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“I know.”

“You know?”

“He was at my house. He gave me a ride home.”

A ride home? Ned gave Trudy a ride home?

“It all happened so quick. At first he thought it was indigestion from the pie. You know how he stops by every afternoon after work for a cup of coffee and piece of pie.”

No. She doesn't know. Every day. At Trudy's. Without her knowing.

“His truck is at my place. I've taken the keys. I can drive it over to the station in the morning.”

Ned was with Trudy?

“No need for that,” Rose says. “I'll get it tonight. Opal can drop me off.”

The truck is pulled halfway up Trudy's drive. Rose hoists herself into the cab. The steering wheel is gritty beneath her fingers. The cab smells faintly of smoke. She jams the keys into the ignition, turns the engine. She has forgotten to depress the clutch, and the pickup lurches forward and stalls. She lowers her head to the wheel, fighting tears. Trudy is watching from the stoop. Rose tightens her jaw, stomps on the clutch, and tries again. Slowly she edges down the drive. It is the first time in five years she has driven.

Beneath the tires she feels the shift of the earth. A tectonic shifting.

CHAPTER 36

OPAL

THE PHONE WAKES OPAL, AND EVEN HALF CAUGHT IN slumber she thinks, Zack. She rolls over and grabs the receiver. “Opal?”

It's Ty. Before her mind can fully waken, her body softens, opens to desire.

“Hi.” She sits up, tents the sheet around her nude body.

“How are you? How's Zack?”

“I'm fine. We're fine.” She doesn't tell him that Zack is visiting Billy. That she misses her son so much she can barely eat, that she has lost five pounds, that she can count her ribs just looking in the mirror. If she loses Zack, really loses him—impossible, her mind shrieks—she will shrink and die.

“I've been thinking of you.”

She catches her breath, releases it in a long exhale.

“Hardly a day goes by when I don't,” he says.

No sense following that line of conversation. It's a dead end. Over. Done. Her mind knows this. Her body just hasn't gotten the news yet. “How did the taping go in Cambridge?”

“Not bad.” He inhales, pauses. “Opal, I want to see you. Can I? Can I see you?”

She closes her eyes. Just once—
once
—she wishes something wonderful could happen to her without cost. Something perfect that she doesn't have to pay for. “Not possible.”

“Why? Because I was arrested years ago? Because I made a mistake? Christ, Opal, even the judge didn't take that seriously. I mean, he denied the restraining order, right?
He
wasn't the one who said I can't see you. Ask Ned—he'll tell you I'm dependable.”

Shit.
Ned. The hospital. “Have you heard about Ned?”

“Ned? No. What about him?”

“He's in the hospital. Heart attack.”

“Christ, is he all right?”

“He's in the coronary unit. He's—” What do they call it? Stable? “He's stable.”

“How's Rose?”

“Rose is okay.” As okay as anyone could be, Opal supposes.

“Is anyone with her?”

“I'm going over as soon as we hang up.”

“And Ned's in the hospital? Can he have visitors?”

“I don't think so. Just family.”

“Tell Rose I asked, okay? Tell her to call me if there's anything I can do. Tell her not to worry about the garage. I'll go down and open up, finish up the jobs. Have her tell Ned not to worry about that stuff.”

“I'll tell her.”

“Opal?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you call me sometimes? Let me know how things are going?”

“What's the point?”

“The point is I care. The point is after everything is settled, maybe there'll still be a chance for us. So will you? Call me?”

Will she? Can she? “I don't know. Maybe.”

ROSE ISN'T DRESSED. HER GLASSES ARE SMUDGED. SHE LOOKS awful, like she didn't get much sleep.

“Am I too early?”

“No. Come on in.” Rose looks down at her bathrobe, starts to say something and stops. “Coffee?” she asks.

“I'll get it,” Opal says. She fills a cup, holds the pot up toward Rose in question.

“Thanks. Milk's in the fridge.”

“Ty called.” Opal pulls up a chair. There are only two at the table. She must be sitting in Ned's. “He said not to worry, he'll take care of things at the station. He said to be sure and tell Ned that, so he won't worry.” Rose has the dazed look of someone who's been in an accident. Opal is not certain she's listening. “Have you heard anything this morning?”

“I called the hospital about an hour ago. They said he was resting comfortably. Visiting hours start at ten.”

