Somewhere Out There

by Amy Hatvany

  “Because I’m so emotionally driven, I’m incapable of logic? Nice to know you have so much faith in me. Just because I’m not a lawyer anymore doesn’t mean I can’t think like one, Kyle. You really believe that if there had been any real sign that Brooke was dangerous, I’d ignore it and let her near our children?”

  “Of course not! But what if you couldn’t see the signs? What if she was good at hiding them? What if there were things in her past she wasn’t being honest about? You just took her at her word!” He dropped into one of the kitchen chairs, put his elbows on the table, and tented his fingers on both hands against his forehead. His brown hair was shaggy, growing over the tops of his ears and an inch past his shirt collar. He needs a haircut, Natalie thought, and for some reason, noticing this took a slight edge off the anger she felt. They took care of each other. Maybe in running the background check, he had been trying to take care of her and just went about it the wrong way.

  “I’m sorry,” Kyle said. He dropped his hands to the table, pressing them flat against the wood, staring at her with tenderness. “Okay? There wasn’t anything in the report of concern, so I decided you didn’t need to know what I’d done. I’m sorry that I hid what I was doing, but as with everything else in this situation, I meant well. I had your best interests in mind. Our family’s best interests. What if it had come back and said that she was a criminal? A con artist or convicted child molester? Would you be okay with the fact that I ran the report without telling you then?”

  The question threw Natalie off, softening her anger even more, because Kyle was right. If the report had shown that Brooke was a danger to their family, Natalie knew it wouldn’t matter how that information had come to their attention. The only thing that would matter was that Kyle meant to keep them safe.

  “Is that why you were late the night we had dinner?” she said, instead of answering his questions. “When you specifically promised me you wouldn’t be? Were you waiting for the results?”

  Kyle shook his head. “I told you, I got called into a meeting with the DA. You know how it goes. I couldn’t leave. I’m sorry, but I swear I didn’t do it on purpose. I knew how important the dinner was. Do you really think I chose to be late when I knew how much it would piss you off?”

  Natalie hesitated. “No,” she admitted. She couldn’t think of a time that Kyle had purposely done something he knew would hurt her. That’s why it had bothered her so much when she thought he had.

  “I’m sorry for how I talked with Brooke,” he said. “I honestly didn’t realize how I was coming across. She just seemed so guarded, which you know, in my job, usually means someone’s hiding something. My defense lawyer senses were tingling.”

  “She seemed guarded because she was nervous. I told you she doesn’t open up easily. And now that I know she’s pregnant, it makes even more sense. She’s scared, and until now, she’s been totally on her own. She needs support, and I’m going to give it to her. I even went to a doctor’s appointment with her this afternoon.”

  “How’d that go?”

  “Fine,” she said. “But you remember how scared I was when I got pregnant with Hailey. Just imagine her feeling all of that and not having anyone to talk to. No support. Trying to cope with the idea of having to raise a child completely on her own.”

  “Yeah, you went a little bit nuts for a while there,” he said, clearly teasing. She looked at him from under raised brows, wishing he would stop trying to make light of the situation. He held up his hands in an I-surrender gesture. “I hear what you’re saying, Nat. Okay? I promise, I’ll do better.”

  “Can I see it?” Natalie asked. “Do you have it here?” The anger she felt had deflated just as quickly as it had inflamed earlier, sitting on her mother’s couch. She tried to focus on her husband’s motivation instead of the fact that he’d kept what he was doing from her.

  “The report?” Kyle asked, and she nodded. He got up from the table and walked into the living room, returning with a thin folder, which he handed to her. “It came back a couple of days after she came for dinner.”

  “Thank you,” Natalie said quietly. She felt his eyes on her as she sat on one of the stools next to the island and pulled out the few pages in the folder, scanning them. While the background check showed that Brooke had worked for more than ten different employers and lived at eight different addresses since she turned eighteen, she had no criminal record, nor any civil judgments against her. She’d had four tickets for speeding, all of which she contested and had reduced, but paid on time. She’d never been married or filed for bankruptcy. Her record was clean.

