The Fourth Child

by C. J. Carmichael

  She hoped her children would remember these times with the same fondness. Later, after the hot dogs, they'd make's'mores, sandwiching roasted marshmallows and squares of chocolate between graham-wafer cookies. And then would come hot chocolate and bedtime stories, and not a word about baths, although she would make the girls brush their teeth.

  "Can we start cooking the hot dogs?" Jenna asked. Her little chin was smeared with dirt, and her pink T-shirt was covered with chips of bark and wood splinters.

  "No, hon. We have to build a great big fire, then wait until it turns to coals. Why don't you play for a while. Then it won't seem like so long to wait."

  Claire went back into the cottage to get the tray of food she and Mallory had assembled earlier. Mallory followed, bringing the huge container of lemonade and the stackable plastic glasses.

  "Did you invite Grady and the boys?" she asked.

  "I did. How about Drew? Is he coming?"

  "Any minute," Mallory assured her. "He's been working really hard on this issue of the Gazette, since it marks the beginning of the summer season. I know he's going to want to talk to you about it when he gets here."

  "Why me?"

  "I'll let him explain." .

  "You tease." Claire set the tray down on the large round cedar table, then added several of the larger logs to the fire. It was burning briskly now, snapping and crackling in the calm, pre twilight air.

  The breeze from earlier in the day had died down, and the low sun cast long shadows over the smooth, calm lake. Claire filled her lungs with lake-country air and told herself nothing could ever be too bad, as long as she had this place and her children. She could hear them now, laughing and shouting as they played hide-and-seek in the tall trees and low-lying brush.

  "I'm counting to ten! One, two, three…"

  Claire lit several citronella candles to discourage the mosquitoes, then began to organize the food. She had plain wieners for the children, spicy smokies for the adults. A tray of cut-up veggies and dip sat in the center of the table, and the makings for the's'mores lay covered with a tea towel.

  "Relax, Claire," Mallory said. "Why don't you sit for a minute."

  "I can't," Claire admitted. If she wasn't busy she would start thinking about Kirk and wondering why he hadn't called. She'd placed her cell phone on the table so she wouldn't miss the call if he phoned. Wasn't that pathetic?

  Tires crunching on dirt and gravel caught both her and Mallory's attention. Out of the woods came the four girls, all running in anticipation.

  "Uncle Drew!" Claire's girls yelled, spying the familiar Explorer that had once belonged to Drew's mother, Angle. Angie's death, almost three years ago now, had prompted Drew's return to Port Car-ling, but it was Mallory and their baby, Angel, who'd convinced him to stay. He'd left a promising career as a journalist, although he still hosted a program on foreign affairs for the national public radio station, which was broadcast Thursday evenings from Toronto.

  "Warren and Taylor!" Daisy shrieked, seeing Grady's old truck right behind. One of the twins was driving, Claire noted, sitting almost as tall as his father beside him.

  Quickly, she added the last of the logs to the fire, then joined the welcoming committee as they exchanged hugs and kisses and hellos.

  "Hey, Drew, looking good," she said as Mallory's husband threw an arm around her shoulder. His short dark hair was as bristly as ever, and his chin scratched when he bent to kiss her cheek.

  "Good to see you, Claire. How's Kirk doing? Sony sod, stuck in the big city…"

  Claire blinked and forced a dry laugh, then turned to Grady. He wore a blue-and-gray plaid shirt and jeans, his boyish grin lighting up his face. His medium-brown hah" was on the long side, and he brushed it back with an impatient gesture a second before his gaze fell on her.

  "Claire." He squeezed her tight, and she fought the urge to bury her face against his strong shoulder. She could smell his workshop in his shirt. Grady built and repaired motorboats, specializing hi custom wooden craft. It was good, honest work, which left him time to join his family for dinner, to spend his weekends fishing and waterskiing. If only Kirk…

  She glanced at the phone, still sitting silently on the table, then went to say hello to the twins.

  "Hi, Warren, Taylor. I hope the girls aren't going to drive you crazy. They've been so excited about seeing you."

