Carly's Gift (15 page)

Carly put Eric's gift back and picked up another, slipped her finger under the tag and saw Shawn's name written in Andrea's sweeping stroke.

With infinite care, Carly put the package back under the tree. She gingerly lifted the tags on the remaining presents. Andrea had remembered everyone—even her Grandmother and Grandfather Hargrove—everyone, it seemed, but Carly.

Carly was more distressed than disappointed to have been left out. To try to hurt someone purposely was such aberrant behavior for Andrea it was almost inconceivable. She felt torn. A part of her took solace in her daughter finding a release for her own torment, the mother in her agonized at the injustice of being the target.

England would only be a month or two out of their lives, a refuge for Andrea where she could come to grips with her perceived betrayal, a period of calm for Carly where she could focus on Ethan and Eric and Shawn and try to restore a semblance of normality to their lives.

She laid the last package beside the others, got up, and headed for the kitchen and the lunch dishes that still awaited her. Glancing at the clock, she did some quick calculations. Four hours had passed since Andrea's plane took off. Assuming the flight from New York had left on time, Andrea was somewhere over the Atlantic. Two takeoffs and one landing—one landing to go before she was safely on the ground again.

Carly filled the sink with hot soapy water, seeking comfort in physical activity. The job was mindless, but it brought its own feeling of satisfaction. When the last dish had been put away and the last counter wiped, there was that brief moment as she walked out of the room when she could look back and see that in this small way, she'd made a difference.

Today, she was in desperate need of something to feel good about, no matter how inconsequential or fleeting.

Carly wandered around the empty house, looking for something to do. Finally, unable to take the confinement, she grabbed her coat, put on boots, and went for a walk. Thinking her direction random, she was gone an hour before she realized she was heading for the mill. She stopped and stared down the seldom-used country road. The mill beckoned to her like a warm fireplace, offering comfort and security with its benign memories. The idea was tempting. She could escape in those memories, if only for a few hours.

But was escape what she wanted?

Or was it time for her to stop wallowing in her own sorrow and move on?

She turned and headed back to town. Nearing Cindy's Café, she glanced at her watch to see whether she could stop for a cup of coffee and still beat Ethan and the boys back home. To avoid questions about where she'd been and how she'd spent her day, she would have to be there when they arrived. She hesitated, and then checked for traffic and crossed the street.

She went inside, placed her order for coffee and a piece of apple pie, and then sat down in one of the booths. An old song by Garth Brooks, sad and filled with longing, filled the air.

She tried to ignore the music. Instead, she focused her attention on the waitress. When the pink-uniformed woman went into the kitchen to get the pie, Carly's gaze drifted to the regulator clock over the cash register. Andrea had been gone five hours and twenty minutes. Not so long when compared to the time she spent in school every day.

Only she came home from school.

Carly's gaze drifted from the clock to the sign that pointed to the restrooms. Below the sign was one of the last pay telephones in the county. An eternity seemed to pass while she stared at the telephone.

Before she could dwell on the idea too long and change her mind, Carly got up, went to the phone, and dialed the number she had memorized weeks ago. At the last minute, she charged the call to her mother's number.

David answered on the third ring.

Carly turned her face to the wall, seeking even more shelter and privacy in the out-of-the-way alcove, regretting that she hadn't used her cell all the while knowing she would have talked herself out of it if she had.

“David, it's Carly,” she said.

“I had a feeling it might be you.”

“She's on her way.”

“I'll be heading for the airport in a couple of hours.”

“I thought you should know that she's confused and hurt, and that she's looking for someone to blame for what's happened to her.”

“From the things she's said to me, I think she's already found someone.”

“She doesn't like me very much right now.” The words were squeezed past the lump in her throat.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “What can I do to help?”

Carly took a breath and held it for several seconds. “Send her back to me,” she said, struggling to keep her voice even. “She's everything to me, David.”

“I know that.”

A motion caught Carly's attention. The waitress was signaling that her coffee and pie were at the booth waiting for her. Carly nodded. “Promise me you'll do whatever it takes to get her to come home.”

“I promise,” he said.

“Thank you.” She started to hang up then remembered something else. “Did the packages arrive?” She'd sneaked the small Christmas presents into Andrea's suitcases, and mailed the larger ones.

“Yesterday,” he told her.

“I sent away for a sweater she saw in an Eddie Bauer catalog,” she said, questioning why she was telling him, even as she spoke the words. “It arrived just after I sent everything else. It should be there in a couple of days.”

“I found some things to put under the tree for her, and Victoria added some of her own when she went shopping last week. There's no way we can make this the Christmas she's used to having, but we're doing what we can.”

Carly fought a surge of jealousy that made it difficult to speak. “I've tried to call Victoria several times,” she said. “I wanted to tell her how much I appreciate what she's doing, but she never answers.”

“This is a busy time for her,” David answered without apology, his voice even and accepting. “There are a lot of parties and social obligations. It's the way things are over here during the season.”

He might as well have slammed a door in her face. “Well, ‘over here,' no matter how heavy our social obligations, we find the time to return phone calls.”

“I'm not going to try to explain Victoria to you, Carly. It would take too long and you wouldn't understand.”

There it was again, that underlying snobbery that had surfaced in their conversations before. “You'd be surprised at the things I understand. I may not be—”

“I didn't mean that the way it sounded,” he said, responding to her anger. “Just because Americans and British speak what approximates the same language doesn't mean they think alike.”

“And the rich really are different,” she said.

“Like it or not,” he said. “They are.”

Carly recoiled with frustration at being on the outside of a place she'd never wanted to enter. “I don't want my daughter exposed to that kind of life.”

