by Ford, Mia
“I see,” I say.
The idea makes me feel sad. This little girl spends most of her life cooped up in her own home, alone but for the strangers her father hires to look after her. I decide to take her out more often.
“Do you want to do some more work when we get back?” I ask. “You didn’t get to show your dad how you write your name, so we can practice it for tomorrow?”
“Yeah!” Alicia cheers.
The roads aren’t too busy; it’s still early in the morning, and most of the traffic has passed by now. The art store that I usually go to; a tiny, little, locally-owned place that always has amazing supplies, is only three streets away from where we live. The journey isn’t long, either; I lead Alicia down a tiny alley and then we cut through a path, which makes Alicia bounce with excitement as she sees the swings and the other children playing on them.
“Can we come here?” she begs.
“Of course,” I say, pleased at the question; I will talk it over with Seth, but I doubt he’ll have any problems with it. Socializing with other children her age is important for Alicia. “Maybe tomorrow? Or next week?”
“Can we come with Daddy?” Alicia asks hopefully.
I cover up a wince. That means the only day we can go is on Sunday, which is the only day that I have off right now. I don’t mind doing an extra day, but I’m not sure if Seth will be agreeable to spending his only day off at the park with me while we watch his daughter play.
No, it’s more likely Seth will insist that I take the day off, and he’ll take his daughter to the park himself.
“We’ll see,” I say evasively. “We’ll have to ask him.”
Alicia nods and we leave the park. The store we are heading to is only three buildings down from the park, and a bell tingles over the door as we enter.
Alicia looks around the store with very wide eyes, taking in the vast array of paints, pencils and other art supplies. She stays close, though, which I’m happy about; I haven’t spoken to her, yet, about the importance of not running wild in a shop, but it seems she knows enough to stand by my side.
“Can I help you?” a woman at the counter asks politely.
“We’re just looking,” I assure her.
Looking at Alicia’s expression, I want to allow her to explore carefully for a few minutes before we collect our canvas and leave. If Alicia is truly so housebound, then something like this must be fascinating to her.
In the end, we stay in the store for another half hour. We buy three small canvases, and I end up buying Alicia a little packet of pencils, too, which she stared longingly at before looking away. Touched that she didn’t just demand them, perhaps remembering my words about a car being too expensive for me to buy earlier, I buy them for her anyway.
“This is a reward for being so good in the store,” I say with a smile when I present them to her.
There’s a look of amazement on her face, as though she’s surprised that I’d buy her something that she hasn’t asked for. Then we walk home, and she clutches her pencils with the hand that I’m not holding the entire way back.
“Do you want to use paint or your pencils?” I ask.
Alicia looks down at her pencils, unsure.
“Paint,” she decides as we enter the house.
“Go put the sheet down for us, then,” I say.
I had brought over an old sheet that I use to protect the floor the other day, and it’s still here. Knowing what I’m talking about, Alicia runs into the living room, her new pencils clattering in their box. I shake my head with a smile and retreat to the kitchen to clean up.
When I finally get the living room, I see that Alicia has carefully spread out the sheet and placed the canvas directly in the middle. She has also located the paints and brushes that I left here, and she’s arranged them all on the sheet. None of them are open, and she and her doll are sitting side-by-side on the sheet, waiting for me.
I cast the doll a curious look. When I asked Alicia about it, last week, she had told me that its name is Julie, and left it at that. She goes everywhere with it, though I did notice that she left it behind for our trip to the shop. I keep meaning to ask Seth about it; the doll is obviously handmade, and I’m curious as to where it came from.
“Is Julie going to help?” I ask.
“She wants to paint, too,” Alicia explains.
“As long as she’s careful,” I warn. “She doesn’t have a paint shirt, and it’ll be difficult to get paint off her dress.”
I retrieve two paint-covered shirts and drop one on Alicia’s head, making her giggle. It’s much too large for her, since it’s one of my shirts, but it keeps her covered while we paint. I know Seth’s cleaners will probably be able to get the paint stains off, but I prefer not to make them have to do it in the first place.
“Where did you get Julie, Alicia?” I ask as I carefully open the red paint and squeeze a little onto the small palette.
“Mommy made her,” Alicia says brightly.
I pause. Rose Gray, the elusive mother of Alicia. I don’t know much about her; I only know she exists because of the picture in the hall, and I only know her name because Seth mentioned it once. There are no other pictures of her in the house, and I can’t help but be insanely curious about the woman. Who was she and why did she leave?
More importantly, is there a chance she can come back and get her family back?
I can’t ask a five-year-old these questions, though. Putting it out of my mind, I smile at Alicia and give her a paint brush. I will play with Alicia for now.
Later, maybe I’ll finally get the courage to ask Seth about Rose.
* * *
Later that night, I sit at the kitchen table, thinking. Unable to get the thought of Rose Gray out of my mind, I studied the picture in the hall after Alicia went to bed. But there were no clues in the family portrait; her hair is the same blonde that Alicia has inherited, and her smile is open and kind. In the picture, she is beautiful.
