Plan Overboard (Toronto Series #14)

by Wardell, Heather

  "He asked me to," I protest. "Was scared he'd screw up." He hadn't screwed up at all, though. He'd been so focused and careful, checking with me before everything he did and asking all sorts of questions about why I didn't use baby powder and exactly how many wipes he needed to use to clean her up, and I'd been so touched by the way he cuddled Jenna to his shoulder afterward while his face filled with relief and pride that I'd had to fight back tears.

  "He's trying hard," Mom says. "Even if he is liable to make the poor kid melt away to nothing."

  I laugh. "I know. He asked me again on the way home whether I was sure she hadn't needed another layer." She'd been wearing a onesie and a blanket I'd crocheted for her and fuzzy slippers in Mom's warm living room, and even so Austin had wanted to cover her up with his own sweater to make sure she wasn't cold. I'd had to point out that she was sweating before he'd relaxed, and even that didn't work for long since he kept going over to touch her cheek and make sure it hadn't somehow frozen solid.

  "And I think he wanted me to get her off my chest while she napped."

  He most certainly had. The first time he'd seen me letting her sleep that way he'd been horrified. "What if she falls off? What if you drop her?" I'd assured him that I didn't do it when I might fall asleep and he'd said, "I know, you're great with her, and she clearly enjoys it. I'm jealous, but it terrifies me." He hadn't said anything to Mom when she let Jenna sleep that way, but I'd known he wanted to.

  I nod, and am about to tell her about his fears when my cell phone on the table between us signals it's got a new email.

  "Need to check that?"

  "Guess I should," I say, reaching for it. "Austin's supposed to let me know whether he's working late tonight."

  It isn't him, though, and my heart jolts hard in my chest when I see the email's subject line: "Toronto Philharmonic seeks clarinetist".

  Trying to stay calm, I open and read the message.

  Dear former applicant,

  I am writing today to inform you that we are again looking for an associate clarinetist. Our previous hire left us a year and a week after his acceptance to the orchestra, so by our constitution we must again complete a full audition process. The vacancy will of course be posted on all of the usual orchestra job sites but since you auditioned last time I wanted to directly invite you to do so again.

  Applications are due by midnight November 24th and the auditions will be held on December 1st (first round) and 2nd (final round). All information on applications and audition materials is available on our web site, but please feel free to contact me directly if you have any questions.

  Thank you, and I hope you'll audition again.

  Nora Drucker, principal clarinetist, Toronto Philharmonic

  I put the phone down, then pick it up to delete the message, then put it down again. Neither way feels right.

  When I reach for the phone again, Mom says, "What's up?"

  Rather than explain it, I hand her the phone.

  She reads the email, then gives a low whistle. "Yeah. I can see why you look like that." She puts my phone back on the table. "So... what are you thinking?"

  I shrug. "I'm all mixed up. I haven't even touched my clarinet in a year, so I probably couldn't get in even if I did go for it. But I didn't think I'd ever have the opportunity again and I don't know if I should let it go by. Maybe I owe it to myself to do it? But my life is going great right now, with Jenna and Austin and my job waiting for me after my leave is up, so..." Hoping she'll tell me one way or the other and I won't have to agonize over it, I add, "What do you think?"

  She looks down at Jenna. "I think... I think little babies do best with their mom's full attention."

  My stomach twinges with disappointment but I suspect it would have done exactly the same thing if she'd said I should go for the orchestra. "Yeah."

  She sighs. "I'm sorry. I know it's what you've always wanted, but..."

  I brush my fingertips over Jenna's cheek. "But I want different things now."

  Mom nods. "If you didn't have her, it'd be a no-brainer."

  I nod, but I'm not sure she's right. It doesn't feel like it would be an easy decision actually, to put myself on the line for the orchestra again. Could I really handle all that pain, all that hard work, with no guarantee of a reward?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Melissa opens her front door and bursts out laughing. "It's so good to see you, Corinne, and you guys look great together!"

