No Time to Say Goodbye: A Heartbreaking and Gripping Emotional Page Turner

by Kate Hewitt

  “I’m not sure you can keep yourself from them, at least on occasion.”

  “You sound like you speak from experience.”

  I said nothing, because I could not even begin to know what to say.

  “How did you get through it, Maria?” Nathan asked softly. “Losing so many people… suffering so much… how did you survive?”

  I shook my head, the movement instinctive. Nathan’s face was soft with compassion, his eyebrows raised in expectation. He wanted me to say something.

  “I’m not sure I did,” I said at last.

  “What do you mean?”

  I shook my head again. “For many years… I’ve felt like a ghost. I have been a ghost. That is how I survived.” I turned away, feeling my face start to heat as my heart raced at admitting such a thing. “That doesn’t help you, I know.”

  “I think I know what you mean,” he said slowly. “But surely you don’t want to be a ghost forever?”

  I tried to smile. “I am not one now.” Not quite. I was something in between, shifting all the time. I thought of Ruby snuggled warm against me that morning. Ella’s hand in mine. Even Alexa, as much as she tried to resist and pull away. All three of them were bringing me back to life—a painful, necessary process I both feared and savoured.

  “They asked me to come into the station today,” Nathan said, glancing at Ruby lying on her stomach on the sofa, absorbed in her television show, chin propped in her hands. “So whatever it is, they must think it is important.”

  “Yes.” I glanced outside, the snow falling even more thickly than before. “Do you think that will be possible, to go in today?”

  “This is New York. Taxis will be out there within the hour.”

  But they weren’t, and I was thankful for it. As I started to make breakfast, Nathan received texts about the schools closing—both Walkerton and Ruby’s preschool. Subways wouldn’t be open until at least noon. Drifts were piling up, and there was no sign yet of snowplow. The world had stopped for a day, and I was glad.

  I made pancakes, and during breakfast Ruby clambered onto Nathan’s lap, Ella hovering nearby. Even Alexa seemed to have thawed the tiniest bit, although perhaps that was merely wishful thinking on my part. At least she was not rude.

  “You won’t be able to go to work, Daddy,” Ruby said, sounding as if she were relishing the idea, one arm slung around his neck. “You’ll have to stay home with us.”

  “I will, will I?” Nathan smiled and tickled Ruby’s tummy, making her squeal in delight.

  “Be quiet, Ruby,” Alexa admonished, but she didn’t sound as vicious as she normally did, merely half-hearted, poking at her food.

  “Can we really go sledding?” Ella asked. Ruby had already mentioned the possibility more than once. I watched as Ella cut her pancakes into precise squares, something she’d started doing with most of her food, everything so very neat, and very little of it eaten. I worried, especially when I saw how her once-round face was starting to look lean, but I did not know what to do besides gently encourage her to eat. At least now she popped a syrup-soaked piece of pancake into her mouth, making me smile.

  “Sledding…” Nathan mused, and everyone waited for his decision. I knew he was tired, that sledding was an effort on the best of snowy days. I recalled Petar, pulling me behind him, trudging through the heavy, wet snow while I cried because I’d got wet. I remembered how he had held me. “I suppose we can.”

  Ruby squealed again and Ella clapped her hands. Alexa looked surprised, as if she hadn’t expected her father to agree. I hid my smile as I turned to the dishwasher with a stack of syrupy plates.

  “Will you come with us, Maria?” Nathan asked and I turned back around in surprise, the plates sticky in my hands.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you have to come,” Ella said. “You told us you liked sledding. You did it with your brother.”

  I was pleased she had remembered. “When I was a child…”

  “Please.” This from Ella, who looked beseeching, her hands clasped together under her chin.

  “I don’t know…” I glanced at Nathan, uncertain whether he wanted me there. Wasn’t this his special time with the girls? As ever, I was wary of presuming, of interfering. This was not my family, even though sometimes it felt as if it was.

  “You should come,” Nathan said firmly. “We want you there. It will be fun.”

