Beaming, she’d bounced in her seat as he drove at a snail’s pace, stopping at every yellow light and signaling for a quarter mile before each turn. “Go faster!” she’d cried.
“Drivers have to obey the speed limit,” he’d said.
“Nobody’s watching.”
“That isn’t the point. I might I hit someone.” Even as a teenager, he’d had a strong awareness of consequences.
“You won’t,” she’d responded confidently.
“I won’t because I’ll be careful not to.”
She’d laughed. “You should have more fun, Eddie.”
They’d had contrasting personalities from the start. Sadly, she hadn’t learned from his example or from her own experiences. Now she was paying a high price for her recklessness.
So was her daughter, Edmond reflected, holding Dawn close while sobs racked her little body. Prepared or not, he’d become her guardian in every sense.
He hadn’t been able to save his sister. He hoped he’d do better for his niece.
* * *
MELISSA HAD ALWAYS been organized. On school nights, she’d laid out the next day’s clothes over a chair and placed her books and homework in her backpack. She’d also maintained a wall calendar where she’d tracked upcoming tests and field trips. Friends had considered her weird, but her parents had approved.
Being on top of things had felt right. Sudden changes of plan, however, had distressed her unduly. Suffering stomach flu the morning of a math test, she’d hidden her symptoms from her mother and thrown up in the school hallway. Seeing her mother’s worry when she’d arrived to take her home, Melissa had burst into tears.
It’s okay to get sick, her mom had said. Everybody does.
Melissa hadn’t shared the fear that gripped her because she hadn’t clearly understood it herself. Losing control meant spinning loose without a mooring. Organization was her coping strategy, her security.
Once, just once, her mom had failed to watch two-year-old Jamie as closely as usual. At a neighbor’s house during a party, he’d fallen into the swimming pool. He hadn’t cried out or thrashed in the water, and no one had noticed. It had been Melissa, only a few years older, who’d spotted his little body at the bottom of the pool. The sight had been so surreal, she’d had to look twice before she started screaming.
Later, she’d tormented herself, wondering if he could have been saved had she reacted sooner. That fear had persisted for years, and she’d realized later that it had contributed to her sense that she’d be happiest without children. Only after a confidence from her mother, shortly before her parents’ deaths, had Melissa released that nagging guilt and been able to acknowledge her deep desire to be a parent.
She understood Dawn’s wish to accompany her mother behind bars. Some kids felt they were to blame for anything that went wrong around them. She figured it was even more true in a dysfunctional household, where the child might assume an adult role as a coping mechanism. In Edmond’s home, with his father often away and his mother rather passive, he’d believed it was up to him to supervise his sister.
In the car, Melissa studied Edmond’s profile as he navigated the freeway on-ramp.
“I admire you for taking in your niece,” she said. “I know how hard it is for you.”
He gripped the steering wheel. “Part of me is angry with Barbara, even though I feel rotten about what’s happened.”
Melissa watched him intently. “This situation isn’t fair to you or to Dawn.”
Seconds ticked by while he merged into traffic, which had thinned as rush hour passed and twilight descended. “I’ll do everything I can, but is it really best for her to live with an uncle who has no idea how to be a dad?”
“I’m no expert on being a mom, either,” she pointed out. “Especially to triplets. But my friends assure me you get on-the-job training. Plus, there’s no single way to be a parent. Every person is different, although there are ground rules.”
“Like feeding them and washing their clothes?” he asked dryly.
“And holding them when they cry,” she said. “You’ve already mastered that part.”
He shrugged. “I can do the obvious stuff, but I lack the right instincts.”
She weighed her words, wary of pushing too hard. “There’s a learning curve for everyone. But you are sensitive to your niece.”
“Not as sensitive as you. Would you be willing...?” He cleared his throat. “I hate to impose, but can you help while we settle in? I’m a bit overwhelmed by what lies ahead, and Dawn’s attached to you.”
Despite Dr. Sargent’s cautions and her awareness that she’d soon have to limit her activities, Melissa’s spirits rose at the request. Being able to nurture others had always been central to her happiness, and at this crisis point, both Edmond and Dawn clearly needed her.
“Of course.” She shifted in her seat to ease the tugging of her abdominal muscles.
“It’s only for a few days,” Edmond went on. “I should draw up a parenting plan, the way I advise my clients to do in a custody situation.”
“Smart idea.” Being a family attorney had prepared him in a lot of ways, at least for the practical aspects of his new role.
Edmond shook his head. “On top of everything else, I’m worried about Dad.”
“Dementia is terrifying.” Melissa would prefer a physical disease, however deadly, to mental deterioration, but people didn’t get the choice. “However, it will probably develop gradually, and Isabel’s handling the doctor appointments. Let’s stick to what has to be done right away.”
“You always anchor me.” Edmond slowed to let a truck shift into their lane.
“Glad to do it.”
He flicked on the car lights in the growing darkness. “To begin with, I’ll have to rent a bigger apartment with a bedroom for Dawn.”
