The Fiancée

by Kate White

  “Of course. Whenever works for you.”

  Sensing that she’d like to be alone, I say good-bye and turn to leave.

  “Summer,” she says quietly as I near the door. I pivot. “Have you colored your hair lately, darling?”

  “My hair?”

  “It looks lighter to me this weekend.”

  “Uh, no, just the usual highlights I indulge in every few months.”

  A minute later, while I’m pouring myself an ice water on the patio, I feel a hot swell of anger. This week has already gone to hell, and it’s only Sunday. Gabe’s not only upset with his Dad, he’s pissed at Marcus as well. Claire’s distressed about Nick’s engagement, and I’m pretty sure Marcus is, too. Keira’s feeling worried about her marriage. And I’m too agitated to concentrate on my play. I know Hannah’s not responsible for all of it—but life would be so much better if she weren’t here.

  How fitting that at this exact moment, I catch a glimpse of her in the distance, all by herself and heading down the path that connects the pool area with the carriage house. She’s dressed in a cutoff jean skirt and T-shirt, and there’s total confidence in her stride. If she was actually the one Claire confronted last night, the experience certainly hasn’t undone her. And neither has the encounter with Marcus. Or perhaps she’s an even better actress than I realize.

  When I reenter the cottage, Gabe’s still reading to Henry—I hear the murmur of their voices from above. I read myself for an hour or so, though my eyes keep sliding off the screen of my iPad. I feel restless, unable to relax. A hike helped Gabe clear his head, and maybe I need some exercise, too. By now I’m picking up the sound of Gabe’s light snoring from the spare bedroom, meaning they’re both asleep—so I write a note explaining my intended whereabouts before changing into running shoes and slathering on a glob of sunscreen. Then I head to the front of the property and onto Durham Road.

  Granted, it’s a lousy day to jog, not only hot but humid. As I accelerate my speed, pounding the road hard, I feel the heat radiating from the blacktop through my shoes. Gnats swarm around my face, trying to shoot up my nostrils. But it’s nice to move my legs and good to have a change of scenery.

  I don’t pass a single car on the road as I go, and the only person I spot is a farmer riding a tractor in a distant field. The solitude feels good, even essential, right now. After about fifteen minutes, my tension begins to subside, and after another ten, I do a U-turn and start back at a slower pace.

  And then, just as I’m jogging the last stretch, not even minding that my top is clinging to my torso, I have a revelation. Things will work out with the wine business. They will. Gabe is incredibly clever, and he’ll sort out the problem with the vineyard. He’ll insist that Marcus be more forthcoming in the future and he’ll smooth things over with his dad. Because the Keatons don’t do family drama.

  I’m almost back at the house when my attention is diverted by the wail of a siren, from a fire truck or maybe an ambulance. It’s about half a mile ahead, I guess, barreling in this direction. Instinctively, I step even closer to the edge of the road.

  Abruptly, the siren ceases—but the vehicle never passes me. My heart skips and I hasten my pace. Could it have stopped at our house? I move even faster, breaking into a run, and tearing up the gravel drive.

  And there it is, an ambulance smack in front of the house.

  Panic surges through me. My first thought is Henry. Has something happened to him?

  “What’s going on?” I shout to the two paramedics who have jumped out the back of the vehicle.

  “We need to get inside,” one of them yells as they grab equipment and charge into the house.

  I race behind them through the foyer and into the center hall.

  The first thing I notice is the sound of the dogs yelping from the kitchen and frantically scratching on the closed door. From the corner of my eye, I catch a movement in the living room and turn to see a cluster of people there. Blake is at the far end, kneeling, his back to me and his arms moving like pistons. Chest compressions.

  As soon as I see the shoes, I know that it’s Claire sprawled out on the floor. And that Blake is trying to save her life.

  9

  We need you to please step away now,” one of the paramedics tells Blake.

  He rises and lurches backward. In the second before the ambulance crew take over, I catch a glimpse of my mother-in-law. She’s deadly pale, her eyes are closed, and her mouth is twisted into a terrible grimace.

