The Miles Between Us (5 page)

Trish patted his forearm
. “I’m so sorry about the baby, hon.”

“I keep thinking.
” He drew in a long breath. “I keep thinking that it would’ve been another little girl like Emma. And it breaks my heart to think she never even got a chance. And then I think—” He paused to look over at her, unable to continue for an instant. “The same thing could’ve happened with Emma. You know? And my blood runs cold. We’re so lucky to have her. I never realized how much.”

She took his hand in hers
. Squeezed it. “But it didn’t happen with Emma. She’s right here with us, precious and beautiful and every inch your daughter. I know you’re grieving for the baby you lost, but you have to focus on what’s right in front of you. Casey, and Paige, and Emma.”

“Yeah
. I know.” When she released his hand, he wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Cleared his throat and combed long, bony fingers through his messy hair.

“Casey wants more babies,” she said.

“Yes.” He picked up his fork, idly dragged the tines through the egg yolk that was rapidly congealing on his plate.

“What are you going to do about that?”

He dropped the fork back onto the plate. “You know what, Trish?”

“What?”

“I don’t have a freaking clue.”

* * *

Back home, he got Emma bathed and dressed for bed. She’d finally quieted down, but she still wouldn’t sleep. He turned on the bedroom TV, and with Emma lying on his chest, cuddling with her favorite blanket, he stretched out on the bed. There was nothing on TV worth watching, and he flipped channels with growing disillusionment. Finally, he gave up, traded the remote for the bedside phone, and called Casey’s hospital room.

“I hate this house when you’re not in it,” he said when she answered.

“I know, babe. Are you okay?”

“I’m lonely. And sad. And a bunch of other things I can’t even
put into words.”

“Me, too
,” she said.

There was silence on the phone line between them, but it was a comfortable silence
. Just knowing that she was there, at the other end of that line, was a comfort. “How’s Emma doing?” she said.

“She’s missing yo
u. She finally stopped crying after Uncle Bill bribed her with ice cream. But she doesn’t like being here without you any better than I do.”

“I’ll be
incarcerated in this lovely establishment until Sunday. Why don’t you pack up Emmy’s gear and make a quick trip down to visit your folks?”

“Tonight
? It’s a three-hour drive.”

“It’s still early
enough. They’d be thrilled to see you, Flash. And Emmy. You know how they dote on her.”

It hadn’t occurred to him, but the idea was
greatly appealing. With one exception. “If I do,” he said, “you’ll be all alone tomorrow.”

“Believe me
, I’ll have visitors. Probably more than I want. In between, I could use some alone time. And I think you could use some Mary time.”

She was right
, of course. Casey had a way of seeing through the bullshit and zeroing in on whatever was beneath all the bluff and bluster. There were times in a man’s life when he needed his mother, if only as a sounding board and soft shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” he said. “I hate to leave you.” Especially at a time like this, but he didn’t want to say that.

She read his mind anyway
. “I’m not in any danger. I just need to rest and recuperate. They’re holding me because they know my definition of rest isn’t the same as theirs. It’s very hard to overdo it in a hospital bed. But there’s no reason you shouldn’t go down to Boston and enjoy a little time with your family.”

“
I’ll think about it.” He paused, shifted himself into a more comfortable position. “Phoenix called me.”

“Oh?”

“He wanted to know why I thought being with my wife in her time of need was a higher priority than recording his frigging album.”

“Oh,
for the love of God. What did you tell him?”

“I told him the world doesn’t revolve around him.”

“And how did that go over?”

“He laughed at me
. The little bastard.”

“How disrespectful.”

“That’s our Phoenix. Gotta love the kid. Generally I just laugh it off, but tonight, his utter inability to put himself in somebody else’s shoes got to me. The guy lacks empathy. I think he’s a sociopath. Like Ted Bundy.”

“A serial killer in the making?”

“Don’t make fun of me. I’m serious.”

“I know you are
, my darling. That’s one of the reasons I love you.”

* * *

He debated whether or not to call his mother, finally decided he didn’t want to surprise her by showing up at her door unannounced at some ungodly hour. On the other hand, he didn’t want to go into details over the phone. “Hey, Mom,” he said when she answered.

