A pulse throbbed in my forehead, and I automatically pressed hard on the bridge of my nose. Of course, she was right, but after two years of traumatic grief, Claire seemed easily reconciled now. Too glib with her philosophy.
“That baby you’re holding is not Kayla,” I said, my tone hard.
Her body jerked, and her dark eyes flashed. “I know exactly who this baby is.”
“Really?”
“Of course. And she needs grandparents.”
“She’s Ian’s daughter, not yours and mine. She needs him, and he needs us. So how are you going to handle that?”
If I’d thought I could trip her up or make her pause long enough to think about the big picture, I was wrong. She had an answer to any question I could throw at her.
“I’ll handle it by being practical and taking each day as it comes. I’m helping out with Tina for the next few days and maybe the entire two weeks until that daycare can take her. I’ll be waking up before the birds to get here on time. But it’s an opportunity. We’ll have to tell our folks, especially my mom. Maybe I can take the baby to work.”
“Better if you can get Ian and the baby to come home to us. That should be your goal.”
She leaned toward me. “Home?” she challenged. “What are we offering him? More trauma and confusion? Or are you planning to return to Bluebonnet Drive as well?”
She had me there. I guess I’d been picturing myself at the house already, an assumption that had no basis in fact, and did, indeed, make an ass out of me. So I said the only thing that could possibly bring me redemption.
“I’m sure our granddaughter could use a few things. Let’s go shopping.”
CLAIRE
I accepted the olive branch before we actually investigated the state of Tina’s supplies. We found lots of formula, disposable diapers, and toiletries stored in closets and in the bedroom. I’d never seen such a large collection of skin care products, thermometers, infant fever reducers, cotton balls. Half the items were still sealed in their packages. I noticed a few soft baby books. Had Ian been reading to his tiny daughter? A lovely thought.
“The toiletries far outnumber the clothing,” I murmured, opening and closing drawers. Jack held the baby as I riffled through the short pile of onesies and receiving blankets. Then I searched the closet, remembering how I’d used miniature hangers for the bounty of gifts we’d received when the kids were born. Now Ian’s man-sized shirts and pants greeted my eyes with the exception of one tiny pink sweater, tag still attached.
“Our winters might be milder than elsewhere in the country, but this is ridiculous,” I said.
“Is that all the baby has?” asked Jack, peering in.
“Unless there’s a laundry hiding somewhere.”
There wasn’t.
“It looks like Ian spent most of his money on formula and bath supplies. Tina doesn’t have enough clothes.”
“Then we’ll have to buy more, especially since she keeps soaking through everything she wears.”
What grandma needed a practical reason to shop? But if it made Jack happy...great. We used Jack’s laptop to go online and find a nearby mall. By mid-afternoon, Tina Faith Barnes owned an array of size nine and twelve-month adorable outfits, several blanket-sleepers, tights, booties, and a knit hat with a pom-pom. Grandma and Grandpa owned a roomy travel bag.
It was Jack’s idea to stop at the supermarket for dinner ingredients. “Something simple and tasty, like a meatloaf and baked potatoes—if you’re not too tired.”
“I’m not too tired to feed my son a home-cooked meal every night I’m here.”
We shopped until the cart was full. I’d be able to prepare a variety of dinners in the days ahead. Maybe Ian and I would share meals and talk. Back at the apartment, we put Tina down for a nap while we stocked the fridge and small pantry closet.
“This is great,” Jack said. “If your cooking doesn’t get him to come home, nothing will.”
“Don’t count on it. He called me to babysit only because he was desperate.”
Jack fell silent for a moment. The truth didn’t warrant contradiction. “He’s angry. And let’s face it, he’s angry with you more than me. The other night at the house, he said you were still living in the past. His expression said a lot more.”
I had to agree. “He relived the accident in front of us. His memories are horrible, and I know he blames me. He can’t forget—how could he?—and I can’t undo it.” But how I wished I could. I wished I hadn’t stayed late with Colombo. I wished I hadn’t enjoyed his compliments so much, I wished I hadn’t wanted more of them. Shame seared my body. My cheeks felt hot with embarrassment and guilt. And I deserved a lifetime dose of all three.