  After much discussion, Austin and I decided to dress as Toronto Hogs hockey players for Melissa and Nicholas's Halloween dinner, with Jenna in black sporting a black foam ring around her middle as our puck. Working on the costumes with Austin, from coming up with the idea to the 'where do we find black baby clothes?' issue, was a lot of fun, and his careful testing and reshaping of the foam ring to make sure Jenna would be comfortable was adorable. He's still afraid to be alone with her in case something goes wrong, so we haven't tried that yet, but he's doing so well and I love seeing them together.

  "Thanks," I say, smiling at Melissa. I haven't seen her since Austin and I reconnected because first she then Nicholas then Nolan had a terrible stomach virus, and I'm delighted to spend time with her now. "You look great too."

  "Oh, this old thing?" She gestures at her costume, layers of gray chiffon that billow around her. "I'm the smoke monster from my book."

  I give her a 'duh' look. "I know that. I've read it, remember?"

  She laughs. "I do indeed. How could I forget my first-ever book signing?" She adjusts a bit of the fabric. "If nothing else, all this stuff hides my squishy belly."

  I tug at the loose Forrest Williams jersey Austin borrowed from Art for me. "I hear you." I'd planned to lose weight after the baby, of course, but Austin keeps bringing me chocolate so it's not going too well. I prefer hard candies to chocolate, but he doesn't know that and I do like chocolate too. He says I look great, and doesn't seem to notice my extra weight, but I still wish I could follow my plan a little more closely.

  Melissa gives my shoulder a squeeze as we come into the house, then closes the door and grabs me in a hug. "I'm so happy for you guys," she says into my ear. "So's Nicholas."

  "Thank you," I murmur. "Thanks for talking Austin into it."

  She giggles and whispers, "I couldn't have talked him out of it if I tried, which I did not," then lets me go and says, "And who's this lovely little one?"

  "It's me, Mel," Austin says, setting down Jenna's diaper bag and easing her out of her carrier. "Don't you recognize me?"

  We all laugh as Austin hands me Jenna. "I said lovely." Melissa touches Jenna's plump hand. "Gorgeous. What a pretty girl." She takes a deep breath and says again, "Gorgeous."

  Austin wraps his arm around my shoulders. "Runs in the family."

  "Sure does." Melissa smiles, but it seems forced, and I remember how much she wanted a girl and wonder if it's difficult for her to see Jenna. She smiles again, though, a little wider, and says, "Come on in and meet Nolan."

  Nicholas, wearing regular albeit bloody clothes but with a clearly foam-rubber hatchet somehow attached to the back of his head so it appears to be embedded in his skull, walks backward into the foyer, then turns to show that he's holding a scowling chubby-cheeked baby in a moose costume. "He didn't want to have his diaper changed, but I did it anyhow and here he is."

  "You'd think they'd love having a fresh diaper," Austin says, "But Jenna gets upset about it too. Maybe it's just my technique."

  "You do fine," I say, because he does. In the weeks since Thanksgiving he's taken over quite a bit of the diapering when he's around, and he's far more relaxed about it than he was. "I could do with a little less whining from both of you, but you do fine."

  The brothers share a chuckle over child care, and I grin at Nolan and say, "It's a moose!" in the giddy tone Jenna seems to love from me.

  Nolan's eyes widen then he grins so hugely his cheeks nearly obscure his eyes and holds out his arms to me.

  "Corinne can't t
ake you, pal, she's carrying our puck," Austin says, offering his arms to Nolan. Nicholas passes him over, and we all walk into the open main area of the house where Linda sits wearing a black satin dress and white furry cape with a half-white-half-black wig and vibrant red lipstick.

  "There you are," she says. "I've been contemplating skinning Rover to pass the time."

  I'm not sure what to do with this, but Melissa laughs. "A, Cruella de Vil was after Dalmatians and Rover is a cat. B, Rover is only one cat, and not a very big one, so I don't think you'd get much fur. Hardly worth the effort."

  "C," Nicholas puts in, "don't be skinning our pet regardless of his species or amount of fur."

  Linda flips her cape dramatically. "Fine. If you insist."

  "Want a tour before dinner?" Melissa asks me.

