“She doesn’t need aspirin.” Jack frowned. “Aspirin’s bad for a child.”
“It’s not aspirin, it’s paracetamol, children’s paracetamol. It’s fine.” Holly went over to the cabinet where she kept it. “She’s had it before.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s good for her. You shouldn’t give it to her.”
She had the bottle in her hand but hesitated.
“What am I supposed to do? Let her ear keep hurting?”
“It will be fine. She’s making a meal of it. You shouldn’t give in to her.”
“It hurts.” Katy began to cry. “Ouch, Mommy. It hurts.”
“Don’t be silly, Katy. And stop crying. Sit down and have some breakfast.”
“Mommy?” The cry turned into a wail. “Mommy?” She came hurtling toward Holly, throwing herself into her arms.
“Make it stop.”
“Holly.”
“What?” She didn’t know what to do with this sudden anger of his.
“Don’t give in to this.”
“Give in to what? She’s in pain. Her ear hurts. Haven’t you ever had an earache? Ssh, sweetheart.” She hugged her tightly, but Katy kept crying.
“For Christ’s sake. I can’t stand this noise.” Tossing his knife and fork down on his plate, Jack stood up. “You shouldn’t give her aspirin and she shouldn’t be crying. Sort it out, will you?”
He walked out of the kitchen without looking at either of them. Seconds later, when she heard the car’s engine start up, she rushed to the kitchen window. Jack was at the wheel of her car, heading out the driveway.
For a minute she stood, holding Katy and the paracetamol bottle, floored by his departure. What was that all about? Had Billy’s arrival on Birch Point upset him? The night before, as they were getting into bed together, he’d said, “Don’t worry about Billy. He’s a waste of space, but he’s harmless. He’ll go play in his sandbox and leave us alone,” and that’s all he’d said on the subject. He hadn’t seemed in the least perturbed.
What have I done wrong? Have I done something wrong?
“Here, come on.” She led Katy to the kitchen table, sat her down. “I’ll give you a spoonful of this medicine and you’ll feel better in a little while.”
“Jack’s mad at me,” Katy said between sobs. “I shouldn’t have it if Jack’s mad at me.”
“He doesn’t like noise, that’s all. He’s not mad at you. Come on. Take this.” She spoonfed her the paracetamol, picked her up again and carried her to the living room. “I’ll turn on the TV and you can lie here on the sofa and watch a cartoon until your earache goes away.”
Where had he gone? And why had he been so mean to Katy? After she’d found a good cartoon show for Katy and settled her down, she said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’ll be in my room if you need me, OK?”
“OK.”
“Anna?” She’d taken her cellphone into the bedroom, sat on the bed and dialed. “We’ve just had our first fight. At least, I think it’s a fight. I don’t know what to do. Jack’s gone.”
“Calm down,” Anna said in her “I’m giving good advice here” voice, after Holly had told her what had happened. “It’s natural.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look, Holl. He’s living with a five-year-old kid. This is a whole new deal for him. He’s not used to crying kids with earaches. So he’s gone for a drive to take a break. His clothes are still there, right?”
Even knowing he hadn’t had enough time to clear out his clothes, she got up, went to the closet and opened it.
“Yes.”
“So he hasn’t driven off for good. You have to expect the occasional tantrum from men. More than occasional with most men. They’re all babies.”
“But he’s always been even-tempered. Except with Billy yesterday. But that was understandable.”
“Except what with Billy?”
“Billy showed up again yesterday afternoon. And Jack basically got rid of him for me. For a second I thought Jack might punch him.”
“Good for Jack. See how right I was to ditch Billy? I still can’t believe you and he ever got together. You should have told me you had a crush on him, Holl. I would have told you he wasn’t worth it.”
She wanted to say, “Do you have any idea how many times you’ve said that to me? If you ever say that again, I’ll scream. And this isn’t about you—it’s about me, and Jack.” But she knew Anna wouldn’t listen.
