Paula stood on the boat deck, her mittened hands clutching the railing as Miles and Eleanor got the boat ready to sail. As the wind whipped her hair around her face, she was glad she’d dressed warmly. Eleanor had dinner cooking in their onboard oven, and when David arrived, they’d push out into Lake Michigan’s cold waters and have a quiet dinner together.
She wondered when Miles was going to spring the news. Would he tell her tonight, or would he wait until tomorrow? She didn’t know if she would sleep at all if he postponed it. She consulted her watch, the lights from inside the boat casting a glow on its face.
David should arrive any minute if his flight wasn’t delayed. There had been no bad weather in Chicago or Jackson that day, so at least the airports were operating normally.
“Here’s your coffee,” Eleanor said from the cabin door. She held out the mug.
“Thank you. You have a beautiful boat. Or should I call it a yacht? I’m not much of a sailor.”
“Technically it’s a yacht, but you can call her Daddy’s Girl. My father gave it to us as a wedding gift.”
That was some wedding present. “Well, I’m thrilled you invited us to join you. I can’t remember the last time I was on any body of water.”
A strand of hair came loose from Eleanor’s chignon, and she brushed it behind her ear. “Well, Miles is a sailor at heart. It’s a lot more fun in the summer, but even in the winter he just can’t stand being off the water for too long.”
“I heard it was supposed to be mostly sunny tomorrow and unseasonably warm. We can put on our sunglasses and pretend it’s summer.”
“I vote we stay in the cabin and play rummy.”
Paula laughed. “Oh, good, you have cards. But don’t let David convince Miles to do a round of poker. He’s a card shark.” She glanced up the pier, expecting to see her husband any minute.
“It must be hard seeing him only on weekends.” Eleanor’s fingers toyed with the gold pendant that dangled from her earlobe.
“Sometimes every other weekend. And yes, it’s been hard. I think it’s made us even closer, though.”
“They say absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
“Well, it didn’t become a cliché for nothing.” When she glanced back up the pier, she saw David still on shore, pulling a roller suitcase and looking around as if he were lost. “There he is.” She waved her arms. “David!”
He stopped, his head following the sound of her voice. He stood still so long she thought he didn’t see her. She waved her arms again. “Over here.”
He began walking slowly toward them. Dusk had settled around them like a darkened fog, but the lights on the pier lit the way for him.
Eleanor poked her head through the cabin door. “Miles, David’s here.” She closed the door to the cabin and stood by Paula, watching David approach.
As David neared, Paula offered him a big smile. Even though they couldn’t be alone together, she was so glad to see him. David was looking at Eleanor, though, a business smile curving his lips.
“Hi, hon.” Paula stepped forward to embrace him, but his body was as stiff as a lamppost, and she didn’t feel his arms around her. She stepped back and saw one hand was on his rollaway, the other tucked in his coat pocket.
“Mrs. Harding, nice to see you again.” David shook her hand.
“Eleanor, please. We’re so glad you could come. Are you much of a sailor?”
Miles exited the cabin before David could answer the question.
Paula studied David while he greeted Miles. He was cordial enough to the Hardings, but he’d hardly looked at Paula, and his jaw appeared to be chiseled from the Grand Tetons. Something wasn’t right, but she’d have to wait until they were alone to pry it from him.
Eleanor, Paula, and David went inside the cabin to warm up while Miles untied Daddy’s Girl. Eleanor showed David to the room they’d bunk in so he could stow his bag, then he excused himself to the rest room, a small compartment in the lower level of the boat.
After being shooed away from the galley, Paula took a seat at the table, where Eleanor had a lovely setting of china and silver, minus the dinner plates. The candles in the center of the table were fastened down to avoid being toppled over, and the flames danced on the wicks, pushed by the heat that flowed through the cabin.
Paula wished she could follow David below and ask what was wrong. But it would be rude to abandon Eleanor while she was cooking for them. After several minutes Eleanor declared everything was ready and that they’d eat as soon as Miles had pulled away from shore and found a spot to anchor down for the night.
Just when Paula began wondering what was taking David so long, he came up the stairway.
“Something smells wonderful,” he said.
