Mae and Kevin sat watching TV in the parlor, snuggled together like newlyweds. Eddie was sound asleep in Kevin’s arms.
A twinge of regret, jealousy perhaps, pinged inside Mike. Why couldn’t he and Liz sit together like that, holding their son, instead of arguing and pushing each other away? Why did every encounter find them at opposite poles these days? Being near her conjured anything but peace, Would she be there when he woke up? Would her ghost disturb his sleep and put him into another body slamming deep freeze? Would she turn on him like she’d turned on everyone else, imagining all sorts of devious plans to usurp her, ridicule her, control her, when there were none, while all people wanted was for her to be safe and happy?
It was time to go back upstairs, but he really didn’t want to. “I’ll take Eddie up.”
Kevin’s eyes were half closed, his head resting on Mae’s shoulder “Oh, yeah, sure. This movie is terrible.” He stood and handed the sleeping tyke over.
“‘Tis one of the worst I’ve seen in a while. Let’s get goin’. Mike’s dyin’ to get back to Liz.” Mae winked at him.
Despite the licentious insinuation, being near his own wife was more intimacy than he could stand right now, be it his recent illness, the ghostly aura, her paranoia, or all of the above.
As he headed up the stairs, Eddie’s head tucked against his chest thawed Mike’s heart a bit. But the front door closed, leaving him alone to look after both Liz and the baby, which was rapidly becoming a chore rather than a cherished ritual.
She looked up as he passed, scribbling on some papers while in bed, and a warm motherly smile curled her lips.
He sought refuge in the nursery, and watched as Eddie snuggled on his side, arms wrapped around his latest lovey: a plush tiger Mike had won for him at a carnival the past summer, when the weather was warm, and he enjoyed being a husband and father, and everything seemed right with the world.
Liz alternated between a note pad and typing into an electronic keyboard. Her nose scrunched as she rifled through notes. Disgusted, she piled everything on the floor next to the bed and slid under the covers.
“How’s the book coming along?” Mike sat on his side of the bed with barely enough strength to contemplate washing up and putting on his pajamas.
“I’m at a stalemate,” she answered. “I need more information about a certain dressmaker and some prints for illustrations. The only place to get them is at the William Morris Gallery in London. They don’t have it on any electronic data files, and I need to go in person to search the archives.”
“Well, that’s not a possibility right now. Financially, I mean. London wouldn’t be a bad place to go on a honeymoon, once the weather warms up.” Truth was he’d go to Alaska in the middle of winter to get away from this house.
“Yes,” she murmured, obviously still angry about their earlier argument.
Time to change the subject. “I guess Eddie is finally weaned.” Mike stopped but it was too late to retract the statement. Jeez, that medicine makes me do crazy things.
Liz’s snapped like a rubber band. “I suppose you think that’s a good thing.”
“Neither good nor bad, just a statement of fact.” He tried pulling his foot out of his mouth but was already gagging on it.
“It’s actually very sad for me, but I suppose a man can’t understand that.” Tears glistened in her eyes.
“I can appreciate how special that relationship is, and how hard it must be to realize your baby is getting older.” At one point, they’d talked about trying to have another baby, theirs, before Liz got any older. Always farfetched and now, under these circumstances, preposterous.
“Will Eddie hate me like Jay when he’s twenty, too?” Her voice trailed off like she’d dropped off a cliff mid-sentence.
“Children grow up, get lost in their own problems. I thought I’d never see Allison again. Jay reached out, but you didn’t want to talk to him.” Hopefully that would be the end of this.
“Yes.” Liz turned her back and curled around her pillow.
He should lie down, put his arms around his wife, and comfort her. Instead, he went to put on pajamas.
When he came out, she was either asleep or faking it, her facial muscles more tense than he ever seen. Was Liz examining her decision to marry him and allow him to stand in as the baby’s father in the bright light of all the troubles that had caused? What had ever possessed him to insist?
He flicked off the light and drifted to sleep, restless despite the exhaustion. When the chill ran through him, he knew before opening his eyes Elisabeth would be standing in front of the window. Mike’s heart raced. There was no way he’d go near her again.
He huddled against Liz, who lay on her side in between him and the specter. Her heart beat nearly half of his, which fluttered like a bird trying to get out of a cage. The ghost drifted into Eddie’s nursery. Mike ran to intercept her before she touched the baby.
The image dangled in mid air, on the other side of the walk-in closet, staring at the green silk dress swathed in a clear plastic bag, hanging amidst the other clothes. Elisabeth moved toward Eddie.
“Leave him alone.” Mike started toward the crib, prepared to put himself between her and the baby even if it killed him.
Elisabeth turned to his voice. Her lips moved in a silent chant that rang in his head as loud as if she’d shouted, “Such an angel. His father has never seen him or held him.” Her teeth clenched. She shook her head. Ghostly tears slid down her face, flashes of silver against gray, translucent flesh.