  Taylor gave her a shy smile. "It's okay," he said. Warren just shrugged and glanced at his father.

  When they were younger, the boys had been incredibly patient and kind with the girls, but over the past few years their attitudes had shifted. It was to be expected, given then- ages, and Claire had tried to warn her daughters that Grady's boys might not want to play with them.

  But now they agreed to a game of hide-and-seek, with both of them being "it."

  "Be back in fifteen minutes," Claire called out as six small figures disappeared into the darkening woods. "The fire should be ready by men."

  "Come sit down," Drew said. "I want to talk to you."

  Claire remembered what Mallory had said earlier. "Okay. But let me get you a beer first."

  "Grady's ahead of you," Drew said, holding up a tin from a local brewery. "He's gone to put the rest of the six-pack in the fridge."

  Claire perched on the wide arm of Drew's chair. "Okay. What is it?"

  "I wondered how you'd feel about starting up the 'Cottage Cooking' column for the paper this summer."

  The offer surprised Claire. She didn't know what she'd expected, but writing a column… Shifting her gaze to the horizon, she noticed the sun was about to slip behind the barely visible trees on the other side of the lake. Gold-and-orange fingers of color skimmed the gentle swells that rippled the water's surface.

  "The 'Cottage Cooking' column," she repeated softly. Drew had discontinued it after his mother's death, and she'd missed its homey presence in the weekly paper.

  "I can't afford to pay you much," Drew said. "But I will pay."

  "I know you gave Angie half the recipes she used to print," Mallory added. It was common knowledge that Angie herself hadn't been much of a cook.

  "Yes, but Angie always wrote such charming stories to go with them."

  "I'm sure you'll develop your own style," Drew said reassuringly. "Come on, Claire. I appreciate that the girls keep you busy, but won't you at least give it a try?"

  Claire had worked in the hospitality industry before her children were born. Now she'd been out of the workforce for over ten years. Not that one column for a local paper constituted much in the way of work.

  Besides, the girls were older now. Even her baby was six, and constantly reminding her that she could "do it herself." Maybe this was a good idea. Maybe it would help keep her busy and her mind off other things…

  "Okay. Sure. I'll give it a try."

  "Starting this week?" Drew asked coaxingly. "I'd really like to have a column for the first summer issue." He glanced at Mallory, then added quickly, "Although next week would be okay, too."

  "I'll try for this week," Claire decided. Strawberries would be ripening soon, and she had her own variation of the ever-popular strawberry shortcake. That ought to be a good starting point.

  "Great! I knew I could count on you."

  "I brought you girls a beer," Grady said, just back from the cottage. He tossed a can to Mallory, then another to Claire.

  Claire set hers back on the table regretfully. If ever a woman could have used a drink, it was she, especially after this past week. "I'll stick to lemonade for tonight." As she poured herself a glass she was aware that all three of them were watching her. She turned and leaned up against the table.

  "Okay. What is it?"

  "You just said no to a beer," Grady said, exchanging a meaningful nod with Drew. "There are only three other times you ever turned down the first beer of the summer."

  "Any coincidence that she also has three little girls playing in the woods right now?" Drew inquired, lowering his voice a notch.

  "Do
n't tease," Mallory said. "So what if she doesn't feel like a beer. You guys read too much into the simplest things."

  "Do we?"

  The light was fading, but Claire could feel them inspecting her. She resisted the urge to smooth down her white T-shirt, to try to hide the expanding waistline that was so obvious to her.

  "It's true," she said quietly. "I'm pregnant. But the girls don't know." She took a deep breath. "Even Kirk doesn't know."

  She stared into the heart of the fire, where the wood seemed to be glowing from within. It was perfect for roasting wieners now. She should call the kids. And she would. In a minute.

  What were her friends thinking? She knew they'd be exchanging stunned glances, although no one had yet said a word. Then she felt Grady's arm around her shoulder.

  "I take it there's a reason you haven't told Kirk?"

  She nodded, then turned her head into his chest, unable to say another word without crying. Drew came up on her other side, then Mallory.

