He placed another picture in front of her. This one was made with oil pastels of a little girl with blond hair, her back to the viewer. She was holding hands with a grown-up, but only his or her hand was visible. The girl was looking up just slightly at the adult in the drawing, just enough so you could see a flash of blue in her eyes. She’d only noticed the ones with the girl running before. What the hell were these?
“What about this one?”
“I don’t know, Nick. I illustrate children’s books. Another child for another story, I guess. What the hell is going on?”
He tossed down two more pictures right in a row, both of the same or a similar little girl, one dancing in a tutu, her hair swirling across her face, her blue eyes the only thing showing, and the other sleeping, arm across her eye, lips in a soft pout. In every picture, the girl was young but not a baby, maybe five or six years old, a little younger than Mia.
“This is not going to distract me from the real questions, Nick. You don’t get to ask me about any of this. You left us. I thought you were dead. I’m not going to forget. I’m going to get Sophie back no matter what you say or do or what that fancy hospital does. I swear I will . . .”
He dropped one last picture, and it fluttered to the table with a finality she wasn’t expecting. This was one she’d seen before, a little girl with blond hair running away, her hair trailing behind her in the wind. She didn’t like this picture. She didn’t like the pink fluffy skirt of the girl’s dress or the little sliver headband in her hair. She didn’t like that she was wearing a purple backpack that looked too big for her little body. She didn’t like anything about the picture, including the swirling leaves at her feet and the shine of rain on the road. But most of all, she hated the boots on that little girl’s feet. They sparkled, even through the paint. Even though they were created with watercolors, she could see the brilliant sparkles as if the sun were shining off of them right in front of her. Those boots . . . She touched them in the picture and then looked up at Nick, knowing but also not knowing at the same time.
“Where is Sophie, Nick?”
“Sweetheart, you know where she is.” He put his hand on her shoulder and held it there, firm but gentle, like he knew she was about to fall apart and he wanted to hold her together. “Sophie is dead.”
CHAPTER 27
Two years earlier
“Time to get up, sweetie,” Veronica said, leaning over Sophie’s body. Her little girl loved to sleep curled up like a cat in the middle of the bed, and as a result had plenty of prettily coifed pillows at the head of her bed that never needed to be rearranged. Veronica patted Sophie’s back, whispering in her ear, “I made you cheesy eggs.”
Sophie rolled over and rubbed her tightly closed eyes. “I love cheesy eggs.”
“I know you do. But you know what you don’t like?”
Sophie shook her head and squinted between partially opened eyelids at her mom, waiting for the response.
“You don’t like cold cheesy eggs. Let’s get dressed.”
Veronica took the wake-up call a step further and pulled the covers down as an incentive to get her daughter up and moving. It didn’t work. Sophie turned over and covered her face, a notoriously slow starter.
“Mommy, I’m still tired. Can I just skip school this one time?” she asked with a knowing smirk.
“No, my little bluebird. You are in kindergarten now, and an official big girl. Big girls go to school every day. You’re so smart; we gotta keep that big ol’ brain growing.” She tapped lightly on Sophie’s temple and then smoothed her bedhead hair. “Daddy has to take you to school today—I have a meeting in the city.”
“Oh,” she said, and smiled. “Is Mia going on a new story? We read Mia’s Travels at circle time yesterday, and I told the class those were your books.” She sat up, the discussion working some powers of waking. She wriggled in place, pulling a strand of hair out of the corner of her mouth, making a face like it was the grossest thing she’d ever experienced. Then she continued. “They didn’t believe me, because you have a different name now. Will you call Mrs. Hanson and tell her? Chrissy P. said I was lying.”
Veronica laughed. She only felt like a celebrity when Sophie talked about her. She’d used a pen name to keep some anonymity years earlier when she first signed on to the project but had never thought it could cause kindergarten drama.
“Sure, sweetie, I’ll see what I can do.” Surely it was far too uncouth to go to a kindergarten teacher and claim to be the illustrator of a well-known picture book without it looking like bragging or a power play. She’d have to get Nick’s thoughts. At least the story got Sophie up and moving.
