Only Ever You (3 page)

chapter four

SEPTEMBER 2013—ONE MONTH

In the dim light of early morning, the high-pitched voice woke Jill before the blare of the alarm. “Mommy? Is it morning now?” A stage whisper. Jill cracked open an eye. Sophia stood in the doorway, a ghostly figure in a thin cotton nightgown. She’d been up once already, appearing at three a.m., tapping Jill’s face and demanding to sleep with her. Jill glanced blearily at the clock; they’d made it almost to six thirty.

“Yes, it’s morning now.” She opened her arms and Sophia tiptoed to her, dragging Blinky, her well-loved stuffed dog, by one paw. Jill turned off the alarm before it blared and reached out a hand across the wide expanse of their king-size bed to touch David’s bare shoulder. “Wakey wakey.” He muttered something in response that got lost in his pillow, spread across his half of the bed like a large jungle cat, lying facedown with his arms curled above him. He wasn’t a morning person.

Jill wrapped her daughter in a hug that pulled her onto the bed. This was real, here and now, not the recurring, anxiety-filled dream she’d woken from—an endless journey down a narrow, dimly lit hall, heart pounding, a familiar feeling of dread as she approached a closed door at the end. She always woke before opening the door; this time Sophia had woken her before she reached it.

Jill cuddled with her, breathing in the sweet, slightly milky little-girl aroma that was uniquely her daughter’s. In the four months since she’d graduated from the crib, they’d been dealing with Sophia leaving her bed and coming into their room and their bed almost every night. This annoyed David, who’d advocated for the move to the big-girl bed, but not so she could keep them awake with her wiggling. He’d let her stay and snuggle for a few minutes before hauling her, tearfully protesting, back to her own room. While Jill agreed with him that Sophia needed to learn to sleep in her own bed, a part of her cherished the feel of that warm little body snuggled against hers. She held her close, feeling the anxiety slip away, just a little. “Who’s the one and only ever Sophia?”

Sophia giggled. “I am!”

“You are!” Jill peppered her cheeks with kisses and then gave her a loud smooch on her tummy. It was a familiar ritual, a line from Sophia’s favorite children’s book,
On the Night You Were Born,
and mother laughed along with daughter.

“No kisses for me?” David smiled sleepily at them. Sophia clambered out of her mother’s arms and onto her father’s back, thumping him with little fists.

“Daddy, get up!”

David groaned, reaching behind him to fend her off, which made Jill laugh. She leaned over to give him a quick kiss on the lips and pulled Sophia into her arms. “I’ll get breakfast started.”

Downstairs, Jill switched on the coffee machine and poured her daughter a bowl of cereal, watching her eat it at the kitchen island, little knees tucked under her on the seat of the bar-height stool. Sophia had Blinky beside her and carried on an animated conversation with him while eating. She offered spoonfuls of soggy Cheerios to her toy, dribbling milk across the granite counter.

Jill let the chatter wash over her, yawning and staring blindly out the window above the sink while she reviewed the day ahead. Five appointments including an early photo shoot at an elementary school, but before that she had to get Sophia dressed and ready for David to drop off at preschool, then get ready herself before making the twenty-five minute drive into the city to the studio. She poured a mug of coffee and yawned again as she double-checked her calendar on her laptop. It was a wonder she remembered anything; sleep deprivation was becoming a permanent state. She felt on edge and David was already stressed, working long hours in the struggle to make partner at Adams Kendrick. If they could only get Sophia to sleep through the night in her own bed. And if only Jill could stop having that recurring dream. It woke her almost as often as Sophia.

“Have you seen my red tie?” David called down the stairs, snapping Jill out of her fugue. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Which one?” Yelling to be heard. David only owned at least eight red ties and they were always hanging in the same place in the closet.

“Mommy, no shouting,” Sophia admonished, lifting her spoon from her Cheerios and waving it around.

David called, “The one with the little yellow shields.”

“It should be on your tie rack,” Jill called back, and then to Sophia, “Careful, baby, don’t spill the milk.”

“I’m not a baby.”

“I know,” Jill said. “You’re a big girl.”

There was a pause and then David’s voice came again: “I checked, I can’t find it. Did it go to the dry cleaner?”