  Did she have a heart attack? I wonder, my breath trapped in my chest.

  I quickly absorb the rest of the scene. Ash, his face nearly as white as Claire’s, is standing nearby and Blake has placed an arm around him protectively. Marcus, Nick, Wendy, and Bonnie are here, too, in a ragged semicircle, looking on in horror.

  “What happened?” I whisper to Marcus, stepping closer and grasping his arm.

  “Not sure,” he mutters. “We were all out by the pool, and Bonnie came running out to get us. God—”

  “What about Gabe? Does he know?”

  “No, it all happened so fast. I’m not sure where he is.”

  He must still be in the cottage.

  My whole body feels weighted down by dread, but I force myself to run there. Please, please, I pray as I propel myself along the flagstone path, please let her be okay. It seems to take forever to reach the cottage, like I’m trying to run through water, but I finally shove open the front door to find Gabe and Henry on the couch, watching a video on Gabe’s laptop. The volume’s so high, neither one hears me arrive, and clearly they didn’t hear the siren, either.

  “Gabe,” I shout from the doorway. When he glances up with a start, I flick my hand in a beckoning motion for him to come to me.

  “Keep watching,” he tells Henry as he jumps up and hurries toward me, barefoot.

  “You need to get over to the house,” I whisper. “Your mom collapsed for some reason and paramedics are here, working on her.”

  “Jesus.” There’s panic in his eyes. He takes five frantic seconds to shove his feet into a pair of espadrilles by the coffee table, and then he’s off, charging up the path toward the house.

  “Is something the matter?” Henry asks, finally tearing his eyes off the screen.

  “Gee’s not feeling well, and Dad needs to check on her.”

  “Should I pause the movie?”

  “Uh, no, why don’t you keep watching, sweetie. And do you mind staying here for a little while by yourself? I want to check on Gee, too.”

  “Okay. Is she throwing up?”

  “No, not throwing up,” I tell him. If only it were that simple.

  Though I’m only a minute or so behind Gabe, he must have run like crazy because I don’t spot him ahead on the path. By the time I burst through the side door of the house and reach the living room, no one’s there. I find them all in the circular driveway, joined now by Keira and Hannah, watching in anguish as Claire is hoisted on a gurney into the back of the ambulance. Blake and Ash are talking to the driver through the window about which hospital she’s being taken to. The paramedics jump into the back of the ambulance and pull the doors shut with a double clang.

  “Okay, Dad and I are going to follow them to the hospital in Doylestown,” Blake announces as the ambulance pulls out of the driveway. It’s a town I know is about twenty-five minutes away. “Who’s coming with us?”

  Marcus and Nick shout in unison that they are.

  “Wh-why don’t I drive my own car,” Gabe says. “The keys are in it. And it’ll be better to have two there.”

  “I’m coming, too,” Wendy announces and grabs Blake’s hand.

  “I want to go,” I tell Gabe, “but someone needs to stay with Henry.”

  He nods distractedly, like he’s clicking onto automatic pilot. “I’ll call you as soon as we know anything.”

  Keira and Hannah quickly ask if they can accompany the group, but Blake nixes that idea.

  “We need people to hold down the
fort here,” he calls out as he hurries toward his Mercedes with Wendy and Ash alongside him.

  Seconds later the cars are roaring out of the driveway: Blake, Ash, Wendy, and Marcus in one, Gabe and Nick in the other. I stare helplessly, feeling like I’m watching a movie about another person’s life.

  Behind me I hear someone choke back a sob, and I turn to find Bonnie with her hands pressed to her face.

  “I can’t believe this,” she murmurs.

  “Why don’t we go to the kitchen,” I say, touching her shoulder. “I’ll fix us each up a cup of tea.”

  Before we retreat, I turn back to Hannah and Keira, making eye contact with only my sister-in-law.

  “Are you coming in the house?” I ask.

  “Yes—I think I’ll wait in the living room with my phone. I don’t know what else there is to do beyond that.”

  “I’ll come check in on you in a little while, okay?”