  I looked at all three of the girls’ faces, so open and expectant, even Alexa, and I smiled shyly as I nodded. “Very well. Thank you. I will come.”

  “Yay!” Ruby crowed, clapping her hands, and my smile widened, expanded. Right now I was part of this family.

  * * *

  An hour later we were out on the street, swaddled like snowmen in thick layers of Gore-Tex and fleece, hats pulled down low over our ears. Nathan had dug out two plastic sleds from the storage unit in the basement, and he held one while Ella clutched the other. Alexa stood a little bit apart, arms folded, expression closed, but at least she’d agreed to come. I hoped once we were speeding down a hill she would lose some of her surliness. Everyone was a child in the snow.

  “Look, snow!” Ruby scooped up a soft pile, her face alight with the wonder of it—and it was wondrous, the world so still and silent, the snow thickly falling, so it soon coated our hats and coats in a dusting of white. The air was crisp and cold, and I could not hear so much as a single car in the distance. The city barely breathed; it felt at peace.

  On a day like today I could believe the world was a pure place, that good was truly possible, that things made sense. I could believe and rejoice.

  We walked to Central Park, the snow already halfway up to our knees, Ruby hefted on Nathan’s shoulders. As we turned into the park, a few other hill-bound families joined us, and a feeling of camaraderie swelled up, children racing off, laughter echoing through the still park, the once-stark trees now heavy-laden with drifts of snow, boughs drooping under the weight.

  As we reached the hill, the girls ran ahead, only Alexa staying behind, Ruby falling over in the snow but scrambling up again, joyously undeterred. Nathan offered me his arm as we started up and after a second’s pause I took it; the snow was heavy and wet and it was hard-going.

  At the top of the hill, I paused to catch my breath, gazing out at the snow-covered meadows, the reservoir an oval of white in the distance, the park an oasis of calm. Some children were already hard at work, pushing a sled down the hill to make a track.

  “When will it be my turn?” Ruby asked, torn between excitement and impatience. “Maria, will you go with me?”

  “All right,” I said, laughing, although I couldn’t help but look a bit askance at the steep hill. When had I last been sledding? Perhaps with Petar, when I was ten or eleven. I remembered the feel of the wind in my hair, my eyes streaming as I flew down.

  “Daddy, will you go with me?” Ella asked, and Nathan gave his assent.

  “What about Alexa?” Ruby asked, and Alexa shrugged, pretending indifference, looking bored.

  “She can go with us,” I said. “The sled is big enough if we squeeze.” I glanced at her, my tentative smile a peace offering I longed for her to accept. “Do you think we can manage it?” She shrugged again.

  Nathan and Ella went first, Ruby doing her best to give them a starting push. I reached down to help, my hand flat on Nathan’s back, and then they were off.

  As they started down, soon picking up speed, Ruby squealed in delight and even Alexa smiled at the sight. My heart expanded with thankfulness and joy. Such a simple moment, and yet it meant so much. I could live in this moment. I could happily stay in it forever, never moving, never changing. Just this, always, would be enough. More than enough.

  “Your turn!” Nathan called from the bottom of the hill, his coat dusted with snow. “All three of you!”

  I glanced at Alexa. “Do you want to go in the front or the back? Or the middle?”

  “I want to go in the front,” Ruby cried. “Please, because I’m
the littlest.”

  “Alexa?”

  “The back, I guess,” she muttered, and so, clumsily, we all clambered on the sled—me first, pulling Ruby onto my lap, and then Alexa behind, her arms wrapped around me. There was no one to push us, and so I reached one hand out and pushed off.

  Then we were going—slowly at first, and then faster and faster, the wind whipping by, the snow stinging my eyes, a shriek of both delight and alarm tearing my lungs as the world blurred by just as I’d remembered. From behind me, I heard Alexa laugh.

  As we came to the bottom of the hill, the sled wobbled and we all tumbled off, into the snow that seemed to reach up and softly envelop us.

  Ruby appeared over me as I blinked up at the sky, her face split by a wide, gap-toothed grin. “Can we go again?”