“What about a house?” Melissa recalled her receptionist mentioning a three-bedroom place for rent down the block from her family’s home. “I heard of a vacancy a mile or so from the hospital.”
“I’d like a house.” The tension in Edmond’s shoulders eased. “Compared to an apartment, a house has a greater sense of permanence, and a yard to play in.”
Taking out her phone, Melissa opened the organizer. “I’ll start a list.”
He gave her a crooked grin. “You and your lists.”
“You do the same thing!”
“We have that in common,” he agreed. “Will you send it to me when we’re done?”
“No, I was planning to keep it to myself and charge you for access,” she teased.
His answering chuckle warmed her. “Okay, let’s have at it. Put down renting a house. I should buy more household supplies, too. I’m always running out of detergent—I certainly don’t want Dawn assuming she’s responsible for my laundry now.”
“Don’t forget about day care.” Melissa recalled a nurse discussing her child’s activities. “The community college runs a summer sports camp for kids, with two-week sessions. At Dawn’s age, that should be more interesting than parking her in the hospital’s child center.”
“I’m not sure she’s the athletic type,” Edmond said. “Barbara never talked about that.”
“Sports camp offers gymnastics, swimming and other fun stuff geared to little kids,” she said. “I can check it out online.”
“I don’t mean to lay too much on you,” he cautioned. “Especially in your condition.”
“Mostly I’ll handle things from home.” Melissa jotted another note. “You’ll have to enroll her in school soon. It starts in August.”
“I’ll discuss that with Geoff Humphreys’s wife. She teaches second grade.” Keeping his gaze on the road, he said, “I’m glad you’re tracking all this.”
“Thumbs of steel,” she kidded as she pressed the t
iny buttons.
“Oh, and remind me to keep tabs on Barbara’s status,” he said. “We’ll visit as soon as she’s placed.”
“Got it.”
“I should stay in touch with her lawyer about an appeal, too,” he went on. “He recommends against it. Still, she has sixty days to decide.”
The list was lengthening, and Melissa hadn’t finished. “I’ll check with Isabel about Dawn’s favorite foods.”
“Ouch. Meal preparation is not my strong point.” Beneath his glasses, Edmond rolled his eyes. “Please don’t tell me to take a cooking class.”
“Just hang out at my house,” she assured him. “You’ll learn by osmosis.”
“Your roommates wouldn’t mind?”
“They like Dawn. And you, too.” Melissa suspected the group would enjoy teaching Edmond to fix meals for his niece. “It’s fun when there are guests at meals.”
“I’ll chip in for the cost, of course.”
“Definitely.”
Ideas flowed between them. Maintain Dawn’s schedule with her counselor. Contact child services and provide information for the social worker’s report. Use Isabel’s email address to provide daily updates to her and Dawn about their preparations so the little girl felt involved in the process.
At the same time, a cloud of “if-onlys” swarmed inside Melissa’s head. If only Edmond hadn’t refused to consider parenthood, they’d still be together. If only they’d had a baby, they could welcome Dawn into an established family. If only his heart had room enough for a houseful of babies.
What a ridiculous notion. She was projecting her longings onto a man who’d made his position crystal clear.
For the few weeks remaining before she had to restrict her activities, she’d do her best to serve as Dawn’s aunt and Edmond’s friend. She’d be a fool to fantasize about anything more.
She would never allow him, or her own vulnerability, to break her heart again. That didn’t mean she had to abandon him or her niece.
She was stronger now than she’d been during their marriage, Melissa reflected. And surrounded by friends.
* * *
THEY WERE ON a roll. Edmond’s spirits, which had hit bottom after his sister’s conviction, resurged. Not that he underestimated the difficulties ahead, but he’d regained a sense of order, thanks in large part to Melissa.
Stealing a glance at her, he admired the luxurious flow of her fair hair and the velvety texture of her skin illuminated by passing car lights. The adjectives he associated with her—graceful and radiant—were especially apt since her pregnancy.
Yet a question nagged at him, one that he should have asked years ago. Raising it now might roil the waters, but it lay between them, a thin, nearly invisible barrier that blocked any possibility of drawing closer.
“Mel,” he said. “May I ask you something?”
She must have registered the difference in his tone, because she set her phone in her lap. “Shoot.”
“I never understood why you changed your mind about having children.” He didn’t wish to provoke an argument, but a sense of fairness propelled him to clarify, “You always seemed as happy as I was with our marriage.”
“Lots of women change their position on motherhood when they get older.” Despite the defensive words, she sounded more introspective than angry. “You’ve heard of the infamous biological clock. And because I work in the fertility field, I’m around babies and maternal hormones. They have a powerful effect.”
That was the explanation she’d given previously. It hadn’t satisfied him then and it didn’t now. “There had to be more. You just sprang it on me.”
She gave a startled jerk. “No, I didn’t.”
“It was as if you turned thirty and suddenly I hardly recognized you.” He tried not to sound accusatory.
“I didn’t spring it on you,” she said. “We’d discussed having children.”
“When?”
“After my parents died.” That had been several years before they split up.