“Hold on,” Jill called. “I’ll be right up.” She wiped milk off the counter. “Are you done eating?”

Sophia tipped the cereal bowl to show her that it was empty.

“Good. Why don’t you and Blinky go play in the family room while I help Daddy find his tie.”

“Blinky doesn’t want to play. Blinky wants more cereal.”

“Maybe later,” Jill said, taking the bowl from her and sticking it in the dishwasher. “Go play now. You can watch
Sesame Street
.” She watched Sophia’s little eyebrows dip down as a range of emotions played across the small face. She could see the word “no” forming like a storm cloud, but in the end the promise of TV outweighed the need to assert her independence.

“You can come, too, Blinky.” She clutched her dog and wiggled onto her stomach to slide off the stool. Jill watched, ready to catch her if she fell, biting her lip to keep from offering unwanted assistance. She followed her into the family room and made sure Sophia was safely on the sofa with the TV switched on before she hurried upstairs.

David stood in front of the large mirror in the master bath buttoning a starched white dress shirt.

“Are you sure you checked the rack?” Jill headed into their walk-in closet.

“Of course.” David came in behind her and reached for a pair of charcoal-gray trousers.

His suits were always conservative, the ties only slightly less so. She flicked through the rainbow of silk, rapidly eliminating most of the red ones.

“Here it is.” She found the tie with the golden shields and held it out to him.

He had the grace to look sheepish. “Where was it?”

“Underneath the blue with red stripes and next to the yellow with blue flecks.”

“I checked it twice!”

She refrained from saying “I told you so,” watching as he slung the tie around his neck and rapidly tied it, muttering when he realized it fell too short.

Jill said, “Here, let me.”

He turned from the mirror and she undid the knot, pulled the tie free and started again, deftly re-knotting it.

“You’re a woman of many talents.” David wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her to him.

She relaxed in his arms even as she protested, “We don’t have time.”

“There’s always a few minutes,” he murmured, turning her face up to kiss her. There was a distinct if dull crash from downstairs.

She jerked away. “What was that? I’ve got to check on Sophie.”

David drew her back. “She probably knocked over a toy.” He kissed her lips, moved to her neck.

“Or she’s hurt herself.” Jill broke free and went to the door. “Sophie? Sophia, are you okay?” She could hear the TV, but no little voice answered her calls. “I’ve got to check on her.”

David sighed. “She’s fine, Jill. If she wasn’t you’d hear her crying.” She couldn’t help the flinch, just a slight, involuntary reaction, but he saw it all the same. A stricken look crossed his face. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know.”
Don’t think about it, don’t think about him, not this morning.
She couldn’t meet David’s eyes. “I have to check on Sophie.”

The anxiety was always there, flowing like an underground river through all her interactions with their child. It frustrated David; she knew he didn’t understand it. For him what had happened, happened—the past could not effect the present. David kept all his feelings carefully compartmentalized, those he deemed “pointless” registered and put away. Past tense. For Jill the grief was still active, crouching at the edges of her life, prone to surprise attacks that left her as emotionally raw as if it had all happened yesterday.

Almost worse, though, was the legacy of everything they’d been through: Fear. “You can’t protect her from everything,” David had said more than once, watching her struggle to keep Sophia from any harm.

She ran down the stairs and through the kitchen into the family room. Sophia sat snuggled up on the couch with Blinky, staring mesmerized at the TV. “What was that noise, honey?”

Sophia shifted her gaze reluctantly from the TV to her mother’s face, eyes glassy, looking like some underage drug addict.

“What was that noise?” Jill repeated, looking around the room. “It sounded like something fell over.” The room looked as it usually did, floor covered in a chaotic jumble of Sophia’s toys. Nothing seemed obviously out of place. It could have been one of her wooden blocks falling off something. Jill automatically stooped down to pick them up and toss them back in their bin. “Hey, you know you’re supposed to pick up the toys when you’re done playing.” They were scattered all over the carpet.

Sophia moved her stuffed dog’s head close to her ear, pretending to listen. “Blinky says someone was at the window.”

