He began to pace. Finally, he stopped in front of her. "What do you want? I'll do whatever you say."
He was in love with someone else. What did he expect her to say?
"Leave." She closed the dishwasher door, unable to bear looking at him. He was a liar, a traitor. Maybe he'd never even loved her. "The sooner the better."
"And tonight?"
"I don't care where you stay. Just not here."
"Are you sure?"
What a question. She wasn't sure of anything anymore. How could she be, after what he'd just told her? Claire kept her face averted as she picked up the roast she'd taken out to thaw earlier.
Thursday was one of the few nights that the girls were free. No dance classes, no soccer. She'd planned on making a nice meal and phoning Kirk at work to see if he could come home in time to eat with them. Then later, perhaps they'd all watch a video together.
She went into the laundry room to return the roast to the freezer. While she was there she heard the electric garage door open. When she came out, he was gone.
Claire sank onto the chair by the phone she'd used only twenty minutes earlier and glanced at the calendar. With shaking hands, she flipped past the months. June, July, August, September, October, November, December, January. With one of the girls' washable markers she put a big cross over the fifteenth. The due date for her fourth child.
Claire went to the bathroom and threw up. It wasn't morning sickness. She hadn't been nauseous during her previous pregnancies, and she was almost at her first trimester.
"Your pregnancy test came back positive," the nurse had told her. "Congratulations."
Congratulations. Ha. Ten minutes later her husband was telling her he was in love with another woman. Incredible timing.
And to think she'd felt he might have figured out she was pregnant. Obviously, his mind had been occupied with things other than his wife for quite some time now.
Or maybe he hadn't guessed because, like her, he hadn't wanted to know. Both of them had been thrilled about their first three kids, but they'd never planned on a fourth. In fact, for the past few years Kirk had been talking about getting a vasectomy.
Maybe now he wouldn't. Janice was young and she didn't have any children.
Claire splashed cold water on her face. She couldn't stand to think of Kirk remarrying, starting a new family. How would the girls feel about their father beginning a new life with someone else?
He was their daddy.
He was her husband.
Or so she'd thought.
Oh, God. Oh, God, she couldn't stand to think about that. About him and Janice…
About what life was about to become. How could this be happening to her, Claire Ridgeway, the woman who had it all? Beautiful children; a successful, handsome husband; a lovely home; a luxurious cottage in Muskoka. She belonged to the school council, volunteered at the school library and was renowned for her fabulous dinner parties.
She had never thought she denned herself in terms of her husband, but now she realized how their life together underpinned everything she did. If they separated, her life would change in almost every imaginable way. As would their children's.
She thought about the way the girls always came running when they heard Kirk enter through the garage. "Daddy's home! Daddy's home!"
Would she ever hear those words again?
Would they even be able to afford to stay in the same house? Maybe she'd have to move with the kids to a condo.
She needed a lawyer. Buddy Conroy, an old friend from Port Carling, jumped to mind. He'd gone into semiretirement this year, but surely he'd handle this case for her. They'd known each other forever, he was practically family.
Divorce. Funny how she'd never felt it could happen to her. Now that it was staring her in the face, she wondered why she hadn't seen it coming.
Claire thought about the people they would have to tell. Kirk's mother, in the nursing home just a few miles from their house. Her own parents, who'd retired to Florida last year. All then- family, all their friends…
Oh, God. Oh, God…
At least the school year was ending next week. They'd have the summer to sort through everything. If the children had to change schools, they'd be able to start fresh in September.
"Marriages fall apart every day," she told her reflection. "Other women live through it. So will you."
But how?
Claire moved closer to the mirror and stared into her eyes, eyes that Kirk claimed were the color of the irises that bloomed every spring under their front window. Who was this woman staring back at her?
A wife. A mother. Who else? What did other people see? What did they think?
Claire blinked and tried to be realistic. Maybe she looked good for a woman in her late thirties, but there was no question she'd left her twenties behind. For years she'd been relying on her hairdresser to maintain the pale yellow hair color of her youth. And her body…
Claire smoothed the cotton shirt that lay over her belly, already feeling the swelling that was her baby. And Kirk hadn't even noticed…
Maybe he'd thought she was just gaining more weight. She'd never lost those last five pounds after Jenna…
Squaring her shoulders, she straightened. She caught her reflection in the mirror again. Not much change from the image she'd seen that morning while she'd brushed her teeth and washed her face, following the same pattern as every other morning, getting herself dressed before she woke the girls to ready them for school.
Yes, she looked the same, but inside she felt like a completely different person. With one sentence, her world had shifted.
Whatever happened, it would never be the same again.
CHAPTER THREE
"MOMMY, WHERE'S MY BRUSH?"
"Do I have to have a bath?"
"Did I tell you my science project is due tomorrow?"
Claire checked her watch, and her temper. Soon they would be in bed, and she'd have the peace and quiet she craved. None of this was their fault, and she had to protect them as best she could. That meant acting normal, even though her entire body burned with the pain that had threatened to swamp her all day.
"I think I saw your hairbrush on the coffee table in the family room," she told Jenna. "Go get it and I'll do your hair for you."