  I do, so Austin hands Nolan to Linda and takes Jenna from me then settles onto the couch with his mom while Nicholas begins setting the table.

  Their house is small but adorable, and everywhere I look I see photos of them being happy together and things that I can tell have tremendous meaning to them. They've built a real home, not just a house, and I picture my white-walled rental apartment and envy them.

  When we've reached the small office upstairs where Melissa does her writing, she takes a breath as if to say something more significant but is interrupted by the ringing doorbell. "That'll be the pizza," she says. "Hungry?"

  "Starving. Breastfeeding seems to do that to me."

  She holds out her hand for a high-five, which I provide as she says, "Amen, sister. I have breakfast then late breakfast then early lunch then lunch, and after that I really start eating."

  I laugh, then on a whim I say, "Look, I'm sorry I didn't answer your email. With Austin not being around then and everything, I just couldn't. I wanted to but—"

  She shakes her head, cutting me off. "I understood then, I understand now, no worries."

  "Thanks. You're the best. And your son is adorable," I say, pointing to a picture of Nolan and Nicholas on her desk. "Both your men are."

  To my horror her eyes well up.

  "Melissa, what's—"

  She waves her hand at me and squeezes her eyes shut. "Nothing," she mumbles as a tear slides down her cheek. "Nolan didn't sleep at all last night, and I'm just tired and hormonal. Sorry."

  I put my arm around her, not sure what else to do, and Nicholas shouts up the stairs, "Pizza's here, ladies."

  Melissa pulls in a deep breath and wipes away her sadness. "Don't tell him," she whispers. "Okay? He gets so worried when I get upset."

  I nod then give her a hug, hoping it'll help.

  She clings to me like I'm the only thing holding her up for a few seconds, then takes another deep breath and steps away. With a weak smile, she says, "Okay, my lovely hockey player, let's go stuff our faces."

  "You're on," I say, glad she's trying to lighten her mood but still worried about her.

  For most of the meal the conversation is relaxed and casual, ranging from the party Nicholas and Melissa are attending later tonight with their horror movie club to what they're doing tomorrow for their one-year wedding anniversary to Austin's improv group. Linda even compliments my emerald ring, which I decided to wear though a hockey player wouldn't because it's so pretty and I thought it deserved to get out of the house once in a while. Near the end of dinner, though, she looks at me nursing Jenna and says, "You could have knocked me over with a feather when I heard Austin actually called you."

  I blink, and Melissa says quickly, "More pizza, anyone?"

  Her obvious attempt at changing the subject doesn't work because Linda just grabs a slice and keeps going. "Austin could have anybody. He's well-off and good-looking and smart."

  "Mom!"

  Linda shoots Austin a "what?" look then turns back to me. "Not that I have anything against you. I liked how you kept him in line on the cruise. But..." She gestures at Jenna. "A built-in family, for a guy like Austin? I don't see it lasting."

  It hasn't officially started, really, since we're just trying it out, and I don't know what to say.

  "I see it," Melissa says firmly. "I really do."

  Linda looks at her and shakes her head. "You don't know him as well as I do. He and I are too much alike for that to work for him. He'll be great for a while, sure, but it's going to be too much for him. It's like how I had to leave Raul because it wasn't working. It's not like he'll ever marry her or anything."

  Nicholas says, "Mom!" and Austin says, "We're nowhere close to that and anyhow—"

  Ignoring her sons, Linda turns back to me. "You're not a dreamer like Mel here, right? You are making plans for yourself? You're not relying on him? I'm not even positive he'd stick around for his own kid never mind somebody else's. You can't trust a man, you know. You have to be responsible for your own child's welfare."

  "I know that," I say, her condescending tone annoying me and offending me on Austin's behalf, "and I am. I'll handle it on my own if need be."

  She gives a sharp nod. "Need will be, someday, so that's good."

  "Mom, could you just... not?" The pain in Austin's voice tightens my chest. "I'm not going anywhere."

  She shrugs, looking like she doesn't care either way, and her words confirm that when she says, "As long as Corinne isn't stupid enough to depend on you, which I don't think she is, it'll be fine. I know you're having fun playing house since it's so different for you, and that's great. Enjoy it."