Mike shivered violently as Elisabeth drifted past him, back toward the window. She dissolved into a fog. He covered the sleeping baby with another blanket and, trembling from both fear and blood like frozen sludge in his veins, crawled back into bed. Had he conjured this by bringing up the subject of babies and children? Certainly he couldn’t fault his slumbering wife in any way.
Liz murmured as Mike’s cold arms wrapped around her. She snuggled closer, but it was only a warm body to comfort him, not her presence, not her curves, not the promise of a joyful pairing, or the delicious citrus perfume that banished the cloying lavender essence of her ghost. Dead from the waist down, he’d nap tomorrow, on the couch in front of a fire, which would soothe him as much. He’d keep watch and sleep no more tonight.
Chapter 20
Pale winter sunlight bathed the room. Liz leaped to her feet when she looked at the time, then remembered her substitute gig was over. Instead of relief, and the promise of a whole day to putter around the house and play with Eddie, restlessness, annoyance irked her. Mike, Mae, and Kevin would be around, and the only moments alone would be in the bathroom. They’d take turns watching her, driving her wherever she needed to go, protecting her from herself, or so they thought.
Why the hell was it taking so long for the CD proceeds to be deposited? No more fretting that a check would clear before the meager funds coming in were available. No more paying overdraft fees, minimum payments, and watching finance charges rack up like pin balls behind a sticky lever. Her paycheck this week would be the last for a while, unless she got a new assignment. She stretched the cramped ligament in her knee with a resistance band until it relaxed. Time to stop the physical therapy. Saving on the co-pays would help, and she knew all the exercises anyway. Instead of riding a stationary bike she’d take a walk. Yes, a walk to the beach would be nice, pushing Eddie in the stroller. He loved being outside, and the forecast was for a pretty mild day with not much wind. He’d be fine bundled into his snowsuit.
Elisabeth agreed. She’d become restless the minute the dress came back from Liz’s museum friend who’d fixed it as a favor. The widow’s walk was in shambles. Kevin had nailed the tower door shut, and there was no way for her to connect with Edward.
Liz had left the dress in the plastic bag, as if the thin barrier would help her resist
the temptation to run her hands over it, savor the sensation of soft silk against her skin, remember Edward’s fingers lingering on each button as he undid the back, the shush as it dropped in a puddle onto the floor, and the comfort as she stepped out of it into his arms.
"Green was always my favourite colour and it looks stunning on you.” Edward kissed her cheek and brushed his lips down her neck. She stooped to unbutton her shoes, slip off her pantalettes, and unfasten her garters.
Edward watched, then slid behind her. “You’ll need some help with the stays, I imagine.” He loosened them one-by-one, brushing his lips over her satin smooth skin of her back with each twist of his fingers.
Liz shook it off. No. She would not put that dress on. She could not go back. Too bad that Mae hadn’t burned it. That she hadn’t just donated it to the museum. That it was here.
Elisabeth turned somersaults. It was his favourite dress, the one I wore the day I came to America. It must stay here, with me.
She hungered for Edward’s sea spray kisses and, if she was lucky, the tide would be high when she got to the beach. But she’d have to sneak out.
Eddie whimpered.
Liz went to his crib. “Good morning, handsome.”
He smiled as she changed his diaper and dressed him in warm flannel, socks and his new shoes. God, he was almost walking. Sadness washed over her like waves over sand, obscuring any trace of the past. Edward had never see him. He would never come back, couldn’t come back.
Stop. It’s no different than the hundreds of soldiers dying in Iraq and Afghanistan before they see their babies. It sucks, but it happens. Eddie is lucky to have Mike. And Mae and Kevin. And his half brother, who despite valiant efforts to resist, is smitten by the jack-o-lantern grin no matter how much time has gone by since they’d seen each other.
Liz peered out the window. Kevin mucked out the barn. Mike stacked wood in a wheelbarrow and trundled it toward the pile. The vacuum hummed from somewhere upstairs. She’d be back before they even realized she was gone.
She took Eddie, but left behind her brace and cane. For the first time in weeks, Liz took the stairs one foot after the other without favoring the right. Mike wasn’t the only one recovering.
The oven-warmed kitchen welcomed her. Fresh-baked muffins, mmm. The thud of logs against the back of the house evidenced Mike’s efforts to keep the wood rack stocked.
Liz filled a bottle for Eddie. She doused the twinge of guilt for whisking him out to indulge her own impulses as she wolfed down a pumpkin-raisin muffin heading to the front porch.
“Think you’ve got plenty there, Michael.” Kevin’s voice projected from the side of the house. Too close.
“Yep, done with that. Now I’ve earned me a nap.” Mike’s boots clunked on the back porch and he fiddled with the doorknob. “Mae locked us out.”
They’d both come around the front! Liz hurried toward the barn and ducked in the open door. Two horse heads poked through the stall doors to catch a glimpse of the intruders. Eddie giggled with delight.
“We have to spend some time in the barn this summer, Eddie. Mama wants to learn to ride.” She’d bought the horses when things looked good, before all this. Thank goodness they had new shoes and the vet had come out in the fall, when she still had money to pay for it.