“Oh, David, have a seat. Thank you, but I’m afraid it’s only Cornish hens and rice. I’ve heard Paula is a culinary queen, and I’m afraid I can’t compete with that.”
Paula thought David would jump in and say something about her cooking, but when he didn’t, she spoke. “I’m afraid I haven’t had much time lately for the culinary arts, and anything home cooked is a treat.”
Eleanor settled into a chair next to her. Across from her, David still wasn’t acknowledging Paula. It was like he’d turned back into that man he’d been before she’d come to Chicago. Was he regretting that he’d agreed to move from Jackson? Was he angry with her that she was pulling him away from his home and his business? Was he hoping she’d been wrong and that Miles wasn’t going to offer her the job? She would have to wait until they were alone to find out. She only hoped it wasn’t painfully apparent to Miles and Eleanor that something was amiss between them.
A strange broken triangle of conversation ensued. Eleanor spoke with both David and Paula, Paula spoke with both Eleanor and David, but David spoke only with Eleanor. It seemed awkward and stilted that David never responded to anything Paula said. It was as if she were visible only to Eleanor.
When Miles finally came in, Paula felt only relief. Maybe the broken verbal chain would be less obvious with a fourth participant.
Paula insisted on helping Eleanor by carrying the dinner plates with golden Cornish hens to the table, and they settled into their seats.
“You have quite a boat here,” David said to Miles.
“Thank you. She was given to us by Eleanor’s parents as a wedding gift with the name Daddy’s Girl already painted on. I think it was his way of warning me to treat her right.” He laughed.
“Miles.” Eleanor delicately dabbed her lips with the linen napkin and addressed Paula. “He always jokes that he’ll never be able to sell the boat just because of her name.”
“Well, how would that look?” Miles said. “My trading in Daddy’s Girl for a newer model?”
“I see your point.” Paula took a sip of wine. “I’m sure you’d never want to trade either of them in since they’re both top of the line.”
“Well said, Paula.” Miles sliced the meat off the hen, his knife scraping against the plate. “David, how’s that business of yours going?”
“Very well. We’ve had a busier than usual winter and are gearing up for the spring rush.”
“Everyone always wants to house hunt in the spring, don’t they? I’ll bet you work a lot of hours through the warm months.”
David responded that he did work a lot of overtime, and the subject changed from real estate to station talk, where Miles and Paula dominated the conversation. He raved about the job she’d done and how much potential he felt she had.
Finally Miles raised his glass of Pepsi in a toast. “To Paula, an ambitious woman, a thorough reporter, and WMAQ’s newest evening anchor.”
Paula froze, his words starting to sink in. Did he say “evening anchor”?
“Congratulations, Paula.” Eleanor patted her hand.
She should say something, but she didn’t seem to have any breath.
“Look, she’s actually speechless,” Miles said.
Paula looked at David, but his eyes were downcast.
She’d gotten it. She was the new evening anchor! “Miles, I don’t know what to say. I’m just—just ecstatic.”
“You deserve it. I knew from the minute I viewed your tape from Jackson Hole that you had something special. You’ve more than lived up to my expectations.”
Eleanor held her glass up. “To Paula.”
Paula raised hers and looked at David, who finally raised his glass.
“To Paula,” David said. “It looks like all your sacrifices have paid off.” He stared at her with cold, hollow eyes.
The slightest of pauses seemed to fill the cabin with a wave of frigid air.
“To Paula.” Miles began clinking glasses, regarding Paula with the proud eyes of a father.
Paula kept her smile carefully in place and hoped it was convincing. Though she was thrilled she got the job, fingers of fear had wrapped around her joy, all but strangling the much-awaited elation.
She looked at David, whose eyes were blinking rapidly. She had to get him alone and find out what was going on, but first they had to get through the meal. She took a sip from her glass, trying to focus on what she needed to say to Miles.
“I just can’t tell you how much this means to me, Miles. A year ago I was wondering if my career would ever lead anywhere and now—evening news anchor for WMAQ in Chicago.” She shook her head. “I can hardly believe it.”
“Well, believe it, because it’s happening. I know we’ve made the right choice.”
Paula took a bite of the seasoned rice and cast a sideways glance at David. If he didn’t say something soon, the Hardings would know something was wrong even if they’d missed the sarcasm in his voice at his toast.
