The Fourth Child

by C. J. Carmichael

  Claire's heart jumped. The happy hours they'd spent in bed were forgotten as it occurred to her that he could have planned to meet Janice after his business meeting. Maybe he was calling her now to apologize for not showing up earlier.

  Walking quietly, she padded around the corner and found him with his back to her.

  "I'm sorry," he was saying to the person on the other end of the line.

  Claire's hand went to her throat. Wide-eyed, she watched him turn toward her. The relaxed expression on his face suddenly tightened. His smoky eyes narrowed, and his chest heaved with an indrawn breath.

  "It's Mallory," he said. Holding out the receiver to Claire, he asked, "Do you want to speak with her?"

  The panicked feeling whooshed out of her, leaving her ashamed and vulnerable. She reached for a robe she kept on the back of the door and shook her head.

  "I insist," Kirk said between clenched teeth. "Or how else will you know I'm telling the truth?"

  She shook her head. "I know. I'm sorry—"

  "Take it." He dropped the receiver on the bed and left the room.

  Claire wrapped the robe tightly over her breasts, glanced at the receiver, then down the hall. Kirk had disappeared into the girls' bathroom. A moment later she heard the shower.

  Tentatively, she reached for the phone. "Mallory?"

  "What's going on there? One minute I'm talking to Kirk, the next—silence."

  "I guess the poison I put in his morning coffee had a sudden effect."

  "Claire…"

  "Of course I'm joking. He's in the shower. Alive and well, I promise." But not happy. Definitely not happy. "We'll be leaving shortly. Were the girls okay?"

  "Yeah, although Andie had a hard time falling asleep."

  Claire thought of her eldest daughter and sighed. "I'm sorry about that, but thanks for holding down the fort."

  "It was fun. We made French toast for breakfast. Daisy showed me how. We're about to go to the Conroys' beach."

  "We'll meet you there."

  Claire was dressed and waiting by the time Kirk came downstairs. She'd made their bed and done the breakfast dishes. Now she was watering the indoor plants, which didn't seem to need it. Kirk had taken good care of those, too.

  "Ready?" Kirk asked her. His tone was brisk, his expression remote.

  Claire knew she'd hurt him with her suspicions. But could he really blame her? If the situation were reversed, would he be so quick to forgive and forget?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  "Andrea? please tell me what's bothering you." Claire rested her arms on the mattress of the top bunk. Andie was lying with her face to the wall. She'd sat stone-faced in the car on the drive home from the Conroys' beach and rushed straight to her room the second the car stopped.

  "Please, honey. I can see how unhappy you are and I want to help."

  Andie's shoulders started to shake. "Go away."

  "Oh, honey." Claire looked uncertainly at the small wooden ladder, then shrugged. "If you're not coming down, then I'll have to come up. I only hope this old bed can take the weight."

  Claire gathered her skirt around her legs and climbed. Once up, she stretched out beside her daughter and tentatively ran a hand down her arm.

  "Honey, I know you were disappointed your daddy was late, but we're still going to make the boat trip to Port Carling. First thing in the morning."

  "I don't want to go."

  Andie was pouting, being childish; it reminded

  Claire of the battles they'd had when her daughter was three.

  "Andie, you know you love going to Port Car-ling by boat."

  "It'll be boring."

  "Boring?" Claire tried to put herself in the ten-year-old's head. "You miss your friends, right? I told you we should have invited—"

  "Oh, Mom-m-m-m." Andie rolled onto her tummy and planted her face in her pillow.

  It was a cue to leave, Claire supposed. But this time she wasn't going to. She was just too worried. Andie didn't want to talk, but maybe it was time to force the issue.

  "This has something to do with your friend Erin, doesn't it?"

  "Erin?"

  "You two were so close at the beginning of the year. Until Christmas. What happened, Andie? Did Erin do something that upset you?"

  Now Andie rolled over on her back. Her eyes gleamed with leftover tears as she stared up at the ceiling. "No, Mom. I just got bored with her, okay?"

  Claire examined her daughter's face. This was definitely not ringing true. "I thought she was always friendly and fun to be around. And "her parents seemed like such a nice couple."

