by Zrinka Jelic
“I was their scapegoat. They drew a wedge between us. Their venom means nothing now. Your understanding and our friendship is more important.”
Olivia grabbed the railing for support. Was it all this love around her causing her shaky legs? She turned to Susan. “Promise you’ll remember this conversation.”
Susan’s mouth opened, and she took a step back. “Why would I forget it?”
Tears burned Olivia’s eyes and she swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “I don’t belong here and I fear I’ll be snatched from this life or … returned to mine without a friend.”
“Olivia.” Susan wrapped her fingers around her forearm. “You’re serious.”
“Please, I need you to promise to remember this conversation.” A cold feeling knotted her insides. She couldn’t be certain anyone from this life would have a single trace of memory about her.
“I promise. This is something I couldn’t easily forget.” Susan flashed an encouraging smile. “You’re not going anywhere, Olivia. Who’d raise your family? Now let’s get Rosie dressed.”
Susan seemed comfortable changing Rosie and getting those chubby legs and arms into sleeves and leggings. Glad for the temporary reprieve, Olivia paid close attention to her friend’s technique.
“Here she is.” Susan picked Rosie up from the changing table. “All dressed and nowhere to go. Isn’t she cute?”
Olivia reached out to Rosie and Susan passed her over. “Sure would be nice if you could stay until Tom gets back.”
“Sorry.” Susan sounded apologetic. “I have a session with my personal trainer. At my age and after two kids, it takes a major effort just to keep things where they supposed to be.”
“You look fabulous.” A hint of envy crept to her voice, despite her efforts to hide it. Her weak knees and lightheadedness eased. Olivia placed a kiss on Rosie’s chubby cheek.
Susan tsked, her forehead creased with her frown, and she wrapped her fingers around Olivia’s wrist. “It’s only been ten months since you gave birth and you look great already. Give it time, your killer body will return.”
Hours passed. Susan kept refilling their coffee cups and brewed another pot, even fed Rosie her lunch. Had she forgotten all about her training session? Olivia enjoyed her friend’s company and help, and dared not remind her of her appointment. But a question burned on her mind. Would Susan know the password that would open the gate to Tom’s heart? Maybe she’d told her in the past. No, the secret was between a husband and wife, not something to disclose even to the best friend.
Susan jumped to her feet, glancing at her watch. “I lost track of time. Gosh, it’s one o’clock already.”
She passed Rosie to Olivia and scurried for the coat closet. Adjusting the baby on her hip, Olivia followed her friend.
Susan bundled up and kissed Rosie then hugged Olivia. “Hopefully, my trainer can squeeze me in. We’ll talk again.”
From the front door Olivia waved to Susan while she backed up her Mercedes.
“Goodness,” Olivia said, looking at the clock then sat Rosie in her high chair. “It’s way past lunch time. Hungry?” The soft blue light inside the fridge reminded her of Tom’s shirt. Soon her thoughts drifted to his chest beneath the cloth. Bet right now he was intimidating the plaintiff. She’d love to see him in action, objecting the questions from the opposing side.
Her fingers clenched, itching to feel his pecks flex under her fingertips, but her growling stomach demanded immediate attention.
A Tupperware bowl with last night’s leftovers set her mouthwatering. She dished out a portion of stew and warmed the pot on the stove. Tom was right. The spices blended and the smells from the container sent her stomach on a roll of rumbles.
After warming up another portion of pureed baby food, she sat at the table. Rosie turned her head away when Olivia tried to feed her. Maybe her technique wasn’t as good as Susan’s. Or maybe she wasn’t hungry. Baby girl had polished off two bowlfuls of her food just an hour ago.
Olivia placed a rubber toy in front of Rosie and turned to her own plate. She savored her late lunch until the last spoonful. Then she perused a fashion magazine. Every so often, Olivia glanced over the top of the publication at Rosie who cooed and chewed on her teething giraffe. The baby’s face turned red, she strained. Olivia jumped to her feet, panic spreading through her. She never had to use her First Aid training she’d taken over a decade ago. Was Rosie choking?
