Together Alone (14 page)

“You’ve always had Jill.”

“Jill’s my daughter. It’s not the same as having you around.”

He stared at her, then at the wall. “Don’t start in.”

“What’s happening, Doug? We see less and less of each other at a time when we should be seeing more and more.”

He rolled his eyes. “We’ve been through this before.”

“But I don’t understand it. You talk like the money you may make tomorrow will be the difference between staying afloat and going under, but it doesn’t make sense. Your business is thriving—and yes, we have bills,” she said before he could, “but they aren’t any greater than anyone else’s.”

“I have a child in college.”

“So do millions of other people, and they survive. We aren’t spendthrifts. We lead frugal lives. At least, I do.”

“What is
that
supposed to mean?”

“All it means,” she said with a sigh, “is that we should have more than enough money to keep us comfortable, college tuition and all, so why can’t you stay home more? You did, before Jill left.”

He put his hands on his hips and faced her. “Business has picked up.”

“Turn some down. Take time off.”

“But I like the direction my business is going.”

“You like being on the road five days a week? Six, sometimes? You don’t want to spend time at home?
Ever?
Or will you just do it when Jill is home? For show.”

He sighed. “What are you suggesting now?”

For a split second she considered backing off, but she had come too far and was too upset. Her sole concession was to lower her voice. “What do you want from our marriage?”

“A place to come home to.” He looked around. “This house, this town, you, Jill.”

“What do I do for you, besides wash your clothes?”

“You’re my wife.”

“Do you like being with me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Eight days a month.”

“Emily, what is
wrong
with you?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, touched her forehead, shook her head. Maybe it
was
her. Straightening, she dropped her hand. “I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing or where I’m supposed to be going. How am I supposed to fill my time? I can only fiddle around the house so much. After a while everything’s done, and then what?”

“You want to work.” He threw his hands in the air. “Christ, Emily, we’ve been through this one, too. You’re not qualified to
do
anything. All you’ll do is bring in a piddling amount that will raise our taxes and make a mountain of paperwork for me.” He headed for the door. “Why can’t you just—just watch television?”

She went after him. “I am
not
unqualified to do anything. I got my degree.”

“Yeah. In English. That degree, plus two bits, won’t buy you a cup of coffee.”

She reeled, but only for a minute. Then she was following him up the stairs. “That isn’t true, Doug. There are lots of things I could do. But you don’t want me to work.”

“For reasons I’ve explained a dozen times. Why don’t they sink in?”

“Because they don’t make sense. And they aren’t fair.”

He swore under his breath and turned into the bedroom.

She hung on the doorjamb. “I need to do something. I can’t just sit around here.”

“Why not? My mother did.”

“She had a husband.”

He glared at her. “Her husband didn’t do the kind of work I do—
or
make what I do.”

Finally, an acknowledgement that he wasn’t on the verge of bankruptcy. “But what good is the money, if we’re not happy?”

“I’m happy. I’m perfectly happy. At least, I am when you’re not on my back.” He shot her a withering look. “Ease up, huh?”

Emily did draw back then. She went outside to the pond, and stayed there until Doug came out to say goodbye. Nothing had been solved. She felt worse than before.

But she feared that if she pushed he wouldn’t come home at all, and if he didn’t, her marriage would be well and truly over, and if it was, Jill would be hurt.

That worried her most—which was interesting, since there were so many other things that should worry her, too, like what would become of the house if her marriage ended, how she would pay for food and clothes, what in the devil she would do when her failing car fell apart.

Only then, sitting by the pond with Doug off and gone again, and the whole of her future looming ahead, did she realize just how dependent she was.

E
MILY SAT BY THE POND UNTIL IT GREW DARK
. For the first time, she wasn’t concerned about missing a call from Jill. She didn’t know what she would say if Jill did call. Lying about having a lovely weekend with Doug was growing harder, and Jill, bless her, always asked.