  "They're getting a divorce."

  "They are?"

  Claire remembered the last occasion she'd seen Erin's parents. It was just after her interview with Andie's teacher in March. They'd discussed An-die's poor results on the second-term report card, and Claire had been a little teary eyed when she'd spotted the attractive pair waiting for their turn. They'd been very polite and calm; asked after An-die and said they missed seeing her around. Claire never would have guessed they were having any problems.

  "Now Erin spends half her time with her mom and half her time with her dad."

  "Oh." Claire reflected for a minute. "And when did this happen? Her parents separating, I mean."

  "Day after Christmas." Andie blinked, still staring up at the ceiling.

  After Christmas. Which was when Andie's marks had begun to dive. Claire propped her head up on her elbow. "Honey, just because her parents are no longer together doesn't mean you can't be friends. In fact, Erin probably needs—"

  "Forget it, Mom, okay? Just forget it! You don't understand anything!" Andie twisted her body up from the mattress and crawled over Claire's legs to get to the ladder. Claire tried to rush after her, but the folds of her long skirt snared her.

  "Wait, Andie!"

  Slam! The door was shut, her daughter gone. A moment later Claire heard the screen door slam, too.

  Claire talked the situation over with Kirk that night. "I just don't know what to do."

  "Maybe we should speak to Erin's parents in September. See if they have an idea what happened between the girls."

  "That's a good idea." But September was a month away, and Claire wished she could help Andie now.

  "Let's hope the boat trip tomorrow snaps her out of her funk."

  It did, but not at the beginning. Andie was the last one to the boat the next morning, and when she did finally show up, she'd forgotten her hat and they all had to wait while she ran back to the cottage for it.

  "Hurry up, Andie," Daisy complained.

  "Oh, just shut up," Andie snapped.

  "Andie," Kirk warned. He shot a concerned glance at Claire before starting the motor of their mahogany launch. Carefully, he backed the old boat—which Grady had lovingly restored to its original condition a few years ago—out of the boathouse. Soon they were cruising and Claire had wind in her face and ears and the smell of lake water and gasoline fumes in her nose.

  She squinted out across the water, which shimmered in the high sun. The shoreline was dotted with cottages. Some were enormous, sprawling buildings, others medium-size like theirs, and a few were small and rustic. While she appreciated the conveniences of her place, the smaller ones were her favorite. They snuggled into the land better; sometimes you could see only the windows, peering like eyes from amid the weathered old trees.

  No matter which direction you looked there were other boats. A couple were pulling skiers. Claire noticed Kirk steer carefully away from them.

  Conversation was difficult because of the noise from the motor and the breeze whipped up by the boat, but she thought she sensed everyone in the family relaxing. She passed out soft drinks, then leaned back into her seat, determined to enjoy the day.

  Even with the breeze it was warm, and Claire was glad for her icy soda. She sucked through the small tab opening and tilted her head a little in Kirk's direction.

  He was sitting on the back of his chair, one hand on the s
teering wheel, the other cupping the cola she'd given him. The wind had flattened the curls at the top of his head, and the sides of his short-sleeved shirt, which he wore unbuttoned, sounded like flags as they flapped in the breeze. Despite spending only weekends at the cottage, he was as tanned as Claire.

  Kirk slowed his speed as they neared Port Car-ling and joined the queue of watercraft waiting to tie up at the wooden piers.

  "Can we visit Mallory and Angel?" Daisy asked. The lenses on her sunglasses were shaped like flowers, and just looking at her middle daughter made Claire smile. Of all three children, Daisy was the most fashion conscious. Today she had on a matching short set with a swing top of pale yellow, yet another flower gracing the front.

  "Sorry, Day. The Driscolls are away, remember?" Kirk had stilled the motor. Now he grabbed for the dock. Once he got a grip he pulled the boat up close so they could disembark.

  Claire tied the boat to one of the metal rings screwed onto the pier, before reaching over to give Jenna a hand.

  "Who's going to print the Hub of the Lakes Gazette?" Andie asked.

  "I think the staff are taking over for this edition. Drew wrote his editorial ahead of time."