  “I understand why you did this,” Natalie said slowly, as she set the papers down in front of her on the counter.

  “I’m glad,” Kyle said, with evident relief. He sat on the barstool next to her and put his hand on top of her leg.

  “I understand,” Natalie repeated, wanting to finish her point before she forgave him completely, “but I still think you should have told me. It’s not healthy for us to keep this kind of thing from each other, no matter how pure our motivation might be.” She turned her upper body to face him and searched his face with her eyes. “Can we agree on that?”

  “Yes,” Kyle said, nodding. “I guess I told myself I was being practical when I really just didn’t want you to be mad at me.”

  “And look how well that worked out,” Natalie said, leaning over to rest her forehead against her husband’s, the silent signal they’d used over the years to tell each other that everything was okay between them.

  “No kidding.” Kyle chuckled. He reached for her face, then ran the side of his thumb down her cheek. “I really am sorry, Nat. I’ve got your back, I promise. I’m here for you . . . for Brooke . . . however you need me to be.”

  Brooke

  Brooke pulled into the parking lot of the Sea to Shore restaurant exactly fifteen minutes before her scheduled interview. After she turned off the engine, she checked her makeup in the rearview mirror, happy with what she saw. In the past week, since the amniocentesis, her skin had never looked better—she assumed this was the “pregnancy glow” she’d read about online. Her black curls were shiny and smooth, and her eyes were clear and bright. Her nausea had all but disappeared. Dr. Travers had called and told her that everything was fine with the baby—there were no discernible problems. But when she asked if Brooke wanted to know the baby’s gender, for some reason, Brooke said no. She felt like it wasn’t something she wanted to hear alone. Maybe Natalie would come with her to her next appointment, and they could find out the sex together.

  Brooke locked her car and walked inside the building, which was right on the edge of Lake Union. It possessed a clean, minimalist décor: teakwood tables—all of which had a view of the sparkling blue lake—brown leather booths, and cream-colored votive candles everywhere she looked. It was three o’clock, two hours before the establishment opened for dinner, and Brooke saw several members of the waitstaff sitting at a table near the kitchen, folding napkins and organizing silverware in preparation for their shift. She’d checked the restaurant website for pictures of what the servers wore, and saw that their uniform was all black, different from the typical white top and black skirt/pants requirements of most places she had worked. She wore a black cardigan and matching skirt so the manager with whom she interviewed might more easily visualize her as part of the staff.

  “May I help you?” a man who was standing at the host podium asked. He had blond, slicked-back, short hair and wore a dark blue shirt with a matching tie.

  “Yes, thanks,” Brooke said. “I’m Brooke Walker. I have an interview with Nick Hudson at three o’clock.”

  The man smiled and walked around the podium to shake her hand. “I’m Nick,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

  Brooke felt him appraise her outfit, and she was happy that she’d taken the time to dress appropriately for the interview. “You, too,” she said, making sure to stand up straight and look him directly in the eye. Something about int
erviews made her feel like she was a teenager again, insecure and uncomfortable in her own skin. She reminded herself that she was almost forty years old, likely the same age as the man who was about to interview her. She could do this.

  “This way,” he said, so Brooke followed him through a maze of tables to a two-top. They both sat down, and Brooke crossed her legs, trying to appear as relaxed as possible. She needed this job. At seventeen weeks, her belly had begun to round, pushing out enough to make it impossible for her to zip up any of her jeans. She needed to get hired before her pregnancy really started to show and no one would want to take her. At a place like this, with an average plate cost of eighty dollars per customer, on any given night, she could make upward of four hundred dollars in tips. She could maybe even afford to move into a small rental house so her child, when he or she was old enough, could have a yard in which to play.

  “So,” Nick said, interrupting her thoughts. “Tell me a little more about yourself.”