Kevin had stockpiled feed while it was on sale, so for now she wasn’t faced with the dilemma of selling them. But if the house . . . No, I’m not going to think about that now.
She rubbed Bump’s nose. Eddie squealed. Jump insisted on equal time. Liz moved over one stall and obliged. He butted his head against her chest.
“I have to spend more time with you guys, too.” Another thing she’d neglected while wallowing in the morass of past and present.
Elisabeth wiggled. How she’d loved the horses, especially her mare Ruddy. So much so she’d nearly convulsed when Liz considered a roan filly. It would have been too much to take. Maybe, just maybe, learning to ride would provide an outlet for the ghost to expel her angst.
Appeased, the horses went back to the fresh bundles of hay Kevin had loaded in their feeders. “No.” Eddie protested as Liz turned toward the barn door.
“More horsey?” Liz tried to get him to repeat it.
He couldn’t get his little lips around that yet.
“Later. We’re going to take a walk.” She peeked out into the empty yard. The men had gone inside and were probably having tea. Mmm, with milk and sugar and another muffin, if there were any left when she got back. Hunger pricked her gut, but not strong enough to override Elisabeth’s urgings. The ghost was hungry for Edward.
Liz’s heart pounded. I’m not doing anything wrong. I have the right to take my son for a walk. I’m not a naughty child.
She strode to the car, opened the trunk, and pulled out the stroller. Well practiced in the one-handed maneuver, she popped it open, bundled Eddie in and, closed the trunk with an insistent thud. Let them hear me. Let them see me. Let them try and stop me.
The low whine of the vacuum sounded through the closed windows. There was no one to see, no one to hear, no one looking for her–yet. Liz tucked a wool blanket around the baby and headed toward the beach.
She’d underestimated the effort of pushing the stroller through the frozen, rutted mud coating the side of Paine’s Creek Road. And this was downhill. She’d be going back up, into the wind, which was now jabbing at her back like any angry finger.
Liz draped the plastic rain shield over Eddie to keep the stiff breeze off his already ruddy cheeks. Only his face and eyes were exposed, and he stared at rotting leaves, stuck in roadside goo, flapping in the breeze.
“No birdies or bunnies today, Eddie. They’re all snuggled in their nests.” And they should be, too.
The effort had her breaking a sweat, but her fingers went numb in thin leather gloves. Her toes tingled, her knee and ankle stiffened and ached with every step. On a summer day she could sprint down here, but not today. No, it wasn’t because she was old. She hadn’t walked this much in weeks. And her muscles were stiff from cold, not age.
Kate’s, the bustling clam shack, was shuttered, the parking lot coated with a crispy blanket of unplowed snow left over from the last storm. Liz hurried past, needing no further reminder of the winter season, both the Earth’s and her own.
The seething, roiling expanse of Cape Cod Bay at high tide came into view. Whitecaps surged into the normally placid marsh, frothing over the sandy bank. Small rocks clicked and clattered. Nary a seagull braved the gusts. The world was holed up, hibernating, all except her. And her son.
Liz pulled her hood down and adjusted a scarf over her face. She turned Eddie so the wind was behind the stroller.
“Wawa.” He protested looking at the road.
“It’s too dangerous to go down to the water today, baby.” She pulled the scarf down and let the icy spray hit her in the face like pins pricking her skin.
If these were Edward’s kisses, he was angry. Her foot stomped, venting Elisabeth’s frustration. Liz started to leave, but Elisabeth insisted they linger longer. Tears welled in her eyes. Edward would never see his son.
“What are you doing down here?” Mike’s voice, shrill with anger, startled her. He stood next to Mae and Kevin, the trio in a single line, their faces set in an identical expression of anger and relief, rigid with cold and fury.
“I . . . took Eddie to see the horses, then decided to take a walk, get some exercise.” None of that was a lie, but her earlier bravado faded under the collective glare.
“Ya didn’t’ say anythin’ and when I knocked at your door to come in and clean up, no one answered. Imagine how I felt, seein’ the bed made up and empty, Eddie gone . . .” Mae’s voice broke.
“Liz, please, my heart can’t take this.” Kevin looked like he was going to cry, too.
; “Get in the car.” Mike tore the plastic shield off Eddie’s stroller and snatched him out.
His barked order raised her hackles. She resisted, to prove a point.
“Wawa!” Eddie complained and arched his back while Mike tried to get him into the seat–a difficult enough task in the bulky snowsuit.
“No wawa today, champ.” Mike struggled with the baby, and to contain his frustration.
“Let me help.” Mae slid into the backseat of the BMW and flicked her hand, motioning to Kevin to do the same.
It took Kevin a moment to respond. He moved like a rusty robot.
Mike deferred the squirming child to Mae. He stared into Liz’s eyes. “I said get in the car, goddammit. I’m not playing games with you.”
The Widow's Walk Page 15