There was also the small matter of entering a hospital with a kidnapping victim. There had been some coverage, though it was light, in Asheville and Cincinnati, but Caitlin wasn’t sure about here in Kentucky, smack between the two. Were health care workers trained to keep a lookout for kids who were missing in the region?
Ultimately, it was futile to try to calculate the risk. She had no choice but to take it.
She told the boys they just had to make sure Leo wasn’t sick. She called it an adventure. And she found, in a stroke of luck, a pair of zip-up hoodies that she’d stashed in her trunk. They were ninja sweatshirts, the kind with flaps sewn in to transform the hoods into pull-down eye masks, gifted to the twins by her mother-in-law a few months ago. Caitlin thought them ridiculous. Not only was she tired of Beverly indulging them with overpriced boutique items that cost more than most outfits she’d worn in the earlier years of her own adult life, but the boys didn’t even yet know what ninjas were. Into Caitlin’s trunk the gift bag had been stashed that day, and there it had stayed.
She told Gus and Bear they could be hospital superheroes, and they pounced on the idea—no matter that it was pushing 90 degrees. Everyone knew that kids this age love to dress up, and besides, the car and the hospital were both air-conditioned. If Bear kept that little mask flap down, maybe it would be enough for him to escape recognition on the off-chance that anyone did remember his face.
The ninjas were sweeping around the tiny waiting room now, “rescuing” each other from under the rows of chairs. The three of them had been led to this smaller area behind a maze of corridors off the main ER, and no one else was here at the moment. Caitlin could tell that the occasional nurses and orderlies cutting through knew better than to pass judgment on unruly children. Not a single person gave her a dirty look, and for that, she was grateful.
Even though Leo had been out cold by the time they arrived, only mumbling and fluttering his eyelids when Caitlin tried to rouse him, even though she’d let down her calm façade in that moment she gathered him into her arms and burst through the lobby doors, Gus and Bear seemed remarkably nonplussed. They were mostly just excited to be at the hospital, and at worst curious about where Leo had gone. Thank goodness they were too young to understand—she could only hope there wouldn’t be any serious explaining to do later.
“From what you’ve told me, it sounds like he’ll probably be fine,” the admitting nurse had said, laying a warm hand on Caitlin’s shaking arm. Of course, what Caitlin had told her was a variation on the truth, but one that approximated the amount of Ambien he may have had. “Try not to panic. We’ll take good care of him.” Somewhere in the maze of hallways off this fluorescent-lit waiting room, they were working Leo over, hooking him up to monitors, running bloodwork. They’d assured Caitlin she could come back to his side just as soon as they knew his status.
“But he’s sleeping so soundly—” Caitlin had started, the tears welling up again.
“Of course he’s sleeping soundly. He had a little Ambien. It’s what it does.” The nurse had looked past Caitlin to the boys. “Would you like me to call someone to sit here with you? To help with his brothers? Cell phones aren’t allowed back here, but there are courtesy phones in the waiting area.”
“Thank you,” Caitlin told her, wiping the tears, trying to pull herself together for the sake of Gus and Bear. “I can handle it. I just … I blame myself.”
“Things happen,” the nurse said sympathetically. She nodded toward Gus and Bear. “I can see you have your hands full. We can’t watch them every second of every day, can we? Now you sit tight, and I’ll let you know as soon as we hear something.”
She seemed so genuinely kind. But Caitlin didn’t know if that was just good bedside manner or a smooth line to evade giving any hints that child services would be notified.
Caitlin knew she should call George. His son was in the emergency room, after all. But she was clinging to the hope that the doctor would come out and say Leo was completely fine, no harm done, they could go home, and then Caitlin could proceed with her original plan and George would never have to know about this terrifying gaffe. Well, she supposed he’d get the hospital bill, but by then … well, either the cats would all be out of the bag anyway, or she’d have had plenty of time to come up with a more reasonable explanation.
If she were to bring George into this, she might as well put Finn’s blackmail plan into action for him.
But what if he’s not fine? A battle waged in her head. If his father misses his only chance to be at his side, he’ll never forgive you.