In a next moment Rosie’s color changed to normal and she grinned at Olivia, gnawing on her toy. A not-so-innocent baby smell drifted from her vicinity.
Arms askew, Olivia cocked her head. “You didn’t?”
Rosie replied with a long coo.
Olivia exhaled in relief. At least it wasn’t anything life threatening. Nonetheless, she faced an untried, monumental task. She paced the kitchen floor. Could she do this without gagging? What was wrong with her? In her job, she’d march straight into a boardroom full of executive suits and thrill them with her presentations. One soiled diaper should be easy to handle.
She carried Rosie to the nursery and placed her on the change table. Armed with ample amounts of baby wipes, she unfastened the Velcro straps and pulled off the nappy. She set to the task with surprising calmness. Olivia was proud of her first attempt at diaper change. She’d wished Tom could have seen her in action, patted her on the back for her accomplishment.
To snap the straps of the clean diaper into their place and make sure they weren’t too tight proved harder than wiping Rosie’s skin clean. “Can you stay still?”
In the next instant, the smile vanished from Rosie’s face, replaced by a frown. She broke into a long wail. Olivia grimaced. Had she used a stern tone with the baby?
“There, there, don’t cry.” Goodness, what can I do? She picked up Rosie, pressed her to her chest and bounced across the room.
The alarm clock on the dresser erupted in a squealing wail. She slammed down the snooze button. How silly. Who’d need to wake up at four in the afternoon?
CHAPTER 9
Bouncing Rosie in her arms, Olivia paced the room. Her gentle movements seemed to be working. Rosie’s crying softened. The baby yawned and rubbed her little eyes.
“You’re tired, baby. What do you say to a nice nap, eh?” She should’ve put Rosie to bed earlier. Tom had left the sheet with instructions, why hadn’t she followed them? Olivia inspected the diaper again. “Crooked, but it’s holding.”
Sadness seemed like a constant cold stone in her gut. Her instant family grew on her and no amount of fighting it off would help. Tom’s real wife would return and take her rightful place next to her husband, and she’d … well, she’d go back to her empty house and share her thoughts with walls. There was no point in avoiding the unavoidable. Tonight she’d talk to him and find out if her appearance here had anything to do with his case.
A screech erupted from the digital alarm clock. Hadn’t she shut that off? She must’ve hit the snooze. As she reached for the off button she had a distinct feeling she was forgetting something.
Now, what was she supposed to do at four in the afternoon … “Milo!”
A strong instinct told her not to leave Rosie alone in the crib, not even for a second. With the baby pressed to her hip, Olivia charged down the stairs, shoved her feet inside a first pair of shoes she found in the hallway, and threw her jacket over her shoulders.
The yellow school bus was lumbering onto her street when she ran out the door, shivering as the frigid air wrapped around her. She thanked the sleek roads and slow moving traffic. At least winter was good for something. Careful not to slip on icy patches, she sloshed down the road to the second mailbox. Rosie, snug inside her jacket, giggled with each bounce.
As Tom had said, Roy stood among moms waiting for the bus, a stack of mail shoved under his armpit.
The bus pulled up to the curb, snow crunching under its tires. With a hiss, the doors opened. Kids poured out, sometimes two by two, ignoring the driver’s urges to exit one
at the time.
“Hey Mrs. M., forgot to dress your baby?”
She turned in the direction of the sugar-laced voice. Roy quirked one eyebrow, his lips curved in a sordid half-smile.
“You know it’s twenty-five degrees below zero.” He scowled, pointing at Rosie’s bare feet peeking out from under Olivia’s jacket. “Thirty-two when you count in the windchill factor. Trouble in paradise?”
Olivia recognized Milo’s snowsuit before his muffled greeting came through his scarf, covering his nose and mouth. She grabbed his mitted hand, throwing the best mind-your-own-business glare she could muster over her shoulder to Roy.
Frowning, Roy averted his glance then flashed a grin at a homely woman standing behind him. Her smile exposed yellowed, uneven teeth and indicated she welcomed his move.
