The Perfect Life (21 page)

As if in answer to his silent question, he thought of Nicole. He remembered the many times she'd come into his office to discuss financial matters at In Step and how easily their conversations had strayed to other things. She'd seemed to take a real interest in everything at the foundation, and he'd appreciated that about her. He'd liked bouncing ideas off of her. She'd been easy to talk to.

Perhaps too easy.

He'd been adamant in declaring himself innocent. But was he?

Twenty-seven

I AWOKE WELL BEFORE DAWN, REMNANTS OF A DREAM
lingering at the edge of consciousness. An anxious dream. Even in sleep I couldn't escape my worries.

I had to find work. I had to bring in some income before we drained our savings completely. Brad wouldn't be able to work. Not for weeks. It was up to me.

The house was dark and silent as I made my way down the stairs and into the den. The computer awakened with a touch of the mouse. I sank onto the desk chair and opened the word-processing program to a new document. Trouble was I didn't know what to put on that blank page. I didn't know the first thing about creating a résumé.

You're hopeless
.

I didn't have to be hopeless.

Who'd want to hire you?

I wasn't stupid. I was a fast typist. I understood computers and the Internet. I knew how to do simple bookkeeping. I was good at planning and organizing things. I knew how to delegate too. I used to help Brad all the time with In Step.

Why did I stop?

That was a dumb question. I hadn't had much choice, not once the foundation grew too large to stay in our home. I had two young daughters to care for and this house and—

I shook my head. I needed to concentrate on writing a résumé. The past was the past and couldn't be undone. Right now I needed to find a job. Any job. I opened the Web browser and googled “résumé writing.” In one second, a long list of links appeared. I clicked on the first one and began to read.

I was still at the computer, wearing my silk pajamas and robe, when the doorbell rang. I expected to see darkness beyond the den's window when I looked up, but the day had arrived while I worked on my résumé. The results weren't great but had improved some.

I glanced at the clock, then got up and walked to the window, moving aside the blinds enough to see a car in the driveway. Emma's car. Tension spread across my shoulders and along my spine. She'd been upset with me when I called her last night, angry that I hadn't let her know sooner about her dad's accident. I'd told her to come by today, but I hadn't meant before eight o'clock in the morning.

I heard her voice in the hallway. Either she'd used her key to let herself in or Brad had opened the door for her. I hoped it was the former. If the latter, Emma would have one more reason to be angry with me.

I drew a deep breath as I walked toward the door. By the time I was out of the den, Emma was in the kitchen with Brad.

“Mom didn't even call me until they were ready to release you,” she said after kissing him on the cheek. As she straightened, she noticed me, and her eyes narrowed.

“Morning, Emma.” I tried to sound more cheerful than I felt. “I didn't expect you to come over this early. I haven't made coffee yet.”

She looked at her dad again. “I take it you haven't had breakfast either.”

“No, but I—”

“I'll fix you something right now. How do waffles sound? Or I could scramble some eggs.” She opened a nearby cupboard. “Or there's plenty breakfast cereal if that's what you want.”

“I'd better stick with lighter fare. I'll be immobile for a while. How about a bowl of Grape-Nuts and a glass of OJ?”

Emma didn't have to ask where anything was. She'd spent most of her growing up years in this house, and I hadn't moved anything since she left home.

After the coffee was brewing, I excused myself and went upstairs to get dressed. I wasn't alone more than five minutes before there was a knock on the bedroom door.

“Come in.”

Emma opened the door. Her gaze traveled around her old room. “You're still staying in here?”

“Yes.”

“I thought maybe you'd've had second thoughts by now.” She stepped in and closed the door behind her.

My heart sank. I wasn't up to another altercation. “Did you need something?”

She drew a breath and released it before answering. “I wondered what I can do to help take care of Dad over the next few weeks.”

That wasn't the answer I expected.

“Unless the baby decides to come early, there's no reason why I couldn't come over for a while every day. Or do your grocery shopping or whatever other errands you might need.”

I weighed her offer a few moments, wondering if I should accept. We hadn't been on the best of terms. Would this make things worse? Maybe, but I didn't see many other choices.

“Actually, I
could
use your help.” I began brushing my hair. “I have to find a job to tide us over until your father is back on his feet. There's no telling what sort of work I'll find to do or what hours I might have to work.”

“Wow. I never imagined this would happen.” Emma sat on the foot of the bed. “Are your finances that bad? I always thought you two were pretty set after Dad sold his company.”

“Most of that went into In Step. But we have a little set aside.”

“Dad must feel awful. I mean, you haven't worked outside the home since you two got married. That's got to wound his pride.”

