When We Were Sisters (31 page)

37

Robin

I stared out the window as Kris pulled up to an unfamiliar curb. A light rain had just stopped, and the DC streets were glowing like freshly shined shoes. “Really?”

He smiled at me. “Really.”

Kris and I rarely eat out. Before I left him in charge of the family, he spent so little time with our children that I didn't want to take him away for an evening. Tonight, though, he suggested we do some Christmas shopping and catch a quick bite in the city since his parents would cherish time alone with their grandchildren.

The downtown Ritz-Carlton is not a quick bite kind of place.

A valet was waiting to take our car, and a doorman started toward us to assist me. Kris left his keys in the ignition. “I've had business lunches here but never dinner. I've always wanted to bring you.”

“Won't we need a reservation?”

“Got one.”

Kris is not one for surprises. On holidays he asks me what I want, and he buys exactly that, most of the time online. Now I was glad I'd dressed up enough to get by in what was probably an upscale dining room.

I smoothed my palms over my dark wool trousers. “I'm lucky I didn't wear jeans.”

“You look wonderful in anything.”

Compliments, too? “We'll still have time to shop?”

“Plenty of time to do everything we need.”

I was doubtful, but since I'd shopped in Florida and mailed the gifts to a neighbor who was holding them for me, I wasn't worried. Maybe Kris needed help buying gifts for his parents or his sister's family, but otherwise I'd bought enough to keep everyone in our immediate family happy.

After the valet slid into the driver's seat, I followed Kris inside. “I'm going to find the ladies' room. Shall I meet you...”

“I'll wait in the lobby.”

The lobby would be a pleasure to wait in, dark wood, crystal chandeliers and fawn-colored marble polished to a sheen. A quick survey indicated that the dining options consisted of a secluded bistro or a lobby lounge, so I wasn't underdressed after all.

Even the restrooms in a hotel like this one are lovely places to linger, but I finished up quickly, giving my hair a quick comb and straightening my sweater. I hadn't known what to expect from time alone with my husband, but the evening was shaping up nicely.

Outside Kris stretched out his hand and led me toward the elevator. Since the bistro is on the first floor, I wondered if there was an undiscovered option upstairs.

When the car arrived we stepped inside and found we were alone. He pulled me close and kissed me.

The evening was shaping up
very
nicely.

By the time we reached the sixth floor, I had a good idea what was happening. Arms around each other he led me down the corridor and pulled out a key card. In a moment we were standing in the living room of a suite with a spectacular view of Washington, a lovely city made even more glorious for Christmas.

“How hungry are you?” he asked.

“For you, or for dinner?”

“You choose. One before the other?”

“You win easily.”

He drew me close and kissed me but immediately afterward backed away to see my face. “I promise I planned to start tonight by telling you how much I love you, and how sorry I am for acting like such a jerk.”

“I can't wait to hear it. Later.” I rose on the balls of my feet, and circled his neck with my arms. “Why don't you show me why I should forgive you?”

He swung me up and carried me to the bed.

He looked proud and only a little winded after he dropped me on the down comforter. I laughed as he sprawled beside me, panting. “I bet you're glad the bed was close.”

“Tonight I would carry you across a desert.”

“Good thing it's not required.”

And that was the last thing we said for a long, long time.

* * *

Kris fell asleep after we made love. For a while I propped myself on one elbow and watched him breathing gently in and out. His hair was tousled, and he had one arm flung across the pillow where I had been. When it was clear he wasn't going to wake up for a little while, I found the in-room dining menu and ordered an assortment of dishes to be brought up in an hour, when I knew we would be ravenous.

I was in the soaking tub, enjoying steaming water and a view of the city, when he joined me. He winced as he eased in. Then he opened his arms so I could lie against his chest, arms around me.

“This was the most wonderful idea,” I said. “But do your parents expect us back tonight?”

“My father suggested it. He knows how long you've been away and how much we need some privacy.”

“Gus?” I was happy to be here with Kris but a little sorry he hadn't come up with this plan on his own. “Well, it was a good idea, no matter who thought of it.”

“Hey, I thought of it first. The minute I opened the door and saw them standing on the steps, I thought of it. But I was thinking more along the lines of escaping to Hawaii for a week and not telling anybody where we'd gone.”

I smiled, although he couldn't see it. “Next trip.”

“After canceling Prague I couldn't find words to ask for a favor that included me disappearing. No matter how badly we needed it. But you'd better believe I leaped at his suggestion.”