Olivia adjusted Rosie on her hip to cover her little feet and pulled the zipper on her parka as far as the bundle under her coat would allow. What had she been thinking running out of the house with Rosie half dressed? With her mind focused on getting Milo from the bus stop, she hadn’t thought of her girl and now Olivia could only hope the baby wouldn’t get sick. Milo chatted all the way home, but Olivia couldn’t focus on his excited tales, answering with a robotic “uh-huh” or “that’s nice.” She opened the door and the phone brr-inged in high-pitched demand. With a firm hand, she ushered Milo inside the foyer and closed the door on the cold.
“Can you take off your snow gear while I answer the phone?”
Milo nodded and unwrapped his scarf. Olivia reached for the handset on Tom’s desk. His spicy cologne lingered in the air. How she missed him.
“Hi, honey.” Though he sounded tired, Tom’s voice cheered her up. “Everything all right?”
“Uh-huh.” She unzipped her jacket, trying to steady her breathing. Rosie ceased chewing on her finger to flash a chin-drooling grin. “Just got Milo from the bus stop and I think Rosie is ready for her nap.”
“Good.” Tom’s chuckles caused her to arch an eyebrow. “I set the alarm a few minutes ahead. Just in case, but you remembered. Didn’t I tell you it would be easy — peasy?”
How smart of him to make sure she’d have a few extra minutes to get Milo. With his kindness, it wouldn’t be long before she confessed to almost forgetting their son and running out in the sub-zero temperature with Rosie undressed. She’d excelled in business school. Surely parenting couldn’t be harder than graduating with honors. But perhaps she’d set unrealistic expectations for herself. She wasn’t cut out for this parenting gig. Frustration gnawed at her guts. Her attempt at being a perfect mom had failed. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t be what Tom wanted from her. But she wanted to be and perhaps she hadn’t tried hard enough. Or could being a mom be one of those things women get better at with time and practice?
“Well, I can’t take all the credit. I had a bit of help from Susan.”
“It was nice of her to stop by.” Soft music mixed with his voice. “I’m heading home. Want me to pick up take-out? I don’t feel like cooking.”
Here was her chance to prove to herself she in fact could be a good wife. Her husband deserved a home-cooked meal. “No, I’ve got dinner covered.”
“Are you cooking?” Surprise laced his voice. “I think you’re right, you’re not my wife, but I can hardly wait to see what you’ll whip up.”
Oh-oh, she’d spoken too soon. What had she gotten herself into? Now she had to put a meal on the table and the kitchen scared her more than changing a baby. “Don’t expect anything extravagant. How was your day?”
“Long and exhausting, Can’t wait to get home. Don’t strain yourself in the kitchen, soup and a sandwich will do for me.”
Anticipation swirled through her. “I missed you. How long before you get here?”
“Judging by the traffic, an hour. Merging onto the highway now, got to go.” A long kiss came from his end. “Bye, honey.” He ended the call.
She warmed up Rosie’s bottle, took her to the nursery, dressed her in a clean sleeper and sat in the rocking chair. The soft, satisfied sounds of her sucking, the warmth of her in Olivia’s arms and adoring way she looked up at her mom while she fed gave Olivia a sense of belonging, yet her heart ached.
Her glance travelled to the window. Darkness descended on the street. She had an hour to prepare dinner. Her cooking skills didn’t extend beyond warming up leftovers, opening a can of soup and making sandwiches. Yes, Tom said he’d be fine with a light meal, but she wanted to impress him. Somehow, staying at home and taking care of the family instead of earning an income made her feel small and insignificant. Envy swirled through her. Just a week ago, she too had ruled the boardroom as Tom must’ve intimidated witnesses on the stand in the courtroom today.
Damn it with these roller coaster emotions. One part of her demanded to stay home and take care of the children, while the other called for a career and to earn a paycheck. The constant war between two made her happy and miserable at once.
The sucking noises ceased and Olivia glanced at the baby in her lap. Rosie was fast asleep, her long eyelashes splayed above her cheek. She placed a tender kiss on her soft forehead before setting her in the crib, then trudged to the kitchen.
