And Kirk would have had to wipe all traces of that lipstick off before coming home to her, sliding between the sheets of their bed, mumbling some excuse or another.
Last night she'd seen the pain, the sorrow and regret, in Kirk's eyes. For the sake of her children, she wanted to forgive him. But hi her heart, she just didn't know if it was possible.
Claire was determined to keep busy that week while Kirk was back in the city. On Tuesday she had Mallory and Drew over for dinner. Then she invited Grady and the boys on Thursday.
She was amazed when both Warren and Taylor accepted the invitation. Between summer jobs, their reporting duties for the Gazette and wanting time with their friends, the twins had few spare hours. That night, however, they seemed relaxed and at ease. During dinner they teased the girls and each other, while managing to eat enormous quantities of the marinated flank steak that Claire had barbecued.
After dessert of ice cream and caramel-banana sauce, they good-naturedly agreed to take the girls out for a paddle on the lake. Claire and Grady helped with life jackets, then settled on the wooden chairs at the end of the pier to watch the chaos.
"Sometimes, they still act like such kids," Grady said, sounding a little nostalgic. He was leaning back in the chair, his long tanned legs planted firmly on the dock.
Claire watched as Warren maneuvered his paddleboat, which he was sharing with Andie, so that he could splash his brother in the face. "They look like they're having fun."
"Yeah. They're having a good summer. They went to their mom's last Sunday. She took them to a pool party at her boss's house and apparently he had a couple of really cute daughters. So that didn't hurt."
Claire smiled, enjoying the fine lines that sprang up around Grady's eyes when he grinned.
"Warren said she acted really proud when she introduced them to all her co-workers. You know, 'These are my boys,' that kind of thing. I think the boys appreciated being included in their mother's new life."
Claire nodded. She knew how overwhelmed they'd been when their stay-at-home mom had suddenly begun a new career and made new friends. That Bess's new life had included dumping her old husband hadn't helped. For a while the boys had felt that their mother had dumped them, as well, although the decision to have them stay hi Port Carling so they could finish high school with all their friends had made sense.
"Lord, I can't believe this will be their last year of high school. I remember those days as if they were yesterday."
"Me, too." Claire looked down at her fingernails, which she'd painted pink that afternoon while the girls were playing outside, then glanced sideways at Grady. "That was the summer we went out for a few months. Do you ever think about those days?"
He seemed a little surprised by the question, but he nodded. "Sure do. I still can't believe I managed to date Claire Elizabeth Adams, class president and girl voted Most Popular…"
"Oh, stop it!" Her friends had teased her mercilessly about that Most Popular thing when she'd shown them her yearbook. "You were the guy all the girls wanted. Captain of the hockey team, most goals scored by any kid from Port Carling in one season…"
Grady hooted. "We were quite a team, weren't we?"
Was he talking about the hockey team or the two of them as a couple? Claire couldn't be sure, but she knew that she had never been as completely happy as in those few glorious months when she and Grady had dated.
Then Bess had told him she was pregnant.
"Do you ever wonder what might have happened…?"
"Sometimes." Grady cocked his head, his expression serious for once. "Yeah, sometimes I wonder…" His gaze brushed her face, the length of her body, like a caress. He reached out to touch her hand gently, then quickly withdrew.
Claire felt a sweet, piercing longing and closed her eyes so he wouldn't guess.
"But you and Kirk aren't going to end up like Bess and me," he said.
Claire wondered how he could sound so sure. Nevertheless, his statement put a full stop to her wayward thoughts. Now she took a deep breath, gathering her composure. "The divorce was awful, was it?"
"Oh, yeah. Bess and I had our differences, but I was definitely in the marriage for the long haul. Obviously, she wasn't."
He stared down at his hands. "Thankfully, I had to keep myself together for Warren and Taylor, or Lord knows what I might have done."
"And now you're seeing Terese…?"
Grady's face softened at the mention of her name. His lips curled up; the crinkles by his eyes returned. "She is one great lady, Claire, and her daughter sure is a funny little thing."