“Talk to him, Claire. Communicate.”
“Like you and I have communicated?”
Silence followed, a deep, dark absence of sound. I wondered exactly how long two people could stare at each other in such an atmosphere. My answer came when our glances fell quickly, each of us refusing to admit our failings. Or our desires.
Nothing, however, interfered with preparing the meal. When Ian walked through the door that evening, he halted on the threshold, inhaling deeply, glancing toward me then Jack, before finally scooping up his daughter from my arms.
“Smells good in here for a change, doesn’t it, baby girl?”
The infant gurgled her assent as Ian kissed her and handed her back to me. “Gotta get washed up before I really play with her. Is whatever you’re cooking almost ready?”
“Five minutes. Hope you don’t mind me meddling through the kitchen.”
“Are you kidding?”
I laughed. That was the kid I knew, and when he left the room, a seed of hope blossomed inside me. Our brief conversation had been so wonderfully ordinary. Unless, of course, he’d say anything for a decent meal. I supposed that was normal, too, for a growing boy. Boy? He was not yet twenty-one, but could he already be a man?
This glimpse of a familiar life, an ordinary life...I yearned for more of it. How extraordinary the ordinary could be! What was in Ian’s mind? Heart? We couldn’t keep drifting away from each other as we’d been doing. Maybe Tina was the wake-up call I’d needed for reclaiming my loving relationship with her father. Whatever the cost of the knowing, I had to face the truth.
“I’m hoping Ian and I can talk over dinner each night. I’ll keep cooking, we’ll both keep eating, and hopefully we’ll ‘communicate.’ I’ll try to figure out where his head is.” I sighed. “That’s the best I can come up with at the moment.”
“Sounds good,” said Jack. “Keep me in the loop, will you?”
If I wanted to rebuild my relationship with Ian, I couldn’t make promises to Jack. “I’ll use my judgment. You and I have our own issues, and I’m not going to use Ian to deflect them.”
Chapter 35
IAN
November
After one week of Mom babysitting, I could have been fooled into thinking I was back on Bluebonnet Drive. Those dinners she prepared every night? Wow. Just call me a Pavlov dog, salivating the moment I caught a whiff of them as I neared the apartment door. If Tina weren’t so cute and now old enough to recognize me, I’d head directly to that kitchen table without saying hello.
But of course, I gravitated first to my daughter, who now greeted me with a toothless smile, a scorcher that made me feel like the world’s Number One Daddy. I took her from her grandma, kissed her all over, and then blew gentle raspberries on her belly. Her giggles almost did me in—she was so cute. In those moments of homecoming, when the place felt safe and secure, exactly what I wanted for my daughter and what I had known growing up, I wondered how I could have thought of giving her up. I wondered how Colleen could have lit out.
Tina had a grandma, daddy, clean bed, plenty of bottles, and a mess of new clothes. And sometimes Grandpa was around too. But a mama should have headed the list. Wondering about Colleen always brought my good moods to an end. She hadn’t called in the two weeks she’d been go
ne, and I tried not to think too much about that. Maybe when she got a job, she’d have enough money to buy minutes for her cell phone. Or maybe she didn’t want to talk to me. Maybe she wanted to start a new life and forget the old. I couldn’t guess what was in her mind, so maybe I didn’t know her very well after all. A lot of maybes.
“Had a good day, Ian?” Mom was smiling and eager to please.
“Always do. Good team, no slackers. We get things done.”
“Oh.”
I swallowed my chuckle as I read her expression as easily as I read one of Tina’s baby books. She was hoping I was so miserable at work and being on my own that I’d return to Barnes Construction and get back into the family fold. But that wasn’t going to happen without a miracle. And I wasn’t expecting any of those.
I put Tina in her swing and turned my attention to the turkey breast and mashed potatoes Mom was dishing out. A minute later, I was wolfing them down.
“This is great, Mom. Super. I’d like to freeze half of it for next week when Tina starts at the daycare center.”