“So,” Eleanor said, “have the two of you discussed what you would do about living arrangements if you got the job?” She looked between Paula and David.
“Yes, we have.”
“Not really.”
Paula and David spoke at the same time. The contradiction of their answers introduced another layer of awkwardness. What was going on? David had told her just this week he’d be happy to move to Chicago.
“Well,” Paula said, trying to recover, “what we mean is that we have discussed it but haven’t completely reached a solution.”
“I have some good contacts in real estate,” Miles said. “I’m sure you could have a very successful career here in the Windy City.”
David swallowed a bite of bread. “Thank you. I’m sure Chicago is burgeoning with real-estate opportunities.”
“Oh, it is.” Eleanor added. “And my family has a lot of contacts with potential buyers.”
David wiped his mouth. “Well. I appreciate your both wanting to help.”
David always had such control, even when he was steaming inside. He rarely raised his voice even when he was angry. But Paula had been with him long enough to see the signs of hidden anger. His blinking eyes, his working jaw. Even the way he spoke to the Hardings in careful, measured tones, dropping each word in place like a Scrabble player setting down tiles.
Perhaps sensing the tension at the table, Eleanor changed the topic. The rest of the meal was stilted and uncomfortable for Paula, who tried to follow the conversation while attempting to identify the source of David’s anger. She was thrilled when the meal was done and Miles suggested they go out on deck to view the stars.
Eleanor insisted on leaving the dishes for later, so they bundled up in coats and went out on deck to sit in lounge chairs.
Above them, tiny white dots twinkled in the crisp air. Miles pointed out some of the constellations. David remained silent, even though Paula knew he could identify nearly every visible constellation.
Miles engaged David in a discussion about stocks while Eleanor gave Paula tips on the best places for a good haircut and manicure. But Paula couldn’t fully focus on the conversation when David was sitting twelve inches away and hadn’t touched her all night.
Finally, when Paula’s skin felt stiff and cold, David stood and said it was time for him to turn in.
Paula took the opportunity to get David alone. “I hope you don’t mind, but I think I’ll turn in too.”
“By all means,” Eleanor said. “If you need anything, just holler—and please, make yourselves at home.”
“Thank you for the wonderful meal, Eleanor. And Miles, I’m truly thrilled about the anchor chair.”
“You deserve it,” Miles said.
They said good night, then Paula made her way after David into their cabin. Silence followed them through the narrow doorway like a stalker. After unzipping her coat, Paula shut the door behind them.
The only sounds in the room were the swooshes of coats being removed. Paula laid hers across the dresser and watched David as he hung his in the tiny closet. Had he said a single word to her all night? What was his problem? The Hardings had to have noticed. She’d just gotten the biggest boost of her career, and her husband hadn’t even congratulated her. Didn’t he know what this meant to her? Couldn’t he at least be happy for her, even if he was angry with her for some unknown offense?
She began changing her clothing. Even if he wasn’t thrilled about moving to Chicago, couldn’t he have shown a little joy? Maybe even been proud of how hard she’d worked?
She slipped her silky nightgown over her head, wishing she’d brought an old ratty pair of sweats instead. But David didn’t notice anyway, as he was rooting through his travel case.
Feeling angrier by the minute, she went to the rest room and washed off her makeup with her three-step face-care method. After moisturizing she brushed her teeth, then returned to the bedroom.
David sat on the edge of the bed, setting his travel alarm, his roller bag tucked neatly by the nightstand. They needed to talk, but apparently he didn’t think so. Did he think they could go through the whole weekend this way? Just the thought of it was enough to make acid stir in her stomach. She’d be snacking on Rolaids all weekend if they didn’t resolve it.
David jerked the sheet loose from the edges of the bed with a hard, angry yank and got under the covers.
“What is your problem?” she asked.
Silence was his answer.
She tried again. “You haven’t said a word to me all night, David. You haven’t touched me. You’ve hardly looked at me. Can you please tell me what’s going on?”
He lay down, punching his pillow up and turning away toward the window. “What could be wrong? You just got everything you wanted.” The tone of his words was chipped from an ice block.
She tugged the covers back and sat on her side of the bed. Yes, she got what she wanted in her career, but why the silent treatment from David?
