The way Jack said it, she had a feeling he was planning on it.
And she was right.
Jack didn’t come home. Not at the usual time, or the time he often walked through the door when he was late. By eleven, Zooey gave up waiting. She turned off the warming tray with his dinner in the kitchen and went upstairs to bed. Despite her disappointment at his no-show, she was still desperately clinging to the shred of euphoria that continued to hover around her, telling herself that this was business as usual for Jack. At this point, she should have been more than used to it.
Except it wasn’t supposed to be business as usual, she argued with herself as she lay in the bed a few minutes later, watching shadows on the wall. Some part of Jack should have been affected by what had happened last night, shouldn’t it?
Okay, she didn’t exactly expect him to start grinning from ear to ear and singing silly love songs, but she also didn’t expect him to audition to play the phantom of Danbury Way.
The last thing she remembered thinking before she fell asleep was that tomorrow would be better.
But it wasn’t. It was more of the same. If anything, Jack became even more of a nonentity than he had been before.
As each day went by, it progressively became worse. Instead of just working long hours, he seemed to be working around the clock, gone before Zooey got up in the morning, back after she’d gone to bed. It got to the point that if it hadn’t been for the wet towels in his bathroom and the dishes that magically appeared in the sink, testifying that he had come home, showered and had something to eat before making good on another escape, she would have thought she’d made him up.
The second day he was gone, Jack left a voice message on the phone, telling her that he was involved in preparing a high profile case for trial, one that required all of his attention.
She knew in her heart it was more than that. There might have been a case, all right, but that wasn’t making him turn into the invisible man. It was her.
Zooey thought of waiting up for him, of confronting him when he came home and making him own up to what was going on. And then make him explain to her why he was doing this. But while she felt perfectly justified in cornering him when it had something to do with the children’s welfare, because this merely involved her—them—she couldn’t get herself to do it. Because she shouldn’t have to do it, she thought, fighting back tears. After one night of lovemaking with her, Jack Lever shouldn’t suddenly have turned into Upstate New York’s version of a hermit.
Had her techniques been that bad? she demanded silently in the privacy of her own room late at night. Had the idea of the two of them being intimate for any given length of time appalled him that much?
She had no answers.
All she had was a heart that was aching more and more. She couldn’t make herself shrug this off, couldn’t find a way to just lie low and wait it out. It hurt too much to be living in the same house, knowing that Jack was avoiding her like the plague.
And because of that, avoiding his children as well. That hurt just as much as his sudden abandonment of her.
“Is Daddy gone away on a trip?” Emily asked Friday morning as she and Olivia were being driven to school.
“Yes,” Zooey answered quickly.
It was easier saying that than explaining to the girl that something had happened to make her father stay away. More than likely, Emily would want details.
“Is he going to be back soon?”
Zooey could tell by her tone of voice that the little girl sorely missed her father.
This had to stop, Zooey vowed. Before he completely destroyed whatever relationship he had left with his children.
“Soon,” she promised Emily.
Zooey knew of only one way to end Jack’s self-imposed exodus and get him to start keeping regular hours at home again. It was a drastic step, but she had no choice other than to take it. Not if she wanted to keep her conscience clear. There was something far greater at stake here than her supposed love life.
Frances Finnegan sat very quietly at her desk. She tended to do that when she was in shock. Finally, she raised her eyes to her firstborn and formed the question she wished she didn’t have to ask. Not when it followed a request that not only made her heart glad, but would make both her husband and her brother-in-law extremely happy.
“Zooey, are you sure?”
Zooey hadn’t allowed herself to think. Once she’d decided on this course of action, she hadn’t looked back, hadn’t left herself the option to reconsider. She tried to sound as positive as she could as she replied, “Yes, I’m sure.”
Frances wasn’t buying it. She knew her daughter too well, even if Zooey didn’t think so. Though it wasn’t really necessary, she took her for a trip down memory lane.
“But you said you didn’t want to work here,” she reminded her. “You even left college a month before graduation because you said you didn’t fit into the business world.” Frances gestured around the office. “And this is the business world, Zooey. Make no mistake about that.”
Not wanting to go into her reasons for this sudden change, Zooey zeroed in on something minor her mother had said. “If you need me to have a degree to work here, I can complete the classes—”
Frances waved her hand dismissively. She was too savvy to allow herself to be snowed. “That’s not my point, Zooey. My point was that you were adamant you didn’t want to go into the family business.”
Rather than sit on the chair in front of her mother’s desk, or on the leather sofa off to one side, Zooey prowled around the room restlessly. She shrugged off her mother’s words. “I was young.”
Frances laughed. “You were a little more than a year younger than you are now.”
Zooey paused to take a deep breath. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans. The emptiness that haunted her, that in part prompted her to do this, refused to go away. “A year is a long time.”
Frances rose to her feet and rounded her desk until she was standing in front of her daughter. “Zooey, what happened?”