“I'm glad you did.”

His arms tightened around me. “He also apologized for being such a distracted father.”

I wondered what this meant to Kris. He loved Gus, and on some level admired his commitment to his art and the causes he held dear. But resentment simmered, too.

I turned just a little, so I could see his face. “Did that help?”

“I don't know why it should have. I'm an adult. He didn't beat me, never screamed at me and he always wanted the best for our family. But admitting he was distracted?” He looked rueful, as if his logical brain wasn't quite sure how to process this. “It makes a difference. Just to know he realizes he wasn't always there for us when he needed to be. Whatever resentments I held on to are draining away. I can look at him, one flawed adult at another...”

“And love him for the man he is.”

He looked grateful I understood. “And he's quite a man, my father.”

“He certainly is.”

He tilted my face to his and kissed me. “And speaking of flawed adults? If my father can apologize for being distracted, how much more do I need to apologize for acting like a kid when you decided to go back to work, Robin? Can you ever forgive me?”

I asked a dangerous question, because without an answer, the apology wasn't complete. “What was behind it? Do you know?”

This was the kind of question Kris hates, the kind that requires him to think beyond facts and examine his heart. To his credit, he didn't look away.

“You already know part of it. I was stressed. I felt like you were manipulating me. I felt like you didn't appreciate how hard I work to give you and the kids security.”

“I do know that.”

“But it went deeper, something I've had time to face. I almost lost you for good, and then you just picked up and left and I
did
lose you. I wanted you safe where I could make sure you were okay every night. For a long time I couldn't even think about what almost happened, about Talya and the accident and how awful all of it was.” He looked away, as if that was required to go on. “I had nightmares for weeks. I saw that car heading toward you, and I couldn't get to you....”

I didn't know what to say, and in fact, there was nothing that
could
be said. I couldn't change what had nearly happened. The accident would always be with us.

He finished. “I think I was so afraid of losing you that when you left... I pushed you further away. Maybe I thought if I was in control of losing you, it wouldn't hurt so much? It doesn't make sense, but it's as close as I can come.”

“Close enough.” I stroked his cheek until he met my eyes. “Closer than either of us usually goes. We've lived together all these years, shared our home and children, and there's still so much we can't say.”

He covered my hand and held it in place. “Just give me more time to work on that?”

I thought about all the ways we can't speak, all the ways we can't say what we should. As a child I found the most obvious way when I fell mute, but now it was time to work on the others. “I have so much to tell you. And I know you have so much to tell me. We could talk all night and not get to all of it.”

“We can try.”

“I ordered dinner.”

“Right away?”

“No.”

“You're just full of good decisions. Making sure I'm closer to my children again. Giving me time to process all this without pushing me. And best of all?”

I was still processing
that
. He'd said so much in such a hurry. “And?”

Laughter rumbled deep in his chest. “Giving us more time in this tub before room service arrives.”

I ran my fingers over his chest. “I just had a feeling if I hurried dinner, the food might get cold.”

38

Robin

I am an inveterate maker of lists. Since I learned to print I've probably made thousands. I sometimes think this obsession is a piece of my grandmother lodged inside me, but more likely as a child I was so afraid I might forget one of her demands, I had to write them down. Keeping such a long list in my head would have been impossible.

Maybe lists keep criticism and chaos at bay, but lists can also be a source of pleasure. An example.

Ways life in Meadow Branch has changed:

1. My husband makes a wicked spaghetti sauce.

2. He also makes enough to freeze leftovers.

3. My children eat my husband's cooking.

4. Everybody puts dinner on the table.

5. Everybody cleans up after meals are eaten.

6. Everybody does laundry.

I could go on. After Christmas in Chicago I had almost a week at home with my family. Kris only went into the office twice, for a few hours each time. If he had to work at home, he waited until the children went to bed or worked before they got up. Mostly he just didn't work.

In one of our conversations I learned about Pedersen Pharmacies and Kris's decision to absent himself from that case. I also learned about the fallout. Some matters Kris hoped to be involved in are now in the hands of other partners, and his Christmas bonus was smaller than anticipated. My husband is no longer the fair-haired boy, and he seems curiously unconcerned. He promises this is temporary, but from what I can tell, he decided to take full advantage of the career lull and simply enjoy the holiday.

And we did enjoy it. Leaving this morning is difficult. I said goodbye to my children when they left for school, but now it was time to say goodbye to my husband.