The bed was tall enough that the six-year-old needed the help of a step stool to get in and out. She shimmied down the side of the bed, refusing Veronica’s assistance. She was in an independent phase brought on by the start of all-day kindergarten. Now she found any opportunity to show how very mature she was. Still a little groggy, Sophie staggered to her dresser and pulled open the bottom drawer where her underwear and pajamas were half-folded, half-rummaged through. After retrieving a pair of purple underwear, she turned to her mother and wiggled her fingers dismissively.
“Can I have some privacy, please?”
“Of course. I’m so sorry,” Veronica said as seriously as possible and then tried to cover her smile as she walked out. “It’s rainy today, chilly too, so you’ll need long pants and sleeves. Okay?”
“I got it, Mom,” Sophie responded, sounding closer to a teenager than a kindergartener.
“Pj’s in the laundry basket!” Veronica reminded as she backed out and closed the door. The smell of eggs, bacon, and coffee wafted up the stairs, making her stomach growl. She’d been tempted to sneak a little sliver of bacon or nugget of eggs, but the doctor said to come in fasting. Four years of trying. The doctor had looked at her like she’d lost her mind. Why didn’t you come sooner? she’d asked, as though walking through the doors could’ve brought forth a miracle baby. Today she’d get those tests, the ones that she should’ve had years ago, the ones she feared so much because they could tell her definitively if she would ever have another baby. Maybe that’s why she didn’t come sooner—she didn’t want to know if the answer was no.
Nick sat at the table, dressed for work, glasses on the bridge of his nose, reading the newspaper. She was pretty certain he was the only person in the Raleigh-Durham area who still got and read the newspaper every morning. She’d purchased him an iPad and an online subscription to the New York Times for Christmas a few years ago, but he insisted that there was no replacement for the oversize pages and smudgy print. Veronica watched him wrestle a page turn and smiled.
“Hey, babe!” Nick put the paper down on the table next to him, giving Veronica a broad, flirty, knowing smile. He’d caught her staring and he knew it. She swore that even after all these years, he was blushing.
“Hey, handsome. How’s the news?”
“Dire, as always. Then again, would I read it if the headlines were all ‘Lollipop Farms Yield Biggest Crop in Years’ or ‘Everyone Gets Along!’?”
“Ha, probably not.” Veronica put her arm around Nick’s shoulders and kissed his smooth cheek. He smelled of shaving cream and soap and had on a freshly pressed shirt straight from the dry cleaner. “You sure look nice today. Anything special on the docket?”
“I have an interview at Duke. I got a text from Stan last night saying that he pulled some strings and got me in to the first round of face-to-face interviews. You remember Stan, right? The associate professor I met last month when I went to my conference? Anyway, I didn’t have a chance to tell you last night ’cause you were asleep. But good surprise, right? I gotta get out of here. It’s over an hour away, and I’m supposed to talk to him and get prepped before I go in and present to the committee.” He glanced at his watch and folded up the newspaper.
Veronica was more hurt than she’d expected to be. He didn’t remember. When they talked about more babies, he said h
e wanted them but then never seemed to want to do anything extraordinary to make it happen. It was a weight she was tired of carrying.
“Yeah, you’ve wanted that for . . . forever . . . but, hon . . . you were supposed to take Sophie to school today. I have that doctor’s appointment, the one with the specialist. You were going to get Sophie to school.”
“Oh, damn it.” He pounded his fist on the table and rolled his eyes at himself. “I’m so sorry. I totally forgot.” He looked at his watch again and then back at Veronica, hesitant. “This is just a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, babe. It’s for our family.”
“No, this doctor’s appointment is for our family,” Veronica snapped, but then took a breath, reminding herself that she was going on zero calories and high stress. “Sorry, it’s just that I had to wait for three months to get into this specialist. I’ve been fasting for the past twelve hours so they can run tests. I can’t cancel it. I just need you to get Sophie to school. Can you do that for me?”
Nick lowered his voice. “Those hormones mess with you, Ronnie. I thought you were going to talk to a therapist or something first so we can avoid what happened last time.”