“I'll take you,” Opal says.

“You don't have to. I've got Ned's truck.”

“I want to.”

“You've got work.”

“I don't go in until one. Please, let me.”

“I don't want to be a bother.”

“No bother. It will help take my mind off Zack.”

Rose looks up, eyes alive. “How is he?”

“Who the hell knows?” Opal feels anger rise. “Half the time I phone there's no answer. It's driving me crazy. I don't know how I'm going to get through another week of it. I keep wondering, does Billy know he likes macaroni for breakfast? Or that he can't sleep without Tigger? Or that you have to read him a story every night before he goes to bed? Or that he worries about things like where birds go when they die? Shit, I'm sorry. You've got enough on your mind without hearing about my problems.”

A thunk sounds on the porch. “The paper,” Rose says. She crosses to the door and retrieves the
Daily News
. “Ned loves the sports pages. He has to read them every morning. It's like a religion with him.” She stops short. “Do you think they'll let me bring it in to him?”

“Sure,” Opal says. The coffee is making her have to pee. “Can I use the bathroom?”

“Upstairs. Second door on the left.” Rose opens to the sports page. “The Red Sox won,” she reports. “That will make Ned happy.”

From the small window in the upstairs bath, Opal looks down on her house. There's a good view from here. You can see everything. Suddenly she remembers that day she and Ty had been making out on the lawn. Him on top, straddling her. Rose sure must have gotten an eyeful that day. She turns from the window, wishing it were that easy to excise memories of Ty from her mind.

She pees, washes up, then retraces her steps down the hall. As she passes a doorway, she peers in. Todd's, she guesses. It looks like he still lives here. A shell of a room, waiting for a ghost.

This is what it would be like if she lost Zack. An empty room waiting. A space there's no way to fill.

There must be a sign she has missed. Or misread. How else could Billy be laying claim on her son? How else could something so catastrophic have happened to her? She hadn't been prepared.

“Want some toast? An egg or something?” Rose asks when she returns to the kitchen.

“Nothing. I'll just finish my coffee; then I'll go and change. Visiting hours are at ten?”

“Ten. You sure you don't mind driving?”

“I
want
to,” Opal says.

As she is leaving, she hesitates, then grabs Rose's hand and gives it a quick squeeze. You could knock her over with a whisper when Rose slips an arm around her and tightens it in a hug, holds on.

SHE IS STEPPING OUT OF THE SHOWER WHEN SHE HEARS THE phone. This time it's Zack.

“How you doing, sugah?” Her stomach aches. She cups the receiver close to her head so his voice won't escape, so she can hold as much of him as possible.

“Guess what?” he says.

“What?”

“Daddy's taking me to Disney World.”

Daddy.
“What?”

“We're going to Disney World. Tomorrow. And Melvama, too.”

“Well, that's a big surprise,” she says. So why is she not surprised? “Listen, bud, is Billy right there? Let me talk to him, okay?”

“Hi, Raylee.” He's using his cocky,
I won
tone of voice which just sets her off.

“What the hell's going on? What the hell do you think you're doing?”

“Like Zack told you. We're taking a trip.”

“You can't do that.”

“Yes, I can, Raylee. Check with that lawyer of yours. It's perfectly within my rights to take a vacation with my son.”

“We'll see about that.” She knows Billy. The first time Zack throws a tantrum he'll be looking for a way to ship him back. Billy doesn't have staying power. “I'm calling my lawyer as soon as we hang up.”

“You do that. You go ahead and do that. I know my rights, Raylee, and I'm on solid ground here.”

“It's Opal, you stupid fuck. My name is Opal.” She slams down the phone and turns to see Rose at the screen door.

“What's wrong?” Rose asks.

What's wrong? What isn't? Opal stands in her towel, dripping water on the kitchen floor, and wonders how everything got so mixed up. “It's Billy,” she says. “He's taking Zack to Disney World. For five years he's a for-shit, no-show daddy and now he's trying out for Father of the Year.”

What happens next absolutely amazes Opal. Rose crosses to her and takes hold of both her hands.

“Don't worry,” she says. “He won't get Zack. We won't let him take Zack away from you.”

CHAPTER 37

ROSE

"I CAN STAY,” OPAL SAYS AS SHE DROPS ROSE AT THE “hospital. “If you'd like, I'll come in with you.” “No. You go ahead. There's no use in both of us sitting.”

