The Escape Artist

by Diane Chamberlain

  "Not a problem."

  They climbed down the metal staircase and walked around the building to her car. Kim buckled Cody into his car seat, then took the box from Noel and put it on the passenger seat.

  "Call me if you have trouble reading any of it." He grinned.

  "I will," she said, and as she drove away from Noel's odd little apartment, she thought she'd probably be calling him a great deal over the next few days.

  She made one more stop—to pick up chicken and an ice cream cake for Cody's birthday dinner—then drove home. There were no police waiting for her in front of her apartment, and she felt silly for having been so worried. The doctor's visit was behind her, Cody was taken care of, and she had a bundle of work to do with a paycheck promised at the end of the week. She was glad she'd invited Jessie and Adam over to celebrate with her.

  Jessie was carrying a wrapped gift, and Adam, a bottle of sparkling cider, when they arrived. "To toast the employed one," Adam said, holding the bottle in the air. "Told you we'd find you work." He surprised her by kissing her cheek as he walked into her apartment, as though they were old friends, and she was warmed by the gesture.

  Jessie seemed more interested in Cody. "How's the birthday boy?" she asked, picking him up from the playpen in the middle of the room.

  "I'm not sure what I would have done if I hadn't met up with you two," Kim said. "I haven't heard anything back on all the brochures I sent out."

  "Those things take time," Adam said. "People file them away until they need them. You'll get some calls."

  "Noel can keep you going for a long time," Jessie said, bouncing Cody on her hip. "He's prolific. Lives for his writing."

  Kim heard the bitterness again. "He seems to miss you," she said.

  Jessie shrugged. "He could have me or the booze. Couldn't have us both."

  Kim nodded. Fair enough.

  "What word processing program do you use?" Jessie walked over to her computer, now perched on the coffee table. Kim had moved it to clear the dining room table for her dinner guests.

  "Word," she said.

  Jessie bent over to lightly touch the keys with her fingertips. "What else do you keep on it? Do you have any games? Myst or anything? I love computer games."

  "No, sorry," Kim said. She'd removed the games the day after setting up the computer. "I'm afraid I'd never get any work done if I had games on it."

  "You're more disciplined than I am." Jessie gave Cody a big kiss on the cheek and lowered him carefully into the playpen again. "Will you bring Cody over to my house when Victoria has her kittens?" she asked. "Wouldn't he be fascinated by them?"

  "We'll see." Kim tried to smile. It was true that Cody would probably love the kittens, but she would rather not see them herself. A litter of kittens was a reminder of things she'd rather forget.

  Jessie walked into the kitchen. "What can we do to help?" she asked.

  She put Jessie to work with the lettuce and the salad bowl, and Adam with the potatoes and the peeler, while she cut up the chicken. The chicken was an extravagance. She usually ate pasta or rice and beans. But tonight was special.

  The three of them chatted as they worked together, and she felt lighthearted. She was actually having fun. She'd nearly forgotten about the possibility of the police showing up at her door. It seemed like a good sign that it had been four hours since the doctor's appointment and there had been no repercussions.

  Adam spotted the sketchbook next to the computer on the coffee table. "May I show Jessie your sketches?" he asked.

  She nodded. Adam brought the book into the kitchen, set it on the counter, and started leafing through the pages with Jessie peering over his shoulder.

  "They're really good, Kim." Jessie sounded surprised.

  "You've added a few new ones," Adam said.

  "Yes." She would have to buy another book soon.

  "When are you going to let me give you a lesson?" he asked. "Come on. You'd be doing me a favor."

  How could she turn him down when he worded it that way? "All right," she agreed. "Whenever you say."

  "Good." He closed the book. "You'll come to my studio, which is in my house. But till then, why don't you try to use your dreams? Keep your sketchbook under your bed and as soon as you wake up in the morning—before you even get out of bed—start sketching what you've dreamed."

  "I don't remember my dreams." It was a lie, but her dreams were every bit as negative and frightening as his. Better to pretend she had no memory of them.

  "You will," he said. "Just give it a try."

