Suddenly

by Barbara Delinsky

  It was as though Paige had inherited it along with the other threads of Mara’s life.

  Not caring for that idea at all, she replaced the wool and the letters, neatly and in as close to the way she had found them as possible, in the wicker basket, set the lid firmly on top, and turned to the one other bedroom that hadn’t been cleaned. It was to have been the baby’s room and was empty now, its contents in Paige’s house. She started to vacuum but halfway through had a sudden, dire urge to be with the living. Within minutes she had the cleaning equipment put away and the lights turned off and was driving through the center of Tucker toward her own house.

  For just a minute, leaving Mara’s, she wondered when Noah had left, then she pushed the thought from her mind and drove on. She was greeted at the door by kitty, who wound in and around her legs with such excitement that Paige didn’t have the heart to say, as she usually did when she lifted the small animal, ruffled its fur, and gave it a hug, “Only until I find you a home.”

  Jill was asleep on the sofa. She woke her gently and sent her to bed. After changing into a nightgown, she followed, climbing the stairs first to check on Sami.

  The little girl was asleep on her back. Paige would have turned her onto her stomach had she not learned that this was the custom in India, and, besides, she wanted to see Sami’s face. Forearms braced on the crib rail, she leaned down. The small night light cast the child’s tiny features into relief. Paige touched her cheek; it felt soft and pleasantly warm.

  The child stirred. Her eyes opened, focusing on nothing for a minute until they found Paige’s in the dark. Against every instruction she had given parents for training their children to sleep through the night, Paige picked her up.

  “Hi, Sami,” she said with singsong softness. “How are you?” She kissed her forehead. “Did you have a nice time with Jill? I can see that she washed you and changed you. You feel nice and dry, and you smell wonderful. Did you have something good to eat before you went to bed? Milk? Apple juice?”

  Sami scrunched up her eyes and scrubbed her nose with a fist.

  “Ahhh, you’re such a sleepy baby. And I’m keeping you awake. Come over here. We’ll rock awhile.”

  Paige settled down with Sami curled comfortably against her and began a slow rocking. She hummed a song that had no words, something Nonny might have hummed, and could tell by the sag of Sami’s body that she was asleep within minutes.

  Still Paige held her. There was something peaceful about the rocking, about the warmth of the child nestled against her, even about the soft purr of kitty, who had settled on her thigh. She hummed another wordless song, one that came from a nameless place in the past, and rocked until each of the thoughts that might have kept her awake were gone from her mind. Then she tucked the little girl under a light blanket in the crib, went downstairs to her own bedroom, and, with kitty conforming to the curve of her body, fell quickly asleep.

  It wasn’t until her alarm went off the next morning, when she rolled over and came slowly awake, that the scent of Noah’s body on her own reminded her of what she had done.

  ten

  IF PAIGE HAD BEEN ABLE TO AVOID GOING TO Mount Court, she would have, but with a race on Saturday, daily practices were a must. So she poured herself into each one, running with the girls, recording their sprint times on a chart, coaxing, sometimes goading them on, giving them her undivided attention. She didn’t look up when people passed. She didn’t once glance in the direction of the administration building to see if anyone stood watching from the steps. Her sole purpose at the school was to coach the team. As far as she was concerned, Noah Perrine didn’t exist.

  Under normal circumstances, she would have looked forward to Saturday. On game weekends the campus was alive with activity, abuzz with visiting teams and parents, feeling like family to Paige. This weekend, Angie’s Doug was playing soccer, which added to the lure. Paige would have enjoyed putting Sami in the stroller and watching that game once her own race was done—and she still planned to watch, but the enjoyment part was in question. Not only was there the issue of the Head of School wandering about, but Ben would be there. Paige hadn’t seen him since learning of his infidelity. Given how hurt she was on Angie’s behalf, and how angry, she wasn’t sure what she would say.