“Billy’s not the point, Anna. The point is that Jack was angry with Billy, but not in the way he was angry just now. I haven’t seen him angry like that before.”
“You haven’t seen all that much of him before, have you? There’s practically no ‘before’ in your short knowledge of the guy. In any event, in the real world, the world outside Birch Point, everyone gets angry, Holly. And it sounds like he didn’t explode—he just left. That’s OK. It will blow over.”
“He upset Katy too. She cares about him so much.”
“Well, that’s good too. I mean the caring about him so much part. In fact, it all sounds pretty amazing to me. You get this man with a cool English accent waltzing into your life, moving in with you straight off the bat, and you’re complaining? Do you know how commitment-phobic most men are? You’ve hit the jackpot here, Holl. Pun intended.”
“I know. I guess there’s a lot I have to learn about living with a man.”
“You’ll never learn enough.” Anna sighed audibly. “There’s always another surprise waiting to ambush you. Anyway—when am I going to meet him? It’s unbelievably hot here and it’s supposed to stay this way all week. What about the weekend? Give your friend a break and invite her down for the weekend, will you?”
“Of course.” It would be churlish of her not to, she knew. And she couldn’t keep Jack hidden away forever.
“Excellent. I’ll see you Friday. I’ll try to get off work early so I can miss the traffic.”
“Great. And thanks, Anna. You’ve helped. A lot.”
“Before you hang up, what are you going to do about Billy?”
“I don’t know. The way he showed up like that shocked me. And then yesterday, well, the whole scene between him and Jack didn’t help either. I know I’ll have to face it, and soon. I’ll have to tell Katy and I’ll have to let him spend time with her. But I’m putting it off. It’s been so wonderful these past weeks with Jack and Katy, so uncomplicated. I hate the idea of turning her little world upside down. But Billy says he’s staying here and he’s determined.”
“Well, we can talk about that next weekend, too. Billy’s an idiot, but he is her father, and I suppose he has some rights. It would be so weird to see him again after all these years. Hey—it just occurred to me. Maybe Jack’s a Christian Scientist. They don’t believe in anyone being sick, do they? You have to heal yourself or something crazy like that. Or is that Scientology?”
“No, you were right the first time. It’s Christian Science. But he would have told me if he were one.”
Or would he?
“I’ve got to go check on Katy now and see how her ear is feeling.”
“OK, give her my love.”
“I will.”
They said goodbye simultaneously; after hanging up, Holly went over and sat with Katy while she watched cartoons.
Anna was probably right that she had nothing to worry about, but as time passed and Jack didn’t return, she replayed the scene that morning over and over again, trying to figure out why he’d been so angry, why he’d walked out.
Was he a Christian Scientist? Was Anna right? Had she offended his religious principles with the paracetamol? Was Katy supposed to cure herself?
“My ear doesn’t hurt any more.”
“That’s good, sweetheart.”
“But I’m tired.”
“Do you want to get into bed?”
“Just for a little while.”
Holly carried her upstairs into her bedroom and tucked her in.
“Take a nap and t
hen you’ll feel all fine.”
“OK. Tell Jack when he comes back that I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
“Tell him I promise we’ll get up to thirty next time.”
“Thirty what?”
“Full moons.”
It was a half-asleep answer, one of those sentences floating between consciousness and unconsciousness. The earache and paracetamol had sapped her of her usual energy; Holly couldn’t remember the last time Katy had taken a nap in the morning. She leaned down, kissed Katy’s head and headed back downstairs.
“Is she OK?”
Jack was standing at the foot of the stairs.
“She’s asleep.”
“That’s good.” He held his hand out to her.
“Where did you go?” When she reached him, she took his hand and squeezed it. “I was worried.”
“I needed to get out. It’s so bloody hot.”
“I don’t want to fight, Jack.”