  Keira nods while Hannah simply stands there, looking surprisingly unsure of how to play the scene. Could she be secretly happy that she’s been granted a momentary reprieve? If she was the one Claire was chewing out, there’s certainly nothing to be done about it at the moment.

  I lead Bonnie by the arm to the kitchen, where Ginger and Bella are waiting on the other side of the door, all stressed out.

  “It’s okay,” I say, giving each dog a couple of pats on the head. “Go lie down now.”

  After encouraging Bonnie to sit at the table, I fill the electric teakettle with water and flick it on. I seem to be functioning on autopilot now, too, trying my best to hold my anxiety at bay.

  “Do you think it’s a heart attack?” Bonnie asks bleakly, her sun-weathered cheeks wet from tears.

  “Maybe. Do you know if she had any heart issues?”

  I doubt that Claire would have told Bonnie if she had—she’s too private for that—but as housekeeper, Bonnie might have noticed certain medications tucked in a cabinet or drawer.

  She shakes her head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

  But certainly it’s a possibility, a problem Claire might not have even been cognizant of. Claire, after all, is seventy-two. Or is it seventy-three? On the other hand, she’s superfit for her age. When I spoke with her after lunch, she’d seemed uncharacteristically subdued, but hardly unwell, and if she’d been experiencing any chest pain, she’d done a good job of disguising it.

  Of course, maybe she’s collapsed for some other reason altogether—a brain aneurysm or a seizure of some kind. Just thinking those words makes my stomach clench.

  “You were the one who found her?” I ask Bonnie.

  “Yes, it was me,” she says. “I’d come back from my break at four and started getting stuff ready for dinner. Claire’s usually in the kitchen around that time, but she never showed up, so I finally went looking for her and saw her at the end of the living room.”

  “Was she conscious?”

  “I’m not sure, to be honest. Her eyes were closed. And she was writhing on the floor, like she was in a lot of pain. I ran outside and yelled down at the pool for Ash and Blake, and they came running. Blake started CPR right away.”

  I shudder. It’s horrible to think of Claire suffering like that. “I’m so glad you found her when you did.”

  “I just pray she’s okay,” Bonnie says.

  “She will be,” I insist. “You know how strong Claire is.”

  The kettle clicks off and I fill two mugs with hot water. As I’m grabbing tea bags, my eyes fall on a row of empty ceramic vases on the counter, still waiting for Claire to fill them with her glorious arrangements. What if she never has the chance? No, I can’t allow myself to think that way. I carry the mugs to the table and join Bonnie there.

  “I know it seems awful to worry about this now,” Bonnie says, cupping her mug, “but what about dinner tonight? I was planning on grilling flank steaks. People will need to eat—though we have no idea when.”

  “You could always serve it at room temperature, right? And put out some sliced tomatoes and maybe one of those great pasta salads you do.”

  “That would work.”

  I think suddenly of my mother’s macaroni salad, to which she added hard-boiled eggs, peas, onions, celery, and gobs of mayo. She used to make it for friends if they lost a loved one or had a family member in the hospital. It was a dish that could keep in the fridge for a few days and people could help themselves to when they had a chance to eat. Not the kind of thing that would ever get whipped up in this kitchen, but it’s exactly the type of comfort food I could use right now.

  “I’m going to check on Henry,” I announce, rising from my chair and abandoning my tea, “but I’ll be back—and I’ll let you know if I hear anything.” I pause for a moment. “Um, do you have any help coming later?”

  My motive for asking is partly practical, but I still want to get to the bottom of what happened last night. What if the stress of the conversation triggered some sort of medical issue in Claire?

  “Yes, but someone new,” Bonnie tells me. “Not the girl who was here this weekend.”

  Wait, does this mean the pink-haired helper really had been the person Claire confronted?

  “How come?” I ask.

  “She’d only been able to give me a couple of days since she’s getting ready to attend her college orientation program. I have a young guy coming who’s done a few dinner parties with me here.”