Her frustration with him grew. “We just talked two days ago, and everything was fine. You said you’d move to Chicago, and now you’re saying you won’t? I don’t get you at all. I can’t read your mind, and I’m not into telepathic messages, so maybe you can clue me in.”
He reached over the side of the bed. “Messages. Ah yes, they can be quite enlightening.” He tossed something to her side of the bed, and it landed on her bare leg. “You forgot something last weekend.”
Her phone. She’d thought she’d lost it at the airport.
“Messages . . . they can be quite enlightening.” His words rang back in her mind, making sense in a way that made her middle clamp up.
“Go ahead, Paula. You’d better get all the important messages you missed this week.”
She was shaking now. The phone sat in her clammy palm. She didn’t want to hear them. Just the thought of what might be on there made her want to go up on deck and toss the thing out into the frigid waters of Lake Michigan.
She made herself turn on the phone and push the buttons to retrieve her messages. She put the phone against her ear. Her heart pounded up into her throat. The first message began. It was Cindy calling on Miles’s behalf with a question about the dry-cleaning story. The next message was from Linn. Paula listened to it, part of her wanting to skip ahead, the other part wanting to turn off the phone.
The bed was still except for the slight rocking of the boat. Back and forth. Back and forth. Beside her, David lay as tense and still as a coiled snake.
The next message began.
“Hi, Paula, it’s Deb. I just wanted to say thank you. I know how hard it must’ve been to tell Steve and me about your—abortion.”
Paula sucked in her breath.
“And I hate to bring this up, but there’ll be custody papers you’ll need to sign.”
Oh, God, no.
“I’m sure you knew that was coming, but, well, anyway . . . Also, Steve and I would like to talk to the nurse you got your information from. I know you said her name was Louise Garner, but I’m not finding a number for her in the phone book. Well, we’re praying for you, Paula. Talk to you later.”
Paula closed the phone, and it dropped on the mattress beside her leg. Her breaths came in shallow puffs. Her heart beat like a frightened rabbit’s, kicking frantically against her rib cage.
Oh, God, why did this have to happen? Think, Paula, think. He knows you had an abortion.
Deb also mentioned custody papers. Does he know Deb is the mother from the Morgan story? Maybe he’s forgotten.
What did it matter? She had to tell him the whole truth now anyway. This wasn’t the way she’d planned it. They were supposed to be in the privacy of their home when she explained it. She was supposed to tell him first, not have him find out on his own.
“I—I was going to tell you.” It sounded lame, but it was the only thing she could think of.
“Right, Paula.”
“I was! I was going to tell you this weekend when I went home, but then everything got messed up when Miles invited us here.”
David turned then, but she wished he hadn’t. His eyes were like cold death. “You lied to me all this time, and you think I’m going to believe you now?” His tone was as flat and icy as a frozen lake.
“I know it sounds implausible, but it’s true, David. I swear it.”
He ripped the covers back and went to stand in front of the window.
What was going through his mind? How could she fix it? Why hadn’t she told him earlier? She should have told him before the Morgans. David was her husband, after all.
He turned and stabbed her with a look. The corner of his nose curled up in a snarl. “Why would I believe anything you tell me?”
She reared back at the hissed words. She didn’t know this man. “Let me explain. Please.”
“I don’t need your sorry explanations, Paula. I already got them from Louise Garner.”
Louise Garner. Oh please, no, God. He’s heard it all. He knows it all, and he heard it from someone else.
Oh, God, he’ll never forgive this.
“I’m so sorry, David.”
Lame, lame, lame! What good would her apologies do now?
“Sorry? You’re sorry?” He sneered the word.
She hugged her knees to her chest.
“You aborted our baby and told me you’d miscarried? Miscarried, Paula? I wanted that baby. I grieved that baby. I held you and tried to comfort you, and you lied about all of it!” His voice escalated, and she wondered if the Hardings could hear him. “And then you find out by some miracle that our baby, our child, survived—and you didn’t tell me?”
David’s image blurred through the tears that began pouring down her face.
“And you’re—sorry? Sorry, Paula, is for someone who forgets an appointment or someone who says something in anger, or someone who betrays a confidence. Sorry is not for—for this.”
