She stopped to consider this, her sobs quieting. That last conversation, the things she’d said, the way she’d wanted to hurt her. Alice would not welcome her; why should she? “That would be a great help to me. Thank you.”
“Okay,” he said. “We’ll go now. Just give me a minute.” He took off his helmet and went over to one of the other firefighters, gesturing to the dog while Susannah wiped her wet face with her hands, forgetting how dirty one of them still was.
Then they got in her car, but she let him drive; she was too shaky to do it herself. On the way to the hospital, she was quiet. She had tried calling both her kids, but neither one had picked up. She would see them soon, though. The fire had driven the new knowledge about her parentage right out of her head, but now it was creeping back. Then she realized she didn’t even know how the fire had started; thinking about her parents would have to wait. “What happened at Alice’s?” she asked Corbin.
“Your daughter told me she’d invited some friends over—Alice knew all the kids and said it was okay. They were upstairs smoking weed. Someone got careless with one of the joints and set it down somewhere. It fell on the floor and started to smolder in the rug. By that time, the kids were high and not paying attention. Then the rug burst into flames and the flames spread to one of the curtains. The kids were all screaming and colliding with each other, trying to escape. But Calista was calm enough to call nine-one-one. We got there before the fire blazed totally out of control.”
“I heard Alice was hurt.”
“She fell and broke something. Hip maybe. But we got her out before there was any serious damage from the smoke.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“You’re welcome.” Then, “And you would be thanking me for . . . ?”
“Making sure my children stayed safe. Saving Alice. Trying to save Emma.” She paused. “Just being you. I would have felt terrible if anything had happened to you in there.”
“That’s a nice thing to hear.” He kept his eyes on the road. “Really nice. I know we were new to each other, but I’ve missed you, Susannah.”
“I missed you too.” And she had. It was getting dark now, so she couldn’t read his expression. But she imagined what it might reveal: Gratitude. Surprise. Forgiveness. Just like hers.
They turned onto Pleasant Street and Corbin pulled into the parking lot of the Concord Hospital. He turned off the ignition, shifted in his seat, and took her hands. She was desperate to see her children, yet she remained where she was, hands encased in his. His drunken lapse seemed less important now. He would deal with his problem; it wouldn’t define him. She leaned toward him ever so slightly, but it was enough. He let go of her hands and pulled her into his arms.
“We’ll talk,” he said against her cheek. “We should talk. But not now.”
He got out of the car and Susannah followed him into the hospital. Calista and Jack were sitting in the waiting room of the ER. Calista’s face and clothes were soot-smeared; there was a gray blanket wrapped around her shoulders. As soon as they saw her, they jumped up and came running over.
“Where were you?” Jack asked. “I was calling and calling!”
“Mom, I am so sorry. I never meant for that to happen—never!”
“Okay,” she said, gathering them both in her arms. “Okay.” She closed her eyes and let herself take them in. Jack’s newly muscled, rapidly growing body; Calista’s delicate spine. The burnt smell in their hair and clothes. The tears—because they were both crying now—that ran in cloudy rivulets down Calista’s grimy cheeks.
“Is Alice going to be okay? Corbin brought her out and he told me she’d be all right. Will she, Mom? I wanted to go and see her, but they said not yet.” Calista wiped her eyes with her sleeve.
“She will and you can,” said Susannah. “But let’s sit down now. Let’s sit down and talk.” She saw Corbin standing at some distance from them. “You too,” she said. “You come too.”
“It’s all my fault,” Calista said. “All of it. If I hadn’t been such a brat, none of this would have happened. Can you ever forgive me, Mom? Can you?”
“Corbin told me how the fire started,” Susannah said. “And he told me that you were the one who kept your head and called nine-one-one. I am so proud of you for doing that.”
“When we saw the flames, everyone just panicked and tried to get out. I wanted to get out too, but I was worried about what would happen to Alice. So I called nine-one-one. I knew they would send firemen. And they did.” She looked at Corbin. “They sent you and you went inside and saved her. You’re, like, a hero.”
“She’s going to be just fine,” Corbin said. “We can all go see her later.”
“I wish we could bring Emma,” Calista said. “That would really cheer her up.”
Susannah’s expression must have revealed everything. “Did something happen to her?” Calista asked. “Please tell me that she’ll be okay.”
“The horse is fine. But Emma didn’t make it,” Corbin said, and when Calista started to cry, it was Corbin who put his arm around her. To Susannah’s astonishment, she seemed to accept the comfort, and cried into his chest just where Susannah had.
“I used to see them walking together,” Jack said. “Alice is going to be so sad.” Then he began to cry too. They sat like that for a few minutes, the kids crying, the adults murmuring consoling words, until Corbin found a vending machine and brought them all cups of tepid, overly sweet hot chocolate, which they guzzled as if it was the most delicious thing they had ever tasted.
“Do we tell her tonight?” Susannah asked when the last, grainy drops had been downed.
“I don’t think so,” Corbin said. “Anyway, she may not even be awake yet. We haven’t checked in a while.”
“Let’s check now,” Calista said. “Please?”