The kids had paddled out several hundred yards. Now they turned back. Claire was glad. A cool wind had picked up; the sun had dipped to tree level. She slipped on a sweatshirt and tried to work up a generosity of spirit toward Grady's new romance. "So things are going well?"
Grady's chest caved a little. "They were."
Were? Oh, she'd known there was something about that woman. "What's happened?"
"Terese's ex-husband managed to track her down this weekend. Lucky I was around or things could have gotten ugly for Terese and Lisa."
He flexed his hands, and Claire wondered if the situation had deteriorated to actual blows. "Mai-lory told me the reason she left the marriage in the first place was that he was physically abusive."
Grady nodded. "It started after Lisa was born. The occasional shove or slap. Once he gave Terese a shaking, then threw her against the stove. The comer of the metal handle caught her on the face—"
Claire closed her eyes briefly, sickened by the vivid mental picture she conjured. "Is that how she got that scar by her eye?"
"Yeah. But it wasn't enough to convince her to leave. She didn't reach that point until he turned on his own daughter. Then Terese knew she had no choice but to go."
"Thank God she did." Poor Terese and Lisa. Claire truly did feel sorry for them. But the idea of Grady having to deal with this man…
"You can say that again. Trouble is, having her ex show up has made her skittish. I took her into the police department. She filed a complaint, got a restraining order, but you only have to read a city newspaper to know how much protection that offers a woman."
"Does she think he could be dangerous?"
"She does, and after seeing him in action, I don't blame her. The man is violent, Claire. And unpredictable. And now Terese wants to cool things off between the two of us because of him."
"Really?" Claire felt an uncomfortable twinge of guilt. Grady sounded so unhappy, but didn't she agree with Terese? She didn't want him in a situation where he'd have to worry about the constant threat of Terese's ex-husband.
"It's just like Terese to worry about me when she should be worrying about herself and her daughter. I want to protect her, but she won't let me!"
Maybe it's for the best. That was what she wanted to say, but Claire didn't dare. Grady wasn't the type to back away from a situation just because it might have dangerous repercussions for himself. He always thought of others first. But there was something she could remind him of.
"Just as long as the twins aren't dragged into this."
Grady paused, looking out over the lake. Then he turned to her. "I know what you're saying, Claire. Believe me, I'm worried, too. But Terese has done a lot for the boys, and they think the world of her. You know she's gone above and beyond in her role as high-school guidance counselor. Initially, her concern about the boys got us to spend time together."
"Mallory told me."
"The boys feel almost as protective about her as I do. And we all worry about Lisa."
"Of course you do." The situation was hopeless. A man like Grady would never walk away from a woman who needed him, no matter what the potential danger to himself. Hadn't he gallantly stepped forward to marry Bess, even though he'd been in love with Claire at the time?
Claire wondered what it would feel hike to be the woman in need and have Grady come to the rescue. She closed her eyes and let her head rest against the back
of the chair. A cool breeze from the lake danced on her cheeks and lifted the wisps of hair around her face.
Grady to the rescue. It seemed to her that would feel mighty heady.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"What I worry about," Claire said, shaving corn off the cob to make chowder for dinner, "is that this is Grady's transitional relationship. You know—to help him get over the divorce from Bess."
Mallory was standing by the stove, stirring the onions and green peppers she was sauteing on low heat. "You don't think he really loves Terese?"
"Oh, I don't know." Claire dismissed the question impatiently. "The point is, Grady was attracted to her, started seeing her, then this stuff with the ex-husband begins to simmer and now he's trapped. Don't you see?" She transferred the corn to the large pot where she'd been boiling diced potatoes in chicken stock, then added a cup of chopped ham. "A man like Grady is never going to back out on a damsel in distress."
"But why would he want to? Assuming he's in love with her."
"Maybe he just thinks he loves her. Because she needs him. Just the way Bess did when she found out she was pregnant."
"I see what you're getting at," Mallory said slowly. "But I also think you're wrong."