Zooey pressed her lips together, willing herself to sound cheerful, or at least not upset. “Nothing. I just grew up.”
Her mom placed her hands on her shoulders, holding her still. Frances wanted to hug her, to hold her the way she had when Zooey was little and she could make her problems go away with a few comforting words, accompanied by a bowl of strawberry ice cream. But she knew Zooey was in a fragile place right now. Hugging would not be welcomed. It would be confused with pity. “That’s not what I’m seeing in your eyes.”
Zooey flashed a grin. “You always did let those eye doctor appointments slip by,” she said fondly. Very gently, she separated herself from her mother’s hold. “Really, Mom, I’m okay.” And then, because she knew her mother could read her like a book, she added, “This is just for the best, that’s all.”
Whose best? Frances wondered. It certainly didn’t seem as if it was Zooey’s. “What about those children you were taking care of?” she pressed. “Emily and Jackie. It seemed to me they were very attached to you.”
Leaving them would be one of the hardest things she’d ever done, if not the hardest. But she had to go, for their own good. Because who knew how long Jack would avoid staying home if she was there?
So she shrugged carelessly and murmured, “They’re young. They’ll get attached to someone else.” Far easier than I will.
As if she could read her mind, her mother asked, “Do you want them to?”
Zooey wasn’t up to discussing this right now. The last thing she wanted was to was let her mother see her cry. “Mom, this is a very simple question. Do you have a place for me or not?”
Frances slipped an arm around her shoulders. She couldn’t remember them ever feeling this stiff. She pretended not to notice, but found herself wanting to box Jack Lever’s ears even if she didn’t know the man. Because he had to be at the bottom of this. Zooey was too crazy about those kids to want to leave on her own.
Zooey turned and looked at her, stopping her mother before anything further could be said. “All right, then it’s settled.”
Frances studied her firstborn for a long moment. There was no reasoning with her now. But then, that was nothing new. “If you say so, Zooey.”
“You’re leaving?”
The sparsely written note that she had slipped under his door in the middle of the night and that he had just discovered a minute ago on his way out, was crumpled in his hand as Jack burst into the kitchen the following Monday morning.
Zooey looked up from the scrambled eggs and ham she was making for the children. Jackie was in his high chair, making confetti out of his toast, while Emily sat primly at the table, nibbling on hers. Both children looked surprised to see their father.
“Yes,” Zooey replied quietly, taking a spatula and dividing the contents of the pan between two plates. She hadn’t bothered to make three portions. She had no appetite, and she hadn’t been sure if she would even see Jack.
Emily looked stunned, then upset. “No!” she cried, staring at her.
“No!” Jackie echoed, without the slightest clue why his sister had uttered the word.
Damn it, she wasn’t going to cry. Zooey tried to keep herself together as best as she could. “It’s time, sweetheart,” she told Emily.
“Why? Why is it time?” the child demanded, tears springing to her eyes. Trapping Zooey’s soul there. “You can’t go. You can’t leave us.” Zooey had just enough time to put down the pan before Emily flung herself at her, wrapping her arms around her waist and holding on tight. “You can’t! I won’t let you go.”
This was ripping her apart, Zooey thought. Very gently, she removed Emily’s arms and then stooped down to the little girl’s level. It took everything she had not to drag her into her arms and hold her tightly. But it was reason that was needed right now, not emotion.
Zooey was painfully aware that Jack wasn’t saying anything, which just proved to her that this was ultimately the right course to take.
She kept her eyes on Emily. “Just because I won’t be living here anymore doesn’t mean that I’m leaving you or your brother. I’ll always be around if you need me,” she promised, her voice low, husky, as she struggled to keep it from breaking.
Reaching into her pocket, Zooey took out a business card with the company logo embossed on it. It had the address of Finnegan’s Fine Furniture’s corporate offices. She’d written her cell phone number, too, in preparation for this moment.
Nothing could have prepared her, though, she realized, her heart feeling like lead in her chest.
She placed the card in Emily’s hand and closed her fingers over it. “All you have to do is call this number and I’ll come.”
Emily grasped the card. Tears began to spill down her cheeks. “It’s not the same,” she whispered.
“No,” Zooey agreed. “It’s not the same. But it’s almost the same. It’s close. Just like I’ll be.” She pointed to the address on the card. “This isn’t really all that far away.”
“It’s farther than your room,” Emily sobbed.
“It is,” Zooey agreed heavily.
Jack had not said anything at all beyond the first initial expression of surprise. He was still standing there, looking at her, not even trying to alleviate his daughter’s distress.
She was right, Zooey thought, feeling lost. Feeling alone. He wanted her to leave. Wanted her to leave so much that he wasn’t even willing to offer up a token protest to make Emily feel better.
How could she have been so wrong about someone? Zooey wondered.
Served her right for dreaming. For hoping. There was no such thing as perfect men, no such thing as perfect moments. If ever she’d had any doubts, Jack had just shown her that there weren’t.