She had to believe it wouldn’t come to that.
A wail from across the waiting room snapped her back to attention. Bear had tripped and was picking himself up off the waxed linoleum, crying. Caitlin could tell he was fine, just a little bruised and annoyed that his fun had been interrupted. She shuddered to think about the germs on the hospital floor, though. Autopilot kicked in and she swooped over, collecting a dollop of hand sanitizer from the wall dispenser along the way. She gave him a hug, reassured him that he was okay, and rubbed the foam into his little hands as best she could. Gus, who wasn’t typically jealous when she doled out affection to Leo or anyone else, hovered over her shoulder, resting his chin there and peering at her through his long eyelashes. These boys were tired. They were off their routines and out of their element and while they didn’t know enough to be scared here with Caitlin, they must have sensed something wasn’t quite right. Bear quieted down to a whimper, and she led them both to a table spread with crayons and photocopied coloring book pages of doctors and nurses and ambulances. You’d think they’d want to get the kids’ minds off this place, she thought. Just Elmo or some Care Bears would suffice.
“Let’s see how well hospital superheroes can color,” she said, hoping her words might encourage them not to lift their masks.
“I want to make a picture for Mommy,” Bear said, choosing a red crayon. Caitlin’s eyes filled with tears. Damn it, they were supposed to be in the car on the way to Violet’s right now. If she hadn’t been so stupid … “She hangs them on the ’frigator,” he told her solemnly.
Maybe there was still a way to set things right. Assuming the FBI had Violet’s phone tapped, Caitlin couldn’t tip her off outright. But if she could get her down here—maybe she could still go through with something close to her plan, and redeem herself with Finn too, by giving him one last chance to make good before the authorities swooped in.
“Boys, I’m going to make a call at this phone right over here.” Caitlin pointed. She needed to be sure Bear would not yell out to her while she was on the line with Violet. “Can you color three pictures? One for me, and one for Leo when he’s feeling better, and one for Bear’s mommy, when we see her again.”
“What about Daddy?” Gus asked.
“Of course! One for Daddy. That makes four. Four pictures.” She counted out the sheets for each of them.
“What about my daddy?” Bear asked, wide-eyed.
“And Uncle Finn! What was I thinking?” Lord help her. “Five. Five pictures.” She gave them each one more. Then, when she was satisfied that they were busy at work, she crossed the room to the courtesy phone and dialed Violet.
The hopefulness in her friend’s “Hello?” was almost too much for Caitlin. Of course. She was calling from an unknown number. Violet would be hoping it was Finn.
“Vi, it’s me.”
“Oh. Cait.” Violet did not sound happy to hear from her. Downright unhappy, in fact. Caitlin told herself it was just the initial disappointment that she was someone other than Finn.
“Are you okay?” Caitlin asked. “Your voice sounds kind of funny.”
“How am I supposed to sound when my husband and son have gone missing?” The iciness was unmistakable.
Caitlin looked over at Bear. “I’m sorry.”
“Or when I realize my best friend never saw fit to tell me about my husband’s dead fiancée? Or their plans to move to Asheville, where
I unwittingly dragged him against his will?”
So that was it. “How did you find out?” she asked, her mouth dry.
“From the FBI. You know, the way everyone wants to find out key information about their spouses that it turns out their friends have known all along.”
Tears filled Caitlin’s eyes. What little resolve she’d had left was gone. “I always thought he’d tell you, in his own time…”
“Right. Or he could snap and do something different ‘in his own time.’ Like disappear with our child.”
“If I had ever in a million years thought—”
“Where even are you?” Violet cut in. “I don’t recognize the area code.”
“I had the boys down at the cabin, and I … I mean, Leo…” Her voice broke. Even with everything that was going on, she realized that a part of her had been longing to hear Violet’s voice. She needed a friend right now. She was so scared and felt so alone. She was desperately trying to fix this. Violet had every right to be upset with her, but just … just not right this minute. Right this minute it was going to make it impossible for Caitlin to do what she had to do.
Violet sighed heavily. “What about Leo?”
Caitlin sniffed. “He got into some pills. Some Ambien.”