“You sure?”

“Thanks anyway.”

“You'll call me later? Let me know how he is? Let me know if there is anything I can do?”

“I'll call,” Rose promises. What can anyone do? Least of all Opal.

Once on the unit, she stops and checks in with one of the nurses on the morning shift. “How is he?”

The nurse, a plump, pleasant-faced woman about her own age, checks the chart. “He had a good night.” She smiles. “He's been giving us a hard time this morning, trying to talk us into letting him have a cup of coffee. That's a good sign.”

Rose looks down the corridor. Except for an orderly dumping trash in the bin by the visitors' lounge, it is empty. She has hardly been able to sleep. She has to talk to someone, someone with experience in this kind of thing. “Last night,” she begins, “when I saw him, he said he wasn't afraid of dying. He said something about death being ‘the next big adventure.' ” She pauses, searching for the words that will convey her fears. “Is that normal? Does it . . . Does it mean he thinks he's going to die?” She has read somewhere that a person's will to live is a decisive factor in recovery. She needs for Ned to have this will. To not give up.

“Mrs. Nelson.” The nurse smiles; her voice is reassuring. “You'd be surprised at the things we hear. When your husband came in yesterday, he was very calm, very matter-of-fact, in spite of the fact that he had had a heart attack. That's not unusual. That's denial. We often see it when a patient isn't ready to accept the significance of what has happened. When they don't get it that they've had a heart attack. The truth of it is that when someone says he's ready to accept death, it's usually because he doesn't really believe he's going to die.”

Denial. Denial she can handle. It's losing Ned that she can't bear to think of. “So he's going to be all right?”

“His signs are good. The enzyme test results were what we like to see. I'd say this episode was a warning. Dr. Cassidy is the cardiologist. He'll be talking to you about diet, exercise, lifestyle changes your husband can make to reduce the chances of this happening again.” She reaches over and pats Rose's hand. “Why don't you go on in and see him now? He's been asking if you're here yet.”

“Hey, Rosie,” he says when she enters his room. He looks good, not at all as if he's had a heart attack.

“Hi, Ned.” He's wearing one of those dreadful gowns that tie in back. She makes a note to bring him pajamas. Unaccountably shy, she looks around for a place to put her purse and the things she has brought for him. There are no chairs. They discourage visitors staying.

She leans over to kiss his cheek, brushing her lips against his whiskers. “You need a shave,” she says. She looks around. There is no bathroom in the room, just a bedside commode. She averts her eyes, embarrassed, and occupies herself by smoothing the sheet. Already she is growing accustomed to the sound of the monitor, reassured by its steady beat.

“The Sox won last night,” she says. “I brought you the paper.”

“Did ya get the score?”

She concentrates on getting it right. “Five to four. Eleven innings.” She flutters around the room, looking for something to occupy her hands.

“Who pitched?”

“Clements,” she says, pleased with herself that she remembers.

She straightens out the blanket, reaches behind his head, adjusts the pillow.

“For God's sake, Rosie. Stop fussing.”

She pulls her hand back, hurt. She's helpless here. It frightens her, him lying there hitched up to machines.

“Rosie,” he says. He averts his eyes, and she wonders what's coming. She doesn't think she can stand it if he starts up again with that foolishness about “the next great adventure.” She thought when Todd died she had lost everything, but now she knows there is always something more to lose.

“The pickup. It's over at Trudy's.”

She cuts in before he can continue. She doesn't need to hear about Trudy. “I know. I picked it up last night.”

“You did?”

“Yes. Opal dropped me off there.”

“You drove it home?”

“Yes.”

“By yourself?”

“Of course, by myself,” she says, irritated.

He grins. “If I'd known this it what is would take to get you driving again, I'd have had a heart attack years ago.”

“Don't you even joke about such a thing.”
Once
is not “driving again.”
Once
was necessity.
Once
was removing his truck from in front of Trudy's house.

“Mrs. Nelson?” The nurse beckons to her. “We like to keep the visits under fifteen minutes the first day. Why don't you go down to the cafeteria, get yourself some coffee. Have you had breakfast?”

Who can eat? She shakes her head.

“The food's not bad.”

“I'm not hungry.”

“Mrs. Nelson,” the nurse says, guiding her down the corridor. “The best way you can take care of your husband is to take care of yourself. Get rest. Eat well. You'd be surprised at the number of care-givers who get sick because they neglect themselves. Ned will need you to be strong.”