  "Can we go to the fudgery, then?" Daisy asked.

  "I want an ice cream." Jenna crossed her arms, indicating she would not negotiate.

  Even Andie had her request. "Can we look at the bookstore?"

  "We'll do everything," Kirk promised, taking

  Jenna's hand in his. Claire was surprised when he took hers, too.

  They'd barely touched since arriving at the cottage yesterday afternoon. Barely talked.

  Now he squeezed her hand as all five of them moved along the dock. They crossed over the bridge and came to the bookstore.

  "We'll stop on the way back," Kirk promised, ushering them past the community center, toward Steamboat Bay.

  "Ice cream?" Kirk asked as they approached the take-out window at Nibbs.

  The girls ran ahead, and Claire smiled. "Finally, an indulgence a pregnant woman can really appreciate."

  Kirk raised one eyebrow. "I can think of others." He tugged her closer. "Remember?"

  Oh, she remembered all right. She was surprised to hear him speak of it, though. They'd been so careful of each other, so polite since that dreadful misunderstanding about the phone call. Of course, they'd had little time with the girls around.

  "What flavor, Claire?" Kirk asked, after the girls had been served and were settled on an outdoor bench.

  Claire looked through the glass display at the many tempting tubs of exotic flavors and old favorites. "Cookies and cream. No, maple pecan. Oh, I can't decide."

  "A scoop of each," Kirk told the lady behind me counter. "One for you, one for the baby," he said, passing her the cone. He'd chosen black licorice, a flavor Claire just did not get.

  "Oh, Daddy," Jenna said the moment she saw it. "That looks gross."

  "Want a taste?" Kirk put the cone inches from her lips.

  "Ick!" Jenna turned her head. So did Andie and Daisy when he tried to get them to sample it.

  "Now you know why I order this flavor," he said, enjoying a big bite from the scoop. "I don't have to share."

  The rest of them took nibbles from one another's cones. Claire sampled Jenna's bubblegum, Daisy's chocolate mint and Andie's double chocolate.

  Jenna finished her cone first, then tried to slide onto her mother's lap to have some of hers. After she slid off a second time, she put her hands on her hips and complained, "Why is your lap getting so fat, Mommy? I can't fit there anymore."

  Claire glanced over at Kirk and saw that he was equally surprised and amused by the comment. So far they hadn't mentioned the new baby to the children. Was this the time? He nodded slightly.

  "Because I'm going to have another baby."

  "You are?" Andie froze, then looked from her mother to her father. "When?"

  "Around the middle of January, I think," Claire said.

  "Will it be a boy or girl?" Daisy asked.

  "We don't know."

  "Can we hang a stocking at Christmas for the baby?" Jenna wondered.

  "You bet."

  "Will I get to help take care of it?" Andie asked. "I'll be eleven by then."

  "I'm sure you'll be a big help," Kirk said, stroking down one of her wild red curls. Claire wondered, would this baby be another redhead? Or a blonde like the others?

  "Me, too?" Daisy asked.

  "There'll be work enough for all of us, I'm sure." Claire felt exhausted just remembering what those first few months were like. Night feedings weren't too bad with only one child to care for, but she had three children already, and a household to run. And maybe she'd be on her own besides. Suddenly, her ice cream didn't taste that great. She surreptitiously dumped it in the trash, then followed her family across the parking lot to the first of the appealing shops in Steamboat Bay,

  As she was fingering children's sweatshirts marked down twenty percent, Kirk came up beside her.

  "Funny, but when we were telling the girls about the new baby, I realized that I didn't even know how you felt about having a fourth child."

  That was true. They hadn't talked about it. "I guess we've had a lot on our mind."

  "But still—" Kirk tucked a hand under her elbow. "You look so tired. I was wondering if we should consider hiring some extra help. For the first few months, anyway."

  Claire just shook her head and walked out of the store. She knew Kirk was trying to be considerate, but she didn't want a stranger inside her house. She wanted a husband she could count on every now and then.

  "Daddy!" Jenna pointed to a window display. "Beanie Babies! Can I go inside to see them?"

  "Sure," Kirk said from behind her. "Take your sisters with you and we'll wait out here."