“I’m glad you brought that up,” she said, laying down her own fork. “I’ve been thinking.... Do you really want the baby with a bunch of strangers every day? She’s so little. I could either take her to work with me or Dad said he’d hire someone to replace me as long as necessary. So I’d be happy to continue coming over.”
“Fifty miles? Before the birds are up? Come on. You can’t do that indefinitely, and I’ll lose my place on the waiting list at the daycare.”
She stared at me with such determination and strength she was a picture of how she used to be. “You can count on me, Ian. I’ll be here every morning by six, you’ll get to your job on time, and the baby will have loving, undivided attention. It’s a perfect solution for everybody.”
Except for me. But she didn’t understand that. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m happy with the temp arrangement we have.”
She rose and gripped her chair so tightly, her knuckles turning white. “But why not? I love that baby. No daycare can replace a grandma.”
Mom was trying too hard. Whenever I had these suspicions, the cause always came back to that day we didn’t talk about. Something was up for sure, and I wished to God for a complex pipeline assembly problem instead of a mother problem. I always had to struggle to figure her out. Dang, I hated psychology. But I was Tina’s daddy, and she was my daughter, so I’d do what I had to do. Nowadays, I was the man.
“We had a temporary deal,” I said sharply, also rising but towering over her, “because I have to protect my daughter. You just said that a daycare can’t replace a grandma, so now chew on this.” I pointed first at Tina and then punched the air with each word I spoke. “She. Isn’t. Kayla. Get it?”
Mom backed up in surprise, but then her chin rose and her eyes bored into mine strong and steady. “You and your father! Listen to me, Ian. I know exactly who that baby is.”
I didn’t believe her. “Kayla’s dead, Mom, and Tina’s not her replacement. And I don’t ever want her to feel she is.” I stepped closer. “Why do you want to take care of her so much?”
“Why? Because she’s yours, and you’re my son. I love you both. What’s so difficult to understand about that?”
What the hell was she talking about?
“Love?” My voice cracked. “Let’s get this straight. You don’t love me anymore. You blamed me for Kayla’s death. You said we should have been doing homework and that I was ‘irresponsible.’ And you still think I am. But I’m not! I’m taking care of business, aren’t I? Taking care of Tina. Earning a living.”
Her face turned as white as one of her blank canvases. She grabbed me by the shoulders. “Oh, God, Ian. A messy bedroom is not the same thing as causing a death. You weren’t driving the car that hit her, and I knew that. So how could you possibly think I blamed you?”
I loosened her hold on me, rolled back on my heels, and took my time. Her words on that day had haunted me for over two years. I remembered every single one of them.
“Well, Mom, maybe I had that impression because the last thing you yelled at me before disappearing with Kayla was: ‘How could you let this happen? You were in charge. You should have been doing homework.’ And that’s a quote. And maybe because I was the one who threw the ball? And then you told Dad to let me go....”
I watched as she paled further to a chalk white. Her hands fluttered, and her eyes started to roll. I caught her before she hit the floor.
CLAIRE
I heard a baby crying. Short cries followed by a long cry. On and on, non-stop. I’m coming, I’m coming. But my limbs wouldn’t cooperate, and I fell back against the cushions. Ian’s lumpy sofa. That’s where I was. On Ian’s sofa with him in front of me holding an overturned glass, water trickling from it drop-by-drop to the floor. That’s when I realized my face and hair were soaking wet. “What the...?”
“You fainted.”
“And you tried to drown me?”
“No!” He shrugged and looked away. “I saw it on television once. It worked.”
“Okay then, thank you...I think.” I swung my legs to the floor and sat up, only slightly dizzy. “The baby’s crying. Pick her up.”
“You’re welcome,” Ian said, ignoring my instructions. “Uh, should I call Dad?”
I hadn’t fainted in quite a while. Couldn’t blame an empty stomach this time. Probably too much emotion. Too much deeply felt emotion. And now, the last thing I needed was Jack’s interference just as Ian and I had started talking.
“No need to call Dad. I’m fine. I’m fine. But you and I? We’re not so fine.”