  Dinner was ready quickly and the four of them sat down at the table, Cody next to Kim in his high chair.

  "To Cody." Jessie raised her glass of sparkling cider in the air. "On his very first birthday."

  Adam raised his glass as well. "And to Kim," he said. "The only one of us who's working these days."

  Kim took a sip from her glass, glad they'd brought cider instead of wine. She couldn't recall telling them that she didn't drink. Maybe they didn't either.

  "Do you two drink alcohol?" she asked.

  "Not anymore," Adam said. "I stopped drinking after the accident when I saw exactly what havoc it could wreak on the unsuspecting. I have sort of a knee-jerk reaction to it now."

  "And that's the reason I split up with Noel," Jessie said. "I'd never given it much thought before, but after the accident, I couldn't handle seeing him drink every day."

  Kim remembered the scent of alcohol in Noel's apartment that afternoon. It had, frankly, reminded her of home and her childhood.

  "My parents were alcoholics," she confided. Turning to Adam, she said, "I mentioned about my father being a drinker, but it was actually both my parents. They were sloppy drunks. Mean drunks. They turned me off to alcohol. I can't stand it."

  "We were made for each other," Adam said, and there was something in his eyes that told her he was beginning to feel that was the truth. She dodged his gaze, a well of conflict springing up inside her. She liked Adam, but she could not imagine loving him. He was not Linc. Even if she never saw Linc again, she wasn't ready to give up the idea of loving him.

  Yet there was such warmth in Adam's eyes. Such tenderness. Jessie saw it too. Kim noticed her studying her brother's face, and she didn't seem to like what she saw.

  When dinner was finished, Jessie stood up abruptly and carried her empty plate to the sink. "I think we should go soon, Adam," she said. "I don't want to be out too late tonight."

  He looked at Jessie in surprise. "It's early," he said.

  "You have to have dessert," Kim said.

  "And Cody has to open his presents," Adam added.

  Jessie stood in the center of the kitchen floor, looking momentarily helpless. She let out a sigh. "All right," she said. "Sorry. I felt worn out all of a sudden."

  Kim saw the worried look on Adam's face as Jessie cleared away his plate. She rose to get the gifts, suddenly feeling the need to hurry the festivities along.

  Even though he'd never had a birthday before, Cody seemed to know what was expected of him. He happily tore the wrapping off his presents. Kim gave him a couple of toys she'd found at one of the garage sales, while Jessie and Adam's gift was a beautifully illustrated book about animals.

  Kim cleared the unwrapped gifts away from the table so they wouldn't get soiled, then brought out the dessert—the ice cream cake, a candle burning in the center of the icing. The three of them sang "Happy Birthday" as the cake was placed in front of Cody, and with a little help, he blew out the flame.

  "Ice cream cake." Jessie said as Kim cut the first piece. "Molly's favorite. Remember Adam?"

  Adam nodded, and as if Jessie had popped a pin in him, he deflated. The smile he'd been wearing most of the evening was gone, the ease in his face replaced by a wanness. "We had it at her birthday party the night of her accident," he said.

  "Oh." Kim drew back from the cake. "I wish I'd known. I guess this was a bad choice."

  Adam touched her hand, moving it toward th
e cake again. "Don't worry about it," he said. "It looks great."

  The mood of the evening, though, had lost its charm. Jessie didn't eat any of the cake. She took it on her plate, but Kim knew it would not be touched, and she wasn't surprised when Jessie once again pleaded fatigue immediately after Adam had finished his piece.

  "You can stay if you like, Adam," Jessie said. "But I'm going home."

  Adam looked clearly torn for a minute, and so was Kim. Adam had grown more attractive to her in the last hour, yet she was not at all certain what she wanted from him. She was too needy for her own good, she thought, unable to separate desire from loneliness.

  Jessie brushed a hand over Cody's head as she passed his high chair on the way to the door. She was serious about going, and going now. She seemed almost panicky in her need to get out of Kim's apartment. She waited at the door, one hand on the knob, for Adam's decision.

  "I'll come with you, Jess," he said, looking apologetically at Kim. He stood up and carried the dessert plates into the kitchen.