“Well, if it isn’t my long-lost son
.” Her Irish brogue always said
home
to him in multiple lovely shades of color. “About time you remembered you have a mother. How’s the wee one? Am I going to see her again before she graduates from college?”

“She’s fine
. Growing like crazy. As a matter of fact, I was thinking about coming down tonight, if you wouldn’t mind making up the crib for Emma.”

“You know you’re always welcome
, any time.” There was a brief pause. Then, “What’s wrong?”

Like Casey, his mother had that sixth sense, that built-in radar that honed in on the tiniest note in his voice, the most minute body language
. “Nothing’s wrong,” he said.

“You were never any good at lying
, my son.”

“Every
thing’s fine,” he said. “I just feel like visiting my mom. You have a problem with that?”

“Mind your mouth
or I’ll have to take you over my knee. You may be taller, but I’m still in charge. I’ll get the crib ready and freshen a bed for you.” Another pause. “I assume Casey’s coming with you?”

“Not this trip
. And stop prying.”

“I have to pry
. Otherwise, I’d know nothing, since none of my children ever tell me anything. Is something wrong between you and Casey?”

“We’re fine, Ma
. Stop worrying.”

“I’ll stop worrying when I know there’s no reason to worry
. Until then, I’ll carry on. I’m Irish. It’s what we do best.”

It was nearly midnight when he
reached South Boston, where he was greeted by a light summer rain infused with the intoxicating scent of his mother’s blooming roses. Emma had fallen asleep shortly after they left home. Fearful of waking her, he carried her into the house, car seat and all. His parents waited, their faces somber, concerned. “I made tea,” his mother said. “Crib’s in the room at the top of the stairs. Since you don’t need a double bed, I thought you’d like your old room.”

“Thanks, Ma.
” He kissed her on the cheek, clasped hands with his dad, and carried Emma up the stairs. The poor kid was so wiped out that she never woke up, not even when he untied her pink sneakers and removed them. Once she was settled, he pulled the covers up to her chin and then stood watching her, tiny and innocent and perfect, his heart flooding with a love so deep and strong, it nearly brought him to his knees.

He quietly closed the door—as far as it would close—and took a look around
. The upstairs hallway was still the same hideous gold color it had always been, the carpet threadbare and thin. The house was creaky, the roof saggy, the floors so crooked you could go bowling without even throwing the ball. Just drop it and watch it roll. But this was home, in a way that no other place had ever been home. He’d spent the first twenty-two years of his life in this house, and that upbringing would always be a part of who he was. He’d been lucky. He’d grown up in a home filled with love and family and wonderful memories, with two parents who loved each other, who still loved each other after forty-plus years of marriage. And yes, he knew he was romanticizing it, conveniently forgetting the times when they’d lived on soup for days on end because there hadn’t been enough to feed a family of nine kids. But as a boy, he’d never given a thought to that kind of thing. He’d been too busy living. As far as he was concerned, he’d had an idyllic childhood. That was what he wanted for his own kids.

He’d
missed the boat with Paige. Those lost years were something he could never get back, and he would spend the rest of his life regretting them. But Emmy symbolized love and hope and a bright, shiny future. Even starting as late as they had, in their mid-thirties, he and Casey had talked endlessly about what they expected from their life together. They’d spent her entire pregnancy making plans for the family they intended to raise. They’d agreed to eschew boundaries, to let biology determine how many children they would have. They hadn’t expected that bright and shiny future to be tarnished by loss after loss.

His parents were waiting downstairs
. “All right,” his mother said briskly, “why are you here and why isn’t Casey with you?”

“Casey’s in the hospital
,” he said. “She had another miscarriage.”

“Godd
amn it,” his father said.

“Oh, Robbie,” his mother said
. “I’m so sorry. But Casey’s all right?”

He sat down in a chair
and stretched out his legs. “She is now. It was touch and go for a while. Too damn close. I was in New York, working. If Trish hadn’t found her…” He ran a hand over his face, scrubbed back his hair, let out a sigh. “I was so damn scared.”

“
Of course you were! But why aren’t you there with her?”

“It was her idea for me to come here
. She knows how much I hate being in that house alone, and the hospital’s holding her until Sunday. She did a few mental calculations and decided I needed the two of you right now more than she needed me.” Beneath the table, he worked off his sneakers and wiggled his toes. “And of course, she was right.”