  “Yes, when I catch my breath.” I struggled up to a seated position and glanced over at Alexa. She was smiling faintly, brushing the snow from her hair. As I looked at her, she caught my eye—and held her smile.

  Right then the past seemed to dissolve into fragments and I felt as if I could see the future, stretching out in a shimmering, golden line of promises. You will survive. You will be strong. You will see why everything happened the way it did. It will be good.

  I was seeing it now, already, exalting in whatever curious twists of fate or guiding hand of Providence had brought me to this moment, covered in snow, with the unexpected sound of joy ringing in my ears, surrounded by happy girls.

  “Again,” Ruby said, pulling on my hand, and laughing, I let her lead me back up the hill.

  We stayed out all morning, returning to the apartment with our clothes wet and our cheeks reddened by wind and cold. The snow had stopped falling, and the sky was a fragile blue, the city’s busyness starting up again. Already Fifth Avenue had been cleared, a heap of greying snow piled by the gates to the park, taxis moving steadily downtown.

  I wanted to hold onto the euphoria of our morning out, but, of course, you cannot hold onto such things. I felt it slip away like a shadow even as I struggled to keep it—by making hot chocolate, being generous with marshmallows, hanging the wet clothes on the radiators, the dripping sleds propped by the front door, all reminders of our happiness, that it had been real.

  Nathan came into the kitchen, his cell phone in one hand. His cheeks were ruddy, his hair mussed, but he had a look of intent about him that already I knew well.

  “The trains are running. I should go to work.” He lowered his voice. “And the police station… to find out what they know.”

  “Yes, of course.” I stirred the hot chocolate, the milk and cocoa swirling together, trying to keep that unwelcome feeling of anxiety from creeping in and taking over. What was I afraid of? What have I ever been afraid of? The answer, for twenty-six years, had been everything.

  Nathan turned to get ready, and I began to pour out the hot chocolate. While the girls were still spooning the whipped cream from the top of their mugs, I heard the front door click softly closed.

  “What shall we do this afternoon?” I asked brightly. “How about a board game?”

  “Oh yes, please,” Ruby cried. Ella nodded. She’d lost a bit of that pinched look she’d had lately, and she’d eaten all her breakfast this morning. Swim practice was cancelled that evening, something I was thankful for. Even with Nathan gone, today was still a reprieve of sorts. I could hold onto that, at least.

  We set up Monopoly on the dining room table, Alexa even deigning to play, albeit reluctantly. I marvelled again at the simplicity of it all—the laughter, the excitement, the solid warmth of Ruby on my lap, playing an imaginary game with the Monopoly pieces as the rest of us rolled the dice and traded properties. Everything about it was sweet. Everything about it was fragile.

  I felt its fragility as the game inevitably disintegrated into an argument, and Alexa slunk off to her room with her phone, Ella and Ruby sprawled on the sofa in front of the television while I cleaned up the scattered cards and pieces.

  I felt it as I drifted into the kitchen and gazed down at the street, now freshly plowed and full of traffic, lined with deep furrows of grey-brown slush that sprayed onto the sidewalks as cars slid past.

  I felt it as Nathan texted, as I’d known he would, that he was going to be late yet again.

  I felt it as I stared out at the endless city streets and knew there was a man somewhere amidst that maze who had killed Laura West, and one day he would be found.

  And I felt it as the simple joy of the morning faded into a far more familiar and amorphous fear and dread.

  This wasn’t my life. It never would be. As much as I longed to, I could not hold onto it; already I felt it start to slip away. Soon it would be gone forever, and in the end I would have no one to blame but myself.

  Nineteen

  Nathan

  “We have a suspect.”

  The four words jolted me, because no matter what Lisa had said on the voicemail, no matter what had brought me to the station in the depths of a snowy day, I hadn’t expected this.

  “You do? Who is he?” My mouth was dry, my heart starting to hammer, although I didn’t even know why. Just as I’d told Maria, this didn’t change anything. It only felt as if it did. “Do you have him in custody?” I felt as if I were on some crime show. Have you apprehended the assailant? I didn’t use words like that. No one did. Yet here we were.