“Don’t make this about me,” Veronica snapped, filling a mug full of coffee and heading to the fridge for the creamer, refusing to be shamed for her brief bout with postpartum depression after Sophie was born. “I told you about this months ago. You are the one that needs to step up here.”
“And months ago you said you’d see a counselor first.”
Veronica looked at the cup in her hand and, remembering that she was fasting, dumped it in the sink.
“I can see someone next week, maybe sooner. But I can’t reschedule this appointment, Nick.”
“Can’t I take the bus?” Sophie asked, standing at the bottom of the stairs, wearing a fluffy pink skirt, a blue top that almost matched, hair brushed into a bit of a frizz ball but still brushed. Nick and Veronica looked at each other like they’d been caught with their hands in the cash register, fists full of money.
“Good morning, my sunshine!” Nick called out to Sophie in a false, singsong voice that he had perfected in his time as a father. He didn’t want Sophie to know about any of the ups and downs of their marriage. Veronica couldn’t tell if that was healthy or sheltering. Whatever it was, Sophie reacted to the syrupy voice with a bounce in her step. She ran across the room and climbed into his lap, nearly spilling his coffee.
“Good morning, Daddy. Do you like my skirt?”
“I do! You look like a ballerina. I bet you’ll show everyone at school how to spin on one foot, won’t you?”
Sophie scrunched up her nose and shook her head like she smelled something bad. “Not a ballerina, Daddy. I want to be an ice skater. Can I take lessons? Chrissy P. takes ice-skating lessons even when it’s not cold outside.”
Veronica abandoned the disagreement with Nick momentarily and loaded a plate with eggs and bacon and a sliver of toast with peanut butter and half a cut-up banana, just like Sophie liked it. She slid it in front of Nick and Sophie and put the fork directly in Sophie’s hand so she didn’t have to interrupt their conversation. Through mouthfuls of eggs and great gulps of juice, Sophie and Nick planned her future as an Olympic skater: “In pairs not singles, because then the guy got to throw you in the air.”
“Well, sunshine, we’ve got to get going. Grab your coat and backpack, and let’s get in the car,” Nick said. The clock on the microwave read 7:30 a.m.
“Hey, the school doors don’t open for another twenty minutes,” Veronica reminded Nick in a hushed whisper, trying to mask her annoyance, not as practiced as Nick. “You can’t drop her off early. No one is outside waiting.”
Nick looked at his watch again and pushed away from the table, clearing his plates and leaving without any answers to her ever-growing list of concerns. He wasn’t the only one running out of time; if she was going to get to her appointment in the middle of rush-hour traffic, she had to leave now.
“Guys.” Sophie interrupted the silent mulling of the two adults in her life. “I seriously can take the bus.”
Veronica had started to drive her precocious six-year-old after she came off the bus crying about the big kids using “naughty words,” but it could be a good option this particular morning.
“Your call,” Veronica said, raising her eyebrows at Nick. “It comes in four minutes. What do you think?”
Nick, who had been gathering his belongings, put his bag on his shoulder and held out his hand for Sophie.
“I think that you are a very big girl today,” Nick said as she wrapped her hand in his. “Why don’t you kiss your mommy, and I’ll stand with you at the bus stop.”
Sophie nodded and stood a little taller, and Veronica closed the distance between them, hand on her daughter’s shoulder and a lingering kiss on her wild hair.
“Oh, wait one second,” Veronica said, giving a playful glance at both family members before rummaging around in her bag.
“Hurry, Mommy, I gotta go!”
“I know, I know. It’s in here somewhere . . .” She searched through loose sketches and a zippered pouch of art supplies until she landed on metal. “Ah, your new headband! You left it in the car last week. It goes well with that fancy skirt you’re wearing.”
Veronica placed the headband in her hair with practiced ease, somewhat taming Sophie’s long blond mane. Sophie examined it with her expert fingers and seemed to approve. She tipped her head up and looked right into her mom’s face.
“It’s perfect,” she sighed happily.
“You’re perfect,” Veronica bantered back, sneaking a pair of sneakers into Sophie’s backpack, knowing she was going to wear “the boots” to school if there was even a whiff of moisture in the air.