There were four bedrooms on the second story. The master bedroom was on one side of the wide hall, which opened to the vaulted ceiling of the living room below, and the girls' bathroom and bedrooms were on the other.
Privacy was getting to be a big deal now, especially with Andie, who was ten, and Daisy, who was eight. Claire knocked at the bathroom door, then peered inside. Daisy was sitting on the floor, her head bent over a book of Archie comics.
"Yes, you must have a bam. It's Thursday, isn't it?"
Daisy looked up through a screen of curls. "But that isn't fair. Why don't Andie and Jenna have to have baths tonight?"
"Because I like them more than I like you." Claire sighed. Daisy knew that the other girls had taken their baths on Wednesday while she was at her soccer game. She was just being fractious.
"You know, when you were little, you used to love a good soak." Claire put the stopper in the tub and turned on the faucet.
"But the water will make my pages soggy."
Claire took the comic book from her daughter's hands. "You can read when you're in bed. And don't forget to wash your hair." She ran a hand over her daughter's soft blond hair. Both Daisy and Jenna shared her coloring, although Daisy had somehow ended up with natural curls, like Andie. Only, Andie's hair was red. A brilliant orange, actually. Claire and Kirk had never figured out where that had come from.
Kirk. Just thinking the name was like touching a hot iron. Even a brief second could burn.
Claire checked the water temperature, then turned off the tap. "Please remember to use conditioner," she added before she closed the bathroom door.
She walked down the hall to Andie's room. "Is your assignment almost done?"
"Don't you think you should?"
Andie didn't even glance up from her handheld electronic game. "I forgot my books at school."
"Oh, well. I'm sure that will be okay, men. It's not like this project is going to affect your final grade, is it?"
"It only counts for twenty percent," Andie explained. A series of high-pitched beeps seemed to get her excited. She moved closer to her lamp, fingers dancing along the small buttons at the bottom of the game. "Yes! I've got him!"
Claire sat at the edge of her bed. "Andie, could you turn that off? We need to talk."
"I found my brush!" Jenna came into the room, smiling, waving the brush like a trophy.
"Would you get out of here?" Andie snapped. "You didn't even knock.''
Jenna's brow creased and her smile slipped away. She looked at her mother uncertainly.
"Andie, turn that game off this minute. If you've forgotten your homework, then you're not allowed to play video games. You can read, if you want. I'll be back to talk once Jenna's in bed."
Claire stood up and walked to the doorway, gazing back at her eldest daughter. Andie had changed this year. She was acting so much like a rebellious teen that it was hard to remember she was only ten.
Maybe it was the red hah".
After brushing Jenna's hair, Claire went back to the closed bathroom door.
"Daisy, are you still in the bath?"
"Yeah."
"Well, it's time to come out now."
"I don't want to."
On a better day Claire would have seen the humor. But today was definitely not one of her better days. "Get out right now, Daisy. And remember to let the water out of the tub." She hated when the kids forgot to pull the plug. Invariably, she wouldn't realize until later, when she was doing her late-night check before turning in herself. Cold water, soap scum floating on the surface… She shivered, thinking about having to insert her hand to release the plug.
Back in Jenna's room she found the six-year-old snuggled beneath her quilt.
"Will you sing to me, Mommy?"
"Of course." She'd crooned lullabies to all three girls when they were small. Funny how she couldn't remember when or why she'd stopped with the other two. But she was glad Jenna still enjoyed the ritual.
After two favorites, Claire stood up to leave.
Jenna grabbed her hand. "Mommy, when's Daddy coming home?"
"He's away for a few days," she improvised.
"On another business trip?"
Claire nodded. "You'll see him soon, sweetheart."
She backed into the hall, pain knifing her in the middle. How was she ever going to tell her children the truth?
It was all so horrible. And so completely unexpected. Kirk, in love with another woman. She never would have believed it—especially given his parents' divorce, his experiences as a child.
Back to Andie, who was reading with her old stuffed dinosaur shoved against her chest, just under her chin. Pale light shone from a lamp beside her desk, allowing Claire to make out the shapes of the postcards Andie had tacked all over her walls.
"Did you say Daddy was on a business trip?"
Lying to Andie was harder. She was older, and her ties to her father were very close. "Why do you think you forgot to bring your assignment home, hon?"
"I don't know. I just forgot." Andie twisted a strand of her hair and put it in her mouth.
Claire winced at the crunching sound of her daughter's teeth on the hair. "Please don't do that, Andie. It's such a disgusting habit."
Andie tucked her hair behind her ear, sighed and rolled over onto her back. "Why am I the only one hi the family who doesn't have blond hair? Red is such an ugly color. I hate it."
"I promise you won't when you're older."
Andie sighed again. "When is Daddy coming home?"
"I'm not sure. But he won't be happy to hear you haven't been doing your homework."
Not that this was the first time. Andie's interest in school had started to wane about the same time as her friendship with a girl named Erin had ended, shortly after Christmas. There had to be some connection, but Claire hadn't been able to find it.
"Make sure you bring it home tomorrow, okay?"