Vaguely, Edmond remembered her talking about the meaning of parenthood, but he’d associated that with the shock of losing her parents in a car accident while the couple was vacationing in Hawaii. “Maybe in the theoretical sense.”
“It was more than that,” Melissa insisted. “We talked about regrets, about not being able to go back and undo our choices.” She had a much sharper memory of this conversation than he did, Edmond gathered.
“And that related to having children?” He’d failed to grasp the implication.
“I cited parenthood as an example of things we might regret.”
“As I said, it was a theoretical discussion.” Freeway lights banished the darkness as they neared the restaurant where Melissa had left her car. “Then you dropped it.”
“Not exactly.” She adjusted the seat belt, which kept slipping around her bulge. “I didn’t want to hammer too hard because your mom was sick.”
That failed to explain her abrupt insistence on having children. “If it mattered that much to you, you should have pursued it, not ambushed me with it.”
“What difference would it have made?”
Acting evasive was out of character for her. “There’s something you’re not saying.”
“Stop interrogating me. We aren’t in court.”
Edmond’s marriage, his vision of the future and his happiness had crashed because of his wife’s sudden demand. Granted, he’d contributed to the mess with his high-handed response, but the discovery that she was hiding her reasons, or a significant part of them, disturbed him.
“Tell me what you withheld,” he said. “Please.”
He’d gained enough perspective to understand that she instinctively avoided conflict. That hadn’t usually been a problem between them, but in the grip of strong emotions, he must have spoken more forcefully than he intended.
This time, Edmond resolved to listen carefully. But he wouldn’t let up until she told the whole truth.
Chapter Nine
Distressed, Melissa shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Not acceptable.” He’d read once that you had to clean out a wound before you had any chance at healing. That struck him as true for relationships, too. “Married couples aren’t supposed to keep secrets.”
“It wasn’t my secret to keep.”
What an odd statement. “Whose was it?”
“My mother’s.”
How could a secret of her mother’s have destroyed their marriage? he wondered as he exited the freeway. “Melissa, she’s not in a place where she needs you to protect her anymore.”
She shivered as if her mother were watching from beyond the grave. “I promised never to betray her confidence.”
“This is ridiculous.” Hearing the dismissiveness in his voice, Edmond amended, “I understand that you’re upset. But I have a stake in this, too.”
For a moment, the only noises were the rush of traffic and a siren wailing in the distance. Finally she spoke.
“Before they left for Hawaii, Mom apologized to me.” She swallowed. “She knew how traumatic it had been for me, discovering my baby brother’s body at the bottom of a pool.”
He hadn’t heard that part of the story. “I didn’t realize you were the one who found him.”
“I spotted him under the water. It was surreal, like a bad dream.” Melissa took a couple of breaths before continuing. “I had nightmares.”
“I can imagine. Did you get therapy?”
“No, and Dad was a psychologist. Isn’t that ironic?” She shook her head. “For years, Mom refused to discuss anything about that day. She believed it was her fault because she didn’t watch Jamie closely enough.”
“Any parent would, I expect.” Edmond had handled several divorces in wh
ich one partner blamed the other for the serious injury or death of a child. Sometimes they blamed themselves.
“It was more than that.” She paused.
Aware of her emotional struggle, he quashed the urge to prod her for how her family’s long-ago tragedy had affected her desire for parenthood. He had learned something in their three years apart.
“My mother explained that, at the pool party, the hosts were fixing margaritas. Mom rarely drank, but she didn’t taste much alcohol in the margaritas, so she had several,” Melissa said. “She wasn’t sure how many. Three or four.”
“That’s why she wasn’t watching Jamie closely,” he guessed.
“Yes. The guilt haunted her.” Tilting her head back, Melissa closed her eyes. Picturing her mother’s face? Mary Fenton had been a classic beauty like her daughter, but she’d had deep-etched lines around her mouth and eyes. “Dad urged her to have another baby, but to her the risk was intolerable.”
“You believe she was punishing herself?”
“Maybe, or terrified of screwing up again,” Melissa replied. “After we were married and I made it clear we didn’t plan on having kids, she feared her negative attitude had poisoned me against motherhood.”
“Had it?” While she mulled his question, Edmond turned onto the street leading to the restaurant and swung into the parking lot. A scattering of cars bordered the coffee shop, with Melissa’s white sedan sitting slightly apart. He pulled into an adjacent space and cut the engine.
“In retrospect, yes. After that conversation, I started to reevaluate my assumptions,” Melissa said. “I talked about it to you a little, but then we got the news that they’d been killed. We were just recovering from that when your mom’s cancer entered the terminal stage. There was a lot going on.”
That might explain why he’d overlooked her subtle clues about motherhood. “I didn’t notice a change in you, beyond what one might expect from losing loved ones.”
“I wasn’t entirely aware of it myself,” Melissa conceded. “But I began to find kids fascinating. I realized that at some level, I had blamed myself, too, for not responding faster when I saw Jamie under the water. It was only a matter of seconds, but it felt like minutes. Somehow Mom’s confession took that guilt away.”
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