  "It'll be okay, Claire," she said. "I just know it will."

  Claire pressed her lips together and nodded. With the back of her hand, she brushed away the moisture that had collected along her eyelashes. After a deep breath, she straightened.

  "Th-thanks, guys. I hope you're right." But what were the chances? Her husband didn't love her anymore. He loved someone else. How could any marriage survive something like that?

  "How about we call the kids in from their game," Mallory suggested gently. "The fire looks about right, doesn't it?"

  "Perfect," Grady said, gently wiping Claire's cheek with one callused finger.

  At that moment the phone rang. Claire stared at it, not sure she wanted to answer. It had to be Kirk. Who else would call on her cell phone? But she wasn't sure she could talk to him right now.

  "Is the fire ready?" Andie came tearing out from behind the woodshed, still holding Angel's hand. "I'm starving!"

  "Me, too!" Angel said.

  "And me!"

  "And me!"

  Claire reached for the wooden sticks that Kirk had carved several years ago, but Mallory took them out of her hand.

  "We'll get the kids organized," she said. "You answer the phone." Then she placed the slim piece of black plastic into Claire's hand.

  Turning her back on the fire and the noise of four hungry children and two hungry teens, Claire pressed the talk button.

  "Hello?"

  "Claire? I was beginning to worry. Did the trip go okay?"

  Kirk's voice sounded so thin and fragile. Claire tried to picture his face, his body. Where was he? At home? The office? With Janice?

  "The trip went fine. We stopped for milkshakes." It was such a trivial detail she immediately felt silly for mentioning it. But suddenly she longed to tell him every single thing they'd done since leaving that morning.

  "Sounds nice," he said. "I wish…"

  She hung on, waiting for the end of that sentence, but he didn't finish.

  "I'd like to come up this weekend," he said. "To see the girls."

  Claire stepped farther away from the gathering, until she was certain no one could hear her. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

  "Why not?"

  Oh, how could she explain? This was the one place she felt safe, protected. Where she could pretend, just for a little white, that everything was still normal. If he drove up to the cottage, all that peace of mind would be lost to her.

  "I need to see the girls, Claire. I miss them already."

  What about me? Claire put a hand to her chest and closed her eyes. She would not cry. Not on the phone, not talking to him. She had to be strong. And she had to think of the girls. He was right. Their interests must be put first.

  "Then I guess you'd better come. When should I tell the girls to expect you?"

  "How about Saturday morning?"

  Usually he came Friday night. But maybe he'd reserved that time to spend with Janice.

  "Fine."

  "We'll talk then, Claire. We need to make some decisions."

  Claire didn't want to make decisions. She wanted a husband who loved her. A father for her three girls and for the unborn child she carried inside her.

  When she didn't answer, Kirk said, "I'll see you Saturday, then. Give my love to the girls."

  Claire turned off the power on the cell phone and fought for her composure. She couldn't break down now, not even with Mallory, Drew and

  Grady to cover for her. She'd seen Andie look at her when the phone had started ringing.

  She had to return to the fire and pretend all was normal.

  Oh, why was this happening to her?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Claire spent the next morning working on her strawberry-shortcake recipe with the girls. After lunch she drove them all into Port Carting, where she dropped her column off at the Gazette with just a pang of nervousness.

  "How about we stop for an ice-cream cone at Marg's Pastry Shop," she proposed. She was hoping to lighten the mood after Andie's tantrum just an hour earlier.

  The morning had started promisingly enough, with Andie completing the first two pages of her math workbook much more quickly and accurately than one would expect from a student with below-average math grades.

  And she'd been cooperative in the kitchen as she'd thickened frozen strawberries for the center layer of the shortcake.

  Only later, while they were sampling the results, had she thrown her fit. "Why did we make Daddy's favorite dessert, when he isn't even here to have any?" She'd run to her room and stayed there until it was time to leave for Port Carling.

