Derry pressed speed dial on her cell phone and took a deep breath. She’d decided to call Alec tonight since he obviously wasn’t going to call her and there were issues to discuss, though as of this second, they were quickly evaporating.
She should talk to him, if for no other reason than to make sure Charlie really was okay. Kids didn’t know when they were okay and when they weren’t. And Vivien wasn’t a good gauge either. She’d say anything to get Derry back with her son.
Alec was the only one who could tell Derry how Charlie was doing. If he were home. Maybe he was out again, like he’d been twice last week and two days ago when she called. Was he trying to punish her? She swallowed, pressed the send button to his office because she knew he’d be there.
“Rohan, McGill, and Associates, Alec Rohan speaking.”
His voice unsettled her. She’d always loved the deep, velvet of it. “Hello, Alec.”
Silence, and then, “Derry.”
She willed her own voice to remain even. “I’m calling about Charlie. Is he okay?”
“He’s fine.”
“Vivien said he’s been having trouble sleeping the past two nights, and he’s been waking up crying.”
“He’s fine.”
There it was again, the deep resonance of his sound filling her. “I think we need to talk about it.”
“This isn’t a good time.”
“It’s easier getting you at the office than at home, Alec.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“So I gathered.” Don’t you miss me, even a little?
“I’m not going to sit around like a puppet and wait for your orders, Derry.”
“I wasn’t asking you to, but if there’s an issue with Charlie, I’d like to know about it.”
“Why? Isn’t that what this trip is all about, getting ready for the big send off?”
“I love Charlie,” she said, avoiding an answer.
“You left him.”
“I’ll be back in less than two weeks.”
“That’s right. Time’s flying.”
That’s why he was such a good attorney—detachment. He doesn’t care about me anymore. I can hear it in his voice.
“Well, okay.” She stumbled around and added, “I’ll call Charlie later on.”
“Make it before six. He’s got a soccer game tonight.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Derry, I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For all of it. The lie, the fighting, but most of all that we couldn’t get past this. We had a good thing together.”
“Alec, why are you talking like this? I haven’t decided anything yet. This is why I’m here. To decide.”
“You’ve already decided. You just don’t realize it yet, but you’ve made your choice.”
The sound of him pulled her close. Closer.
“Good-bye, Derry.”
She clutched the phone, whispered, “I love you, Alec, I love you.” But he was already gone.
***
The house was too quiet, even for 11:20 p.m.
Janie slid the end of the paper clip into the knob, waited for the click, and eased the door open.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Kiki jerked back from the open window, hissing, “Get out of my room.”
Janie ignored her and pointed to the fire escape ladder resting on the windowsill. “I knew that story you gave Mom and Dad about needing a ladder in case of a fire was a bunch of baloney. You just want it to sneak out and see that loser boyfriend of yours.”
“Shut up and go to bed. And who said you could barge into my room?”
“I’ll bet Dad doesn’t know what you’re doing, does he?” Janie stepped over scattered shirts, underwear, CD’s, and candy bar wrappers to get to her sister. “You are such a pig. Mom would never let you get away with this.”
“Well, too bad she’s not here right now, isn’t it?”
“It doesn’t mean you should take advantage of Dad.”
“Just like you didn’t take advantage of him last night when you were IM-ing until 1:15 a.m.?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” Janie shrugged, averting her gaze. “I had some homework questions.”
“Bullshit.”
“Bullshit for you. At least I’m not sneaking out of the house to have sex with my boyfriend.”
“I am not having sex with Brad.”
“Oh, really?”
“Really.”
“Then you better do a better job hiding those condoms you’ve got stuffed in your underwear drawer.”
“You were going through my drawers?” Kiki’s face contorted into three shades of red. “You little shit. You mind your own business.”
“Be quiet or I’ll poke holes in all your condoms.”
Kiki grabbed Janie’s arm and twisted. “Don’t you spy on me again.”
“Ow! Let me go.”
“I mean it. You’re nothing but a pain in the ass.”
“Slut.”
Kiki pushed her and Janie stumbled, landing on the floor with a distinct thud. Janie reached for the closest weapon at hand, which happened to be a hairbrush, and threw it at her sister, whacking her in the shoulder.
“Bitch!” Kiki lunged at Janie, caught her by the ankle. “Stay out of my stuff, you hear me?”
“Let go! I’m telling Dad!”