Jill was Emily’s best friend. They could hug each other. They could cry on each other’s shoulders. Emily was desperately in need of both a hug and a cry just then. But she couldn’t tell Jill what was happening.

She thought of calling Kay or Celeste. They came in second to Jill in the best-friend category, and she was sure they would be wondering how the weekend had gone. But she didn’t call them. She felt too bottled up, even for that.

For the first time in years, she wished she had a mother who would come and hold her and not demand a word. That was what Emily did for Jill when something upset her too much for talk. The holding helped loosen the congestion inside, and the talk inevitably came.

But Emily’s mother had been dead for a long time, and even in life, she had been cold. Widowed early, she’d had to work to support herself and her daughter. She never let Emily forget it.

Emily had no siblings. Contact had long since been lost with what few aunts, uncles, and cousins there were. There was no one at all to call.

So she sat for a while in the dark. When the night air cooled, she went inside and made a cup of tea. Then she sat in the dark again, this time in the living room with the haze of a smoky clarinet rising from the stereo.

The phone rang several times, once from Jill, once from Celeste. She let the machine take both and didn’t move, other than to curl more tightly into herself.

The music was long done when she finally rose and went upstairs. From the bedroom door, she studied the remains of Doug’s stay. The closet and a bureau drawer were open. A shirt was thrown over the arm of the chair, a stray sock lay on the floor by the bed. Miscellaneous change was on the nightstand, mostly pennies.

Like a tip! A
lousy
tip!

Wheeling away, she raced down the stairs, threw on a jacket, and slammed out the door. She hit the sidewalk at a savage pace, kept it up to the end of China Pond Road, down Walker, down Sycamore, and onto LaGrange at the Berlo estate. She didn’t see much of what she passed. Her mind roiled with anger at Doug.

Don’t start in
—when she said she wanted him home more.
What is wrong with you
—when she tried to pin him down about his feelings.
You’re not qualified to do anything
—when she broached the topic of work. And when he was tired of talking—
Ease up, huh?

He didn’t listen, didn’t understand, didn’t care. She had to get through to him. But she didn’t know how, which was pathetic. They had been married for twenty-two years. They had a daughter they loved. Emily didn’t want a divorce.

The question was whether she could survive, alone this way. She had so much to give, so much love and caring that she was choked by it sometimes.

She passed through the center of town, crossed the street, and started back. Her pace grew more sane as her anger wore itself out. In its place was a deep, dark, familiar hole that took away all the warmth, the hope, the pleasure of life. She had always thought it had Daniel’s name on it. She wondered now if it didn’t have Doug’s.

She zipped her jacket, tucked her hands in its pockets, and pulled up the collar. Even then she shivered.

Shadows lurked on either side, but she didn’t look as she passed. She kept her eyes straight ahead, her thoughts focused on reaching the house, climbing into bed, and burrowing under a mountain of blankets. She figured she might stay there forever.

Foolish thought. But she couldn’t think of a better one.

She tried to clear her mind by concentrating on breathing in, breathing out, relaxing the muscles of her thighs, her arms, her back as she walked, but the chill fought her, tightening everything she tried to loosen. By the time she reached China Pond Road, she gave up the struggle. Eternity under a mountain of blankets was sounding less foolish with each cold step.

She was nearly home when she saw him, sitting on her steps, rising when she approached. She slowed. Her knees were startlingly weak, given the stiffness of her legs, but they managed to take her to where he stood.

“I saw you leave,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, God,” she breathed in a sigh. “I wish I knew.”

When he opened an arm, she moved into it. She felt it close around her, felt a large hand press her head to his chest, felt intense relief. If there was impropriety in the embrace, she didn’t care. He was warm and strong. She figured that absorbing even a teeny bit of either quality would be an improvement.

She didn’t know how long they stood there, he with his arms wrapped around her, she with her eyes closed and all responsibility for herself and her life momentarily forgotten. She relaxed as she hadn’t been able to do on the walk home. She inhaled his warmth. She made a small sound of pleasure, then one of protest when he started to pull back.