  “Sure,” Brooke said with a smile. She reached into her large bag and pulled out a copy of her résumé, having read on a job-seeker website that it was always a good idea to bring an extra so that the manager didn’t have to search through a pile to find the copy you’d already submitted. She handed it to Nick, who glanced at it, then set it on the table within eyeshot. “Well,” Brooke began, “I’ve been waiting tables for almost twenty years. I started as a dishwasher and hostess, but worked my way up.” She went on to describe the various places she’d worked, and how much she wanted to move into a permanent position with a stable, well-respected, fine-dining restaurant. “Sea to Shore has the best reputation in Seattle as the go-to place for atmosphere and amazing, farm-fresh menus,” she said, paraphrasing what she’d read online. “Your butterfish with a ginger glaze is considered one of the premier seafood dishes on the entire West Coast.”

  “You’ve done your homework,” Nick said, and Brooke nodded, sensing he was impressed. He spent the next ten minutes asking her questions about wine pairings and different types of cocktails, and Brooke was certain she nailed each of them. He handed her the menu, which she’d already memorized off the restaurant’s website, and she recited perfect descriptions of each and every item without having to look down.

  When she’d finished, Nick grinned. “Okay,” he said. “You’re hired.”

  “Really?” Brooke asked, feeling her chest fill with a fluttering sensation.

  “Are you kidding?” Nick said. “I don’t think even my most seasoned employee can do what you just did. You’re clearly experienced, and I like your enthusiasm.” He held out his hand across the table, and Brooke gave it a good, strong shake. “When can you start?”

  “Tonight?” Brooke said, with a happy laugh. “Actually, I need to give notice at my current job. I’d like to offer them two weeks, but I’m guessing that once they know I’m leaving, they’ll take me off the schedule.”

  “I understand,” Nick said. “Why don’t you just give me a call when you have a firm date?”

  “Perfect,” Brooke said, and was pleased when Nick informed her that the restaurant paid its employees two dollars more than minimum wage per hour, plus tips. A few minutes later, she was in her car, thinking about how much she was looking forward to serving a more upscale clientele—customers who ordered cocktails and champagne to start their meals and a bottle of wine with each course. She felt a little bad that she hadn’t told Nick she was pregnant, but her desire to make more money and provide better health insurance coverage for herself and her baby overrode any guilt she might feel. If all went well, she could work right up until the day she delivered, and by that time—according to the job posting—she would be entitled to six weeks of maternity leave. It would be unpaid, but if she budgeted correctly until that point, she and her child would be just fine. When she went back to work, she’d have to find a trustworthy daycare, but she tried not to worry about that right now. With the money she’d be making, she’d be able to afford to pay someone well. She’d never be like her own mother and leave her baby alone.

  Brooke was so excited about her new job, she shot a quick text to her sister, asking whether it was okay to stop by. It only took a few minutes for Natalie to respond. “Yes!” her text said. “Come over!” Having someone in her life with whom she could share her good news might have been a small thing, but to Brooke, it felt like everything.

  Twenty minutes later, she parked in front of Natalie’s house. Brooke knocked, and a second later, Hailey answered the door. “Hi, Aunt Brooke!” she said with a big smile. The little girl gave her a hug, and Brooke felt herself begin to tear up. She thought of herself around Hailey’s age, having to return to Hillcrest from Jessica and Scott’s house. She remembered the sting of Scott’s hand. She remembered crying on Gina’s shoulder, wishing with all her might that her own mother would come back.

  “Hey,” Natalie said as she came up behind Hailey in the entryway. “Come on in.”

  “Henry and I are playing restaurant!” Hailey announced. “You can play, too, Aunt Brooke, if you want.”

  “Oh,” Brooke said, unsure how to rebuff a child’s invitation.

  “Brooke and Mommy need a little grown-up time,” Natalie said, saving her. “You go on and play with your brother.”

  “But he burns everything,” Hailey said. Still, she did as her mother had asked, skipping off through the living room and turning down the hall.