She sniffled. “You’re right. You’re right, David. I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”
“That’s right, you don’t.”
She stared down at the bedspread. His anger glared like the afternoon sun, and she couldn’t bear to look at him.
“How could you do it? That’s all I want to know. Did you sacrifice our baby on the altar of your career, Paula? Was the pregnancy just one little snag on the way up your precious corporate ladder?”
She closed her eyes and wiped her nose. If only she could deny it. But it was true. She had done it for her career. It was every bit as awful as he made it sound. She knew that now.
“I made a horrible mistake. I’d do anything to go back and change it, David. Anything.”
“Did you plan the abortion before you went to Chicago, or was it a last-minute decision to end our baby’s life?”
“I—”
“Were you just planning to brush it all under the rug and go your merry way?”
“David, I—”
“And our daughter. My daughter. Didn’t you think I might like to know she was alive? Was I ever going to get to see her or hold her or tell her I love her?”
She realized then that she did have something to offer. She could tell him about Faith. He would want to know every detail. “Her name is Faith,” she said through a constricted throat.
David went still.
“She’s got eyes the color of mine, but they’re shaped like yours, kind of almond-shaped but turned up at the corners a bit. When she smiles, they look like crescent moons. Her skin is dark for being in the middle of winter. I think, in the summer, she would tan, not burn like me. Her hair is dark, the color Mom’s used to be, and she has these adorable curls . . .”
David’s face wore a look she’d never seen. Part awe, part brokenheartedness.
She didn’t know whether or not to continue, but plunged in anyway. “She’s very curious and active and affectionate to—”
“Stop.” The word seemed to grate across his throat. He turned the stiff line of his back toward her. Beyond the window the night was dark, a black, empty canvas.
Had she said too much? She’d only wanted to give him what little she had to offer. She noted the broadness of his shoulders and how they tapered down to a trim waist. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and beg his forgiveness again. But he’d already told her it was too little, too late. She drew her knees closer and laid her cheek against her folded arms.
“David,” she whispered. “I love you so much. I don’t want to lose you.”
He was quiet so long, she wondered if he’d heard her. Tears ran down her temple and into her hairline. What was he thinking about? He’d gone from raging anger to a chilling calmness, and it frightened her.
“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m sorrier than I can say for what I’ve done. I’m sorry I did it, and I’m sorry I’ve hurt you. You mean more to me than anything—”
“Stop it.”
She smothered the sob that clogged her throat. There was nothing she could say now. She’d ruined everything that mattered . . . and all for a career.
“You cheated me out of fatherhood,” David said, startling her. “I could’ve had a little girl who ran to meet me when I came home. Who called me Daddy and gazed at me with stars in her eyes. Now she belongs to someone else.”
Paula closed her eyes against the truth. It was too harsh, too final. And it had been all her doing.
“There’s nothing you can do now to fix that.” He turned toward her.
She searched his eyes. They were bathed in regret and something else she couldn’t quite define. Hope began to stir at his words. There wasn’t any going back, only going forward. Maybe he saw that now.
“I fell head over heels for you when we met.” His eyes narrowed as if he was examining the past. “And we’ve had our rough times. But lately I’ve grown to love you more than I ever thought possible.”
“Me too, David.” She let her love for him shine through her eyes. He had to know how much she loved him.
He paused. “But I don’t know who you are. The woman I fell in love with would never do what you’ve done.”
“David, I—”
“The woman I’ve been married to has a dark corner in her heart that I didn’t know about. A dark corner that has undermined every thought, every feeling I have toward her. I can’t love someone I don’t know, and Paula”—he shook his head—“I don’t know you at all.”
“Yes, you do. You do. I’m not this—”
“I don’t want to hear any more.” He opened his case and grabbed a turtleneck, pulling it over his head. Next was a pair of Dockers.
She sat upright, letting her knees fall flat. What was he doing? They were stuck on a boat, and the Hardings were up on the deck. “Where are you going?”
David buttoned his pants and walked toward the door.
She clutched the pillow. “Where are you going?”
He stopped, his hand curled around the doorknob. “I can’t stay in here with you. I’m not sleeping with a stranger.”
Her breath caught in her throat.
He opened the door and stepped through it. Then the door clicked shut with a snap of finality.