“No, you are,” Sophie said with a giggle, slipping on her sparkly pink rain boots, her most favorite clothing item and the only reason she loved rainy days. Each foot popped as it slipped into place.
“You both are the most perfect ladies I’ve ever set eyes on—now, let’s go!” Nick tugged on Sophie’s little arm and opened the front door. It whistled as the cool, wet fall breeze whipped through the entry. “Good luck, babe,” Nick said only to Veronica, with a lingering glance.
She nodded noncommittally. She’d thought Nick wanted baby number two as much as she did, but maybe she was wrong. All their discussions ended in If it happens it happens or I’d love to have another child with you, but now that she was really thinking back, he’d never said, I’m all in. And he wasn’t all in, because he was worried she’d lose it again. The PPD with Sophie was bad, but not as bad as never having another child.
She watched his hand in Sophie’s, so much bigger, stronger, the same hand that held their wedding ring and held her hand while she was in labor and cradled her face when her father died and she realized his promises to get sober would never be a reality. She’d go get the tests done, maybe even give some treatments a try, but if they didn’t work, she knew deep down it was going to be okay because she had them—Nick and Sophie—they were her everything.
“Bye, Mom!” Sophie shouted back at Veronica, a gust of wind catching her hair so it whipped out behind her like she was running. Veronica waved back, wishing she could recapture the joy for life her daughter embodied every single day.
“Bye, sweetheart!” Veronica returned the wave, and when they turned the corner to the communal bus stop at the end of the street, she fished her keys out of her purse and headed to the car. No music on her drive this morning, just serene silence that was hard to find in a home with a little person.
As she pulled up to the stop sign at the end of Hanson Drive, she glanced left and then right, checking to make sure it was safe to turn. The bus was there, blinking lights, red stop sign out halting traffic and causing a slight hesitation in Veronica’s commute. Nick stood back with the group of parents watching their children get on the bus. When it was Sophie’s turn, she blew him a kiss, which he caught, making Veronica’s heart swell. So
phie was lucky to have such a good dad; it was one of the reasons Veronica had married Nick: his ability to love unconditionally. Her father didn’t know how to love anyone but himself and alcohol, and all the men her mother had dated either demanded all her mother’s attention or left without warning. She’d wanted different for her children.
And then Sophie ascended the stairs and was swallowed up by the great yellow machine, off to have a life outside the safety of Veronica’s care. It made her both proud and frightened.
There were a lot of marvelous things in that world her child was headed into—Veronica knew that from traveling all over and meeting just about every kind of person you could imagine—but there were also monsters out there. There were traps covered by leaves, sinkholes that looked like a safe passage, and bolts of lightning that could hit at any moment, without warning. It was a stunning world filled with beauty and goodness; she’d seen it in her travels and in artwork and within her life with Nick and Sophie. But it was a dangerous world too, filled with gargoyles guarding the beauties and dangerous creatures hiding in the hallways of even the safest homes.
Veronica blinked a few times as she watched the bus drive away in a cloud of exhaust and swirling leaves before turning in the opposite direction. Today was a big day—today she found out if they could have another child, and today Nick found out if his dream of becoming an associate professor at Duke was just a dream or a real possibility. Today would put them on a new path, a new future, a new trajectory, and Veronica just had to hope it was the angels that would be waiting along the way, not the monsters. She’d always been afraid of monsters.
CHAPTER 28
“The bus,” Veronica whispered, putting down the painting in front of her. Why did she have to remember? Regret and guilt, they were twin pains that filled her body like liquid lead. “Why did we put her on the bus?”
Nick rubbed her shoulders knowingly, without the same reluctance as when she tried to kiss him earlier. She remembered that day now. She’d gone for her tests but gotten a call from Nick. There had been an accident. The bus . . . a drunk driver . . . the overpass . . . Sophie . . . It all came through in bits and pieces. The police asked all the parents to come to the hospital. There were injuries but, Nick added, not everyone made it. His voice was shaking, and she could hear his car rev in the background.
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