  She doesn't say, "For now," but she might as well have because we can all hear those two words hanging in the air.

  *****

  The rest of dinner is about as awkward as one would expect after such a conversation. I feel bad for Melissa having her party spoiled like that, but she clearly feels worse for me because when Nolan becomes grouchy and Austin and I prepare to leave, she gives me a huge hug and whispers, "Ignore her. He is capable of staying around."

  I hug her back and don't say what I'm thinking: sure, he's capable, but will he do it? I'm capable of auditioning for the orchestra again but I don't have the strength to face it. Will he someday feel the same way about Jenna and me?

  Austin drives the three of us back to my apartment in a silence that speaks volumes, and when we arrive he says, "Can I come in?"

  "Of course." I hadn't thought he'd want to, given his obvious unhappiness, but I'm glad he does.

  At least, I'm glad until I've put Jenna down to sleep in her little side-sleeper bed and the second I walk back into the living room Austin says, "Do you think my mother's right?"

  I sink onto the couch and stare at him. "Of course not. Why would I?"

  He moves to sit next to me. "Because."

  "Because why? Because you've been absolutely great with me and Jenna so far?"

  Austin rubs his forehead. "'So far.' That's the thing. I'm always great at the beginning. Then things get serious and I'm gone."

  I hate talking about how his past relationships have gone, but I hate more how defeated he sounds. "So don't let that happen this time."

  He drops his head back against the couch. "I don't want to. But..."

  I'm tired, and Linda's words are ringing in my head, and I speak without thinking. "But what? You're planning to leave? Already? We haven't even been together a month."

  He starts to speak but I cut him off by adding, "Not that we are together."

  He doesn't dispute that, which hurts even though I'm not sure I'm ready to be fully together either. "I don't want to leave."

  "Then what is it? You already knew Linda wouldn't think you'd stay with me and Jenna, so why is tonight such a big deal?"

  I sit watching the struggle on his face, my brief flare of anger with him fading to nothing as sympathy fills me, then he says, "All... all I've ever known is people leaving. I don't want to go but I want to make sure Jenna is okay if I do. She's a sweetheart and—"

  "She is my sweetheart," I say, all my emotion at the pain he's clearly feeling evaporating at once in the heat of my sudden fury that he do
ubts my ability to take care of my daughter. "I made the decision to have her, and I did it all on my own. You weren't here, remember? So if you're not here later, she'll be fine. And so will I. We weren't planning to have you around and we'll be fine on our own when you leave."

  Austin sits utterly silent and frozen, then he pushes to his feet and walks straight to the door and out of my apartment.

  Out of my life?

  I drop onto the couch and shut my eyes. I won't blame him if that's what he does. I can't. It's my fault. I flat-out told him I don't need him and made it sound like I didn't want him. Which isn't even close to the truth.

  What I want is for him to have come in with me and cuddled me and told me that Linda was wrong and he would never ever leave. But he didn't. And he couldn't have, because we both know he might.

  I pick up my crocheting, but drop it again. I'm not in the mood. Replaying my argument with Austin, though I'm not in the mood for that either, makes it clear to me how badly I handled that conversation. He just wanted me to tell him I believe in him, for crying out loud. And I lost my damn mind.

  It wasn't just the idea of Austin leaving, horrible though that would be. What really fired me up was the whole 'can I raise Jenna on my own?' thing. I believe I can. I have to believe I can. But there are so many things I could do wrong, without even realizing I'm doing them, and then what would happen to her? I have planned every last detail that I've considered but already I've had so many things come up that I hadn't considered. Being a mom is making me have to be more flexible, and that feels like it's tearing me apart. I'm breaking, not bending. And I don't know how to bend.

  After a few minutes of sitting in misery on the couch, I get up and drag myself into the bedroom, past my stupid planning book with all its stickies that are only stressing me out instead of helping. As I start to close my curtains so the sun won't blind me when it rises, I see Austin's black SUV in the parking lot. I strain my eyes against the dark night and realize he's there too, standing leaning against the car with his chin down to his chest.