  Claire gave Andie money for the cones, then sat in a booth to wait. The real issue wasn't the strawberry shortcake, of course. Was it boredom? It seemed to Claire that Andie spent far too much time on her own, reading. If only there were another young girl Andie's age nearby…

  "Problems?" Grady slid into the bench seat across from her.

  "Hey, Grady." She smiled. "Just a little kid trouble."

  "Any kid in particular?"

  "Andie." Claire told him about Andie's declining marks. "The problems started shortly after she had a falling-out with a friend named Erin."

  "Was it a big fight?"

  "I'm not sure. According to Andie, they just got bored with each other, but I don't know…"

  "That happens."

  "True. But Andie has other friends, friends of hers since kindergarten. And she hasn't been interested in any of them for a long time, either."

  "Sounds like there's more going on here."

  "I agree. But Andie won't talk to me, and her teacher swears she's seen no evidence of any problems hi the classroom or on the playground. No teasing or bullying or anything of that nature."

  "Taylor went through a phrase once where he just wanted to be on his own. He never was as social as his brother."

  "If Andie wants time to herself, mat's just fine with me. As long as she's happy…" But Claire didn't think that Andie was happy. In fact, the very opposite seemed true. Not wanting to burden Grady further with her problems, she changed the subject.

  "How are Taylor and Warren doing, by the way? Do they still enjoy reporting on high-school sports for the Gazette?'

  “That job has been a lifesaver. Keeps them busy nights and weekends." Grady glanced around the small cafe as if looking for someone, before focusing back on her, grinning in his old familiar way.

  "Just think of the trouble we got into at their age, then multiply it by two, and that about sums it up."

  "I was an only child, but I guess I gave my parents their share of gray hairs."

  "And I helped." Grady's grin widened, and Claire wondered if he was thinking about the summer before their last year of high school, when the two of them had dated. Two glorious, wonderful months. In the fall Claire had returned to Toronto, but they'd stayed in touch—until Grady's old girlfriend found out she was pregnant, and claimed Grady as the father.

  "But you can't marry Bess," Claire had argued. "It would be a terr
ible mistake." After all, he'd broken up with Bess, hadn't he? And he was crazy about Claire.

  Just as she was crazy about him.

  She remembered how he'd set her heart to pounding just by brushing his fingers on the back of her neck or placing a hand gently on her thigh. He had such a light touch, yet he was so confident, so sure. She'd been as pliant as biscuit dough in his hands, and never had she regretted that he'd been her first.

  But he'd left her for Bess, and the two of them married a week after graduation. Claire couldn't even remember the name of the guy she'd ended up taking to grad. Since it couldn't be Grady, it hadn't really mattered.

  She'd gone to college, then gotten a job at the Sheraton Centre in downtown Toronto. That was where she'd met Kirk. His firm held its annual Christmas dinner and dance in the Dominion Ballroom, and she'd been the special-events coordinator at the time.

  And look what that had led to—

  "Mom, can we eat our cones outside?" Daisy asked, skipping back from the counter with a very generous kiddie-size cone.

  "Sure. Was there any change?"

  Andie dropped a few coins to the table.

  "Thanks, hon." She glanced back at Grady, but his attention was elsewhere. She followed his gaze, and saw a tiny woman, dressed in jeans and a tight black tank top, step in the door with a young girl about Jenna's age.

  Terese Balfour, Claire realized. Had Grady arranged to meet her here? That would explain the way he'd been casing the joint.

  Yes. Terese smiled and waved as she caught his gaze and Claire was surprised to see Grady flush in response.

  "Excuse me a minute?" he asked her.

  "Sure."

  She watched him approach the counter and bend low to say something quietly to Terese, then to her young daughter. The little girl giggled and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  Claire decided she should go outside and join her girls. She'd met Terese before; Terese had even been at the cottage for Drew and Mallory's wedding. But for some reason Claire didn't feel like saying hi.

  Saturday, Claire was cleaning the breakfast dishes when she heard Kirk's sedan pull up the lane. She glanced out the kitchen window, surprised to see him so early. The girls exploded out the front door before he had a chance to slide out from the front seat of his car.