“You’re freezing,” he said in a half-whisper. “Let me get you inside.”

Inside was his place, and she didn’t argue. The apartment was pleasantly messy, but peaceful. It didn’t hold the memories for her that the house did, now that it was renovated and filled with Brian’s things.

The hot chocolate he gave her felt good going down. So did his presence. He was wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, and he wore them well. So she simply sat and let the sight of him do for her what his arms had outside.

He settled beside her on the sofa. “Better?”

She nodded. She held her hot chocolate in both hands and kept her eyes on him.

“Julia said ‘Daddy’ tonight. Screamed it actually, in protest. I was changing her. She has a diaper rash. I wasn’t sure what to do.”

“Try zinc ointment.”

“Zinc ointment?”

“It’s messy, and it smells, but it usually does the trick.”

She wondered what it was about Brian that she found so appealing. Feature for feature, he wasn’t as handsome as Doug, but the overall package was far more appealing. It was masculine, yet approachable. More than approachable. Hard to resist.

Not sure about the direction of that thought, she hitched her chin toward the folders that were strewn on the coffee table. “What are you reading?”

“Files of all the juvenile offenses committed in town in the last few years. John wanted to wake me up. Kids here aren’t as innocent as I thought.”

“You’re talking about the vandalism.” In recent months there had been a rash of minor incidents—spray-painted graffiti, broken windows, even a cemetery desecration.

“Vandalism seems to be in vogue right now, but there’s still the occasional truck race at the quarry and the more than occasional orgy on the railroad bridge. The races and the orgies are the work of the trade school kids and coincide with their school schedule. The vandalism is more random, a little something here, a little something there. Individuals may be behind it, rather than a gang. I’ll see what I can pick up at the high school. I work pretty well with kids.”

“And to think you’re afraid of Julia,” she teased.

“Julia’s mine. That’s one difference. Another is that she can’t communicate.”

“Many high school kids can’t either,” Emily said, and felt instantly hypocritical. She wasn’t communicating with Brian about what had sent her out walking. Her reason? She liked being with him. She didn’t want to taint that time with her problems. She didn’t want to dwell on those problems, period. “Have you been to the school?”

“Not yet. I needed a cop’s view of the town first. Sam Webber’s been taking me with him on patrol.”

“I haven’t seen Sam in a while. We were together a lot while we were doing the book. How is he?”

“Fine, I guess. Wary. I’m the new guy on the force.” He waved the problem away. “But it’ll get better.” His hands fell between his knees. He regarded her expectantly for a minute. Then he sighed and smiled.

In that instant, Emily wanted to set down her drink and return to his arms.

Thinking better of it, she set down her drink and rose. “I’d better leave you to your work.”

He was beside her before she reached the door and followed her down the stairs. At the bottom, she turned back and focused in the general area of his chest. “Thanks.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“You did. Believe me.”

“I wish I could do more.”

She closed her eyes against the torment of having Doug distant and Brian close, Doug cold and Brian warm. It was a complication in what had become for her a terribly complicated world. She didn’t need it.

Ah, but she did. When Brian drew her close, her arms went around him. She breathed him in and thought improper thoughts, and when a humming began inside, she enjoyed it—but for only a brief, forbidden minute. Then she drew back and with a guilty little smile, let herself out.

• • •

Early Monday morning, Brian strapped Julia into the back of the Jeep, tossed his files into the front, and was about to follow them in when he glanced at the house. There was no sign of life, unusual for Emily, who customarily had the kitchen door ajar. Granted, it was a cool morning. But she hadn’t brought the newspaper in either, and she usually did that before seven. After last night, he was concerned.

He fetched the paper from the front walk, climbed the steps, knocked, and waited with a hand on his hip and his head bowed. When there was no response, he knocked louder. He shaded his eyes and peered inside. Everything was neat. There was no sign of mayhem.

Not that he expected it. Not from Emily.