  As it happened, Saturday dawned rainy enough to preclude Paige’s taking Sami to Mount Court. The games would go on, but with people huddled in their rain gear trying to stay warm, dry, and upbeat, there would be less pleasure in the watching.

  Along with the rain came a chill in the air that told Paige the girls wouldn’t run their best. True, the two teams against whom they were racing faced the same handicap, but that was small solace. She had been hoping that some of her runners would record personal bests. Morale at the school was low, and they needed a boost. She doubted they would get it this day.

  Still, she kept her spirits up, dressing—as she always did on the day of a meet—nicely, in gabardine slacks and a sweater. On this day she also wore a long raincoat and carried an oversize umbrella. The raincoat would keep her camouflaged, the umbrella would keep her hidden. If either kept her dry, so much the better.

  The girls stretched beforehand in a corner of the gym, wearing identical warm-up suits and glum looks. They weren’t thrilled to have to run. “It’s a mess out there,” Julie whined. “This meet should have been canceled.”

  “Nonsense,” Paige said lightly. “The course is largely through the woods. You’ll be in the shelter of the trees, far drier than us.”

  “But it’s cold,” Alicia complained.

  “Cool, not cold, either of which is preferable to hot,” Paige reasoned.

  Tia said, “My muscles are rigid.”

  “Then stretch,” Paige urged. “And do an extra set of warm-up runs. You’ll do fine. All of you. Just remember everything I’ve taught you. Pace yourselves. Don’t let an opponent who jumps out in front get you running so hard at the start that you die on the home stretch. Stay focused.”

  “We can’t beat Wickham Hall,” Annie said. “They’re incredible.”

  “So are we,” Paige replied.

  “They were undefeated last year.”

  “That was then, this is now. Come on, girls. If you don’t think positive, you’ll be defeated before you begin. Every one of you has bettered her times in practice this week and by significant amounts.”

  “When you start at rock bottom,” Julie groused.

  “You,” Paige said, pointing a finger only half-playfully at Julie, “keep still.” She turned to the others. “So much of any battle is believing in yourself. The course is three miles even. If you want to break twenty-one minutes—if you tell yourself that you can and keep repeating it—you will. I don’t care if we win. What I would like to see is for each of you to run a race you feel proud of. I believe you can do it. The rest is up to you.”

  She followed them out of the gym and talked with the visiting coaches while the girls did warm-up sprints. Then, under cover of the umbrella, she moved aside and waited for the race to begin.

  “That you, Paige?”

  Her heart gave a little pit-pat but settled when she realized the voice was wrong. She peered out at Peter, who was covered with a hooded slicker. The friendly face warmed her into a smile. “What are you doing here?”

  He shrugged. “Had nothing better to do.” He patted a bulge in the center of his chest. “Thought I’d snap a few.”

  “In this rain?”

  “Sure. The lousier the weather, the greater the drama. Mud shots are fun.”

  Paige recalled Mara saying something similar. Actually, it wasn’t mud. It was snow. Mara had loved taking pictures in the middle of snowstorms, when the snow formed a veil through which the rest of the world was muted. Now, in hindsight, Paige wondered if that muting was a softening of things Mara had found too harsh.

  On a lighter note she asked, “How did it go in the office this morning? Any interesting visits?”

  “You’d have to ask Ang
ie,” Peter said. “She took my hours. Said she wanted to get ahead a few, just in case Doug had a sick day, but by my figuring, she’s ahead a whole lot. She’s been working like a fiend lately.”

  Paige could understand it. There was nothing like pouring oneself into one’s work to obliterate other, more painful thoughts.

  But she figured that Angie hadn’t told Peter about Ben, and she wasn’t about to do it herself. So she stated the obvious. “Doug is growing up. He’s at school longer hours, and when he’s home he should be spending more time with his dad.”

  “Hey, Dr. Grace!” several of Paige’s runners called on their way past. They had wide grins for Peter, something Paige rarely saw. It struck her that Julie, for one, was quite striking.