  Kim had lifted Cody into her arms, and she walked with him to the door.

  "Thanks for coming," she said. "And Cody thanks both of you for the wonderful book."

  "It was a great dinner." Adam said. "I'll call you and we can set up a time to—"

  "Adam?" There was a plea in Jessie's voice as though she might disintegrate if she had to stand there one more second.

  "All right, Jess." He put his arm around his sister, then said over his shoulder to Kim, "I'll call you."

  "All right," Kim said. "Good night, both of you."

  She watched them walk onto the landing, Adam holding tight to his sister's shoulders, and when they turned to start down the stairs, Kim did not miss the unmistakable relief in Jessie's eyes.

  –18–

  I think we need music," Adam said as he walked toward the stereo in the corner of his studio. "Loosening-up music."

  Kim stared at the empty canvas on the easel in front of her. Although this was the third night she'd painted in Adam's studio, it would be her first time painting on canvas, and she felt paralyzed. After watching Adam stretch the canvas, staple it into place, and prime it, she was afraid to touch her brush to it for fear of making a mistake.

  "You can't make a mistake," Adam said, as slightly jazzy, slightly soulful piano music filled the air. She recognized the musician. Keith Jarrett. Linc had many of his recordings.

  Adam took her hand, moved it to the palette, and dipped her brush into a blob of pale blue. Before she could protest, he'd swept her arm across the canvas, leaving a long blue streak. She gasped, then laughed.

  "Now you don't have to worry about wrecking a pristine canvas," he said. "So have at it."

  She stared at the blue streak, wondering what to do with it, trying to free her mind from any constraints. The first night she'd painted in Adam's studio, she'd felt awkward and embarrassed. She'd found herself holding back, afraid to show him her best for fear of hearing him pronounce it poor. Adam seemed to see through her, though, and he encouraged her to stretch, to challenge herself, and soon she was doing her best and better. "You're a quick study," he told her. But while she drew and painted, Adam only dabbled like a man who'd suddenly found himself in a glorious studio, surrounded by a wealth of art supplies, with no memory of how to use them.

  The color and angle of the blue streak looked suddenly familiar to her. It reminded her of the sky above the house across the street from her apartment, the house she'd been drawing in her sketchbook. She began to paint the house from memory, trying not to be intimidated by Adam's frequent glances in her direction.

  She might not have been falling in love with Adam himself, but she was falling in love with his house and his studio. Adam lived in a small, two-story white house, the mirror image of Jessie's rental house next door. Inside, the house was decorated in the same strong, opaque shades that marked his paintings. The carpet was a pale gray, the sofa navy blue, the chairs a white-and-navy stripe. Dotting the walls and covering table tops and bookshelves were photographs and paintings of the family he'd lost. Dana had been attractive and slender, with angular lines to her body. Sharp shoulders, long arms, and a pretty, engaging smile that was hard to imagine stilled forever. Her hair was a deep red, framing her face in soft waves.

  A painting of Molly and Liam hung above the fireplace. Kim would have recognized it immediately as an Adam Soria painting, with its vivid green background and the white clothes of the children. Molly was dark haired like Adam, Liam a redhead like his mother. The first time she saw the painting with its stark colors—the green, white, black, and red—she was struck only by its beauty. It was only after she'd studied it for a while that she wondered how Adam could tolerate having it there in his home, that exquisite reminder of what he had lost. She felt dishonest and intrusive, being witness to the things Adam held dearest. He didn't think to hide anything from her, while she hid everything from him.

  The studio was in what had once been an attic but was now a spacious and well-lit room. It still had the odd wall angles and pitched ceiling of an attic, but every surface was painted white and the effect was bright and inviting. A sink and counter space lined one of the walls, and two deep, soft, red leather love seats were tucked into alcoves on either side of the room. The easels stood near one corner.

  Cody slept in Liam's old bed while she painted, a chair propped up against the edge of the bed so he wouldn't roll out. She'd felt uncomfortable when Adam first suggested that Cody use his son's bed. The room was still a little boy's room, filled with pastel colors and stuffed animals and a lamp shaped like a dump truck. She worried that it would pain Adam to have another child in that room, but it seemed instead to please him.