As we neared the airport I told Kris to drop me off at the departure gates. I was flying back to Tampa, where I would meet the crew and stay two nights before heading to Cold Creek and the Osburn ranch. Instead he took a detour and parked, then grabbed my suitcase and hefted my camera bag over one shoulder. “I have a new appreciation for what you do,” he said, pretending to list to one side once the bag was in place.

“When I come home I'm going to start working out.”

“You'll need to if you keep doing this.”

In our time together I had told him about the past weeks, but I hadn't brought up my professional future, at least not directly. Now I did. While I was away he would have time to consider my words, and so would I.

“Once filming is finished I don't know how much traveling I'll be doing. Selecting the best photos and working with the writer who'll do the copy for a book is going to take time. Assuming we finalize a contract.”

“Do you think you'll freelance after that?”

Kris knows, from my stories, that being back in the field with my camera has had ups and downs, but I think it's also been clear how much it's meant to me.

“Mick's put me to work a few times with some of his video equipment when he needed another camera operator. He liked what I did. Making films may be in my future, Kris.”

“With him?”

“Probably closer to home. His next project is in Southeast Asia. But he has friends he'll recommend me to if I'm still interested. I'll have to start from the bottom, do some classes and workshops to catch up with technology. I won't make a lot of money, even once I know what I'm doing, but I think I would like to branch out. The more skills I have, the choosier I can be.”

He didn't say anything else until I was at the kiosk to finalize my flight to Tampa. But from what he said next I knew he'd been thinking. “Whatever you decide, we can work out logistics. The kids are getting older. Plenty of help's available.”

“And my husband's turning into a pretty good cook.”

He put his hand over mine as I withdrew my gate pass. “I may be making changes, too.”

“Singer's not bringing down the ax, are they?” This had happened to others of his colleagues. Kris had defied Buff, who didn't take rebellion lightly.

“The jury's still out, but I don't think they will. In the meantime I've been offered a chance to become an adjunct professor at GW Law, and I could be in line for a permanent slot just down the road. If that happens I can probably stay on at Singer, too, although probably not as a partner. But even with that, I won't be earning nearly as much as I am now. Professors aren't among the highest paid professionals.”

I thought it was just like Kris to be so offhanded, and only to mention something this important as I was leaving. His nonchalance was a clear sign he had strong feelings and was having his usual problem expressing them. But he
was
trying.

“Do you want to teach?”

“I love teaching. I've just never given enough thought to what I love.”

“Then you should do it.”

He looked so relieved, my heart brimmed with love. He leaned over and kissed me, and we held each other for a moment.

When he backed away, he wasn't smiling. “Look, I don't think this next leg's going to be easy for you.”

I didn't want to assure him everything was going to be fine. Burying feelings had brought us to the brink of a real separation. I was determined not to let that happen again.

Following Cecilia's journey through foster care wouldn't be complete without a look at her final foster home,
my
final foster home, too. From the beginning I had wondered if “complete” was really important enough to expose us both to memories of what had been a disastrous placement from start to finish. I planned to keep my voice light, but that's not how it emerged.

“I have never yearned to see the Osburn ranch again.”

“While we were in Chicago I talked to Lucie. She's practically an empty nester these days, so she's available to come and stay with the kids so I can join you at some point. They would love it, and so would she.”

“You would come to Florida?”

He touched my hair, stroking it back from my cheek. “I'm going to wait until you decide you need me most. Will you let me know? She's on call.”

“And work?”

“I'm sure I have a few days of vacation coming.”

Kris probably has years coming, but nobody at the firm expects him to take them. Knowing that taking time off now won't help salvage his career, a good wife would pretend she was fine.

But I am no longer a good wife.

“I may take you up on that.”

“You
will
take me up on it. Okay?”

I blinked back tears. “I've never wanted to mix our lives with my past.”

“Your past made you the woman you are. And since that's the woman I love? I'm going to miss you, Cˇ
ervenka.
”

I smiled through tears at the nickname.

He stepped away. “The more warning you give me, the easier it will be to get Lucie here and book a flight to Tampa. Okay?”

“Call me every day?”

“Without fail.”

“I'll let you know when to come.”

He left me at security and I waved goodbye. Last time I had been in this airport my marriage was teetering. This time Kris and I were on our way to finding a balance we could live with.

I was just removing my shoes to be ready for the conveyor belt ahead when my phone buzzed. I wondered if Kris had forgotten something. But the message wasn't from him. It was from Donny.

Cecilia has disappeared. No foul play. Do you know where she might have gone?