by Mary Birk
“So what?” She wondered how much he’d had to drink. He didn’t look drunk, but he was certainly acting irrationally.
He looked at her, raising his eyebrows in a question.
“What?” Anne couldn’t even fathom where he was going with this.
“I’ve seen some of his other work.”
“And?”
“With or without your clothes?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
“Tell me.”
She met his glance, impatient. “With.”
“I wouldn’t care for myself, of course. God knows the man’s seen you naked hundreds, probably thousands, of times. But I’m grateful for Michael’s sake he doesn’t have to face having pictures of his nude mother painted by her lover being shown to him by his classmates.”
She felt her face get hot. “I totally agree. That’s why, even as bad as we both know my judgment is, I insisted on wearing at least some clothes.” She was halfway to the door when he spoke again.
“You said you’d wait.”
She turned back. “You have a very selective memory. I told you I’d wait for you if you wanted me. You told me not to. To go to Andrew so the child you were so sure was going to be his, would be with its parents. Unlike Andrew, you made it very clear if the child wasn’t yours, you didn’t want me.”
He didn’t speak, and she knew it was because she was telling the truth.
“I don’t think it’s outrageous that a man who thought I might be carrying his child would pay me some attention during the pregnancy. Andrew wasn’t ashamed to be seen with me. Or to call me, see how I was doing, go to doctor appointments with me. To visit me. Take me out. To be my friend. Not treat me like I was some whore to be shunned.” Now she was crying, and she’d wanted so much not to show him how much he’d hurt her. She couldn’t stop herself.
He moved toward her, reached out as if to put his hand on her arm. She slapped it away. “And so fucking what? Why do you care? I’ve let you go. Now let me go.” Without looking back, she ran out of the room.
Chapter 24
REID WATCHED HER run away from him, then sat back down on the bench. He put his head in his hands. He’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t lose control with her, wouldn’t let her see his anger, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. He felt utterly betrayed by her destruction of the plans he’d made for their life together. He knew he had to move on, get the annulment underway, and devote himself to building a relationship with his son. Then he’d mucked everything up.
Not able to settle his thoughts down enough to be decent company, he decided to go to the library and work for a while before rejoining the party. When he checked his email, he saw Allison had indeed sent him a link to the recordings from the lobby of Pooley’s building. He put some music on to accompany the soundless and slow parade of people in and out of the building’s lobby.
Keeping his eye on the screen, he went over and poured himself a liberal amount of cognac, then went back to the desk and started making notations whenever someone came in or out. He spotted Stirling on the tape coming in about five the afternoon of the twenty-second and smiled at the man’s easy, happy manner. Women never made him unhappy, and he took care not to make them unhappy. As long as they accepted Stirling’s clearly set conditions that there would be no commitment, they had fun. He remembered with shame his jealousy earlier that night when Stirling was talking to Anne, knowing it was unfounded. He knew Stirling would never betray him, but unfortunately, his feelings when it came to his wife were not always rational.
He continued to watch the tape. At about six p.m., Rafe Kensington came into the building holding his briefcase and a newspaper. Coming home from work. He walked back to where Reid knew the mailboxes were, on the way toward the back of the building, then returned. If he’d received mail, he’d put it in his pocket or briefcase because there was nothing else in his hands. He pushed the elevator button, got in the elevator and disappeared.
Other people Reid didn’t recognize came and went. Then at about nine-thirty, Lance Kensington came into the lobby and got into the elevator. About a half an hour later, he came back down and left. He’d probably been visiting his father, but Reid would need to talk to both Lance and Rafe to make sure.
When Reid finished watching the lobby tapes, he called Harry.
“Christmas Eve, guv? Give us a break.”
“Just briefly—I wanted to let you know who I recognized and when they appeared on the tapes.”
Harry sighed. “Let me get a pen.”
After he recited his observations from his notes, Reid asked, “Anyone on the tapes tied to Von Zandt?”
“No. I’m beginning to think you’re right and there’s no tie there. This bloke may just have had an unhappy love affair.”
“No luck finding the man he had Chinese with?”
“Not yet. We’re working on it. Maybe the DNA will make a match. I think whoever it was must have used the back elevator. The neighbor said that was the elevator Pooley favored as it was closer to his front door. Bad luck there’s no surveillance tapes for the back entrance or the back elevator.”
“Thanks for the update. I’ll let you get back to your festivities.”
“That’s okay, guv. Did you want to go over anything else?”
“No, I’d better get back to mine as well.”
“I’ll talk to you later. Not tonight though, guv, all right?”
“No, not tonight, Harry.”
*****
The snow kept coming down as if the skies were emptying, while the wind blew violently against the house all night. A full out winter storm. From his bedroom window, Reid saw, with the help of the light illuminating the exterior of the castle, banks of snow building up all around it. The roads would probably be impassable until at least noon tomorrow if this continued. He could hear through the door that Anne wasn’t asleep.