  As a matter of fact, Adam seemed happy in general these past few days. There was laughter in his studio. More than once, though, she'd felt his eyes on her instead of on her work, and she knew she would soon have to sort out her own feelings about him. All she knew now was that she needed his company. She wondered how she'd ever thought she could survive living in isolation.

  From downstairs, there was the sound of a door slamming shut.

  "Sounds like Jessie's here," Adam said.

  They heard footsteps on the stairs and after a moment, Jessie appeared in the doorway to the studio. She looked tired.

  "Hi," she said, her voice flat.

  "Hi," Kim answered. "How are you?"

  "You look wiped out," Adam said. "What's up?"

  Jessie shrugged away the question. "Nothing's up," she said. "I brought some pizza home with me if anybody wants some."

  Adam looked at Kim. "Hungry?"

  She nodded. "Pizza sounds good."

  "Do you want a Coke, Kim?" Jessie asked as she started back down the stairs.

  "That'd be great," Kim called after her.

  Adam carried her brush and his own over to the sink, while she covered the paint palette with plastic wrap.

  Jessie had come over every night she'd been there, and Kim began to see her as their chaperone. Any potential for intimacy between Adam and herself seemed cut short with Jessie's arrival, and Kim wondered if that was their plan. Maybe Adam had asked Jessie to arrive at a given time to prevent him from…what? It was clear that, tonight at least, Jessie looked as though she'd rather be home in bed.

  Jessie had set plates and the pizza on the coffee table in the living room and poured them each a glass of Coke. Kim sat on the floor, her back against the sofa. Jessie sat next to her and Adam sat in a chair at one end of the coffee table. The television was on, the news a white noise in the background.

  "Are you okay tonight, Jess?" Adam asked his sister.

  "Sleepy." Jessie swallowed a bite of pizza, her eyes on the television. Then she looked at Kim. "So, how are you doing with Noel's opus?" she asked.

  Jessie seemed very curious about Noel's work, questioning her about it nearly every time she saw her, and Kim knew that neither member of that couple had truly put their relationship to rest yet.


  "Just fine," Kim said noncommittally. Noel's book was a coming-of-age story about an adolescent boy growing up in a working-class neighborhood in Baltimore. It was mildly interesting, but she hoped he planned to do some major revisions before trying to sell it.

  Suddenly, Adam leaned toward the TV. "That's right near here," he said. He picked up the remote from the coffee table and turned up the sound.

  A young female reporter stood in front of a blackened building. There'd been an explosion in the building that afternoon, she said. An attorney was killed, along with a receptionist and her two small children who happened to be in the office with her at the time.

  "What caused it?" Kim asked.

  "It was a bomb," Jessie said. "I heard about it on the car radio when I went to get the pizza."

  "Wasn't there another bombing around here recently?" Adam asked.

  "Yes," Kim said. "I walked past the house where it happened. A woman was killed when she opened an express mail package someone left on her porch."

  "Do they know—" Adam stopped mid-sentence and squinted at the image of the building on the television. "It's that law firm down on Duke of Gloucester Street, isn't it?" He leaned toward the TV again, as if to make out the details of the destroyed facade. "Sellers, Sellers and Wittaker? Isn't that it?"

  The name was familiar. She must have walked past the office at some time and noticed the sign. Or maybe she'd sent them one of her brochures.

  "I've heard of them somewhere," she said.

  "You've probably walked right by the building," Jessie said, "although their sign is really tiny."

  That wasn't it, Kim thought. She'd heard the name of the business somewhere. Maybe someone had mentioned the law firm to her. It didn't matter. Her attention was drawn to the image on the screen: a picture of the young receptionist and her husband as they cuddled their two small children.

  "That's so unfair," she said. She wanted to go upstairs and hug Cody close to her.

  Adam abruptly reached for the remote and hit the off button. "Can't watch it," he said. His face was white, his jaw set, and the old pain she'd seen in his eyes when she'd first met him had returned.