The Deadly Neighbors (The Zoe Hayes Mysteries) (42 page)

S
OMETIME LATER,
I
WOKE
up to see Nick sitting on the side of the bed, watching me.

“Hi.” Half his face smiled. But he was hiding something, trying to act as if nothing were wrong.

“Hi.” I rearranged myself, accepting his perfunctory kiss. On the forehead.

“So? How are you feeling?”

I shrugged. How did he think I was feeling? I’d been in my damned bed for weeks, faced another two and a half months there. I was lonely and contracting and missing my fiance, who probably wanted to leave me. I was miserable. “Fine. You?”

“Tired. Up to my eyes at work.”

Of course. I knew that.

“I’ve got some stuff to do and I need to catch some sleep. But you said you wanted to talk. What’s up?”

Go ahead, I told myself. That’s your cue. “What do you have to do?”

His eyes shifted. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

No. I was just being a coward. “No. I want to talk about us.” There. I’d started.

“Us?” He looked blank. “What about us?”

I watched him. “Exactly. What about us?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t understand. Can you be more specific?”

Words weren’t coming as I’d planned them. And Nick wasn’t making it easy. Go on, I scolded myself. Talk. “You seem, I don’t know. Far away. Like you’re hiding something.”

“You think I’m hiding something.”

“Are you?”

He took my hand, played absently with my fingers. “I might as well tell you. Yes. I’ve been hiding something. But I guess secrecy isn’t good for either one of us. I guess it’s gone on long enough.”

Oh, God. I’d thought I’d been prepared, that I could take the truth, but I was wrong. My heart clogged my throat. The blood drained from my brain. I couldn’t speak.

“I have a secret. I thought it was best not to tell you. Given your situation, you didn’t need more stress. But maybe I was wrong. I mean, you have a right to know.”

So? What the hell was the secret? A woman? Had to be. What else would he need to hide from me? I wondered how long it had been going on. If I knew her. If she had children. Molly stuck her head in the doorway, asking if she could come in. I wondered why she was home so early from school. Was she sick? And suddenly, it hit me—oh, poor Molly. She really loved Nick. She’d be heartbroken to find out the news.

I tried to look at him but couldn’t. Didn’t dare. I’d fall apart. I told myself not to cry in front of him. Not to let him know how much I needed him, how I couldn’t imagine life without him. A contraction strangled my abdomen. I felt drained, as if my head would fly away.

Molly came in and sat on the bed, interrupting us. The three of us sat there like a family. Like old times. I wanted to ask Molly why she was home so early, if she was okay, but I still didn’t dare try to talk. My voice would be a sobbing pitiful wail. Besides, Molly was telling me about a surprise for me, probably something she’d made in art class.

“But first, you have to close your eyes.” She waited, watching me. “Close them.”

I obeyed. To make sure I wouldn’t peek, she climbed up beside me and covered my eyelids with her hands. Apparently, she didn’t notice the tears that leaked out; at least she didn’t comment.

“Now, count to ten. No peeking.”

I lay there, stifling sobs, my heart not just broken, but torn to shreds, counting slowly along with Molly. “One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three…”

It occurred to me that, at ten, Nick would be gone. Or worse, he wouldn’t be. He’d be waiting to finish our conversation. What would happen afterward? Would he pack up and move out today? Could our relationship end so quickly?

“Nine Mississippi, ten Mississippi.” Molly removed her hands. “Open your eyes, Mom.”

Go ahead, I told myself. Make a big deal over her project, whatever it is.

“Zoe?” Nick’s voice was gentle. “Open your eyes.”

Okay. Might as well. I took a deep breath and braved it. I opened them.

And the room exploded.

“S
URPRISE!”

A chorus of shouts, my bedroom erupted in noise and color. Balloons, words, faces. Right away, I saw Susan in a crowd. I blinked. Then I saw my father, grinning at me. Then Karen and Sandie. Liz, Ileana and Davinder. My college roommates, Helene and Leslie were there. And, oh my God—my oldest friend, Juree—she’d moved to San Diego, and I hadn’t seen her in years. There was a stack of gifts…And a shiny blue pram near the closet. A wooden high chair by the bathroom door.

“It’s your baby shower, Mom!” Molly beamed. “Nick and I kept the secret.”

“You did a great job, Molly.” Nick half-smiled, kissed her curls. “But your mom’s sharp. She suspected something.”

“Did you, Mom?”