“We’re not fighting. Come with me. I have something to show you.” He led her into the living room, picked up a bag from the floor beside the coffee table. “Look what I’ve done.” Reaching into the bag, he took out framed photographs, one by one, and placed them on the table. They were pictures of her and Katy together, him and Katy together, him and her together, the three of them together. Some were beach photos, some were simple ones of them sitting in the house. He hadn’t been an irritating photographer, snapping away constantly; she’d barely even noticed it when he’d taken his digital camera out.
“They’re amazing, Jack. I had no idea you were going to get them framed. They’re stunning. I love them. I love the ones you took with the timer of all of us together—especially that one on the beach.”
She couldn’t imagine a more perfect way of making up after an argument.
“So . . .” He threw his hands in the air. “Let’s get started.”
“What?”
“Here.”
He picked up the now empty bag and began to walk around the living room, taking the photographs she had of her parents, of Katy as a baby and little toddler—all the pictures she had displayed on tabletops and bookshelves—and shoving them in the bag.
“Jack! What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?”
“But those are my pictures.”
“And these are our pictures.”
He dumped the bag on the floor, went back to the coffee table, took each picture and put it in the place of the ones he’d just removed.
“Those are pictures of my parents, Jack. I don’t want to get rid of them. And the ones of Katy as a baby too. They’re special.”
“They’re old. They’re the past. You need to look forward.” He was looking around at the new photos, admiring his work.
“I can look forward and still have reminders of the past.” She picked up the bag of her photos he’d left on the floor and started taking the pictures back out. “We can have both. The old ones and the ones you took.”
“No.” He walked over and stood in front of her, his hands on his hips. “No. Put the old ones back in the bag. Now.”
“This is crazy. I don’t understand. Don’t you have any pictures of your parents?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t.” Grabbing the bag from her hands, he began to put the photos she’d taken out back in.
“I want my pictures, Jack.” She couldn’t help it; tears began to run down her face. “They’re important to me. Please understand.”
He wasn’t listening. He strode into the kitchen and Holly followed him, unbelieving, watching in despair as he took a garbage bag out from under the sink.
“You can’t throw them away.”
“Why not?”
“Jack. Please. Stop it. Those are my parents. They’re what I have left of my parents.”
Tears were now cascading down her face. This couldn’t be happening. Not to them. They were happy. They were in love. Everything was going right. But the man who would hug her to him at night and tease her and excite her was staring at her with an impenetrable, unfeeling expression. She didn’t know what to do, could only stand watching helplessly as he tied up the ends of the garbage bag and hauled it outside.
Holly could hear him take the top off the trash can, she could hear the sound of the bag full of pictures being thrown in. And the lid crashing back down.
She sank onto the kitchen chair, lay her head down on the table. When she heard him come back in, she couldn’t look up.
“Holly, look at me. We’re orphans. But we have each other now. And Katy. That’s all we need. Look at me.”
Her face was in her hands, hands wet with tears. She shook her head. When he pulled her hand away, out from under her face, she wouldn’t look up. She couldn’t.
His hand was over hers, separating her fingers. He was putting something on her fourth finger, slipping it over the tip and down.
“You really should look at me when I propose.”
The weight of both the ring and his words hit her.
“Ah—now I have your attention. Now you’re looking at me. Will you marry me, Holly Barrett?”
“What?”
“What’s a question not an answer. I want us to have a life together. A new life. Starting from scratch. You’ve changed my life. You’ve made me believe in life again. I didn’t think that was possible. But now I do.”
“Jack.”
“Jack’s not an answer either. Do you want me to get down on one knee? I’ll do it, Holly.” He knelt beside her chair. “I had planned it differently. I was going to ask you tonight, I was going to take the night off work and ask you out to dinner, but then Katy had that earache and that might have meant we couldn’t let Henry look after her so we could go out and all my plans had to change. So I’m doing it now. We can be a family. You and me and Katy. We can fix each other, Holly. We’ve both been wounded. But we can fix each other. Wouldn’t you like that?”