Yet Seth never speaks of her and she isn’t around. All that’s left of her is a family picture and a carefully hand-sewn doll. What happened to her?
Seth is famous enough that I think I can just look the answer up. But I don’t want to do that. Even the thought feels invasive. If I want to have any sort of relationship with Seth, then I need to be able to ask him what’s on my mind without going behind his back to find the information without his permission.
So, when I hear Seth coming in, I straighten and rehearse what I’m going to say. I feel inexplicably nervous, as though I’m about to touch on a forbidden subject. Abruptly, I realize that this could be a sensitive subject for Seth and that the only reason I’m considering pressing for answers is because of my own selfishness; if Rose returns, I have no hope of catching Seth.
“Hello,” Seth says with a smile as he comes into the kitchen. “Did you have a good day?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I hope you don’t mind; I took Alicia down to the stores.”
Seth pauses in the act of taking his tie off. “How did she behave?”
“Perfectly well,” I assure him. “We went and bought some canvases because she wanted to try painting on them. I bought her a little packet of pencils as a reward.”
“That’s great,” Seth says, grinning. “I’ve never approved outings with nannies because I was always afraid that she’d disappear.”
“Sorry I didn’t ask first,” I say, wincing. “It occurred to me after we returned that I should have.”
“It doesn’t matter; now I know I can trust Alicia outside the house with you,” Seth says comfortably. “So, you did art all day?”
“Then we read a book and watched some television,” I say with a shrug. “She was going to practice her name again, but she fell asleep early tonight.”
“Obviously she wore herself out,” he laughs.
“Yeah,” I agree. I consider how to bring up what I want to say. “Actually, Alicia told me about her doll today. I feel bad that I took it before, now; she
told me her mother made it?”
Seth’s shoulders tense, and I silently scold myself. Not a good subject, then.
“She did,” Seth said after a long moment. “She made it for Alicia just before she passed away.”
My breath catches. I didn’t expect that, somehow.
“I’m so sorry,” I try, not sure what else to say.
“It was four years ago,” Seth says with a small smile. “I’m not surprised you’re curious about her.”
He sighs and sits at the table before gesturing for me to do the same. I hesitate before taking a seat, surreptitiously doing up the first button of my blouse; tonight is not the night for seduction.
“Rose and I were together for six years; we were married for three of those years,” Seth explains. “She was diagnosed with cancer in her teens, but a combination of chemo and intensive radiation therapy saw the end of it after she had the cancer removed.” He sighs. “Until it returned, several times more aggressive. Rose spent most of our relationship in and out of the hospital. Somewhere along the way, she fell pregnant. We were so excited, but the pregnancy caused more stress on her body, stress that she didn’t cope with very well. After Alicia was born, we tried everything, but she just…faded. She passed away not long after Alicia’s first birthday, when she gave her that doll. She tried so hard to make it to that birthday, and I’m glad that she got her wish, in the end.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat. This is a story I’ve never heard about Seth before. The business tycoon that rocked the nation several years ago with his international clothing brand…but no one ever talks about the pain he carries.
“I’m sorry,” Seth says.
“Don’t apologize,” I say instantly. “I’m sorry for bringing it up.”
Seth smiles tiredly. “Some days are still a little hard for me. I loved her very much, and losing her was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through. Part of me still loves her.”
It feels like the rug is being pulled from underneath my feet. From afar, I had always seen Seth as a very good-looking bachelor, one that I always wanted to get to know intimately. In the last week, however, I’ve seen different sides of him. Rather than putting me off, since my fantasy isn’t quite the same as the real man, it’s just made me respect him even more. Sometimes, when I think about him and look at him, I feel the stirrings of something deeper, feelings that I don’t think I’m ready to feel just yet.
All this time, however, I’ve been chasing a man who is mourning his wife, even after four years. I didn’t know, but I still feel foolish.
“Thank you for telling me,” I say, standing, and trying to smile. “I know to be more careful about what I say in front of Alicia, now.”
“Thanks,” Seth says, his shoulders slumping. “Don’t forget tomorrow is Sunday.”
“What?” I look at the calendar and can’t help but laugh. I’ve completely lost track of the days. “Thanks for reminding me; I think I would have shown up, anyway.”
Seth laughs, the sound breaking the serious air around us.
“I’ll see you on Monday,” he says.
I bid him farewell and leave the house. The solar lights in the garden faintly illuminate my path, but I barely pay attention to where I’m walking, staring unseeingly ahead instead.
I have a lot of thinking to do, it seems.
Chapter Eleven
Zoe
“He’s what?”
From my couch, Katherine Hale stares at me, her hand pausing as she raises a strawberry to her mouth. Then she sits up and shakes her head in disbelief.
“No way,” she says. “All the things I thought would happen, and he ends up just being a nice guy who’s still pining for his wife, who passed away?”
“Why, what did you think was going to happen?” I ask, confused.
“A number of things,” Katherine says, holding up her hand and ticking her fingers off. “Either you would throw yourself at him at the wrong time and get yourself fired, or you would confess and be turned down, or you would realize that he’s not as great as you thought and decide not to do anything, or he would turn out to be a total jerk.”