Caregiver. The woman makes it sound like Ned is going to be spending the rest of his life in a wheelchair.

In the cafeteria she takes a tray and slides it along the counter. A short-order cook stands ready to take her order. “A bagel,” she finally decides.

“Toasted or grilled.”

“Toasted.” Less fat. Already she is beginning to think this way.

When she returns to the unit, Dr. Cassidy is waiting for her. He's dressed in a plaid shirt and a pair of chinos. You wouldn't take him to be a doctor at all. She wishes he wore a white coat, something that would inspire confidence.

“Your husband is recovering nicely,” he tells her. “He's filled in some history, but I have a few questions I'd like to ask.”

“All right.”

“How has his health been in general?”

“Good. He's hardly ever sick. I can't remember the last time he's seen a doctor.”

“What about annual checkups? Has he had one recently?”

She thinks a moment. “Five years ago. When we changed insurance companies.”

Insurance.
Lord knows what this is going to cost. Are they covered? In the past, Ned tried to go over this kind of thing, but her ears were deaf. After Todd died he wanted to have their wills drawn up, but she refused. She has no idea about their finances or what kind of coverage they have. She hopes it is enough and then is ashamed to be thinking about money.

The doctor is asking her something.

“I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?”

“Has Ned had any complaints lately?”

“Sometimes he has indigestion. A few headaches. Nothing else. He'd take a few Tums. Some Tylenol. Or Extra Strength Excedrin.”

“How about his emotional health? Would you say your husband was worried? Is he an angry person?”

“No.”
Anger.
If anger caused a heart attack, she would be the one lying on that bed with tubes stuck in her arms and taped up her nostrils, not Ned.

Back when they were first married, Ned's anger used to worry her. She believed he had a real capacity for violence and that if anyone harmed her or Todd, he would seek retribution. After the accident, she found this thought comforting. Any day she expected to hear that Jimmy Sommers had been beaten up, both legs broken, ribs caved in, face bloodied, and she took deep satisfaction in imagining this. Sometimes she feared—hoped?—that Ned would do worse than break bones. Now she wonders how she could have so misread him. Or, more likely, how he could have so changed. She knows for sure that she is the one, not Ned, who holds the truest capacity for retribution.

Last year, she was driving by the garage and saw Ned with his torso half hidden beneath the hood of Jimmy's new pickup. Jimmy was standing there laughing about something, and his wife sat perched in the front seat. Ned was actually
helping
his son's killer while the man's wife looked on and drank a Coke. The sight sucked her lungs dry. How could Ned allow the boy anywhere near the station, never mind work on his truck? How could he? Later they had had a terrible fight about it.

You have to learn to forgive and move on, he told her. As if such a thing were possible. As if some things
can
be forgiven.

“No,” she tells the doctor. “Ned isn't an angry man.”

He finishes up with his questions.

“When can he come home?” Rose asks.

“We'd like to keep him here for another day or two. As soon as possible we'll be get him out of CCU, move him over to the West Wing.”

“What about when he gets home? Can he go back to work?”

“That will depend, of course, on him. On how he progresses. My best guess right now is that he'll be able to start back part-time in four or five weeks. No heavy lifting. Nothing stressful.”

“What's to prevent him from having another attack?”

“Prevention is the best way to prevent,” the doctor says, smiling at his joke. “Low-fat, low-sodium diet, lots of fruits and vegetables. No smoking.”

“Ned doesn't smoke.”

He went right on, ignoring the interruption. “Avoid alcohol. Get regular exercise. He can start by walking a block a day. Not into the wind or uphill. Eventually work up to forty minutes a day.”

“I should write this down,” Rose says.

“We'll go over this before he's discharged. You'll be meeting with the team—myself, the therapist, a nutritionist—to go over everything. What I want you to keep in mind is that it's important you don't treat him like an invalid. He can live a full life. In every way,” he adds, giving her a meaningful look.

She stares at him blankly.

“A lot of people worry about sex after an attack. There's absolutely no reason that he can't return to a normal sex life.”

That
is the farthest thing from her mind. What would he think if he knew she and Ned haven't had sex in five years?

She doesn't care about sex. All she wants is Ned back. Whole. She wants to be given a second chance.