His eyes were clear and blue and beseeching. He was squeezing her hand so hard the ring he’d put there was digging into her flesh. Her tears were still falling but they were coming out of a different place in her heart: the lonely hole that had been there for so long was filling up and spilling over and the deep-seated anxiety she’d had for the past month was vanishing as she realized that this was her future, her forever future that he was offering her, and she put her arms around his neck and leaned down and kissed him with the kind of love for a man she never believed she’d have.
“Yes,” she whispered in his ear when she caught her breath again. “Yes. That’s an answer. Yes, I’ll marry you, Jack Dane.”
Chapter 10
Billy sat in the white deckchair on the lawn, hoping for some breeze from the bay, even a small hint of a breeze, to cool him down. The air-conditioning in the house wasn’t working and he’d spent the night tossing in damp sheets. At about three in the morning, when he’d finally managed to fall asleep, he was woken by the buzz of a mosquito. That irritating whine which wouldn’t go away until he’d turned the bedside light on, got up and hunted it down; finally swatting it with a rolled-up newspaper he’d retrieved from the kitchen.
He’d almost forgotten the humidity of a Birch Point heat-wave; California had been hot, but somehow never quite as bad as this. Could Katy sleep in weather like this? Could Katy swim? Ride a bike? His little girl with her long blonde hair and those questioning eyes. That’s what had struck him most in the photographs he’d seen at Holly’s the first time he’d gone: Katy’s eyes. The way they seemed, in every picture, to be asking something. Like: What are you doing with that strange thing you’re pointing at me? Or: What happens next? Or was it: Where’s my father, the explorer?
An explorer. Yeah, right. An Asshole Dirtbag who’d run away was more like it. He could spend all the time in the world making excuses for himself, some of them actually reasonable excuses, but nothing could change the fact
that he’d treated Holly like shit and his daughter as if she didn’t exist. He could hear himself try to justify to both Holly and Henry what he’d done, he could hear how pathetic and weak he sounded. “I was young,” or “We were friends and suddenly you were pregnant.” Ridiculous efforts to try to wipe away his negligence, his rank stupidity. No wonder Holly and Henry both thought he was a coward, hiding behind his parents. That’s what he’d been, and that’s what he’d done.
“Look, I was head over heels in love with Anna, she ditched me, I took advantage of Holly, but I hadn’t been expecting I’d take advantage of her on that walk so I didn’t have a condom and didn’t think about using one, and my parents completely freaked out and I didn’t know what to do so I listened to them and went to Stanford and I can’t believe I never talked to Holly and I can’t believe I spent five years in total denial, but I want to make up for it now.”
Great speech, Billy. That will have them applauding in the aisles.
He wiped the sweat off his forehead, stood up and went back into the house. His parents had changed everything since he’d last been there; making it modern and rent-friendly, the antithesis of Holly’s place. The kitchen was full of sparkling appliances, all state-of-the-art. He grabbed a glass of water and ice cubes from the ice-cube-making machine, sat down on one of the stools at the bar and picked up the cordless phone. This time he’d call, not arrive at her house with no warning. He’d be smarter this time, more composed. And if he was lucky, Jack wouldn’t answer. He’d have a chance of speaking to Holly on her own.
After three rings, an answering machine kicked in: “Hi, you’ve reached Holly and Katy. Please leave a message at the beep.”
“Holly, it’s Billy. I’d like to speak to you, please. Could you call me back at 508-295-6678? Thank you.”
Well, at least the message hadn’t included Jack’s name. Billy stood, unsure of what he should do next. Sit and wait for her to call back? Not dare to go out in case she did and he missed it? Or go down to the beach for a swim? Maybe Katy and Holly were down on the beach. He went to try to find a pair of binoculars his parents used to keep in a cupboard in the hall, but before he’d gone ten steps, the phone rang. He doubled back.
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