—and hoping things will pick up for Kenneth after the New Year.”

  And what if they did? He had a new family to support now. He’d called the night before and given her the news. They would be married on Saturday, December 13—less than two weeks away—and Polly’s husband, Victor, would be his best man. Kenneth had all but asked her permission about that last part. “He’s your best friend,” Dana had answered. But it stung.

  The kids were invited to be bridesmaid and groomsman, but that hadn’t been confirmed yet. Tina insisted that they have time to think about it, that it would be fine either way. “Despite the fact that I’m pretty sure Polly hates me, she offered to take the kids shopping for wedding clothes,” Kenneth had told Dana. “She knew we wouldn’t have them again until the wedding, and she was worried you’d end up doing it.” Dana found the gesture both touching and infuriating.

  She focused on Tony again. “I’ll start looking for another position. Maybe a department store—they need extra salesclerks for Christmas.” Presents, she thought. I’ll have to do some serious bargain shopping. For the first time since she’d had children to shower with holiday gifts, the idea of it depressed her.

  And there would be no chatty lunches, no one to commiserate with or tell stories to. No Tony.

  “Department stores don’t pay that much,” he said. “I put some calls out to friends who might have office-manager positions—couple of dentists and a buddy of mine who has a small construction company. Let’s see what we can come up with.” He reached over and gave her hand a tentative pat. “I really think it’s going to work out just fine,” he said. It was exactly what she’d told Morgan about Kenneth and Tina’s getting married. And she’d been bluffing.

  On the way home, Dana stopped to pick up a Hartford Courant. Tony would help her find another position if he could. But she knew how the best of intentions didn’t always work out. Her life was littered with proof of that. Besides, he didn’t seem all that unhappy about losing her, which burrowed into her skin like a rash and made her doubt him.

  That afternoon was Grady’s first basketball practice of the season, and though she had some errands to run, she decided to stay. She wanted to take stock of the coach, and Grady would feel more confident with her there watching him. It was the one thing Jack Roburtin had told her that made any sense.

  In the beginning the boys ran around chasing the basketballs as if they’d never seen one before, though most had been on Grady’s team last year. It was as if someone had given them pumpkins to play with. But soon the coach had them doing simple drills, and their limbs began to respond to internal cues they barely remembered but somehow knew how to follow.

  “Excuse me,” said a man who’d taken a spot near her on the bleachers. “This is embarrassing, but does this say, ‘We made it to basketball’?” He held out his BlackBerry to her. “I can’t find my reading glasses, and I promised his mother I’d send a confirmation on arrival.”

  Dana took the device. “I have to admit, I can’t tell you until I find my reading glasses.” She rummaged in her purse and put them on. “Actually, it says, ‘We mace it ro nasketall.’”

  She smiled over at him as she handed it back, and he laughed at himself, hazel eyes crinkling. “Well, that’s good enough for government work, I guess,” he said, hitting “send” and putting the phone back in his pocket. “She’ll just have to translate.”

  “Did she think you wouldn’t get here?”

  “No, she’s a worrywart. Since the divorce she’s gotten a little obsessive about knowing where he is every minute.”

  “It’s hard to give up the control when you’re used to being with them all the time.”

  He studied her for a moment, his face growing thoughtful. “Sounds like you know.”

  Dana gave a little shrug that said she did. They chatted amiably, eventually introducing themselves and pointing out their sons to each other. His name was Ben Fortin, and he guessed that she was in sales from the work clothes she still had on, but she told him no, she was a soon-to-be-unemployed office manager. “Maybe you should try sales,” he said with a grin. “With that nice, honest face, I bet you could sell sand in the desert.”

  Is he flirting with me? she wondered. Please tell me he’s not flirting with me.

  When practice was over, they stood and shook hands. He was taller than she expected him to be and handsome in a rangy, high-cheekbone sort of way. “Very nice to meet you, Dana Stellgarten,” he said. She was impressed that he remembered her full name. It was her experience that some dads didn’t focus too hard when they dropped into the mom-dominated world of kids’ activities.

  On Wednesday she worked late, as usual, and Kenneth went to the house to give the kids dinner and supervise homework. He was gone by the time she got home at eight-fifteen.