  So then it clearly wasn’t the helper whom Claire gave the ultimatum to, especially when you add in the fact that I heard Bonnie and the girl leave the premises while Claire and I were in the kitchen.

  I jog back to the cottage, desperate not only to check on Henry but also to grab my phone. Though the ambulance probably won’t reach the hospital for another ten minutes, Gabe will surely call after that with any news.

  With a start I discover that the ground floor of the cottage is empty, and Gabe’s laptop is resting on the coffee table, its screen dark.

  “Henry,” I call out. “Where are you?”

  No reply.

  “Henry,” I yell, this time frantically.

  “I’m up here,” he shouts back from the second floor.

  “What are you doing up there?”

  “Changing out of my trunks.”

  “Well, come down.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  “Sorry about yelling,” I say as he emerges from the stairwell, dressed in a T-shirt and shorts. “I was just worried when I didn’t see you.”

  “I’m not a little kid anymore, you know.”

  Yes, you are I want to say, but this isn’t the moment.

  “Look, why don’t you start another movie on Dad’s computer? I have to use my computer for a minute.”

  “Yeah, all right. Are we gonna eat dinner soon?”

  “It might be a little later than usual. Sweetie, Gee ended up having to go to the hospital and Dad went with her.”

  His face wrinkles in confusion and concern.

  “Is she going to be okay?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. They took her to a really good hospital, with really good doctors.”

  I give myself a D for my performance. Even I hear the uncertainty in my voice.

  “I guess I can watch Rise of Skywalker,” Henry says hesitantly, sensing perhaps there’s more going on than I’m admitting to. He trudges over to the couch, plops down, and cues up the movie.

  After changing out of my running clothes, I grab my own laptop and sit beside him, but I angle my screen so that he can’t see what I’m doing, which is searching medical sites for “signs of a heart attack in a woman.”

  It turns out that in women, there’s not always chest pain in the minutes or hours before a cardiac arrest. They often experience vague or even “silent” symptoms, like fatigue, nausea or indigestion, light-headedness, and a cold sweat. I flash back to my encounter with Claire in the kitchen: her vaguely listless manner, which could have been a sign of fatigue; the uneaten sandwich, which might have laid there untouched beca
use she was feeling nauseated. And her face slightly shiny from perspiration.

  If it was a heart attack, that doesn’t mean it’s a death sentence. People have bypass surgery or get stents put in all the time. Like I told Bonnie, Claire’s incredibly strong, and she also has a ferocious zest for life.

  Please, I think, let her be okay. She has to be.

  I check the time on my laptop. It’s now close to seven o’clock, and Claire should be at the hospital by now, hopefully being seen right away by a great team. I wish Gabe would find a way to call.

  I snap my laptop closed and glance over at Henry, who’s transfixed by the movie. A thought about Claire skirts around the edges of my mind, toying with my attention. But as hard as I try, I can’t manage to catch a hold of it.

  “You hungry for a snack?” I ask.

  “I thought you said to watch another movie.”

  “I did, but if you’re hungry we can go up to the house and grab something for you.”

  “Okay, yeah. Is Dad coming back?”

  “Not for a while probably,” I tell him, hating to be so vague.

  We end up entering the kitchen at the same time Bonnie is carrying in several finished flank steaks from the outdoor grill. She introduces us to a twentysomething-year-old guy named Jake, who is slicing tomatoes at the counter and then she helps me cobble together a plateful of items for Henry. I set him up at the kitchen table.

  “You want a Coke with that?” I ask.

  “My mom says I’m not supposed to drink soda with dinner.”

  “Why don’t we make an exception tonight, since things are kind of crazy?”

  “Really?”

  The violation of house rules seems to brighten his mood, and while he digs into his dinner, I leave the kitchen in search of Keira. She’s alone in the living room, perched on the edge of a chair.

  “I haven’t heard anything, have you?” I say.

  “No, nothing.”

  I sense she’s about to say more, but doesn’t. Maybe she’s annoyed we’re stuck holding down the fort while Wendy is at ground zero.

  I find myself exhaling, a long, raggedy breath that’s been caught in my chest.