The Fourth Child

by C. J. Carmichael

  "Oh, Andie."

  "I don't care." Andie bit into a piece of apple. "I don't even like school."

  "But you used to love it."

  Claire read through the teacher's comments. "Part of the reason your marks are so low is that you haven't been finishing your assignments. Andie, what has gotten into you?"

  "Having to go to school all day is bad enough. Why should I have to work when I get home, too?" Andie swiveled on her stool. "When's Daddy coming home? He's been gone a long time."

  Claire reached for another Granny Smith apple and carefully cut it into fours. Her daughter had neatly turned the tables with that last comment. Almost a week had passed since she'd asked Kirk to move out. After that first night he'd phoned every evening to talk to the girls. But the family couldn't go on this way indefinitely. Thank God summer holidays were here. She'd take the girls to the cottage at Lake Rosseau, as usual.

  When would the girls see their father? Claire didn't want to think about that. She supposed they'd have to make some sort of arrangement.

  But just the idea made her feel nauseous again.

  "He'll be home soon, Andie." The words sounded reassuring, but inside, Claire knew she was a liar. Sure their father would be home soon. But for how long?

  "daddy!"

  All three girls rushed for their father, who was holding a table for them at the local pizza parlor. Kirk had phoned shortly after the girls got home

  from school, to suggest they celebrate the end of the school year with dinner out.

  "Why was your business trip so long, Daddy?" Jenna reached up to touch his face, his hair. On his other side, Andie held tightly to his free hand, while Daisy hugged him around the waist.

  Claire compressed her lips and blinked, afraid that she was going to cry. Her husband, although as well dressed and handsome as usual, looked drawn. The smile he was wearing was surely forced. Over the children's heads, he sought her gaze, his gray eyes anxious and questioning.

  Claire turned away, concentrating, instead, on her chair as she pulled it out and sat down. She adjusted the cutlery in front of her as Kirk kissed the girls, then pulled Jenna onto his lap.

  "I've missed you, peanut." He pressed his face into her hair. "I've missed you all."

  Claire knew better than to include herself in that list. She reviewed the familiar menu briefly, certain she wouldn't eat a bite. Watching the girls fall over their father was so painful. He truly was their hero, a man who could do no wrong. Claire didn't want them to lose that trust, any more than she wanted to jeopardize anything in their secure little world.

  "Shirley Temples, girls?" Kirk asked when the waiter hovered.

  Claire ordered a soda water.

  "No beer?" Kirk asked with raised eyebrows. They always had beer with pizza.

  "Not this time." She had to tell him about the baby; she knew that. At three months with Andie, her waist had still been slender. But this was her fourth child, and she was already out of any clothing with a fixed waistband. Leggings and an oversized shirt could hide a lot. But not for much longer.

  Besides, the baby was a reality that had to be faced.

  "So, girls," Kirk said. "How were the report cards?"

  Claire noticed Andie shrink back into her seat, letting her sisters take the limelight.

  "I improved in language arts and in math," Daisy said proudly.

  "And my teacher said I'm a good 'tributor to group discussions," Jenna added.

  Kirk laughed. "I'll just bet you are. That sounds terrific, girls. And what about Andie?"

  Red curls shook from side to side. Andie's face was so low it appeared she was searching for something under the table.

  "Didn't you have a good report?" Kirk glanced worriedly at Claire, then back to their eldest daughter.

  "I have to go to the bathroom." Andie's voice quavered as she slid out of her chair and ran to the back of the restaurant.

  Kirk looked at Claire.

  "Andie dropped grades in almost every subject except language arts." Claire pushed back her chair and threw her paper napkin on the table.

  "I don't understand." Kirk frowned. Like her, he was used to academic excellence from Andie.

  "It started with the March report card," Claire reminded him. "Unfortunately, her marks are even lower now. Especially in math and science. I'm going to see if I can help."

  The bathroom had facilities for one person at a time, and the door was locked when Claire got there.

  "Andrea?" she called gently. "Are you okay, hon?"

  There was no response.

  "Please let me in. We need to talk." No, not talk. What Claire really wanted was to hold her daughter in her arms. The poor child was probably upset about having disappointed her father.

