The Second Silence (11 page)

Her mother, dammit, had a point. Noelle
did
need her, however reluctant she might be to show it. Mary wouldn’t let her down.

Don’t forget, she has her father, too.

Mary’s thoughts turned once more to Charlie. She hadn’t seen him in years, not since Emma’s christening. She recalled how distinguished he’d looked in his dark suit and tie, the newly appointed editor in chief of the
Register.
Bronwyn, his daughter by his second wife, who’d been a little girl at the time, would be—what? Sixteen?
Only a year younger than when I had Noelle.

She remembered the moment their eyes had met over the baptismal font. There had been wry amusement in Charlie’s, as well as a touch of old sadness, as if acknowledging how young they’d been when
they
became parents, and now, while many of their contemporaries were still raising families, here they were grandparents. In that instant she’d longed to reach over and take his hand. But of course she hadn’t.

Mary drove on, soothed by the memory, the country roads gradually turning to two-, then four-lane highways. She wouldn’t think about Doris, she told herself. She would do what
she
thought best. She knew a divorce lawyer, one of the best in Manhattan. She could call him for advice …

Back safely within the city limits, she was turning off the FDR onto Thirty-fourth Street, the East River a sullen glint in her rearview mirror, when her mother’s words returned to haunt her. As if on cue, her head began to throb. The traffic became a straitjacket tightening about her.

Does Doris have the slightest idea what she’s asking?
In her line of work, she couldn’t just disappear for days and weeks on end. Her business depended on having an ear to the ground and a finger on the pulse at all times. Her clients would feel abandoned; some might even jump ship. And though her staff was more than competent, it was far too much to expect—

Horrified to realize she was actually considering her mother’s outlandish proposal, she paused in midthought. The notion was so startling she began to laugh weakly.
I must be insane,
she thought.

Years ago, when she left home for good, she’d vowed never to return. If she were actually to go through with this, it would mean sleeping under the same roof as her mother, not just for a night or two but indefinitely. Was
either
of them ready for that?

On the other hand, what if her mother was right? What if she’d be letting Noelle down otherwise?
It’s true there’s only so much I can do from a distance. …

Mary didn’t realize she was crying until she reached up to brush away a stray hair and felt hot tears against her palm. Why did she have to choose at all? Why was it that the only choices that truly mattered were the ones you felt least prepared to make?

CHAPTER 4

M
ONDAY CAME AND WENT
with only a brief call from Lacey. She reported merely that she’d spoken with Robert’s attorney, who’d faxed over a copy of the emergency protective order signed by Judge Ripley. Robert wasn’t bluffing, that much was clear.

‘According to your husband, the night before last wasn’t an isolated incident. He claims you’ve been off the wagon for months.’ Lacey’s voice was dry, noncommittal.

Noelle’s heart sank. Leaning against the wall at the top of the stairs, she slid slowly to the floor, landing with a thump on her tailbone. ‘He’s lying.’

‘Trouble is, it’s your word against his. He has affidavits from two unrelated witnesses who claim to have seen you passed out cold on several occasions while your daughter wandered about unattended.’

A sudden cramp caused Noelle to double over, clutching her knees, the heavy black receiver pressed hotly to her ear. ‘My God, who would make up such a thing?’

‘You tell me.’

She thought for a moment, a hand balled against her forehead, her sleep-deprived mind tipping and whirling like a carnival ride. ‘Jeanine.’ She spoke through gritted teeth. ‘One of them must have been Jeanine. I’ll bet he put her up to it.’

‘Who’s Jeanine?’

‘Secretary. Girlfriend. Take your pick.’

‘Hmm. The plot thickens.’ Noelle heard a drawer slam shut, followed by the rustling of papers. ‘How about neighbors? Anyone who would have had occasion to observe you at home on a fairly regular basis?’

There was Judy Patterson—she and Noelle had shared car pool duty and served on the block association’s landscaping committee—but that was like trying to imagine Kathie Lee Gifford robbing a convenience store. ‘I don’t know anyone who’d be that vicious.’

Lacey sighed. ‘Well, whoever the culprits are, this is shaping up to be a real can of worms. You up for a fight, kiddo?’