So together they rode the elevator to Alice’s room on the fourth floor. “She’s fine,” said the nurse. “She broke a hip, but it didn’t need replacing. Her bones are pretty strong for someone her age.”
“We wondered if we could see her,” Susannah said.
The nurse looked at their raggedy little group, still dirty, still disheveled. “Are you Emma and Calista?”
“I’m Calista.” Her daughter stepped forward.
“She’s been very anxious about you, and about someone named Emma. She kept asking.” She looked at Calista. “Do you know who Emma is and if she’s all right? Everyone we saw here tonight was okay.”
“Emma was her dog. She died in the fire,” Susannah said.
“Oh,” said the nurse. “That’s going to be bad.”
“I can tell her,” said Corbin. “If she’s worried and keeps asking, she ought to be told, right?”
The nurse hesitated. “I guess so. But try to be gentle.”
“Got it,” said Corbin. “We’ll just be a few minutes.”
Susannah gave Calista’s hand a small squeeze; to her surprise, Calista squeezed back. God, but she was grateful to Corbin for offering to break the news to Alice. She could not have done it. “We’ll be in the lounge,” she said.
“Are you okay?” she said to Jack when they were alone.
“I am now,” he said. “But I was really scared when I called you, Mom.”
“How did you find out?”
“There was all this smoke. When I looked outside, it was like the whole world had turned to black fog. I ran out to see what was going on and I heard the fire trucks. I followed them to Alice’s house.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t pick up right away,” she said, putting an arm around him and drawing him close. “I was driving.” And I just found out that the man I thought was my father was not my father.
“I know.” He put his head on her shoulder. “And it’s okay now.”
Is it? She wanted to stop thinking about this, but then she would have to think abou
t Corbin and Alice. What was he saying to her? And how was she taking it? She was sorry for how she’d hurled those words. Truly, deeply sorry. Was there any way to make things right? And then she saw how.
“I’ll be right back,” she told Jack. She walked over to the nurses’ station. “How long will Mrs. Renfew be in the hospital?” she asked.
“That depends on her recovery,” said the nurse. “It could be as short as a few days or it could be as long as a couple of weeks.”
“What about when she gets out? Will she be able to go home?”
“Not right away. They’ll send her to rehab first.”
“She lives alone. She might need some help even when rehab is over, right?”
“Oh, definitely,” said the nurse. “Does she have any children? Anyone who can stay with her?”
“Maybe,” said Susannah. An idea was just forming in her mind, a very good idea. Even if she had someone, Alice’s house would not be habitable for quite some time. “Maybe instead of someone staying with her, she can stay with someone else.”
“As long as it’s not too far away,” said the nurse. “The surgeon will want to do follow-up visits.”
“Oh, it’s not far at all,” Susannah said. “In fact, it’s just a little way down the road from where she lives now.” Because she had already decided that, no matter what Alice said about it, she was going to insist that she come and live with her.
THIRTY-SEVEN
“How did she take it?” Susannah asked. They had just left the hospital and were driving back to Primrose Pond; Corbin was at the wheel.
“Not too well.”
“It was awful, Mom!” Calista added from the backseat. “She cried so hard. But when I told her how sorry I was and that it was all my fault, she stopped crying and hugged me.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. And she said that if it was my fault, it was hers too because she’d told me it was okay to invite those guys over. It wasn’t like I was doing it behind her back.”
“That’s a very . . . evolved . . . response.” Susannah wondered whether Alice would be so tolerant when she delivered her own bombshell, the one that was ticking madly inside her.
Corbin made a turn onto their road. There was Alice’s mutilated house. The damage was less visible in the dark, but the heavy, even putrid smell of smoke still hung in the air and made its way into the car. She was glad when they were past it, but the smell lingered. She felt she might be sick.
When they reached the house on Primrose Pond, though, the feeling passed. She touched Corbin’s arm. “Come eat with us. I’ll bet you’re starving.”
“If you’re sure it’s okay . . .”
Susannah leaned forward and caught Calista’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “It’s more than okay,” she said. “We insist.”
While Corbin took the first shower, Susannah boiled water for spaghetti and opened a jar of tomato sauce she had in the cupboard. Calista was with her, setting the table.
“All the other kids—are they all right too?” Susannah asked.
“Everyone is fine, if a little freaked out. No one remembers who left the joint around, but I’m sure it wasn’t me.”
“I didn’t ask you if it was,” Susannah said.
“I know. But I wanted you to know. Alice too. I tried to tell her, but I don’t think she got it.”
“You can try again.”
Calista finished setting the table and came over to where Susannah stood in the kitchen. “What’s going to happen to the house?”
“She has insurance, I’m sure. That will pay for the repairs.”
“Too bad they can’t repair Emma.” She started to cry again, and Susannah put her arms around her. “Alice loved her so much. And I love Alice.”
“I know you do, sweetheart.”
“But I love you too, Mom. Even if I’ve been a bitch lately.” She hugged Susannah tightly; her bones felt as light as a lark’s.
Susannah’s own eyes filled with tears at the admission. “If you can’t be a bitch with your mom, who can you be a bitch with?”