  The special bond between Kirk and Andie had formed in the weeks after Andie's birth. Claire's recovery from an unplanned C-section had been slow and Kirk had taken two weeks off from work to care for their new baby and his bedridden wife.

  "Go away, Mom."

  Knowing that Andie was hurting didn't make the words any less wounding. Not that long ago a kiss and hug from Mommy could banish almost any problem. These days there seemed so little she could do to help.

  Swallowing hard, Claire tried again. "Please, Andie. Let me in."

  "Leave me alone."

  Reluctantly, Claire returned to the table. The server had brought their drinks, and Jenna and Daisy were busy removing orange wedges and maraschino cherries from the little plastic swords that rested on the top of their glasses.

  She glanced at Kirk, who was holding his beer but hadn't drunk any of it. "She doesn't want to talk to me."

  "Let's give her a few moments," he suggested. "Let her come back on her own terms."

  Claire wasn't convinced that was the right approach, but sure enough, after about ten minutes Andie reappeared and slid into her chair. The pizza had arrived by then, and Claire inched a slice of pepperoni-and-cheese onto Andie's plate.

  Report cards weren't mentioned again, and the girls ate ravenously. In all the commotion, Claire doubted if anyone noticed that she did little more than tear her pizza into bits, but as they rose to leave, she found Kirk at her elbow, pulling back her chair.

  "Not hungry, Claire?"

  He sounded worried. For a second she closed her eyes, smelling the faint tang of his aftershave, feeling the brush of his arms against her back.

  Tell me this has all been a horrible dream. Tell me this is just a normal family night out.

  Tell me lies.

  "Andie seems to be feeling better," he said.

  She nodded. "Maybe the two of you should have a talk."

  "I agree. How about tonight?"

  She paused. The girls had rushed ahead to Kirk's sedan, which he'd unlocked with the remote control on his key.

  "I have to come home, Claire. The girls know I'm back from that so-called business trip."

  "I don't know, Kirk." It had been almost a week, yet she still felt so uncertain about which way to proceed. They had to tell the girls, but how?

  "I phoned a family counselor," Kirk told her. "She said she's seen situations like ours before and she cautioned against hasty decisions. Her advice was that until we resolve the issues between us, we should try to keep things as normal as possible for the sake of the children."

  "Before we decide for sure that we're getting a divorce?"

  Kirk's eyes dropped. "Maybe. I don't know, Claire…"

  "In other words, you want to stay married but continue to see your girlfriend."

  He flushed. "All I'm asking is that we protect the kids while we're working this out."

  "And that means…?"

  "I move back into the house."

  Claire shook her head. Having Kirk back home would be wonderful for the girls, but it would create an impossible situation for her. "Do you expect to sleep in our room? With me?"

  "Wouldn't the kids think it was strange if I didn't?"

  This wasn't fair. Yet she couldn'
t refuse. Andie, for sure, would question a move to the couch in the downstairs office.

  "I suppose. For one night."

  Two creases etched Kirk's forehead. "One night?"

  "Tomorrow I'm taking them to the cottage for the summer."

  "What about swimming lessons?"

  Usually, they stayed in the city until the girls had finished two weeks of swimming lessons at the local community center. "I think we'll skip them this year."

  Kirk's eyes were a smoky gray. In a good mood, they lightened to the silvery hue of weathered cedar. In more serious moods, like now, they reminded her of the summer storm clouds over the cottage on hot, humid evenings.

  "I'm going to want to see them every weekend," he said.

  "That'll be more than other summers."

  Claire folded and sorted the girls' laundry hi the master bedroom while Kirk got them settled for the night. The door was open and she could hear the familiar sounds from down the hall as the girls put on jammies and brushed their teeth, all much more willingly for Kirk than when she was supervising.

  "I have a loose tooth, Daddy," Daisy said.

  "So do I," added Jenna. "My first one! Is it ready to come out?"

  "Let's see." There was a pause as Kirk no doubt examined the tooth in question. "Not quite yet. Maybe a few more weeks, Jenna. Yours looks close, though, Daisy. Should we try the string trick?"