Jack remained walled in his silence, not trusting his voice, not trusting his emotions.
He didn’t want Zooey to leave. More than anything, he didn’t want her to go. But he’d known in his gut that this was coming. Known as surely as the sun would rise that this had to be the natural consequence of what had happened between them Halloween night. He should have found a way to maintain control.
Too late. Damage done.
He couldn’t blame her. Only himself. The situation had turned awkward between them almost instantly. He’d certainly felt it. Because that one night had not satisfied him, it had just shown him what had been missing from his life. Had shown him that he wanted more. And all of this had placed Zooey in a terrible dilemma. Her “employer” had made love with her and he wanted to do it again. If she gave in, would she do so because she didn’t want to lose her job? Because she didn’t want to leave the children? Or because she had feelings for him?
Jack was certain that the last, if it factored in at all, came a very distant third. So, as much as he wanted her, he’d been trying to give Zooey as much space as was humanly possible. To make her feel that he wasn’t going to crowd her, wasn’t going to demand repeat performances of the other night if she didn’t want any to take place.
And still she was leaving. Because she was undoubtedly afraid that he would put more moves on her.
Her fear had to be tremendous, since he knew how much she loved his children. It was there in everything she did for them and with them. For her to leave them meant she just couldn’t cope with the idea that things might heat up between them again. The fear that perhaps, some night, he might force himself on her.
He thought of telling her he’d never do that, but it would be a matter of protesting too much. It would only convince her that she was right in the first place.
So, as much as he wanted to tear up the note she’d left for him, refuse to accept her resignation and to have her remain here permanently, his hands were tied. He couldn’t impose his will on her.
The best thing he could do for Zooey would be to let her go. Even though doing it twisted a knife in his gut.
“How soon?” he finally asked, his voice devoid of all emotion.
God, he couldn’t wait to get rid of her, could he? Zooey thought, fighting back tears. Well, if he didn’t care, she wasn’t going to let him see that she did. She didn’t want him thinking even less of her.
“As soon as you can line up someone to watch the children,” she said in a voice that matched his own.
“Don’t worry about that.” There were temporary agencies he could turn to until he could find someone suitable. “I don’t want to interfere with your plans.” And then he paused, searching her face. Maybe this was a ruse for some reason. “You are going somewhere after this, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” She bit off the word wanting to use the frying pan behind her for more than just making eggs. She struggled to get hold of her temper. “Yes,” she repeated more calmly, “I have something lined up.”
“All right,” he agreed, his voice calm, distant, “then I’ll make the arrangements and you can be on your way by tomorrow.”
Zooey felt as if her stomach had dropped out. He was all but giving her the bum’s rush. Why? Was he that appalled at being involved with her?
“Perfect,” she replied tersely.
“Perfect,” he echoed.
He’d been hoping, even as he made the offer, that Zooey would change her mind at the last second. That she would tell him she needed more time. Stall. Give him some kind of sign, any kind of a sign, that maybe she wanted to stay. Stay with the children. Stay with him.
But since she was saying yes almost eagerly, he knew he’d just been deluding himself. She wanted to leave. Quickly.
Served him right for giving in to his impulses, for having the audacity to think that someone as bright, as outgoing as Zooey would want to be with someone as settled, as set in his ways, as he was.
“If you need references—” he
began.
“I don’t need references,” she almost snapped. Zooey raised her chin. She kept one arm around Emily, wishing she could take the kids with her. Jack didn’t deserve to have children. “I’m all set, actually.”
He nodded, picking up his briefcase. “Then I guess there’s really nothing more to be said on the subject.”
“No,” she agreed in the same tone, “nothing more.”
Chapter Fifteen
Every day seemed that much worse than the one before.
Zooey didn’t know how much more she could take. It was supposed to be getting better, not worse. She’d never felt like this before—like a drowning victim dragged back from the brink of death who couldn’t seem to suck in enough air to make her feel as if survival was an actual option.
She couldn’t shake it, couldn’t seem to work her way past it. She just kept moving through the pea soup fog, waiting for it to clear up.
It didn’t.
Because she’d taken all her things with her when she left Danbury Way, Zooey was figuratively among the homeless when she reported in for work at the corporate offices the first day. That was quickly remedied by her mother, who immediately threw open the door of her old room. To make the invitation to take up residence in the house where she’d been born more appealing and less off-putting, Frances, clever soul that she was, had told her she was welcome to stay there until she found something more to her liking.
The trouble was, Zooey thought as she prowled around her office, restless and exhausted at the same time, she wasn’t out looking. There seemed to be no energy in her veins to prompt her to go from apartment to apartment, looking for someplace to make her own. She of the boundless energy suddenly had barely enough to get out of bed and dressed in the morning.
Zooey told herself that she was coming down with something. “Something” kept coming for an entire two weeks without ever taking shape, hovering in the background. Making itself known just enough so that she felt as if each limb weighed a thousand pounds and could be moved only with the greatest of effort.
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