‘Do I have a choice?’

‘I withdraw the question.’ There was silence at the other end as if her lawyer were weighing various options. ‘Okay, where do we go from here? I’ll tell you. Listen good, because this is going to seem like the toughest thing you’ve ever been asked to do.’

Noelle tensed. ‘I’m listening.’

‘I want you to swear you’ll stay as far from your child as humanly possible for someone living in Burns Lake, population of eighteen thousand.’ Lacey’s voice was stern. ‘At this point the last thing we need is to give your husband any more ammunition.’

Noelle didn’t answer at first; she
couldn’t,
Lacey’s words were like a bone caught in her throat.

How on earth was she supposed to get through the next few hours, much less days or weeks, without seeing or holding her daughter? Robert wouldn’t even let her speak to Emma over the phone! At least a dozen times since yesterday Noelle had found herself reaching for her car keys. Once she was halfway out the door before she thought better of it. Even then the effort of turning back was like being physically restrained.

‘By this time tomorrow I should have a firm date for a hearing.’ Lacey went on briskly. ‘We can discuss visitation then.’

Noelle’s chest constricted. ‘Visitation? I don’t want visitation. Emma belongs
here
with me. I’m her
mother.’

‘I know that. Believe me, I’m doing everything I can to make that happen.’ Lacey’s voice was somber, like that of a doctor informing her she had only six months to live. Gently she added, ‘In the meantime, kiddo, you’ve got to trust me on this. Can I count on you not to do anything stupid?’

Noelle hesitated. ‘Yes,’ she breathed.

‘Good. I’ll call you as soon as I have a date.’ Lacey hung up.

Noelle sat listening to the empty hum of the dial tone for a moment before pushing herself to her feet. She was trembling so badly it took several attempts before she was able to fit the receiver snugly in its cradle.
It’s real,
she thought.
This is really happening.
It wasn’t just a matter of going before a judge and setting the record straight. This was going to be a long and bloody battle.

By the following afternoon, when there had been no further news, her anxiety slipped over into despair. Since Sunday she’d slept only in brief snatches, waking with a start to find her heart racing and a dull throbbing behind her eyes. Hunger was a thing of the past. When she forced herself to eat, she became sick to her stomach. Worse, for the first time in years, she found herself longing to dull the pain with a drink.

Then the same siren’s voice that had whispered silkily that a brandy—just one, for medicinal purposes only—would be oh-so-lovely began asking what would be so wrong about taking a drive to her old house. She hadn’t even officially moved out. Her clothes still hung in its closets, and the keys to the front door were still on her key ring. If Robert was there, she wouldn’t make a scene. She’d merely ask calmly to see Emma.

Oh, sure, and while you’re at it, why not ask for the moon on a string?

Ironically, what kept her from acting on the impulse wasn’t the threat of what Robert might do or even the promise she’d made to her lawyer. It was her daughter, who would be six in October, who still believed in the tooth fairy and Santa Claus. How would Emma feel, seeing her mother turned away at the door?

On the other hand, what must her little girl think: no word, not even a card or phone call?

‘Nana? Am I doing the right thing?’ Noelle stood at the stove, warming a pan of soup. It was lunchtime on Tuesday, and her grandmother had just gotten up from her nap. ‘I feel like I’m going out of my mind. Like if I don’t get to at least
talk
to Emma, I’ll die.’

Her grandmother sat at the table, hands folded loosely in her lap, her hair sticking up like wires from a smashed circuit. Her pale, spindly legs, below the hem of her purple velour housecoat, were riddled with veins. ‘At times it
does
seem the good Lord gives us more than we can bear.’ She sighed.

‘This has nothing to do with God.’

Nana straightened, replying smartly, ‘God’s hand is in
everything.
And don’t you forget it.’ After a moment she hauled herself to her feet and crossed the kitchen, the worn soles of her pink scuffs whispering over the linoleum. Without Noelle’s being aware of it, the soup had started to bubble, and Nana switched off the burner, observing, ‘The Lord also helps those who help themselves. If you ask me, it doesn’t appear to be doing much good, you sitting around like a bump on a log.’