I stare at her. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
“You’re my best friend,” Katherine says with a shrug, settling back on the couch again. “I wanted to be prepared.”
I smile and shake my head. Katherine and I met at Boston College; while I was majoring in art, she was doing a sociology major. We met by chance at the library, and we spent most of the hour we had free chatting.
She’s not my only friend, but she is the closest friend I have. I tell her everything about what is happening in my life. She’s the one that regularly pulls me out of my funks when I can’t figure out what to paint. She also has an obsession with theater, and has a tendency to drag me to every play that she wants to watch.
“Thanks, I guess,” I say, rolling my eyes.
Katherine laughs. After a moment, however, she loses her smile and looks at me seriously, the effect somewhat ruined by the fact that she is peering at me from over the arm of the couch.
“So, now what?” she asks.
I grimace. “What else am I meant to do? He still loves his wife, and he’s still mourning her death. I can’t seduce him.”
Katherine blinks, a thoughtful look on her face. “You’ve been spending a lot of time over there, lately. What do you think about Seth now?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused by the question.
“Well, before, you just had an idea of him, right?” Katherine muses. “But now you actually know him. You still want him, right? So, why?”
I frown, considering the question.
“I guess… He’s really down-to-earth, you know?” I say slowly. “Like, he’s a billionaire, but he works really hard. He loves Alicia to pieces, and he tries his best.” I snort. “He’s a little sarcastic, too, and he’s really open to new ideas.”
Katherine is staring at me. Feeling a little self-conscious, I hunch my shoulders.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” Katherine says, an odd look on her face. “Anyway, maybe you should just concentrate on getting to know him better?”
“That’s what I thought,” I say. “I know a little about him, but I think we can actually be friends.”
“Friends,” Katherine murmurs, and then she smiles at me, a knowing edge to it. “Sounds like a plan to me!”
I shoot her a look and shake my head. Sometimes, she really is too weird.
* * *
Monday night, I yawn as I flick the switch on the kettle. The day had been productive, but tiring; in an effort to make learning fun for Alicia, I drew a hopscotch grid on the ground on the porch with a piece of chalk we found in a drawer. We spent the entire day playing, until we came in to have dinner.
Alicia, of course, is asleep, even if it is only seven thirty. I don’t want to sit down and sleep, as that won’t look professional when Seth comes in. As such, I’m making myself a cup of coffee – or two – so that I can stay awake just a little longer.
After I’ve made my cup, I run a sink of water, mindful of the dishes from dinner. While I scrub the pot I used, I hum to myself a little, allowing my mind to wander.
Then, out of nowhere, a hand lands on my shoulder.
I almost hit the roof, dropping the plate with a clatter in the sink. Suds go everywhere, soaking the front of my shirt.
“I’m sorry!”
I swing around to see Seth behind me, his hands in the air and a sheepish look on his face.
“Seth!” I gasp, trying to calm my racing heart. “You’re home early!”
“Yeah,” Seth says with a smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you; I thought you must have heard me come in.”
“No, sorry,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “Sorry, Alicia and I played hopscotch all day, and I’m a little tired.” I laugh. “I should have been paying attention.”
“No, I should have called from th
e door,” Seth says. He grins. “You jumped pretty high, there.”
“Oh, ha, ha,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “Damn, now I’m soaking wet. Do you mind if I take it off? I have a tank top underneath.”
“Go ahead, you don’t need my permission,” he says, amused.
A few nights ago, I wouldn’t have asked for permission, I would have just done it in the hopes of seducing Seth. Now, though, with my new resolve to get to know Seth and then see if maybe we have a chance in the future, I find myself a little self-conscious.
Still, I’m wet and cold, so I turn around, noticing Seth turning his back as well, and start to tug my outer shirt over my head.
Unfortunately, I’m so conscious of Seth being nearby that I fumble, and my arm gets caught. Cursing my clumsiness, I try and pull it free, but instead, I get my other arm caught.
“Uh…do you need any help?” Seth asks.
How embarrassing. Even if I’m not trying to seduce him anymore, getting caught in this situation doesn’t bode well for my future chances. I blush.
“Yeah, thanks,” I say.
He steps forward, grips the hem of the shirt, and gently teases it upward. His fingers brush against my bare arms as he does so, and my breath catches; an electric spark darting down my spine.
“Sorry, did I hurt you?” Seth asks.
“No,” I say, my voice rough. I clear my throat. “You’re fine, thanks, Seth.”
“No problem,” he says.
The shirt has bunched a little at the back, so he reaches behind me, his arm going around me. I can smell his cologne and the crisp washing powder that he uses on his suit. His shirt is brushing against me, and his fingernails scrape on my skin.
I shiver. How unfair that I’m not trying to sleep with him anymore, when he’s so close that I can touch him if I want to. My whole body twitches with sheer want, and I hold myself still through sheer force of will.
Finally, the shirt comes loose, and Seth pulls it over my head. I look up at him, and my heart skips a beat. Seth’s pupils are blown wide, and his fingers haven’t yet left my skin.