“You open your mouth and I’ll tell him about the time you stole that nail polish from CVS.”
“You dared me to.”
“And you were stupid enough to do it. What do you think Dad will say when he hears his precious little Janie is a shoplifter?”
“That was eight months ago.” Janie tried to keep her voice from quivering. “And you told me to do it. You said I could start hanging around with you and your friends if I did.”
“I just wanted to see if you were stupid enough to do it.”
“I’ll tell Dad about you and Brad. And wait until Mom hears. You’ll see who gets in trouble.”
“But you committed a crime. A crime is still a crime, even if it was eight years ago.”
“Kiki? Janie? What are you two doing?”
Their father stood in the doorway, in sweats and a t-shirt, his hair sticking straight up, eyes squinting behind his glasses as he adjusted to the light.
“Dad.” Kiki released Janie’s ankle and rolled away. “We were just goofing around.”
“At 11:30 at night?” He glanced at Janie. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” She rolled to a sitting position, avoiding Kiki’s angry stare.
“Somebody better start talking right now. And what’s that in the window?”
“Oh.” Kiki ran to the windowsill and lifted the ladder from the ledge. “Now don’t get mad, Dad, but we were bored so we decided to try the ladder out. We wanted to see if it worked”—she stumbled on—“in case there’s a real fire.”
He didn’t look convinced.
“It was my idea,” Janie said, picking at the beginnings of a hole in her sweats. “I wanted to try it.” She couldn’t stop the tears that inched down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
He sighed and held his arms out to both girls. “It’s okay. Come here, girls.” He pulled them into his arms and rested his chin on Janie’s dark head. “I know you’re doing this because you miss your mother. We all miss her, but she’ll be back soon.”
Janie did miss her, and she knew her father did, too, but Kiki? No way.
The next morning, Kiki ran into the kitchen, jerked open the fridge and pulled out a key lime yogurt. “You ready to go?”
Janie stuffed the crust of her peanut butter toast in her mouth and washed it down with milk. “Just a sec.” She rinsed her glass and plate, loaded them in the dishwasher, and threw her napkin in the garbage.
“Let’s go Suzy Homemaker, or we’ll be late,” Kiki said, throwing the yogurt lid at the garbage can. She missed and the lid landed on the floor in a smear of key lime.
“Can’t you just try to be neat?” Janie picked up the lid and tossed it into the garbage. “You make so much work for everyone else, especially Mom.”
“So?”
“So, can’t you be considerate?” Janie grabbed her book bag and slung it over her shoulder.
“It’s not like she has anything else to do.”
“Why are you always saying that stuff about her? You just want to be mean?”
“Because she tries to control everything and she’s clueless. Dad’s just as clueless but he leaves me alone.”
“Mom busts you and you don’t like it.”
“Shut up or you’ll walk to school,” Kiki said, opening the driver’s door of the Camry.
“Dad’ll make you take me and you know it.” Janie scooted into the passenger front seat, and turned on the radio. “My pick today,” she said, flicking the stations.
“We’re not listening to that stupid country shit you like.”
“It’s my pick. I had to put up with your rap crap yesterday.” Janie punched in the station numbers until she heard Tim McGraw’s voice crooning, Live Like You Were Dying. “Dad said we could have vegetable lasagna or homemade pizza tonight. Which do you want?”
“Neither.” Kiki backed out of the driveway and headed for the high school.
“Well, those are the choices.”
“I’m hungry for chicken. What’s that stuff Mom used to make, chicken tetrazzini or something like that?”
“I thought you were a vegan?” Janie slid a glance at her sister.
Kiki shrugged. “Part-time vegan.”
“Like when Mom’s here, so you can annoy her?”
“No, like just when I’m in the mood.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Lay off, okay, or I might still tell Dad.”
Janie sunk back against the cloth seat. One more year and Kiki would be out of the house, at least a hundred miles away, ten times that if they were all lucky.
“Well, you better learn how to do something for yourself before you go away to college,” Janie said. “Like how to wash your clothes, do your own dishes, run the vacuum—”
“I can do all those things, if I want to.”
They were in the parking lot of McArthur High, inching toward a parking place. Janie grabbed her book bag. “Maybe, but there’s one thing you’ll never learn how to do.”
“Really?” Kiki thrust the Camry in Park. “What would that be?”
Janie unfastened her seatbelt, jerked the passenger door open and jumped out. “Get along with people,” she said, and slammed the door.