  "No, no…" Daisy didn't like blood.

  "Okay," Kirk said. "We don't have to do that. It'll come out on its own. Boy, the tooth fairy sure is going to be busy around this house, isn't she?"

  "Da-ad." This came, condescendingly, from Andie.

  "What?" Kirk asked, his voice all innocence.

  A door slammed. Claire added Daisy's soft yellow sweatshirt to a pile and smiled. She could just imagine the expression that had preceded Andie's dramatic departure.

  "Okay." Kirk clapped his hands. ''I'll tuck Daisy in first, then I'll sing Jenna her songs. After that we're going to have a little talk, Andie."

  There were muffled words from behind the closed door.

  Claire took Andie's pile of clothes, passing Kirk in the hallway as he followed Daisy to her room.

  "Excuse me." She lowered her head and angled her body to edge by him. For a moment she thought his gaze settled on her thickening middle, but he didn't say anything. She tapped on Andie's door.

  "Here's your laundry. I even found a pair of jeans hi the basket today—I can't imagine how that happened."

  The room was dark already, and Andie was settled hi bed. Clearly, she wasn't in the mood to be teased. Was she ever these days?

  Clam; put the clothes in the dresser, then paused at the head of the bed and stroked Andie's forehead. "Are you okay, honey?"

  Andie blinked. "Is Daddy going to be mad at me?"

  "Why would he be?"

  "Because of my grades."

  Claire sighed and sat down. Andie was as sensitive to the opinions of others, especially her father, as her fair skin was to the sun. "Do you think you tried your hardest at school this year?"

  Andie pulled the covers over her face, leaving just her pale blue eyes exposed. "I don't know."

  "Maybe you're a little disappointed yourself with your grades?"

  Andie's face reddened; her eyes filled with tears.

  Claire bent over to kiss her cheek. "I love you, Andrea."

  "I love you, too, Mom."

  "We're going to have a great summer. Have you decided which friend you'd like to invite to join us for a few weeks? You and Courtney had a lot of fun last year."

  Andie was silent for a while, then she turned to face the opposite wall. "I don't want to invite anyone."

  Lately, it was always like this whenever Claire tried to suggest an outing or a sleepover with a friend. "But, Andie—"

  "I just want it to be family. Okay? I see enough of my friends at school and soccer."

  "Are you sure? I've noticed you don't enjoy playing with your sisters as much as you used to."

  "Just family," she insisted. "Is Daddy coming with us to the cottage?"

  "You know he has to work. But he'll be there weekends."

  With a final parting kiss, Claire left to get Daisy's clothes. Daisy was burrowed under her quilt when Claire walked in the room.

  "Guess what I am, Mom?"

  "A bear hibernating in winter?" Claire opened a drawer and put away Daisy's underwear.

  Giggles erupted from under the covers. "Nope."

  "An archeologist exploring a cave?"

  "Wrong again!"

  "I give up."

  "I'm a tooth!" She lifted the covers high over her head. "See? The covers are my mouth."

  Claire laughed and brushed her hand over Daisy's mop. "No chewing the sheets, okay? Even teeth need to rest now and then. Good night, Daisy."

  Back in the hall, Claire was stopped cold by the sound of Kirk singing a traditional Irish lullaby to Jenna.

  Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra, Hush now don't you cry.

  Tears stung, and her breath caught in her throat. His voice was so gentle, so full of promises he must know he couldn't keep. On the last line he lost it, paused, then started again on a wobbly, false note. Jenna covered for him, her baby voice on key. And then it was over.

  "That's okay, Daddy," Jenna quickly reassured him. "It's a sad song, isn't it, Daddy?"

  Later, Claire undressed in the bathroom off the master bedroom. When she emerged, she had her old terry robe hanging loosely around her, belt undone so she wouldn't draw attention to her middle.

  Kirk was already in bed, reading by the light of a bedside lamp. He looked up when he saw her, and she was suddenly dry mouthed, aware of him in a way she hadn't been hi years. Kirk's job was sedentary, but he kept in shape by swimming three mornings a week, and as a result his upper body was still powerful, with well-defined muscles and no excess body weight.