"It'll be too late by then."
And whose fault would that be? Claire bit back the sarcastic comment. Criticism wouldn't help. At least, so far it hadn't.
Now Andie frowned. "Daddy didn't say anything about going away last night when he tucked me in."
"I think it was a last-minute trip." Which was sort of true, wasn't it? Claire bent down to give Andie a good-night kiss.
"I love you, Andrea." She ran her fingers over her daughter's soft cheek.
"Love you, too, Mom." by the time all three girls were tucked in it was nine-thirty. Claire sat in the family room, staring at a tablet she was holding in her hand. She'd found the bottle of herbal sleeping pills sitting in the medicine cabinet. Kirk must have bought them; she'd never seen them before. Constant activity had made it possible to get through the day. But how was she going to survive the night?
She took out the sheaf of instructions and wasn't surprised when she saw that the product wasn't recommended for pregnant women. She dropped the tablet back in the bottle and wondered what to do now.
If only she could have a stiff brandy. She remembered the homemade variety a friend's mother used to make and smiled nostalgically.
Drew, Mallory and Grady. Old friends from happier days, when she and her parents had spent their summers at their luxurious cottage on Lake Rosseau, a few miles from the resort town of Port Carling. Those had been days of dreams and plans, days when the future was full of wonderful possibilities.
What would her friends say when they heard what had happened? Claire covered her face with her hands. Oh, but it was awful, and she was pregnant on top of everything.
This poor unborn child.
Claire moved her hands to her stomach. She was exhausted, but it seemed unlikely she'd be able to sleep. What she really wanted was to gather all three girls into her king-size bed—the bed she and Kirk had shared for so many years—and hold them close. All day she'd craved a few minutes alone; now that she had them, she missed her children.
The phone rang, a startling sound in the quiet house.
"Hello?"
It was Kirk. His familiar voice made her throat tighten. How many times in the past six months had he called at about this hour to tell her not to wait up for him? She held her breath, waiting to see what he wanted.
"Are the girls asleep?"
"I think so."
"Can I come over to talk?"
"No." She didn't want to see him; couldn't stand to see him.
Or was that true? Didn't a part of her long for him to wrap her in his arms and tell her he didn't love Janice; he loved her?
"I need clothes for tomorrow, Claire. I've booked into a hotel close to the office, but I don't have anything with me. I'll have to pack a suitcase."
Claire's chest compressed with pain. A hotel. A suitcase. Just hearing him say the words made their separation all so real. This truly was happening, and it was happening to her.
"Whatever, Kirk. You have a key." She hung up the phone and went upstairs to make sure the girls were asleep. Looking at their soft smooth faces, relaxed in sleep, Claire felt the dampness of a single tear in the corner of her eye. She blotted it with her fingertip. Kirk would be coming soon; she wouldn't cry now.
After stopping in the girls' bathroom to let out the tepid water, she went to her bedroom. The light in the walk-in closet was on. She paused at the doorway, observing that Kirk's clothing had been pushed to one side, revealing the suitcase on wheels that he took on his business trips.
Had he moved his clothes over this morning? She did
n't remember noticing when she'd vacuumed earlier.
Claire shut the door and went back downstairs. In the kitchen she warmed a mug of milk. The whir of the automatic garage opener drowned out the beeps from the microwave. She sat at the counter and watched a skin begin to form over the milk, then listened as the connecting door to the garage opened and footsteps clicked on the hardwood floor.
He paused when he saw her.
"How are you doing?"
She didn't look up. "Just peachy."
"I'm sorry, Claire."
Sorry. That was something, she supposed. She firmed her jaw and met his gaze. "What are you going to do, Kirk? Are you going to move in with her? Marry her? Have children with her?"
He closed his eyes briefly. "I don't know. I certainly haven't made any plans. How can I when you and I—"
"Do you want a divorce?" Oh, how calm she sounded. It was a miracle, when what she really wanted was to yell and scream.
"I don't know." He sounded miserable.
"I've told the girls you're away on a business trip. That'll give us a few days to decide what to say to them. And how."
She felt the second tear but didn't reach for it. Kirk wouldn't see it; the light was dim. Instead, she poked at the skin on her milk. It wrinkled and she pushed it to the edge of the mug.
She could feel Kirk's eyes on her. Watching. At that moment she realized that her romantic memories of their wedding day had been a sham. A part of her had always expected this would happen to them.
"Pack your bag, Kirk. Pack your bag and leave."
CHAPTER FOUR
On the last day of school, the girls brought home their report cards. Claire wasn't surprised when only Daisy and Jenna dug theirs eagerly out of their backpacks. She oohed and aahed over their good marks and the positive comments from their teachers. Then she turned to Andie.
"How about your report card, hon?"
"It's in here." Andie tossed a manila envelope onto the counter, "Can I have a snack? I'm starved."
"Sure. I cut up some cheese and apples." Claire opened the flap and slid out the form. The results had her catching her breath. There were three reporting dates in the school year, and Andie's grades showed a steady decline. These last results were the worst yet.
The Fourth Child Page 2