  Brooke followed Natalie into the kitchen, which barely resembled the crazy mess of a room that it had been the last time Brooke was there. Everything was clean, and looked to be in its proper place. A stockpot simmered on the stove, filling the air with the scent of what Brooke guessed was some kind of stew. Brooke sat on one of the barstools next to the island, and Natalie poured them each a glass of water from the Brita pitcher on the counter.

  “How’d the interview go?” she asked, pushing the glass toward Brooke.

  “It was great. I got the job!”

  “That’s fantastic!” Natalie said with a huge smile. “Congratulations!”

  “Thanks. It’s such a nice place. I think I’m going to be really happy there.”

  “When do you start?”

  Brooke told her about having to give notice at the bar, realizing that for the first time since their initial brunch, she didn’t have a sinking, nervous feeling in her stomach. She felt like she belonged here, in Natalie’s kitchen, sharing excitement over the things happening in each other’s lives.

  “The results of the amnio came back, too. Everything’s fine.”

  “Oh, good! Did you find out the sex?”

  Brooke shook her head. “I didn’t want to find it out alone.” She paused. “Do you want to maybe come to my next appointment, and we can find out then?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Mommy!” Hailey’s high-pitched voice, calling out from another room, cut into the moment. “I need you! Pleeease?”

  Natalie smiled. “She probably wants me to pretend to be another sous chef because she already kicked Henry out of the kitchen.” She made a funny face, and Brooke laughed. “Be right back.”

  Brooke waited in the kitchen for Natalie to return. She thought about the dark bar where she’d spent so many hours the past five years. It was where she’d met Ryan, where she realized she might be pregnant with his child. But now, she felt more than ready to move on to bigger and better things. Meeting her sister and landing a new job might only be the beginning of a brand-new life.

  She reached for her glass, but instead of grabbing it, she accidentally knocked it over, spilling water all over the granite-topped island. “Shit,” she muttered, hopping down from the barstool and stepping over to the sink, where there was a roll of paper towels. She pulled off a handful and quickly returned to the island, mopping up the liquid. Some of it had spread to a stack of papers that sat on the corner of the island, so she reached to lift them from the counter. When she’d finished drying everything off, she set the stack of papers back down,
glad that only the edges were damp, and then noticed that there was a manila folder in the middle of the stack. The tab was labeled with her name, written in blue ink.

  What the hell? She pulled out the folder, holding it in her right hand, wondering whether or not she should open it. But her curiosity immediately got the better of her, and she reasoned that since her name was on it, she had every right to see the contents.

  As she scanned the documents, Brooke’s face flamed red and her stomach twisted. Natalie had run a background check on her. She’d encouraged Brooke to trust her . . . to open up . . . and the entire time she secretly thought Brooke might be a criminal.

  “Brooke?” Her sister’s voice snapped Brooke out of her thoughts. “Is everything okay?” Natalie glance at Brooke’s hands, then Brooke saw her sister’s eyes go wide.

  “Wait,” Natalie said. “I can explain.”

  “There’s nothing to explain.” Brooke slapped the papers down onto the counter and held her arms rigid at her sides.

  “Yes, there is,” Natalie said. “It wasn’t me. Kyle was just being overprotective.”

  “Which explains how he treated me,” Brooke said. She had thought it was a good thing that Kyle was protective, but it didn’t occur to her that he would have taken it this far. That while he and Natalie smiled at her and made polite conversation, they were digging around in her past. Brooke felt dirty and ashamed, even though she had done nothing to deserve it. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Her chest ached as though her ribs had been kicked. “So much for me being family.” Her voice was splintered by tears.

  “Brooke, please,” Natalie said, with a touch of desperation. Her chin trembled. “I’m so sorry. It was a mistake. It never should have happened. He didn’t tell me he was doing it. I didn’t know, or I would have stopped him. He’s sorry, too.”

  Brooke shot her younger sister an icy glare. “I don’t believe you.”

  Natalie didn’t move. She simply stared at Brooke, helplessly, with tears running down her cheeks. Brooke stared back at her. She should have known better than to let Natalie in so quickly. Brooke couldn’t believe she’d been foolish enough to make this mistake.