  Her own exercise routine consisted of jogging up and down the stairs about a hundred times a day, yet somehow she didn't seem to achieve the same results.

  Careful to avoid eye contact, Claire went to her side of the bed. Kirk always slept in a pah- of boxer shorts, but given the change in their circumstances, she'd thought he'd add a T-shirt, as well. Apparently, he'd seen no need for anything different.

  She had. Instead of her usual silky teddy, she'd chosen the long cotton nightgown the girls had given her last Mother's Day.

  After unfastening her watch, she slid her housecoat over her shoulders. Still facing the wall, she said, "This is too weird."

  "Just sleep with your back toward me. It isn't as if you haven't had the practice."

  "What?" She glanced back at him. "Are you trying to say this is my fault?"

  "No." He sighed. "No."

  It was all so unfair. Their life was in nuns, and Kirk lay there reading in bed as though nothing had happened. "What about Janice? How does she feel about you sleeping at the house with me?"

  "Janice knows I'm married."

  Anger flashed inside her. Of course Janice knew he was married. Hadn't Claire served the woman beef tenderloin with five-pepper sauce hi this very house? To think she had actually fussed over the timing of a chocolate souffle for that woman. And served it with an absolutely flawless vanilla sauce. If she'd only known. Gelatin would have been too good…

  But why blame Janice? Kirk was the one she was married to; Kirk was the one who'd vowed his fidelity.

  Claire turned off the light on her side of the bed. The truth was, Kirk was a successful, good-looking guy. His meticulous attention to detail could drive a person crazy at times, but he was also an incredibly patient man, capable of great tenderness.

  No wonder Janice had thrown caution aside and fallen hi love with him. Her marriage was over, she had nothing to lose.

  "Claire?"

  She half turned, and watched as Kirk removed the glasses he used for reading.

  "I'm as confused as you are right now. If we could only talk…"

  So he could tell her
more details about his affair with Janice? Or explain how the affair was really Claire's fault? She shook her head.

  "What about with a counselor present? Would that make you feel more comfortable?''

  Claire wrapped her arms around her middle. She didn't need a counselor to understand that she couldn't stay married to a man who was in love with another woman.

  And she wasn't too impressed with the advice Kirk had received so far. Sure they had to protect the children, but this sleeping hi the same bed was ridiculous.

  "I just don't see the use in talking. What's it going to change?" She pulled the housecoat back over her shoulders and stood.

  "Where are you going?"

  "To the couch, downstairs."

  "But the girls…"

  "I'll be up before they're awake." If she even went to sleep, that is.

  "Then let me be the one to sleep downstairs." Kirk whipped off the covers, and she saw that he was wearing his boxers.

  "I prefer it this way," she insisted, heading for the door. "The truth is, I haven't been able to sleep in this room all week."

  "Really?" His voice broke on the word. "Oh, Claire. I'm so sorry."

  Good, she thought, he ought to be sorry. But that didn't stop the tears from rushing to her eyes. She'd been so strong that first day; she must have been in shock. Lately, she could do little more than cry. Often, she had to turn her back to the children, walk into a different room so they wouldn't notice.

  "I never…" Kirk didn't finish his thought, but his expression was tormented. Claire didn't want to feel sorry for him; she couldn't feel sorry for him. He'd made his choices, and now they all had to face the consequences.

  "How could you?" The words burst out, even though she'd told herself there was no point hi asking. Kirk flinched.

  "I don't know."

  Anger struck like white lightning, jolting her body rigid. "That's just not good enough, Kirk."

  And she left, closing the door behind her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Behind the wheel of her forest-green minivan, Claire felt better than she had all week. It was summer, the sky was blue and she was headed to her favorite place in the entire world.

  Muskoka lake country. Just a few hours north of Toronto, fertile plains gave way to the rock and trees and lakes of the Canadian Shield. There were well over a thousand lakes in the twenty-five-hundred square miles of cottage country that stretched from Georgian Bay to Algonquin Park, but the big ones were Muskoka, Rosseau and Joseph, and the little resort town of Port Carling sat at the apex of all three.