  Peter grinned back and flashed them a thumbs-up. “Cute girls,” he told Paige.

  She watched them go. “Yup. They’re growing up, too. Those three will be graduating in June. Hard to believe.” Time flew. She remembered when they had first come to Mount Court, more innocent and less cynical, albeit spoiled even then. In the short time she had with them each day, she had tried to teach them the concept of mental discipline. Whether it had taken hold remained to be seen.

  The runners took up position. Peter removed his camera from his slicker and snapped a few shots. Paige moved closer to the starting line, thinking, Confidence, confidence, confidence, in the hope that a brain wave would carry the message to her runners. The gun went off. The bystanders cheered, each for his own team. Paige shouted her encouragement. Peter trotted along the sidelines with his camera to his eye, until the runners veered off into the woods.

  “Lousy day,” Paige heard from just beyond the tip of her umbrella.

  The little pit-pat started and didn’t stop this time, and it was accompanied by a rise in temperature in the air around her. It was always that way when he came near. There was an energy about him that stirred things up.

  She kept her eyes on the woods, into which the last of the runners was disappearing. “Could be better.”

  “How are their spirits?” he asked.

  She hummed out a high, “Could be better.”

  “And yours?”

  “Just fine,” she said in what she thought was a convincing way.

  “Dr. Pfeiffer?” It was the race official. “I don’t have the placement sticks.” As each girl finished, she was given a Popsicle stick with the number of her place on it. When everyone had completed the course, the sticks were turned in, the score tallied, and the winning team named.

  Paige spotted her manager talking with friends. “Sheila!” she called, and pointed to the official. The girl dug into her pocket and ran the sticks to the official, who moved off.

  Paige should have moved, too, but that didn’t occur to her until it was too late and Noah was ducking under the edge of her umbrella.

  “I’m not sorry,” he said in a voice that was at the same time soft but steely and defiant.

  Paige scanned the handful of parents who had made the trip to Mount Court for the race, but she recognized none.

  “I’m only sorry that I didn’t have anything with me,” he went on more quietly. “The last thing either of us needs is for you to be pregnant right now.”

  Paige didn’t want to think about that possibility. She didn’t want to think about anything to do with what had happened in Mara’s backyard. She cleared her throat, then said, “Can we talk about this another time?”

  “What’s wrong with now?”

  “I’m in the middle of a race.”

  “And you have nothing to do for the next fifteen minutes, when, if we’re lucky, someone will come out of the woods.” He straightened, lifting the tip of the umbrella so that he could see her. “Frankly, this course sucks. Bystanders can’t see a thing. How can we expect to attract alumni and parents if everything takes place in the woods? And that’s not to mention the safety factor. What if something were to happen in there?”

  “The girls rarely run alone. If one gets hurt, another can run out for help. It happens to be a beautiful course. And on a day like this, they’re better off in the woods than out here.”

  She scanned the road for Peter, intent on excusing herself to speak with him. But he was nowhere in sight.

  “So,” Noah said. “How will our girls place?”

  Safer ground. Official business. That was all right. “My guess? For our team, Merry third, Annie second, and Sara first.”

  “Sara’s that good?”

  “That good.”

  “It’s remarkable, really,” he said, sounding almost buoyant. “This is only the second year she’s run. She started last year in high school. Reluctantly.”

  “Why reluctantly?” Paige asked, daring him a glance. He was wearing a slicker not unlike Peter’s. Its hood had a visor that protected his glasses, though not very well. The lenses were spotted with rain.

  “Reluctantly was the way she did most everything,” he said. “She was having trouble getting along with her mother, and it tinged every aspect of her life. Her grades fell. She withdrew, even from friends. There were several instances of shoplifting.”

  “Sara?”

  “Sara.”

  Paige couldn’t imagine it, but Noah seemed to know what he was talking about.