“Of course
. When has she ever not been right?” His mother poured hot water over a tea bag and set the teacup in front of him.

“Thanks,” he said, and took a sip of hot, bracing tea
. He closed his eyes and leaned back his head, grateful for home, for his parents, for the simple comfort of a cup of hot tea at the end of a very long, very bad day. “Listen, Ma,” he said, opening his eyes and turning his head in her direction. “Do you still have Great-Grandma Sullivan’s ring?”

“Of course
. I promised it to you three years ago. I’ve just been waiting for you to ask.”

“Our anniversary’s coming up
soon. I’ve been waiting for the right time to give it to her.” He took a sip of tea. “I think now’s the right time.”

“
Oh, so you think, do you? I was starting to wonder if you were planning to wait until your fiftieth. Sometimes men can be so stupid.” And she got up from the table and bustled out of the room.

He narrowed his eyes, set down his cup
. Fighting back a smile, he said, “Tell me something, Dad. The way she bullies all of us, how have you managed to put up with her all these years?”

“I don’t know,” his father said
. “Maybe for the same reason Casey puts up with you?”

“Ouch.”

“You might have taken your looks from me,” Patrick MacKenzie said, “but in every other way, you’re the spitting image of your mother. Stubborn, willful, outspoken. A little too impulsive, a little too rash.” Patrick lifted his own teacup and saluted him with it. “But in spite of all those sins, my son, you and your mother are redeemed by virtue of the fact that you both have a heart as big as all outdoors, and you both wear it proudly on your sleeve.”

Rob
lifted his teacup, touched it to the one Patrick still held high. “Amen,” he said.

Casey

They
stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts on the way home from the hospital. Rob cautiously handed her a cup of decaf, then took his own cup from the girl at the drive-thru window, mumbled his thanks, and set it in his cup holder. Without speaking, he pulled away from the window, circled the building, and waited for a Dodge Ram to pass before pulling out into traffic. “You’re quiet,” she said.

“
Sorry.” He removed both hands from the steering wheel, stretched his fingers, and returned them to the wheel. “I’m just thinking.”

She took a sip of decaf
. “About?”

“I have to go back to New York
. I have an album to finish. Those fat-cat record executives don’t have a sense of humor. Time is money, and the meter’s ticking. Plus, I lost Kitty on the one day she was available, and now I have to try to reschedule.”

“And it’s all m
y fault.”

“Hey.
” He shot her a glance. “What happened wasn’t your fault. Shit happens.”

“Yes,” she said, and took another sip of coffee
. “It does.”

“I want you to
come with me.”

“To New York?” She raised an eyebrow
. “What about Emma? And Paige?”

Upon hearing her name,
Emma, who’d been babbling contentedly in the back seat, went silent.

“We’ll take
the girls with us.”

“Paige has school
. She’s starting her senior year soon. She can’t miss that.”

“School doesn’t start for a few weeks
. I may be finished by then. If I’m not, she could probably stay for a while with my sister. Or Trish.”

“I don’t know
. We’re in the middle of construction. Things could go wrong. I might need to make decisions—”

“You’ll be a phone call away
. Besides, Colleen can make decisions as well as you can. She’ll live without you for a few weeks. I want you where I can keep an eye on you.”

“
Damn it, Rob, I don’t need a babysitter.” Darkly, she added, “And you certainly don’t have to worry about me getting pregnant again if you’re not around.”

“I don’t know, babe
. What about those hot guys at the bowling alley? Those shirts? Those shoes?”

“Although tempting, I’ll have to
pass. I’m off the market. Permanently.”

“I’m being serious here. You just gave me the worst scare of my life. I thought I was about to lose you. I just want you near me for a while, okay? I’m not ready to be hundreds of miles away from you right now. I need you sleeping beside me at night.”

She let out a hard breath
. Wasn’t that the same thing she needed? “What’ll you do if you can’t get Kitty?”

“I don’t know
. I don’t really want to go with anybody else, but I might not have a choice.” He considered her question at length. “Her tour will be finished soon. If I can’t get her to New York before we wrap the recording, maybe I can bring her to the house for a day or two. I’m already planning to do the mixing at home.”