“What? Where?” Jill immediately stood up and peered through the glass, but there was too little light to see more than outlines and shadows. She turned back, but now with that prickly sensation of being watched. “Are you pretending, Sophie? Or was someone really there?”

“Blinky saw her.”

“Her?” A quick look back out the window, but peering through the twilight produced nothing but patio and the lawn behind it. Definitely Sophia’s imagination, but Jill suddenly felt uncomfortable leaving her downstairs alone. “Let’s go get ready for school.”

“No! More Elmo!” Sophia shifted deeper into the couch.

Jill pulled her up, ignoring her protests, and sent her scrambling upstairs dragging Blinky.

She paused in the hall and then walked over to the French doors that were between the kitchen and the family room. She switched on the outside light and peered outside before cautiously opening the door. The stonework patio and then the empty lawn, silvered with dew, stretched out before her. There was nobody out there. She started to close the door and saw that one of the tall planters flanking it had been knocked on its side, cracking the terra-cotta and spilling dirt and purple mums over the stone.

“What on earth?” Jill knelt and carefully righted it, scooping up dirt and flowers, patting it all back in some sort of order. She stood back up, looking around. What had knocked it over? Or who? There was no wind blowing. Could Sophia really have seen someone outside? No, it must have been the next-door neighbors’ golden retriever again. The stupid dog was always loose, though his owners claimed they’d installed an invisible fence. Another argument against getting a dog. Usually he wreaked even more havoc, tearing through the flower beds, but those didn’t look disturbed.

Puzzled, she walked back inside. David stood in the kitchen texting with one hand while he attempted to pour coffee into a silver travel mug with the other. He startled when she took the coffeepot out of his hand, shoving the phone into his front pocket. “I thought you’d gone upstairs—where’s Sophia?”

She screwed the lid on the mug. “She’s getting dressed.”

“Is she okay?”

“Fine.”

“I knew it.” He hefted his briefcase off the floor and onto a barstool. “You worry too much.”

“She says she saw someone outside.”

“Really?” He sorted through papers, clearly only half-listening. “Would you mind dropping off Sophia this morning? Andrew’s called an early meeting.”

“This early?” Andrew Graham was David’s mentor at Adams Kendrick, but he was married with kids, too. He didn’t usually schedule quite this early. Was this the future if David made partner?

His phone started ringing, an insistent buzzing sound. He pulled it out and glanced at the number, but instead of answering slid the phone back in his pocket.

“Aren’t you going to answer?”

He shook his head. “It’s just Andrew again.”

“Don’t you want to know why he’s calling?”

“Look, can you drop Sophia off or not?” David snapped.

“Okay, sure.” Jill held up her hands. “Don’t bite my head off.” The phone stopped and there was silence for a long minute.

“Sorry.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just stressed about this case.” His phone started buzzing once more.

“I guess you’re not the only one.” She kept her voice cool.

David yanked the iPhone out of his pocket and switched it off. The buzzing abruptly stopped. He gave her a kiss and a rueful smile. “Forgive me, Jilly?” He was the only one who called her that; she softened a little, straightening his hair with her hand. He smiled, caught her hand and kissed it. “Thanks for doing the drop-off.”

“I’ll have to hurry—I’ve got an early shoot.” She glanced toward the family room. “That stupid dog next door knocked the planter over and Sophia must have seen his owner coming to retrieve him. I didn’t hear any barking, though, did you?”

“Barking? No.” David shouldered into his coat.

“I’m really tempted to call over there and complain—that dog is a menace; do you think I should?”

“If you think it would do any good.” He wasn’t really listening, already lost to work as he grabbed his briefcase and headed for the garage. She picked up the coffee he’d forgotten, following after him as he slid behind the wheel of the beloved black BMW that he’d purchased after driving Andrew’s virtually identical model.

“Thanks,” he said as she handed him the mug, leaning out for a distracted kiss before backing down the driveway. Jill walked to the end of the garage and watched as he quick-reversed onto the cul-de-sac, tires squealing. He waved once before speeding away.

Their street was eerily still. Jill saw no sign of movement in the windows of the other large houses. No sign of the roaming golden retriever either. It was so quiet she could hear the hum of a bumblebee hovering over a rosebush near the end of the driveway.