Nick took my hand. “I was afraid you’d figure it out. I kept avoiding you so I wouldn’t let anything on. Susan would have killed me if I let the secret slip.”

The secret? The baby shower? That was his secret? Thank you, God, I thought, and I grabbed some tissues to soak up the latest flood of tears washing my cheeks.

“It wasn’t easy, hiding it from you. You always know when something’s up.” Nick leaned over and kissed me. On the lips.

“Hey, you two—cool it,” Sandie interrupted. “This isn’t that kind of party.”

More voices. From all sides. “Zoe, were you surprised?”

“How are you feeling? Are the contractions any better?”

“You look great; bed rest must agree with you.”

“When’s your due date? How long do you have to lie here?”

Suddenly, while I’d counted to ten, my bedroom had been converted into a cozy cafe, complete with cloth-covered tables, flowers and a catered lunch. Friends chattered all around me, eating and laughing. I was surrounded by beautiful women, a golden child, a surprising man. The party went on, but I didn’t talk for a while. My throat felt swollen, choked up. But this time, it was okay; I was choking on humility. And a mouthful of sheer joy.

L
ATER, AFTER MY FRIENDS
had gone, after the caterer had cleaned up, I stared at the stack of gifts. The pram and the high chair, towels and blankets, an oversized bear, tiny playsuits with snaps at the bottom, a unicorn mobile to hang above the crib, a silver spoon, a huge carton filled with disposable diapers. The room still glowed with the warmth of friendship, and I basked listening to the echoes of loving voices.

Surveying the gifts, I felt the clear presence of the small being in my body. Who was it? I tried to imagine the baby riding in the shiny buggy, smearing cereal on the new high chair. Who would wear those tiny garments; whose diapers were those? The person who owned them was already here with me, hidden from view. The evidence was all around me, possessions waiting to be claimed. I found myself talking to the baby now. Listing the gifts, naming the givers. Saying something about each one out loud. I realized, as I talked, that lying in bed for the next ten weeks, I shouldn’t feel lonely. After all, I wouldn’t be alone.

From down the hall I heard Nick and Molly laughing. A day ago, I’d have found fault with that. I’d have felt left out, abandoned. Now I knew better. My doubts about Nick had been due to his secrecy about the shower. Nothing else. As a contraction began, I lay back against the down pillows, minimizing it through self-hypnosis, counting my blessings along with my breaths.

When it passed, with another ten minutes or so until the next one, I gazed out the window at the fading sun. The days were getting shorter. Thanksgiving was almost here. A man in leather crossed the street, walking a pony-sized dog. A mastiff? My pulse quickened reflexively. Cut it out, I told myself. It’s nothing. A man and his pet. Not every dog was trained to fight. But my pulse wasn’t convinced; it sped, only too aware that even if Lettie’s operation had been shut down, others hadn’t. Somewhere not far from us, dogs were being forced to rip each other apart. I closed my eyes, dismissed images of sharp teeth chomping at my feet.

Stop, I told myself. I looked away from the man and his dog, making myself focus on the teddy bear, on memories of my day. I drifted, dozing, into a dream of a sunny morning. My mother and I were at a playground; she was pushing me on a swing. Then we were swinging together, side by side, flying back and forth, and when I looked I saw her smiling, a riot of loose dark hair bursting free, framing her face. The swing shook suddenly, and my mother fell away.

Replaced by Molly. She’d jumped onto the bed and was telling me something with great urgency. “So? Can we? Please?”

Apparently, I’d missed most of her question.

Nick came in, scowling. “Molly, I told you not to wake your mom up.”

“But it’s important—Davinder’s going to give them all away.”

“Give what away?”

Molly rolled her eyes, as if the answer were obvious. “The puppies.”

Puppies? What? I closed my eyes, saw Lettie’s little Rottweilers tearing the skin off a hanging rabbit.

“I just told you. Davinder and Hari’s corgi, Lucy? She had puppies, Mom. Four of them. And Davinder said we could have first pick. Nick says it’s okay with him if it’s okay with you. Please, Mom. Can we get one? Please?”

Molly’s eyes begged, puppy-like. She folded her hands as if in prayer. Nick shrugged, signaling that the decision was up to me. The air in the room tightened with tension, ready to snap at the next sound. Four eyes watched me, waiting for a response.

What the hell, I thought. It was only a puppy. How bad could it be?

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

THE DEADLY NEIGHBORS.

Copyright © 2007 by Merry Jones. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address Merry Jones at merryjones.com

First Edition: December 2007