  Kirk popped the last of his cone in his mouth. "That was good."

  "Really?" Claire couldn't believe it. "It looked like you were eating tar."

  "Tar." Kirk pretended to consider the new title. "Sounds interesting. Maybe you could put the recipe in your 'Cottage Cooking' column."

  She punched his arm lightly. "Don't make fun of my column."

  His lower lip rounded. "Sensitive, are we?"

  Claire ducked her head. That she loved her column as much as she did seemed silly, but she felt enormous satisfaction when she saw her few short paragraphs and the accompanying recipes printed each week, along with the tiny photograph that Drew had taken of her last Thanksgiving.

  She hadn't told anyone, but she could imagine printing a cookbook in a few years. The Cottage Cooking Collection. She'd always wanted to write a cookbook; this could be the perfect opportunity. Kirk lifted the side of her sunglasses and inspected her. "Now what are you thinking about?" He always bugged her for not sharing her thoughts. But this cookbook idea was still so new. "Nothing."

  "Oh?"

  His hand on hers loosened slightly, and she wondered if she'd imagined the icicles hanging off that one word. She tightened her grip and was about to ask him what the problem was, when she saw he was watching someone else.

  Glancing ahead, she saw Terese and her daughter, Lisa. A moment later her girls had spotted Lisa, and soon the four of them were chattering. "Hi, Terese." Kirk stepped forward, smiling. He'd met Terese a few times now, although Claire couldn't remember if she'd told him Terese and Grady were dating.

  "Hello, Kirk, Claire." Terese's usually friendly smile looked a little fiat today.

  "Enjoying the summer?" Claire asked, trying not to focus on Terese's tightly cinched belt. Her waist couldn't be twenty inches. On a grown woman, that was practically obscene. She thought, with regret, of the double-scooped ice-cream cone she'd all but finished.

  "It's so nice to spend the time with Lisa," Terese said. "And I'm doing a little painting."

  "Will you have a showing?" Kirk asked.

  "Oh, nothing as fancy as that," Terese said modestly. "Mallory's offered to put up a few of my canvases in her store to see if there's any interest.
In fact, she has one in her window now."

  "That was yours?" Kirk glanced at Claire.

  As they'd passed the store they'd admired the stark contrast of granite rock and rippling water. Claire had felt the two elements were somehow at war in the picture.

  "You're very talented," she said, meaning it.

  "Thanks. I've always wanted the chance to paint in lake country."

  Unable to stop herself, Claire asked, "What's Grady up to today?"

  Terese lowered her gaze. One black-sandaled foot stepped back. "Actually, we haven't seen much of each other lately. I've been busy with Lisa and painting, and Grady's working on a special custom order."

  The news should have come as a relief, but how could anyone be glad at Terese's obvious unhappiness? Her averted eyes were heavy with sorrow, and something else. Resignation?

  "The girls sure seem to get along," Kirk said, turning back to watch the four of them climb all over the bench where they'd sat with their ice creams earlier.

  "Lisa loves your daughters," Terese said, her lips curling upward briefly.

  "Why don't you bring her over for lunch tomorrow." Kirk looked at Claire. "We have no other plans, do we?"

  "None. That's a great idea," Claire said, as if the impromptu invitation were not at all unusual. In truth, Kirk was rarely the one to instigate social gatherings; he usually left the entertaining schedule up to her. Maybe he was just trying to avoid spending time alone with her before he had to leave to go back to Toronto.

  Once they'd settled on when and Claire had agreed to allow Terese to bring ice-cream treats for the girls but not dessert for the adults, Terese and Lisa continued with their errands and Kirk tucked Claire's hand under his arm.

  "She looks unhappy. Do you think she's lonely?"

  They stopped outside a store window, watching as their girls went inside to admire another display of small stuffed animals.

  "Quite possibly." Claire outlined the facts of

  Terese's romance with Grady, then the upsetting visit from her ex-husband.

  "Poor woman. What a burden. Is she taking legal action against him?"

  "I know Grady drove her over to the police and they got a court order for him to stay away."

  "She's so tiny…" Kirk shook his head. "That scar above her eye…?"