  Jet told Dana, “You should’ve seen his face when he realized he had four kids for the price of two. See if you can pick up a couple more kids by next Wednesday—that’ll totally put a twist in his panties!”

  Dana burst out laughing. The humor went flat, though, when she realized that Kenneth wouldn’t be coming next Wednesday. She’d be out of work by then.

  After the kids were in bed, she walked through the house turning off lights and retrieving stray objects that had migrated from their homes during the day. A cordless phone lay on the living-room rug; she picked it up and checked her voice mail. “Hi, Dana? This is Ben Fortin. We met at basketball—I’m the guy who couldn’t read his own text message. I really enjoyed talking with you, and I’m wondering if you’d give me a call when you get a minute.” Dana nearly dropped the phone. Then she took it up to her bedroom, closed the door, and called Connie.

  “What should I do?” she said after relaying the encounter and the ensuing phone message.

  “Who cares?” Connie yawned. “Call him, don’t call him. What’s the diff?”

  “You’re no help, you know that?”

  “Seriously, Day, I don’t get the question. He’s cute, he’s nice . . . So he takes you out for dinner at some overdecorated steak restaurant where illegal immigrants bus the tables for leftovers. So what?”

  “Oh, all right,” muttered Dana. “What I didn’t tell you is, something happened last weekend. With Tony.”

  “Ohh,” said Connie. “Santa.”

  “Don’t call him that!” But despite her irritation, Dana told Connie about the high-altitude golf-ball search and Tony’s passionate kiss.

  “Huh,” said Connie.

  “For Pete’s sake, what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. It’s just rare that people are surprising. Mostly they’re so predictable it makes you want to light them on fire.”

  Dana groaned. “Forget it. I’m going to bed.”

  “No, think about it. The guy’s clearly got a thing for you, and if he were like most guys, he’d wait about a day and a half and then he’d be hounding you for a date or some other lame affirmation to his ego. But not Santa—he’s laying back, giving you a chance to come to your own conclusions on your own timetable. It’s impressive, really.”

  Dana considered this for a moment. That’s exactly what he’s doing, she realized. He’s waiting.

  “This is a total no-brainer,” said Connie. “And thanks for waking me out of a sound sleep, by the way—I thought it was an actual emergency, possibly involving my kid.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. She’s absolutely fine.”

  “I figured that out when we spent fifteen minutes talking about your love life. Or I should say your poten
tial love life.”

  Dana didn’t respond. She was thinking about Tony and his impressive show of patience, and wondering how long it could hold.

  “What,” said Connie.

  “I don’t know . . . I guess I’m not a hundred-percent sure I’m attracted to him.”

  Connie let out an annoyed huff. “Does he have some disgusting phlegm-hawking habit or a ceramic-angel collection I’m unaware of? Because the guy looks perfectly fine to me.”

  “Well . . .” Dana was loath to admit it. “He’s kind of... short. And just a tiny bit pudgy.”

  “And the half-blind texter is tall and thin. Great, there’s your answer. Can I go to bed now?”

  “No, wait. I’m not trying to be superficial. But don’t you have to be attracted to someone to go out with him? I mean, otherwise you’d just be friends, right?”

  “Cripes, you’re asking me? You’re the one who was married for fifteen years.”

  And look what that had amounted to. How was it possible to be forty-five years old and still not know what you wanted—still make huge mistakes like Jack Roburtin?

  “What about the guy in Europe?” Dana ventured, knowing she was testing the bounds of their newfound closeness. “Alder’s father. What was that like?”

  There was no answer, and for a moment Dana wondered if they’d been disconnected—or if Connie had hung up. But then she heard the faint whoosh of Connie’s breath. “It was amazing,” she said finally. “He was a phenomenally talented artist, and we had unbelievable adventures . . . and then it was over. And it didn’t surprise me, because I knew he wasn’t durable goods. I knew that from day one. Didn’t make it any easier, though.”

  “Did he know you were pregnant?”

  “I found out after we broke up. But I told him.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Nothing memorable. It wasn’t that. It was the look on his face. Like I was pressing a loaded gun to his chest.”

  “Did you ever think about ...”