Several seconds passed before he answered. “You should have thought of that before. I can't see where you have any choice, now.”

“Damn you, David,” she said, furious with him for pointing out the obvious.

“How like you to thank and damn me in the same conversation.”

David still knew her almost as well as she knew herself. He'd always heard the fear in her voice when others thought they heard serenity. He felt her desperation when everyone else saw acceptance. “I want her back, David.”

“I'll do whatever I can,” he told her again. “The minute I see a sign that she's ready, I'll put her on a plane.”

“Would two thank-yous cancel out one damnation?”

He laughed softly. “God, how I've missed you, Carly.”

The depth of emotion in his words caught her off guard. “I've missed you too, David,” she said before she could stop herself.

“Merry Christmas,” he said in lieu of good-bye, then broke the connection with a soft click.

“Merry Christmas,” she answered to the soft hum of an empty line, “and happy birthday.” She held on to the receiver several seconds longer, before sighing and putting it back on its hook. Her coffee was probably cold by now and the ice cream on her pie melted. Still, they were a reason to delay the lonely walk back home.

At the booth, she took one look at the pie and knew it was useless to try getting it down. She laid five dollars on the table, gave the waitress an apologetic smile, and left.

Large, quarter-size snowflakes were falling from a gray sky when Carly arrived home. The car was in the driveway and someone had turned the Christmas lights on again. She stopped a moment to take it all in. To the casual observer, the scene would appear idyllic—a home, a family to envy.

Her feet made soft crunching sounds in the fresh snow as she moved up the walkway to the front door. She pulled her knit hat off, shook it, and scraped her boots on the mat. Unable to put off going inside any longer, she opened the door.

“I'm home,” she called out.

Ethan answered from the family room. “Where've you been?”

“I went for a walk and lost track of time.” She went to the closet and hung up her coat. “I hope I didn't worry you.”

He came up behind her, moved her hair from her shoulder, and lightly kissed her neck. “I was an hour away from even being concerned.”

She closed the door and eased out of his reach. “Where are the kids?”

“I sent them over to your mom's.”

“Why?”

“I figured we could use some time alone.” He ran his hand down her arm. “I've missed you.”

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. How could Ethan possibly think she was ready to focus her attention on him when she'd just put Andrea on the plane that morning? Was he so blind he couldn't see the pain she was in? “I've missed you too, Ethan,” she said, sidestepping a confrontation.

“I was hoping you'd say that.”

“I've had a lot on my mind lately.” She saw by the look in his eye that he hadn't picked up on the sarcasm in her voice.

He moved to put his arms around her. “That's all going to change now.” His lips brushed her hair. “I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Carly, but I've come to the conclusion that once we all get over the shock of Andrea being gone, we're going to find—”

She stiffened and tried to pull away from him. “Be careful what you say, Ethan.”

He refused to let her go, hanging on to her arms and forcing her to look at him. “Would you just let me finish?”

“I don't want to hear anything bad about Andrea.”

“No, you never do.”

“For Christ's sake,
she's gone.
Isn't that enough? Do we still have to fight about her?”

“That's what I was going to say. Don't you see? Without Andrea here, we have a chance to turn our marriage into what it should be. She's been a wedge between us from the very beginning. I'm not saying it was her fault,” he quickly added. “She was as much a victim in this as we were.”

Carly blinked. He'd conveniently forgotten that without Andrea, there never would have been an Ethan and Carly. “Victim?” Carly said.

“Of circumstance.”

She couldn't argue with him. Andrea might have been a wedge between them, but in the beginning at least, she'd also been the glue. Until Shawn and Eric. Ethan had been so clever, and so right about binding her to him with children. “And now that she's out of the way you think we'll be much happier? Is that it?”

“Be honest, Carly. Andrea is what's kept us from being as close as we could be. She's been a constant, daily reminder of David and the fact that your relationship with him was never brought to a satisfactory conclusion.”

“And you think that's changed?”

“Hasn't it? It's obvious he doesn't love you anymore. And now that I've seen the two of you together, I can finally let myself believe you no longer have feelings for him.” He took her arms and put them on his shoulders then slipped his own around her waist. “We're free, Carly. We can start living the way we should have been living all along—if I just hadn't been so goddamned blind to what you were trying to tell me.”

A hysterical bubble of laughter worked its way up her throat. He really believed what he was saying. The entire time David had been in Baxter, Carly had lived in fear that Ethan would pick up on the feelings that were passing between her and David. Some of the unguarded looks David had given her were more intimate than anything that had ever happened between her and Ethan. How could he have missed seeing them?

Her impulse was to leave, to find a quiet place where she could sort through the events of the past month and a half. With time and distance the unthinkable would become familiar and then, finally, tolerable. When that happened, she would be able to function as a wife and mother again, playing her role with the same expertise she had before, being everything to everyone while she patiently waited for her daughter to forgive her and come home. But instead, she laid her cheek against his shoulder, feeling more alone than she had the night they were married. They had lived together sixteen years and were strangers.

“I love you, Carly,” Ethan said, tilting her chin up and kissing her.

“I know you do, Ethan.” In time she would be able to say the words back to him again, but not now, not yet. First she had to find a way to forgive him for not loving Andrea enough to want her to stay.

He grabbed the bottom of her sweater and pulled it over her head. His mouth moved over the swell of her breasts in hot, hungry kisses. “I want you,” he murmured. “Don't put me off, Carly. Not again.”

Tears burned the back of her closed eyes. “Not here,” she said. “Upstairs.”

He let out a groan as he covered her mouth with his own and thrust his tongue past her teeth. He kissed her chin and then her throat. “It's going to be better than it's ever been,” he told her, his voice ragged.