“Oh my God.” And just like that, the sarcasm in her tone changed to concern. Because Violet was, above all, a good person, a good friend, a good mom. She didn’t deserve any of this. “Is he okay?”
“I think so. I mean, they don’t know yet, for sure. But I think so. We’re at the hospital.”
“Jesus.” Violet’s anger was softening. “Wow. So that really does happen. I mean, you hear on the news about kids doing that sort of thing, but I always think, Really? How? I mean, pills are gross. I can’t get Bear to eat half the good stuff I put on his plate, let alone stuff he’s not supposed to touch.”
At the sound of Bear’s name, Caitlin felt the blood draining from her face. “He was also eating marshmallows,” she said weakly. “They were both on the counter.”
“You take Ambien?”
“No, George’s mother. She left them in the cabinet.” Caitlin stuck to the story she’d told the nurse. “I wasn’t sleeping well, and I got them out because I thought about taking one but I … I didn’t.”
“We just have to be so careful about every little thing the kids can reach, don’t we?” Violet got quiet then, and Caitlin imagined the agony of wondering if you’d ever need those little parenting reminders again. Even her position in the emergency room was probably enviable to Violet right now. If she only knew. “Are you okay?” Violet asked after a moment.
“I…” Caitlin’s original train of thought had derailed. “Actually, I was wondering if you could come down here. Sit with me? You know how awful hospitals are.” Violet didn’t answer right away, and Caitlin stole a glance over at the boys. They were intent on their work, heads down. Bear’s tongue was protruding from the corner of his mouth in concentration.
“George isn’t there?” Violet said finally.
“He’s working. In Cincinnati this week. I came alone with the boys.”
“Well, that’s not that far.” Violet sounded satisfied. “He could be there in a couple hours.”
Caitlin’s mind raced after another lie, but it came up with the truth. “I can’t face him,” she said. “This is all my fault.” She choked back a sudden sob, covering her mouth quickly with her hand. She turned away from the boys so they wouldn’t see and willed herself to pull it together.
“I thought you said Leo was going to be okay?”
Caitlin fought back another sob. “He is—” She sniffed hard. “I mean, I think so—”
When Violet spoke again, her words were thick with emotion. “Caitlin, under any other circumstances, I’d come and sit with you anytime, day or night, anytime you need a friend. But you have to understand—I sit here and I wait for Finn and Bear to come through that door. It might sound dumb, but that’s what I do. There’s nowhere else I can be. I can’t drive to Kentucky and risk missing them. That’s too much to ask of me. Especially right now, when I have so many questions for you. I’m sorry, but no.”
“We could talk about Maribel,” Caitlin blurted out. She knew she was grasping at the air, about to plummet into the abyss. But what else could she do? She would say anything it took to get Violet here—where Bear was. If she could just tell her, if she could just think of some hint that might get by the wiretap … but her mind, torn apart by worry, was failing her now.
“In person,” she added. “The way I should have told you in the first place. I can explain—”
“No offense, but I’m not sure a hospital is the best place for me to hear that story. I’ve already heard it, anyway. From Maribel’s mother.”
Caitlin didn’t know what to say to that. She couldn’t imagine Violet talking with Mrs. Branson after all these years. What had been said?
“Well, we could talk about Finn, how he was afterward,” Caitlin said, sounding as desperate as she felt. “Maribel’s mother wouldn’t know about that.”
Bear is here! She wanted to scream. I’ve got him for you!
“You know I love you, Cait, and I really hope and pray that Leo is okay, but even if I did want to leave Asheville, which I don’t, I’m not feeling ready to see you right now. I’m sorry. I kind of can’t believe I’m the one apologizing here, but I am sorry.”
“But just—”
“Call your husband, Cait. At least you know how to reach yours.” And the line went dead with a definitive click.
27
AUGUST 2016
It was all because of that damn nap.