  “It was never much of anything,” he went on, “a lipstick here, a hair ribbon there. She was clearly trying to punish her mother. But it was the old story—she wasn’t hurting her mother so much as she was hurting herself. Rather than prosecuting, the local police put her on probation. One of the stipulations was that she be involved in afternoon sports at school. So she started running. Took her anger at the world out on the pavement.”

  Paige knew well the stern look Sara often wore when she was running. “That explains it, then. She’s still doing it. But you’d think the anger would be dissipated some by now. Out of sight, out of mind kind of thing.”

  He grunted. “It’s never that easy.”

  “Will she talk about it?”

  “Not to me, that’s for sure,” he said in a way that gave Paige pause. There were obvious reasons why Sara wouldn’t talk to Noah—his position of authority, his unpopularity with the students. Still, she caught a sudden glimpse of familiarity—an expression, a gesture, a look.

  “Why’s that?” she asked, though suddenly, absurdly, she knew. At least, she thought she did. There was the different last name—but the same long legs, the same sand-streaked hair, and the interest Noah took in Sara, an interest that he passed off as the empathy of one newcomer to Mount Court for another but that was suspiciously intent. It seemed suddenly too convenient that they were both new to the school, both alone, both runners.

  Noah looked uncomfortable.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, feeling hurt. They had been as physically intimate as two people could be, yet he had withheld this very basic fact from her. But then, perhaps “withheld” was the wrong word. They didn’t know much about each other, period. Physical intimacy had been totally premature. Unpremeditated. Impulsive. Wrong.

  He took off his glasses, shook them, put them back on. “We agreed that it would be easier for her to assimilate if she didn’t have the onus of being the Head’s daughter. It was a wise move, given my dubious popularity.”

  Paige knew that the “dubious popularity” was mutual. Noah wasn’t wild about Mount Court, either. “Did you take this job solely because of her?”

  “Not solely. Being Head of School has been a longtime goal of mine. But we had to do something with Sara. She needed to be away from her mother. I had been on the lookout for positions, and while Mount Court wouldn’t have been my first choice, it was the only opening at the time.”

  So he was a father. It was a new thought, a strange thought that of necessity altered her image of him. “What about her name? Is Dickinson part of the ploy?”

  “No. It’s her legal name.”

  “Your wife’s?”

  “Ex-wife’s, and no. It’s the name of L
iv’s second husband. Sara’s been using it for years.”

  He didn’t like that. Paige could tell by the steel in his voice. “How old was she when you were divorced?”

  “Three.”

  “Wow. So young.”

  “Too young to feel the sting of the breakup.”

  “Not too young to miss her father. Did your wife have custody right from the start?”

  “It made the most sense,” he argued defensively.

  She wondered about the nature of the man, that he could leave a three-year-old child. Granted, she didn’t know the details of the breakup of his marriage—and didn’t care to, thank you—still, it smacked of the insensitivity that she had accused him of the very first time they’d met.

  He put his hands in his pockets. “We can’t always dictate the timing of highly emotional things.” He shot her a look that had nothing to do with Sara.

  She shook her head. “Not now, Noah. Please.”

  “Then when? Tonight?”

  “No.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “No.”

  “Do you regret it that much?” he asked, and there was something in his voice, not steel now but hurt, that started a vibrating inside her. He leaned in. “Was it that awful?”

  “No,” she cried. “It wasn’t awful at all. It was just plain dumb. And inappropriate. And ill timed. I was thinking about Mara and feeling empty, and suddenly there you were.”

  “It was my fault, then?”

  She wished it had been, but no amount of denial on her part could support that premise. “I was doing my part,” she admitted, staring straight ahead.

  “Actively,” he said with what she could have sworn was a grin and a smug one at that, but when she shot him a look, his lean lips were carefully controlled.

  Intent first and foremost on flight, she started off down the drive in the direction of the woods, wanting to be there when the first of the girls appeared. But there was Noah, beside her in no time at all.