Water trailed down my neck while the baby’s cries stretched my nerves. “Tina needs you, Ian, and I need a towel.” Fortunately, I was steady on my feet after leaving the couch and made my way to the bathroom without further trouble. The minute of privacy was welcome.
Ian had sounded so sure of himself, so very sure in his accusation, that I took time to search my memory of that never-to-be-forgotten day. I recalled Anne running toward me, I remembered the crowd on the street, Ian among them; I could see Sarah Levine sitting on the curb and could almost feel Kayla’s hand in mine when I’d held it in the ambulance. I remembered the hospital in a blurry way, the five days melting into one another as she faded.
But recalling the moment I entered the ambulance was impossible. I played the tape over and over in my mind—and came up with nothing. I leaned against the sink, needing its support. My heart lay as heavily in my chest as it had during the darkest of times. Ian wasn’t lying. He’d thrown those words at me as though he’d been savoring them for years. But how could I have said them? No wonder he hated me. I wished I could remember.
I took a shaky breath, squared my shoulders, and re-entered the kitchen in time to see him toss his phone on the counter while holding Tina in his other arm.
“Dad’s coming over,” he said. “So you won’t have to drive home by yourself.”
So he’d ignored my wishes. “I’m perfectly cap—”
“It’s great that he joined a gym. When did that happen?”
I had no idea. “Hmm...a little while ago.”
“Yeah. He wasn’t at the house or the office. So I wound up calling his mobile. Should have done that to begin with.”
Nervous chatter. While talking to me, however, he continued to smile and coo at his daughter as naturally as he tossed a basketball.
“You’re really terrific with her. I don’t imagine many young guys could handle a baby as well.”
“It’s not like I had a choice. Colleen...she did her best, she knew how to handle babies, but she wasn’t the type to cuddle Tina all day.”
Picking up Ian’s phone, I auto-dialed Jack. “Forget what Ian told you. I’m fine. I don’t need any help.”
After listening to how “fainting has become my style and do something about it,” I hung up and smiled brilliantly at my son. “The cavalry’s not coming this time. It’s just you and me. And I’m sorry
about Colleen.”
His mouth tightened, and he said nothing further about the girl. Instead, he kissed the baby’s cheek. “It’s you, me, and her.”
“Tina’s a bonus. A sweet gift. Innocent.”
“Kayla was innocent,” he snapped. “But Tina’s not Kayla.”
He simply didn’t trust me to know the difference between my daughter and granddaughter. “I get it, Ian. I understand. Now, look at me. Listen to me. Kayla’s gone, and I don’t blame you at all!”
“But that’s not what you said then.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I can’t recall what I said. I don’t remember what you remember. None of it. I know I raced into the ambulance and the doors slammed closed. That’s all.”
“You’re lying.”
I shook my head. “I’m not—”
“Yes. You have to be because you’ve got that photographic memory. You remember everything.”
But where was that memory when I needed it? Or did I not want to remember, just like...? “I don’t remember Kayla’s funeral either,” I whispered. “And I’m not lying.”
He paused for a moment, and inside me, a seed of hope cracked open its shell. “But that makes sense,” he said, “because you fainted. You didn’t black out when you got into the ambulance.”
It seemed Ian was the one with the excellent memory, not me.
“And then,” Ian went on, “when we all ate at the House of Wong, you said something about an accident not being just an accident, and that ‘someone was careless.’ And you meant me, didn’t you? You always think I’m careless or irresponsible.”
Not in the ways that count. I had to clear the slate between Ian and me at all costs, even if there was a drop of truth to his accusations. Two years ago, I was blaming everyone, with the lion’s share divided between Sarah Levine and myself.
“Sarah Levine,” I whispered. “How could she not have sunglasses? In Houston? Kayla died because of the sun and a sneeze? I couldn’t accept it.”
A statue would have reacted more, so I plunged ahead. “But more importantly...you know what I’ve been thinking all this time? The reason you’ve avoided me? That you hated me for coming home late, and that Kayla wouldn’t have died if I’d been on time. And then you wouldn’t have had to cope by yourself. You wouldn’t have had to live with those memories. Hear me, Ian? That’s what I’ve believed all this time about you.”
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