  “He isn’t in custody,” Lisa said, perpetuating the surreal feeling that I’d stumbled onto a TV show filled with bad actors. “But we are starting to develop a picture of who he might be.”

  “How…?”

  “Some colleagues in another department alerted us.” Which was a way of saying nothing.

  “Alerted…?”

  Lisa paused. “We believe he has recently entered the country, and that he was acting entirely alone.”

  I leaned forward, my fists balling. “So you think he does have some link with Global Rescue?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t say anything, actually,” I snapped, giving vent to the fury that kept rising like a tide inside me, overtaking my common sense. “What do you really know about this… this killer?” It was starting to feel so familiar, this rage, like putting on a comfortable sweater. It fit, and it felt better than grief. “What the hell is any of this supposed to mean?”

  “We’re trying to give you some answers, Nathan,” Tom interjected in his gravelly voice. I hadn’t realized we were on a first-name basis. “We’re all on the same side here, and jumping to conclusions doesn’t help anyone.”

  “And what conclusions do you think I’m likely to jump to?” I said. “It’s been three months, and you still have no answers.” And I realized I wanted some, even if it didn’t change anything. At least then I would know. Perhaps it would bring some sort of closure, if not actual peace.

  “We wanted to share what information we do have,” Lisa answered with dignity. “I know it’s frustrating that it’s not very much, but we are trying. We’re going over CCTV records from Global Rescue as well as all the other cameras in a five-block radius, and the cameras on all the nearby subway lines. We’ve interviewed everyone we’ve deemed relevant at Global Rescue, and we’re also reviewing all immigrant entries into the country over the last three months. All of this is very time-consuming, as you can imagine.”

  I sagged back against my seat, the fury that had been propelling me forward giving me purpose, leaving me in a rush. Nothing mattered. Nothing changed anything. Why did I keep hoping it would?

  “Thanks for the update,” I said dully. “I know you’re doing your best.”

  “We called you in because we have another CCTV image of him,” Lisa said, as if she were giving me a peace offering, or even a treat. “A clearer one. If you want to take a look…?”

  Wordlessly, I took the black and white printout. It was of the back of a man’s head as he walked down the street; he could have been anyone, although I recognized his clothing and even his rangy stance fro
m the other pictures I’d looked at. “How do you even know this is him?”

  “Based on the other CCTV footage we’ve pulled, the timing on this one works,” Tom explained. “This was taken about halfway between Global Rescue and the subway station, in front of a jewelry shop, two days before the attack.”

  I glanced again at the picture, wondering if this man had had it in his head even then that he was going to kill someone. Kill Laura, even. It seemed so surreal, so impossible, and yet I’d been living with the knowledge for months now. When would I be able to accept it?

  I was about to hand the photo back when something caught my eye.

  Lisa, with her hand already out to take it, raised her eyebrows. “Nathan? Do you notice something?”

  “Sorry…” I studied the image for another second—the man walking on a crowded street, people all around him, indifferent, busy. It didn’t mean anything. Of course it didn’t.

  Because Maria was walking a couple of steps in front of him. Her back was to the camera, so I couldn’t be sure it was her, but I thought I recognized her coat, the way she walked with her head slightly bowed. She had a patterned drawstring bag over her shoulder, the same one I’d seen her with before. Yes, it had to be her, walking right in front of the man who had killed my wife.

  Coincidence? It had to be. Of course it did.

  “Nathan?” Lisa prompted.

  “Sorry, it was nothing,” I said as I handed the photo back.

  I didn’t know why I’d lied. Perhaps because I didn’t want them bothering Maria, bringing her in for questions. She would hate that, I knew it instinctively. None of this had anything to do with her. She just happened to be walking back from the center at the same time. That was all it was. All it could be.

  * * *

  By the time I got home after eight o’clock that night, after having put in a full day’s work on the plans for the bank on Grand Street, I had managed to push the meeting with the police to the back of my mind, but it still lurked there, like something murky hiding in the dark, waiting to emerge.