The baby had been up all through the night, coughing and crying. Reid had been up listening too, but after what had happened earlier between them, he knew she wouldn’t want him in there. But it couldn’t be normal for a little baby to have such a bad cough. The door to Anne’s room to the hallway opened and closed several times. Then he heard voices, her mother and sisters. The shower was running. If she were delaying asking for help because what had happened between them, he’d never for-give himself.
He got dressed and was just going to knock on the door when he heard a sharp rapping on the other side of the adjoining door. Opening it, he saw Meg, her face white.
“We need Rick.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Michael’s having trouble breathing. We may need to get him to the hospital.”
“I’ll get him.” He hurried to Rick’s room and knocked hard on the door. There was no answer. He turned the knob, pushed the door open. Empty. Quickly, he went to Dianne’s room. Reid knocked loudly, not caring if he woke up the whole damned house. “Rick, are you in there? We need you right away. Michael’s sick.”
His brother came to the door pulling a shirt on over his bare chest, and followed Reid to Anne’s room. Rick went past Jeanne and Meg to the bathroom and opened the door. Reid, close behind his brother, saw steam coming out of the room and heard the shower still running. He stopped Rick’s arm from closing the door in front of him. He wasn’t going to be left outside when his child was in trouble.
Rick spoke briskly. “If you’re coming in, close the door quickly. We need to keep the steam in.”
Reid shut the door. Anne was holding Michael near the shower steam, and crooning to him to breathe, that everything was okay. She was in her robe and nightgown. Her hair was curling around her temples from the humidity in the room. Irene leaned against the wash basin, biting her lip in that same way Anne so often did. Rick went to the child and took him from Anne. Rick took his time, carefully examining the baby.
Anne, her face drained of all color, looked over at Reid. He saw her lip tremble, and went to her, putting his arms arou
nd her. She turned her face into his shoulder. “Oh, God, Terrence. He wasn’t breathing. He coughed so hard and then he was completely still. I thought he’d finally fallen asleep, but I touched him and he wasn’t breathing.”
Reid tried to hide his own panic. He kissed her head and tried to soothe her while they watched his brother examine Michael’s tiny body.
“This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have traveled with him so young. I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to him. I’m a terrible mother.”
He took one of her hands in his.
“No, lassie, you’re a good mother. A wonderful mother. He’ll be fine, girl. See, Rick is taking care of him. He’ll be fine.” He tried to look into her eyes as he talked, but her gaze was fixed on the baby.
She squeezed his hand. “I’m so glad you have a brother who’s a doctor.”
“I’m glad, my love, that I’ve done at least one thing that’s right.”
Her voice was tired, but her eyes stayed on Michael. “Don’t call me that. I’m not your love and you know it. You don’t even like me.” She moved out of his arms, focusing on Rick. “Is he going to be okay?”
“I think so. Croup is common, but it can be serious—for just the reason you described, the child’s throat can swell up and close, and they can’t breathe—if you don’t catch it quickly, but of course you did.” Rick put his hand on Anne to reassure her. “Being so young, he can’t do much to try to help himself. But the steam is good. Some people say the night air is good for croup, but it’s wicked cold out there tonight, so let’s stick with the steam. Also, we need to make sure we keep someone on duty to watch him while he sleeps tonight, in case it happens again. I have some corticosteroids in my bag I can use if it gets worse, but as he’s so young, I’d rather not use them unless they’re absolutely necessary.”
Reid asked, “Should we try to get him to a hospital tonight?”
Rick shook his head. “Probably safer to stay here and not risk the roads.” He held Michael up to Anne. “Want to hold him?”
She nodded and took the baby, cradling him in her arms.
Reid wanted to put his arms around the two of them, encircle them and protect them, but Anne had made it clear he had no place to touch her like that anymore. Well then, he’d do as much as she’d allow. “I’ll stay up and watch. You need to try to sleep, Anne.”
She ignored him, but listened when his brother added, “That’s a good idea. Anne, you do need to get some sleep. If you get too tired, you can lose your milk.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “Okay. But I don’t want to leave him alone in the bassinet. Can he sleep next to me?”
“Certainly. On his back, of course. Terrence, you need to watch to make sure his little face stays up so he can breathe. He’s congested, but being close to his mum will reassure him. Scary to be such a little fellow and not be able to tell anyone when you’re in trouble.” Rick smiled at Anne. “I’ll be in Dianne’s room. We’ll leave the door unlocked. Come get me if you need me for anything.”
Shortly after Rick left, Jeanne and Meg went back to their rooms, though Irene waited behind. Reid had a vague memory of seeing his own mother come in during all of the commotion, but she must have left at some point. The whole night had been a blur.
Anne turned to her mother. “I’m so glad you were here. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“I’ll always be here.”
Anne hugged her mother. “I appreciate it more than I can say, but you can go back to bed now. Terrence will keep watch over him. I’m going to try to sleep. I promise I’ll call you if I need anything.”
Irene sent Reid a look he knew was a warning not to upset Anne any more than he already had. He nodded, trying to let her know without words he understood his responsibility to not act like an arse anymore tonight.