Finn had never understood why Violet made such a fuss about them. She’d be nearly frantic if they ran late at the store, or if someone had the gall to invite them to anything that took place in the midafternoon. “He can’t miss his nap,” she’d moan. And then she’d go on and on, all the while Finn thinking, the kid will sleep if he’s tired. Or not. If he’s fussy later, we’ll put him to bed early. What’s the big deal? “Maybe he would fall asleep in the car on the way?” she’d say, wringing her hands. “Or maybe we could leave a little early so that when he does fall asleep in the car, we could drive around for a while so he could at least get a power nap in? Even twenty minutes would help ward off the hangry crankies…”
Hangry crankies was a term of her own devising that could just about send him over the edge with its redundancy. Hangry already reflected a blend of hungry and angry. There was no need for the addition of crankiness, which seemed to him to actually trivialize the implied fury of the hangry rather than emphasizing it. But hangry crankies she had dubbed them and so hangry crankies they had become in their household. Why argue about something so meaningless?
In truth, it was often better not to argue because she would turn out to be right. Bear did need the naps, for instance. Without one, he’d be so overtired by bedtime that he not only couldn’t manage to fall asleep but would aggressively battle any suggestion of it. She would meet Finn’s eyes as they worked together to wrestle pajama armholes and skinny cotton legs onto the human tantrum flailing on the ground between them with a raised eyebrow that said, What’s the big deal, huh? To her credit, she never said it aloud. To his, he started volunteering to do the afternoon nap duty.
Which was part of the plan on the day of no return. Essential to the plan, in fact. Violet would be soaking up the beach and Bear would be snuggled on the sofa bed of the hotel suite and Finn would be climbing into a taxi on his way to buy a one-way ticket to Not Home. It had actually seemed kinder to do it this way when he had conceived of it, though he was starting to doubt that once the moment was upon him—once he could picture her bouncing through the door, pink and happy from the sun, and stopping dead in her tracks at the sight of Bear here alone. Still, he could have left her in the midst of their messy life, bowls with milk-hardened O’s cemented to their sides lining the sink, dirty play clothes piling ever higher on the laundry room
floor, plastic Mega Bloks carpeting the living room. Surely it was less depressing for his wife to be left in a tropical paradise, where the palms would shade her face, the pool would distract her son, and the brightness of it all would show her that things back home were sort of bleak anyway. This was where it had begun, and as it never should have gone any farther, this was where it would end. It would be cleaner for everyone to leave it full circle, rather than going wildly off the mark, as he knew things would if he didn’t have the grace to extract himself.
So Finn had insisted that Violet remain lounging in her beach chair, enjoying her book, soaking in the rays and listening to the waves, while he put Bear down for his nap. He’d even bought her a pineapple-encased piña colada from a pushcart vendor, though she claimed those drinks gave her bad memories of the day they’d met. She took it with a smile, and with one sip he could see that she wasn’t going anywhere.
Bear had been sleepy from the sun but also punch-drunk from the excitement of the sand and sea and wanted a story. As Finn read, Bear fell into this odd state that used to send them running for the camera when he was a baby, where his eyes appeared half open but he was actually sound asleep. Finn hadn’t seen Bear do it for months, maybe a whole year. But he did it now, and he conjured for Finn the memories of his earlier days as a father, when he’d still had hope that maybe he could work things out.
And so Finn sat holding him and looking into those slits of elsewhere eyes and brushing back the golden wisps of hair that fell into his face—Violet said she couldn’t bear to cut those curls, even though anyone could see they were driving the kid crazy—and thinking of newborn Bear, charmingly leaking milky drool onto Finn’s bare chest those first days home from the hospital. The newborn had grown into baby Bear, learning to sit with his pudgy little legs stretched out in front of him in a triumphant V, banging a plastic spoon into a colander with unabashed glee until he lost his balance, tumbled to the side, and then gave up and dozed off right there on the floor. Then had come mobile Bear, cruising from one piece of furniture to the next in clumsy but determined caveman steps, licking his first popsicle, pushing his little plastic mower along the bumpy sidewalk, and waving excitedly as Finn pulled into the driveway, home from work. These days, a swift runner and dangerously good climber, and already talking better than many older kids he knew, he was their Bear Cub. The nickname was so perfect you would have thought he and Violet had planned for it all along. Strong, cuddly yet fierce, learning to make his way through the forest.
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