Noelle set down the spoon with which she’d been stirring the soup. ‘What I’d
like
to do,’ she said fiercely, ‘is give Robert a taste of his own medicine.’

‘So, what’s stopping you?’ Nana’s blue eyes, nested in their papery folds, flared with some of her old fire.

‘My lawyer, for one thing.’

Nana snorted in disgust. ‘Lacey Buxton might chase after everything in trousers, but what does she know about being a mother?’

‘Nana
…
’

‘Why, I have half a mind to drive over there myself!’

Noelle felt a flash of irritation, tempered by the thought
At least she’s predictable.
Growing up, she’d always known she could count on her grandmother. Unlike Mary, who’d dashed in and out, forever running to catch a bus or simply running late. Always with a good excuse, a breathless kiss … and a promise that things would soon be different.

She put her arms about her grandmother, bringing her head to rest against the sharp blade of her shoulder. Nana smelled of Ivory soap and fresh ironing.

‘Remember the time the living room curtains caught fire and you put it out with the garden hose?’ Noelle recalled softly.

Nana made a hmmphing sound. ‘Who needs a bunch of swaggering men in muddy boots making a mess of everything? Anyone with half a brain would’ve done the same.’

Noelle refrained from pointing out that the house could just as easily have burned to the ground. ‘That’s how I feel when I think of Emma. Like the house is on fire and she’s inside … and I can’t get to her.’ Her throat tightened.

Nana drew away to place her hands on either side of Noelle’s head, as if to force such thoughts from her brain. Her palms felt smooth as polished stones against Noelle’s cheeks. ‘Well, then, honey, you’ll just have to put out the fire.’

‘But Robert—’

‘He’s only a man. I never met one other than your grandfather who didn’t think that what’s between his legs gave him the right to lord it over the rest of us. That doesn’t mean you have to give in.’

Noelle stared at her grandmother in surprise. She’d never known Nana to use a profanity, much less refer to a man’s private parts. Her world really
had
turned upside down. Then a voice whispered,
She might be right, you know. Maybe you’ve been going about this all wrong. Maybe you
ought
to take action.

Noelle was filled with a sudden reckless abandon, every fiber of her being pulling her in a single direction, toward her daughter.

She snatched up her car keys, conveniently parked on the counter by the back door. ‘I’ll be back in time for your appointment with Dr Reynolds,’ she promised. ‘Can you manage on your own for an hour?’

‘I’m not completely helpless. Not yet at least.’ Nana sniffed. But her eyes were worried—not for herself but for Noelle. ‘You take care now, hear?’

As Noelle drove across town in her safe gray Volvo, staying safely within the speed limit, she felt as if her knuckles, clenched about the steering wheel, would pop right through her skin. Her lawyer’s admonitions flashed like a yellow light inside her head, but the primal urge to protect her child was even stronger.
I can handle this,
she told herself.
If it starts to get ugly, I’ll just … leave.

She was rattling across the bridge onto Iroquois Avenue when a new fear burrowed its way in: What if no one was home?

With her own life on hold, it hadn’t occurred to her that as far as the rest of the world was concerned, this was just another day. Robert would be at work at this hour, and why not?
He
wasn’t the one chewing his fingernails. Nor would he have been careless enough to leave their daughter with a sitter. There was only one person to whom he’d have entrusted Emma.

Pulling up in front of 36 Ramsey Terrace, Noelle fully expected to find her mother-in-law’s white Cadillac parked in the driveway. It came as a mild shock when she was confronted by Robert’s Audi instead. As she stepped onto the curb, she eyed the path of wide flat stones leading up to the front door as she might have a tightrope.

The sprawling Tudor, with its mullioned windows and rough-hewn timbers set in stucco, seemed to mock her. Why hadn’t she moved out sooner? Why had she needed an excuse? Noelle recalled the countless meals thrown together at a moment’s notice after Robert had phoned to say he was bringing a few business associates home for supper. And the Sundays after church, when her in-laws would come for brunch and linger most of the day. If she complained of feeling tired or overwhelmed, Robert would remind her impatiently that she had a maid and a gardener to do most of the work. She could have a nanny, too, if she didn’t insist on shouldering the entire burden of childcare herself. As if Emma were a burden!