“I am no
t having that woman in my home!”

He swiveled his head and gave her a long,
appraising look. “I thought you liked Kitty. Have I missed something?”

“Do I have to spell it out
for you?”

“I guess you do.”

“The two of you—” She quickly checked on Emma, who’d gone back to babbling. Casey lowered her voice. “—used to have a relationship.”

“
I’d hardly call it a relationship. Not the way you mean. We were friends.”

She opened her mouth to counter his argument, remembered Emma in the back seat
. “With benefits.”

His response wasn’t what s
he expected. His face split in one of those zillion-megawatt grins, the one that was capable of melting even the hardest of women into a hot, bubbling mess. “You’re jealous,” he said, with obvious glee. “Hot damn, Fiore, you’re jealous of Kitty!”

“She had ca
rnal knowledge of you, Flash. Way before I did.”

“A lot of women
have had carnal knowledge of me.”

“
Don’t remind me. And it’s not the same at all.”

“How is it different?”

“With a few exceptions, I didn’t know any of them personally. Or even know their names. They were just notches on your bed post. I know Kitty.”

“
And you’ve always liked her.”

“The woman has seen you in your birthday suit
. Multiple times. Don’t you think that might make for slightly awkward dinner table conversation?”

“
I don’t see why it has to. Kitty and I are ancient history.”

“
The very idea of the two of you together makes me want to wrap my fingers around her neck and squeeze until she stops gurgling.”

He raised both eyebrows.
“Who the hell are you, and what have you done with my sweet, beautiful wife? Jesus Christ, Casey, she’s a nice woman.”

“She’s a nice woman who used to sleep with my husband. I don’t think I’m being unreasonable when I say I’m not comfortable bringing her into our home.”

“
Fine by me. So if we see her in New York, you won’t be rude to her?”

“Come on, Flash.
Have you ever known me to be rude to anyone? I may be a mess right now, but I’m not about to verbally gut any of your friends.”

She
reached out a hand and laid it atop his, resting on the gearshift. He threaded fingers with hers, brought her hand to his mouth, and kissed it.

In the back seat, Emma was making
vroom-vroom
car sounds. “I know you’re feeling like roadkill,” he said. “I know things will be hard for a while. I know you’re grieving. So am I. But we’ll get through this. Together.”

Her chest contracted with guilt
because he’d reminded her, in his subtle way, that he, too, had lost that unborn baby. That she wasn’t alone in this. That while it might have been her body that expelled its precious cargo, his emotional investment was as real as hers. What he didn’t understand, what he couldn’t see, was that it wasn’t grief she was feeling right now. It was numbness.

“Yes,” she said,
curling her fingers around his. “We’ll get through it together.”

And knew her words
for the lie they were.

* * *

She’d only been gone for two days, but the house felt different. Strange. Foreign. Not like her house at all. The granite countertops, the Italian tiles, the hardwood floors, felt wrong. Even her mahogany four-poster bed seemed odd, as though its dimensions were off by a half-inch here, two inches there. The strangeness pulled and tugged at her, messing with her head, leaving fingers of anxiety curling up into her throat.

“Why don’t you lie down?” he said. “Rest for a while?”

“I spent the last two days lying in bed. I want to get back to my life.”

“You need to take it slow. You heard what the doctor said. It’ll be a while before you bounce back.
”

Bouncing was the least of her worries
. It would be enough to shake off this otherworldly fog that had her feeling as though she didn’t fit in her own skin. “I need to putter. Wander around the house, the yard. Get the smell of the hospital out of my head. Will you keep an eye on Emma for a little while?”

“Of course
. But—”

“Rob.
Please. Don’t hover. I need this.”

He let out a hard exhalation of breath, those green eyes of his troubled, and nodded
. She gave him a faint smile to acknowledge his acquiescence, but didn’t touch him, too afraid that the strangeness would extend to his touch. The thought terrified her. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

The sound of hammering grew louder as she approached
the construction site. The drywaller’s van sat in front of the building that would house the spinning and dyeing rooms, as well as her office. The hammering came from the barn, where workers were spreading tar paper over the roof before tacking down the shingles.