Then Jack came into the kitchen holding Corbin’s uniform and the clothes he’d been wearing underneath. “Corbin says this stuff smells really bad and he was wondering if you could wash it.”
“I’ll do it,” Calista volunteered, and took the whole armload down to the new washing machine in the basement.
While Corbin waited for the clothes to be ready, he put on the sweatpants and sweater he’d given to Susannah the night she had stayed over. If Calista remembered that Susannah had worn them, she did not bring it up. But Calista was a different girl tonight. Or more accurately, the girl she used to be, before her father was killed.
Once they all had showered, they ate the spaghetti and a loaf of garlic bread that Susannah had found in the freezer. Corbin didn’t have his car and Susannah didn’t feel up to driving him, so she invited him to stay over.
“I can sleep on the couch down here,” he said.
“No, you can’t. I need to be with you,” she said.
Susannah went into Jack’s room, and then Calista’s, to say good night. Then she went into her room, where Corbin, grime-free and hair still damp from the shower, awaited her. He wore the sweatpants but no shirt, and for several minutes she lay in the warm circle of his arms, listening to his heart beating steadily in his chest. Alive, she thought. Alive, alive.
“Thank you for telling her,” she said. “I really couldn’t face it.”
“I know this whole thing shook you up.”
“It did. But there’s more. We had a conversation that was pretty upsetting a few nights ago. I’m not even sure she’d want to see me after what I said.”
“What did you say?” he asked quietly.
“That her husband had had an affair with my mother.”
Corbin was silent for a few seconds. Then he said, “Are you sure?”
“If I weren’t, I wouldn’t have told her.” And then she filled him in on how she’d come to her conclusion, leaving out only the last, most shattering bit.
“Wow,” he said. “That’s some story.”
And there’s more. But she wasn’t quite ready to tell it. “So what’s going to happen? With Emma, I mean.” The question had just occurred to her.
“Alice asked me to call Dr. D’Arco—he’s a vet in Manchester. She said he’d take care of it.”
“Where is the dog anyway?”
“I told the guys to cover her up and bring her to the basement. I figured it would be cold enough down there. I just didn’t want to leave her outside for any other animals to find.”
“I’m glad you thought of that.” She snuggled closer. “I’m glad you thought of a lot of things.” She would tell him what else she learned about Dave, but she couldn’t do it now; the adrenaline that had been coursing through her veins had suddenly and totally emptied out.
“Me too.” He kissed her hair. “Me too.”
By tacit understanding, they did not make love that night. But she was deeply grateful for his presence, and when she saw him lying next to her in the morning, she thought, yes, this was where he belonged.
Susannah gave the kids the option to stay home from school; yesterday had been pretty traumatic for both of them. But they both wanted to go. “I can see Alice later, can’t I?” Calista asked.
“Of course. One of us will drive you.” It was time for Calista to get her driver’s license—another thing to take care of. Once the kids were gone, she offered to drive Corbin back to the firehouse.
“Do you know how to get there?”
“Not really.”
She let him program the GPS and said nothing else for the duration of the drive; the only voice in the car was Siri’s. It was only when they had pulled into the driveway and she’d stopped the car that she blurted out, “There’s someth
ing else I have to tell Alice. Something even worse than telling her that her dog died.”
“She loved that dog like a kid,” said Corbin. “What could be worse than that?”
“Just wait until you hear this,” Susannah said. And then she told him the story.
“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” he said when she had finished.
“Well, it will be my job to figure it out.”
• • •
After they said good-bye, Susannah was unmoored and spinning. It had been a relief to unburden herself. Now that she had, though, she was even more restless and agitated. The information was not content to remain static; it required action on her part—but what?
She began driving with no particular plan or destination. Resuming anything resembling her former life was not an option. Because that’s what it was: former. From now on, there would be a sharp split bifurcating the way she understood herself, her past, her family—everything. And it would all boil down to that one moment: Before she knew. And after.
She found herself on Route 4, heading in the direction of Concord. She knew where she was going now, drawn by a pull too strong to ignore. She stopped in a Hannaford on the way, where she bought a box of Earl Grey tea and some flowers, a predictable mix of roses, carnations, and baby’s breath but the best the supermarket had to offer.
The parking lot was pretty full, but, strangely enough, the spot where they had parked the night before, right under a streetlamp, was vacant, almost as if someone had been saving it for her. She parked the car and went inside.
Alice was sitting up in bed when Susannah arrived. Her hair was down around her shoulders, making her seem vulnerable and, despite her lined face, almost childlike. This was not going to be easy. “Hello,” Susannah said. “How are you today?”
“As well as can be expected.” Her voice was cool but not too hostile—or at least that was what Susannah wanted to believe. She warmed a little when she saw the gifts. “Earl Grey—you remembered,” she said. “The tea here is wretched. And flowers too—so pretty.”
They weren’t, actually, but Susannah was grateful for the small reprieve granted by locating a vase, filling it with water, and setting it on the windowsill. Then she sat down on the chair near the bed. “Alice, there’s something I want to say to you. It’s about that last conversation we had when I was at your house. The one about your husband—and my mother.”
The House on Primrose Pond Page 30