A flyer stuck to the fridge from her favorite Chinese restaurant made her reach for the phone. Ordering in was her best honed cooking skill. She dialed, but slammed the phone down. Hadn’t she just told Tom not to get take-out? And now she tried to cheat her way out.
Milo sat on the stool of the breakfast bar, face cupped in his palms. “What’s for dinner? I’m hungry.”
Her focus zeroed in on Milo. The boy would know his dad’s favorite dish. “Is there something you and Dad like?”
His grin created dimples in his cheeks, increasing his resemblance to Tom. “Chicken fingers and fries.”
Okay, she’d asked for it. Not anything she’d prepared in the past. “How do I make that?”
He pointed at the fridge. “It’s in the freezer. Just heat it up.”
Frozen chicken fingers and a bag of pre-cut fries were stowed at the back of the compartment. She read the instructions.
“All right.” She set the box on the counter. Preheating the oven didn’t take a lot of brain cells. Since she’d never done it before, cooking frozen food seemed like a step up from microwaving leftovers or ordering in. Pressing the button on the stove, she set the oven to reach the desired temperature. Hmm, Tom would be here in less than an hour now. She raised the heat twenty degrees to cook faster.
“I’ll have four strips. Daddy eats six of them and lots of fries. You make a salad for yourself.” At Milo’s voice she glanced in the direction of his pointing. “The baking sheet is in the drawer under the oven.”
“Of course.” She pulled the bin open and took out a flat, rectangular pan, spread the meat and cut fries, then shoved the family meal in the oven.
She turned to Milo who kept a keen eye on her movements. “Have I done this before?”
“Once.” He straightened and a funny frown appeared on his face. “Dad calls it a D-day.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “D-day?”
“Yeah, a disaster day. Get it?” Milo broke into gales of giggles and covered his mouth with his hand.
• • •
Tom drummed his fingers in rhythm with the upbeat song coming from the car speakers. He gripped the steering wheel when the traffic moved, only to come to a dead stop a few yards ahead. The traditional Croatian song he’d enjoyed came to an end with a long vocal solo from the lead singer. He found the next tune too slow to fit his chipper mood so he scrolled through his device in search of another fast tempo. Klapa Kampanel and their hit Sacred Land Dalmatia with baritone voices of the male band rang from the radio. When the guitar and drum joined in, his hand tapped the side of the steering wheel. He should download more of their music.
His thoughts drifted to the courtroom. Devils strangle them! He smiled at his mother’s usual curse. But it was appropriate. That jury was impossible to r
ead. Not one of them had blinked while he’d delivered his opening statement. With the circumstantial evidence, the prosecution couldn’t prove his client was guilty any more than he could prove the poor woman on trial was innocent. Mr. Baldwin’s medical team reported no change in the condition of the shooting victim, which meant no signs of coming out of his coma.
But Tom was proud of his work today. It hadn’t been easy to put forth the appearance of a hard core attorney when thoughts of Olivia — the way her face softened when he’d pinned her to the mattress, her passionate cries, smooth skin, hardened nipples pressing to his chest that had tightened his boxers — wouldn’t leave him.
Tom turned onto the exit ramp, leaving the crawl of highway traffic behind. He was looking forward to arriving home to his family and the dinner his wife was preparing.
He turned into his driveway. Smoke trickled through an open window sent a rush of adrenaline though him.
Inside the garage, the fire alarm shrieked, and he ran into the house. Olivia fanned the device on the ceiling with a piece of cardboard. Windows and the back doors stood wide open. Gray smoke poured out of the oven and hung in the air, choking him with the stench of burned food. Milo bounced and laughed with all his might around the chair she stood on.
The wooden seat tipped and she flapped her hands. Tom wrapped his arm around her waist.
Surprise flashed on her face as he steadied her. “You’re home already.”
He raised his voice to be heard over the ear-splitting sound. “I’ll take care of the alarm, step down. Milo, will you please close the back door?”
“Yes, Daddy.” The boy skittered away, leaving the space around the smoke alarm free for Tom to work.
At the press of the button, the shrill ceased. Olivia’s expression relaxed and she slumped. Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m the world’s worst mother and wife.”