"Me wrong? Is that possible?" Claire joked, but inside she worried. Perhaps Mallory was too close to Terese to see the truth. Or was she herself out of line with her concerns about the new high-school guidance counselor?
Claire took the frying pan from Mallory and .scraped the contents into the soup pot, then added a generous quantity of pepper to the mix. Tea biscuits were in the oven, and a tossed salad sat in the fridge. Dinner would be ready to eat in twenty minutes.
It was ladies' night at the Ridgeway cottage. Drew was in Toronto for a couple of days, recording an extra episode of Foreign Matters so that he and Mallory could take a few extra days over the long weekend. They were planning to drive to his cottage in the Gatineau Hills to do a little hiking and visit some of his old friends. Claire figured he was eager to show off his wife and daughter.
Since she wasn't expecting Kirk until later, Claire had invited Mallory and Angel for dinner. Right now the girls were playing outside on the swings.
"What time are you expecting Kirk?" Mallory asked as she laid napkins around the place settings.
"He doesn't usually get here until after eleven. With the long weekend traffic, though, it could be later." Claire couldn't believe it was the August long weekend already, the midsummer marker.
Last weekend she and Kirk had talked about taking the boat to Port Carling, something they hadn't done all summer. Driving there was faster, but traveling by boat was so much more romantic.
"How are things going?" Mallory asked, her tone cautious.
"Well, the therapy sessions are kind of interesting." She'd read a book Riva Sharp had recommended, and she and Kirk had spent last Saturday night talking about the different issues it raised.
"And Kirk's been the model husband and father." Whenever he was here, he took over the bulk of the daily chores, insisting that she rest for several hours every afternoon.
Rest. If only she could. Sleep was so elusive these days.
She and Kirk handled each other with kid gloves. She could see he was eager not to hurt or upset her. There'd been no repeat of that intense lovemaking session they'd had on the deck.
In a way Claire was relieved. She was frightened of the emotions released in her only seconds after her soul-scorching climax. From ecstasy to agony. The phrase held more truth than she'd ever realized.
But she was almost as disappointed as she was relieved. Her body missed the physical contact.
Sometimes, she felt as if she were a teenager again the way her thoughts kept returning to sex. There was an aching in her breasts, an emptiness at her very core.
Did Kirk miss making love with her, too? Occasionally, she thought she saw a glimmer of awareness in his eyes when he was looking at her. A silence, a quickly gathered breath when she'd removed her cotton shirt to reveal a halter top that was a little small for this stage of her pregnancy.
But maybe she was imagining his reaction. Maybe it was only Janice he thought about, Janice he missed. She had to keep reminding herself that only after he'd discovered she was pregnant had he told her Janice was a mistake. His unborn child, not his wife, was his concern.
at five o'clock they were about to sit down to their early dinner, when the phone rang.
Claire reached for the portable phone, which was sitting on the counter next to the sink. While she was in the kitchen, she grabbed the salad out of the fridge and passed it to Andie.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Claire, it's me."
"Kirk." Claire glanced down at the watch on her wrist. "When are you leaving?"
There was a pause. Claire's stomach muscles tightened, and she noticed Andie watching her anxiously.
"That's why I'm calling. We've had some investors from New York show up. I'm expected to take them out for dinner tonight." He was using his business voice, all brisk, no nonsense. "I should be able to get away tomorrow around noon. There'll be less traffic then, anyway."
"Oh, yes, very sensible." Did he hear the sarcasm? If so, he pretended not to.
"Good. Tell the girls I love them. I'll be there in time for dinner, and we can take that boat trip to Port Carling on Sunday."
Claire swallowed, hating that she felt so disappointed. She kept telling herself she couldn't possibly love Kirk anymore, not after the way he'd betrayed her. But if that was true, why did she feel so bereft at having to wait an extra day to see him?
"Claire?" Kirk's voice was suddenly softer. "Are you there? Is everything okay?"
She turned her back to the table and went to the stove to check that the burner and the oven were shut off. They were. "I'm f-fine."