I didn't know if Brad would feel awful about it or not since we hadn't discussed it yet. But I knew what I felt—scared. I'd been afraid for weeks. Afraid about money. Afraid about the future. Afraid about the state of my marriage. Afraid that others—including my youngest daughter—would see how afraid I was.

“Jason said he'll take care of the yard work for Dad, so the two of you don't need to worry about that.”

Unwelcome tears sprang to my eyes. My words came out gruff and not much above a whisper. “Tell him ‘thank-you' for me.” I was grateful, but I didn't sound like it.

“Mom?”

I set the hairbrush on the dresser as I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. I didn't want to cry again. I was tired of feeling out of control. I was tired of feeling angry one minute and depressed the next.

Emma rose from the bed, and her voice softened. “I'm sorry for the way I talked to you on Saturday and again last night. I was wrong to say the things I did. Please forgive me.”

My throat tightened again with a fresh surge of emotions, emotions that made me ashamed of myself, emotions that made me feel weak and pitiable. So unlike the person I used to be.

“I'll try to keep my opinions to myself from now on.” She offered a wry smile. “It won't be easy, but I'll try.” She reached for the door. “I'll go see if Dad needs anything else.”

Silence swirled around me as the door closed behind Emma.

Alone. So alone.

I turned to look at my reflection in the mirror and wondered if I looked as different on the outside as I felt on the inside. Would I ever get to be the old me again?

Hayley

IT WAS 11:45 A.M. WHEN SOMEONE RAPPED ON THE DOOR
jamb of Hayley's office, breaking her concentration.

“Hey there, sis.”

Hayley looked up from the open file on her desk. “Emma. What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping we could go to lunch.”

Hayley hadn't spoken to her sister since their fight over the telephone. She wasn't sure she was ready to see Emma yet. “I'm rather busy.”

“Please.”

She rolled her eyes and released a sigh. Sometimes it was easier to give in to Emma than argue with her.“All right, but it'll have to be a quick one.” She opened the bottom drawer of her desk and removed her purse. “We can walk to the place on the corner.”

“That's fine with me.”

They were silent as they rode the elevator to the ground floor. Hayley wondered how long it would be before Emma got to the point of the visit. She was certain it had something to do with their parents.

Once they were outside on the sidewalk, Emma said,“I guess Mom called you about Dad's accident.”They turned west toward the corner bistro.

“Yes. She called me last night from the hospital.”

“Are you going to see him? I know he'd like you to.”

Hayley waited a couple of moments before she answered, “When I can.” She prepared herself for a lecture . . . but it didn't come.

“I was over there this morning to see him. He's pretty banged up and in more pain than he wants to let on.We can all thank God he wasn't hurt worse than he is.”

Hayley made a noncommittal sound, letting her sister know she listened.

They reached the bistro. It was already bustling with lunch-hour customers. They moved through the line with their trays, selecting the à la carte items that appealed to them.Neither tried to continue their conversation until they were seated at a table in the courtyard.

“Hayley, I'm sorry we fought the other night.”

She didn't want to apologize, but there seemed no way to avoid it.“Me too.”

Emma's smile was tinged with sadness. “It's been a rough few weeks for our family.”

“I believe that could be called an understatement.”

“Shall we say grace?”

“Sure.” She bowed her head and spoke a quick prayer, one she'd said a thousand times before.

Emma kept her head bowed a few seconds after Hayley's “amen,” then looked up and smiled again. “Thanks for taking the time for this. I hate it when we argue.”

Hayley loved her sister, but it was true that the two were often like oil and water. They were different in far more ways than they were the same. But bless her, Emma seemed oblivious to it most of the time.

“Mom's going to start job hunting tomorrow.”

Hayley stared at her sister, wide eyed. “Mom's looking for work?”

Emma nodded as she lifted her sandwich from her plate with both hands.

“What on earth will she do? She hasn't had a job since before I was born.”

“Office work of some kind, I guess. I said I'd take care of Dad whenever she's out. At least until the baby comes. By then, Dad ought to be able to manage for himself.”

Hayley turned her gaze away from her sister. At a nearby table, a little girl in a pink dress stood beside her mother, tottering on tiptoes while holding onto her mother's thigh. She jabbered in the language of toddlers, happy to entertain herself with her own nonsensical sounds.

Hayley's heart pinched with a longing so strong, it took her breath away. She'd hoped for a girl. She'd never told anyone that, not even Steve, but she'd wanted a daughter first. Now she lay awake at night, aching for the child she would never name, never know, never kiss. Sometimes the pain was so great she thought she might die from it. People had told her she would have other children. They said it, meaning to be kind, but they didn't understand that this child would still be lost to her.