Chapter 25
TO KEEP HIMSELF awake, Reid walked around the room. Everywhere he looked, there were pieces of Anne. On the desk by the window, he recognized her portfolio containing photographs of her work and copies of the garden plans she’d done. He went over to where it lay and thumbed through it. He hadn’t even asked her how her big project at the Grainger Colony had turned out. When she’d been out here in April, she’d just finished it and was still waiting for feedback from her firm and the Colony’s board of directors. From the photographs in her portfolio, he could tell it must have been a success. The project had been a stretch for her at this early stage in her career, and he knew she had a lot riding on it. He should have at least asked her about it.
Why had she brought her portfolio with her? Had she really been planning to look for work here in Scotland? She must have been, and that was probably also why she’d told her firm she would be leaving. So that Michael would have his parents together.
Another little booklet sat next to her portfolio. It looked vaguely familiar, and when he picked it up, he saw it was the design notebook she’d put together for their house, the house he’d bought for them last spring. He flipped through the pages, seeing the designer’s notes about colors for the various rooms, as well as furniture styles and modifications. Other notes he recognized as being in Anne’s handwriting. Paint chips and fabric swatches were tucked between the pages.
He looked over at where Anne lay sleeping, her hand on the baby’s legs. Her sun-kissed hair spilled against the pillow and her face was serene, despite what she had just been through. He studied her lips. They had that full, pouty shape usually reserved for a young child’s lips. He knew exactly how those lips felt on his own, how she would pull his lips with them until he wanted to devour her.
But they were still in the same place they had been, with her continuing to be Grainger’s mistress and his wife. He went over to Michael and checked his breathing. Everything seemed all right.
He quickly slipped into the adjoining room and brought back his laptop. After checking Michael again, he turned the computer on. While it booted up, he resumed his inspection of the room. The white dress she’d worn last night was crumpled up and sitting on top of the trash can. He frowned. That was unlike Anne. She was always so neat with her clothes. She must have been changing when the baby started coughing and quickly thrown it down. He picked it up, shook it out, and hung it and the little cape in the wardrobe. She’d brought a lot of clothes with her. He lightly touched the edges of the other dresses she had hanging there, then closed the wardrobe door.
He checked the baby again and went over to the dresser where a bottle of her perfume sat. He picked it up and sniffed. The old bottle of her perfume he had back at the flat had almost completely evaporated, probably because he kept it open next to his bed so he could catch a whiff of her fragrance as he slept. Toward the back of the dresser top sat the present that had been in her luggage. His heart lurched. It had been unwrapped. The box was lying on top of the wrapping paper. He remembered what the note had said. “If he doesn’t want you . . .”
She must have unwrapped it tonight after she’d come up from the dance. He went over to the bed and looked at Anne’s left hand.
On her finger was a new ring. Grainger’s ring.
DECEMBER 25 - FRIDAY
Chapter 26
ANNE JERKED OUT of a deep sleep when she heard Michael whimper his hungry cry. He seemed better and, good sign, he wanted to eat. She looked up and saw Terrence sitting on the chair by the bed, watching them.
“What time is it?”
“Just on six.”
“He’s better, don’t you think?” As she spoke, she opened her nightgown and tucked the baby into her. The baby’s eagerness was encouraging. “He’s getting good at this.”
Terrence smiled. “Good lad.”
“You stayed up all night?”
He nodded.
“You could have gotten Jeanne or Meg to give you a break.”
He motioned to his laptop. “I worked while I watched.”
“You look tired. Why don’t you at least go lie down and try to sleep for a while?
I assume Christmas morning is as crazy a time here as it is in the States. None of the children want to wait for the grown-ups to wake up.”
“Actually in Scotland, the children hang their stockings on their beds so they can open them when they wake up, and play with whatever’s there. That way they can wait a little longer for presents or before they pester their parents to get up.” He nodded towards a stocking on Michael’s bassinet. “Apparently Father Christmas had him on his list.”
“Oh, how nice. Your mum?”
“Believe it or not, me.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I’m impressed.”
“The stocking was mine when I was young.”
She smiled. “I think he’s going to need some help opening it. Do you want to do it?”
Terrence brought the stocking over and put it in her reach where she lay, the baby still bobbing his little head against her. “Why don’t you help him while he eats his breakfast?”
“I’d love to. Just let me change sides. Can you move the stocking to the middle of the bed?” She turned over, moved Michael to the middle, and started him nursing on her other breast.
Terrence went around to the other side of the bed and put the stocking near her hand. She was conscious of his attention on her while she explored the contents of the stocking. As she started pulling out the little presents, Terrence pulled some pillows together and lay down on the other side of the bed to watch.
He must have taken some time on this. As Michael was far too young for candy or tangerines, Terrence had opted for other types of things: small sturdy story books, some soft teething rings, and a little photograph in a silver frame of Terrence’s mother and father. Examining the photograph and its intricate frame, she turned to Terrence to remark on its loveliness. But his eyes had closed. He was fast asleep, his breath coming even and deep.
She let her eyes absorb him. She’d always loved the way his body, as large as it was, had an almost elegant athleticism. She knew he worked hard to make sure he kept physically able to meet the requirements of his job, running and lifting weights regularly. He was tautly muscular, but now far too thin for his large build.