She stopped first in the main building where, trowel in hand, a lone worker was mudding the drywall
. An ancient, white-speckled transistor radio, perched on a folding chair, played the Moody Blues.
Knights in White Satin
. The man looked up and they acknowledged each other. “It’s coming along nicely,” she said.

“
Ayuh. It is. You oughta check out your office.”

The walls were smooth and white,
ready for paint, the floor tiles new and shiny. The baseboards and window trim were already in place. Casey walked to the window, drinking in the view of endless mountains that would be so distracting she’d probably never get any work done here.

When she’d had her fill of the view, she bade farewell to the drywaller and moved on to the barn
. On this hot summer day, it was too warm inside, no air moving anywhere. Once the livestock arrived, the building would be climate controlled. Warm in winter, cool in summer. Casey checked out each corner, each stall, every inch of storage space. Turned on the water taps and confirmed that they were running properly. This was a huge undertaking, one she’d been so enthused about. Today, she felt only an apathy that was so unlike her. She blamed her waning enthusiasm on lack of sleep. Maybe Rob was right. But if he was, then why did the apathy seem to squeeze, like spray foam insulation, into every crevice of her life?

She returned to the house, where she found
that Rob had been a busy boy in her absence. “I have everything set up,” he said. “Colleen will be home on Tuesday, we’ll drive down to New York on Thursday, and I can be back in the studio by Friday. Our hotel reservation is made, and I thought we’d drive down in your car, so I made an appointment for an oil change on Monday morning. I’ve talked to Trish and Rose, and if Paige doesn’t want to come with us, she’s welcome to stay with either of them. I’m hoping she’ll come, though. I think the studio atmosphere would be good for her. Plus, that would give us a built-in babysitter for Miss Emmy Lou Who. I might just want to take my best girl out dancing some night, and I know I can trust Emma with her big sister.”

“Wow
. You have it all figured out, don’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her words had come out more pointed than she’d intended. Clearly, he’d heard the resentment in them, and clearly, he was trying to figure out why it was there and where it was coming from. Rob was just doing what he always did. Her husband was a go-getter who didn’t let any grass grow under his feet. She’d never minded it before. As a matter of fact, it had always been one of the things she admired most about him. But not today.

A dull ache flitted across her forehead
. “Nothing,” she said. “Where’s Emma?”

“I put her down for a nap
. She was getting fussy.”

“I’m going for a
drive.”

He didn’t like it
. She could tell by the way his nostrils flared and his breathing quickened. He didn’t need to say a word for her to know what he was thinking.

He said it anyway
. “You just got out of the hospital.”

“And I’m perfectly capable of driving a car.”

“Let me get Emma up. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

Touching
his hand to soften her words, she said, “No. I need to be alone.”

So he let her go
. Rob MacKenzie was a smart man. He knew it was useless to argue with her. Besides, considering her mood, it was just as well that she was going off alone.

It was a beautiful day for a drive, sunny and warm, with very little humidity, a perfect Maine
midsummer afternoon filled with buzzing bees and nodding daisies. She didn’t realize where she was headed until she found herself turning in at the cemetery gate. But it made sense in some parallel-universe way. Casey parked the car at the top of the hill and got out, breathed in the fragrance of ripe summer as a breeze lifted and tangled her dark hair. She passed Danny’s grave without pausing, kept going until she reached a simple rectangular stone topped by a carved marble lamb. Beneath the lamb were the words BELOVED DAUGHTER.

She’d spent the better part of a decade avoiding
this gravestone. For a long time, she’d come to the cemetery regularly to talk to Danny. He was a good listener, and sometimes, she just needed somebody to listen. But those cozy visits had come to an end when she realized how unfair it was to Rob. She belonged to him now. She wore his ring now, slept in his bed, loved him deeply, knew him as well as any woman could know a man. It wasn’t fair to him that she should still visit regularly with her first husband. So she’d stopped visiting Danny.

But s
he’d never before come here to talk to Katie. It was too much like ripping the bandage off a wound that had never scabbed over. If she never stood here, never looked down on that BELOVED DAUGHTER, she could hold Katie in her mind, in her memory, and somehow convince herself that none of it was real. That her daughter still lived, still breathed, still laughed, in some alternate dimension. Casey Fiore MacKenzie wasn’t a religious person, but she held firmly and desperately to the belief that one day, she would see Katie again.