But then, he hadn’t expected Gayle to be hit by a car. He had shown up too late to do anything about that, but if Emily’s upset of the night before had taken a turn for the worse, and if he walked off just like her asshole husband and came back too late, he would never forgive himself.

He tried the bell, though she must have been roused by his knock, because he had barely removed his finger when he saw her making her way through the kitchen, tying a robe. She ran a hand through her hair, opened the door, and gave him a groggy smile.

He felt suddenly foolish. “Hey. I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “Not your fault. I was the one who overslept. I had trouble falling asleep.”

Brooding about her husband, no doubt. “I’m sorry for that.”

She repeated the headshake, repeated, “Not your fault.”

“Well, I’m sorry, anyway.” A noise came from the car, but he ignored it. Emily was more needy than Julia just then. “Certainly sorry I woke you. I was worried. I hate seeing you down.”

He wished she would tell him about what had happened with Doug. It couldn’t have been rewarding, not with her clinging to
him
the way she had last night.

But she didn’t betray her husband. All she said was, “I’m better, I think.” She gave him a tremulous smile. “Thanks for caring.”

“I do.” What to blame it on? The vacuum left by Gayle’s death? The inherent unfairness of Emily’s situation? The fact that she was his landlord or that, as a homemaker, she was an endangered species? Or, simply, that she was small and vulnerable-looking? Whatever, he felt protective.

So he handed her the paper. “Go back to bed.”

“I might.” Her gaze dropped a notch. “Neat tie.”

It was a garish thing, toned down by a white shirt, jeans, and a venerable corduroy baseball jacket. He was about to say something about establishing his identity in the department, when Julia cried again.

“Your fan club calls,” Emily said with a glance at the Jeep.

“We’re stopping at the drugstore. Zinc ointment?”

She nodded, then waved when he pulled out of the driveway. Holding the image, he headed for town.

Content now that the car was in motion, Julia was a pretty picture in his rearview mirror. He had tried something new this morning, letting her play in the bath while he shaved, then rinsing her off with him in the shower. She hadn’t loved the shower part as much as the bath part, but he figured she would get used to it. It sure had saved time.

“How ya doin’, toots?” he called back. “Feelin’ good? So am I.” He kept picturing Emily waving him off. “Look at those trees!” They were red and orange, vibrant in the autumn sun. “They didn’t look like that in New York, let me tell you, not even in the park.”

He wondered how much she remembered.

“Mom-mee.”

Lots, apparently. “Mommy’s not here. Just Daddy. He’s going to take you to the drugstore, then to Janice’s. Where’s bunny?”

He breathed a sigh of relief when she waved the rabbit in the air. Yesterday he had forgotten it and had to turn around and go back. He had been late getting to work, which hadn’t bothered John any, but Brian sensed that the others had noticed. Sam wasn’t the only one wary of him. They all were. Not only was he the new guy on the block and from
New York City
, but he was a detective lieutenant, answering only to John.

Brian wasn’t desperate for the approval of the others on the force. He wasn’t looking for tight friends, didn’t have time for them, what with Julia. But good rapport would make for a more pleasant work environment, and in the absence of heart-pounding, adrenaline-pumping, sweat-popping criminality, a pleasant work environment would be nice. Showing up late two days in a row wouldn’t help.

He nosed into a space in front of the drugstore, jumped from the car, and was halfway across the sidewalk when he heard Julia’s protest. Backtracking, he pulled open the door and leaned in. “Zinc ointment. That’s all I’m getting. Two seconds. It’ll be easier if you stay here.”

“Ah-kahhh.”

“You don’t want to keep bunny company?”

“No.”

He sighed and reached for her. “Okay. Let’s make this quick.” Tucking her under his arm, he strode into the store. The owner and his wife were in their day-time places. “How are you, Harold?”

“Not bad, Detective.”

“Zinc ointment?”

“Last aisle over.”

Brian went to the last aisle over and found the ointment in a snap. Figuring that between the ease of that and his brilliance in putting Julia in the tub earlier, he might just be on a roll, he headed for the photo booth at the back of the store.