"Are you sure—"
Claire blinked back tears, and a flash of anger. How many times had she heard this same excuse from him in the past? How many times had family come second to work obligations? And how many times had those work obligations been a fabrication to give him time to spend with Janice?
"I have to go. We're just sitting down to dinner." She hung up the phone without waiting for his reply, then took her seat, half expecting the phone to ring again.
It didn't.
Claire avoided Mallory's eyes when she announced to her daughters that their father would be arriving later than expected. She played with the soup in her bowl and forced down a small serving of salad.
The baby. She had to eat for the baby's sake. Claire swallowed a mouthful of chowder, then another. For the first time in her life, she resented being pregnant. She didn't need this extra burden on top of everything else. Just once, she wished she could put her own wants and needs first.
And right now, she didn't want to eat. She wanted to rant and rave…
After the dishes were done, Mallory got the girls settled in front of the television with a movie in the VCR, then pulled her onto the deck to talk.
"Out with it, Claire. You look ready to explode."
"You don't know how right you are." Claire walked down the steps to the second level of the deck, and Mallory followed. From this vantage point, they could hear the rhythmic lapping of waves, the creaking of the boards at their feet. Claire gripped the railing and leaned against it.
"He says he has to entertain out-of-town clients. But I'll bet he's seeing her"
"Why do you think that?"
"Janice's holiday ended on Monday. I've been wondering how Kirk would react to seeing her back in the office."
"Did you try asking him?"
Claire bent to rest her forehead on her folded arms. How could Mallory understand? She and Drew were so close, so compatible. She couldn't appreciate what it was like to have your husband lie to you, deceive you.
"Claire, you can't worry yourself sick about things like this. You have to talk to Kirk. Tell him what you're thinking. Give him a chance to reassure you."
But wh
at if he really was seeing Janice?
Well, at least she'd know.
"You're right," she decided. "I need to talk to Kirk. Will you stay overnight with the girls?"
"Now? You're going to talk to him now?"
"Just as soon as I can drive to Toronto. Let's see. It's five-thirty. If I leave right away I'll be there shortly before nine—I'll be going against the traffic."
"Oh, Claire. Are you sure this is a good idea? How will you know where to find him?"
"I'll call his assistant, Greer. She makes all his dinner reservations. So will you watch the girls?"
"Of course. But—"
"Talk to him," Claire reminded her, a finger at her friend's chest. "Your words. Remember?"
Claire had called Greer from her cell phone, shortly after heading the van south for Toronto.
"Good thing you caught me." Greer's voice had been cheerful. "I was just on my way out the door. His reservation is at that Italian restaurant he loves on Eglinton. Just a minute—I'll check my address book for the name—"
"No need. I know the one." She'd gone there with Kirk several times…
Now, parked in front of the restaurant, Claire considered the possibility that she wouldn't find them there. They might have chosen to spend then-time somewhere more private. Would Kirk dare take Janice home? Claire's chest felt as if it were on fire as she imagined Janice tossing her purse on the chair by the front door, slipping her blazer onto the post by the staircase, walking up the steps, holding Kirk's hand…
No. No. He wouldn't stoop so low. Besides, it was only eight-forty. They had to still be here.
In the foyer she paused. There was a fountain in the center of the room, terra-cotta tiles on the floor, flamboyant Italian art on the walls. The place was crowded and noisy, and the enticing aromas of garlic, oregano and tomato sauce filled the air. A dark-haired girl in her early twenties—obviously the hostess—was standing nearby but preoccupied with a flirting customer. She laughed, tossing back shoulder-length hair.
The lights were dim, wrought-iron candelabra were on their lowest settings and candles on the tables flickered beckoningly.
The women were dressed to disarm. Reflexively, Claire put a hand to her hair, wishing she'd at least put on lipstick in the car. She was wearing a pale pink sundress and her old flat sandals, and couldn't have felt more out of place. Still, a man in his fifties smiled at her as their eyes caught across the room. And a nearby waiter bowed courteously.
The Fourth Child Page 11