THURSDAY THE NEXT WEEK, Nate came home early to share a hasty dinner with Molly—placed at the front in the refrigerator with the usual note telling him how many minutes it would need to reheat in the microwave. He’d barely set foot in the front door when Anna hustled her kids out through the kitchen. She’d been like that since the game Saturday. Or maybe he should say since Sunday, when he’d gotten out the skateboards and bikes. While Molly and Josh skateboarded, he’d held Jenna up so she could pedal Molly’s old bike in circles around the paved area. She was a few years from being ready to ride on her own. She had one with training wheels, she’d assured him, but Mommy had said it had to go to storage.
Nate had every intention of suggesting they go get it. Of course, talking to Anna would be easier if he could get her to pause and look at him for more than a fleeting, evasive moment. And, damn, but her attitude was getting under his skin.
He gobbled his dinner and saw that Molly was picking at hers. “Don’t dawdle if you want to see your mom.”
She didn’t even look up, perplexing him. Didn’t she want to see her mother? Yes, Sonja had scared her when she fell into a drunken stupor; maybe she had already been scaring her with alcohol-fueled scenes. But he’d have sworn Molly adored her mother, too.
Either way, he thought she needed to see Sonja. He wondered if she might believe he’d been lying to her and her mother was really dead.
“Okay, that’s it,” he finally said, tugging gently at her braid. “Find your shoes, and let’s go.”
She didn’t protest, just moved slowly. Nate wasn’t thrilled about having to drive over the bridge to Seattle for a second time today, but this was important. After checking Molly’s seat belt, he cast a glance up at the apartment. Damn, he wished Anna was coming, too. She understood his daughter better than he did. The only person he saw in the window was Jenna, though. He waved, and she grinned and did the same. She looked astonishingly like what Anna must have at that age, but was a whole lot more cheerful.
Yeah, why would that be?
Mouth twisted, he accelerated up the long driveway.
On the way, he asked about Molly’s day at school and got monosyllables in return. Once, he glanced in the rearview mirror to see her sucking on the tip of her braid, a habit he thought she’d dropped when she was four or so. Certainly before she started school. Under the circumstances, regression wouldn’t be a surprise, but he wondered when she’d started up this habit again. After the divorce? Since he’d brought her home from her mother’s apartment? Or today, because she dreaded seeing Sonja?
He didn’t ask.
Nate held her hand walking into the treatment center. After signing in, the bearded man behind the counter encouraged—told them—to keep the visit to no more than half an hour. Then he directed them to a sitting room where a woman waited.
Nate glanced in, wondered where Sonja was...and felt a jolt. Good God, that was her.
He should have known immediately from her distinctive hair color, but... She wouldn’t usually be caught dead in a plain and not very flattering crew-neck T-shirt, jeans and flip-flops. Her red hair was pulled severely into a ponytail. Instead of bobbing, it hung lank and lifeless. The only times he’d seen her without makeup were first thing in the morning, and then she hadn’t had dark, swollen bruises beneath her eyes or sallow skin. She’d aged a decade, at least.
Molly shrank against him. He laid a hand on her shoulder and gave a subtle squeeze.
“Sonja.”
Even her hazel eyes were apathetic. Her gaze moved slowly from Molly to him. Only then did some anger show on her face.
“I’d like to visit my daughter alone.”
Nate hesitated. The request wasn’t unreasonable, but he didn’t want to desert Molly, either.
He bent to kiss the top of her head, murmuring, “Why don’t you go sit with your mom, punkin. I’ll be right outside, I promise.”
She cast him a single, frightened look, then straightened and trudged to her mother, who enveloped her stiff little figure in a hug.
Finding it hard to watch, Nate retreated to the hall. He wanted to eavesdrop, but knew that crossed a line. Hearing a television, he strolled to the large opening across the hall into what was clearly a communal space with a large-screen television. A playoff baseball game was on. No Mariners, of course. Still, watching idly from the doorway was as good a distraction as any.
A couple men seemed engaged. The other half-a-dozen people sitting in the scattered chairs or on the sofas looked as blank as Sonja had. Presumably, they felt like crap. Drying out had to be hell. It was taking a toll on Sonja, a beautiful, usually vivacious woman with emotions that bubbled and seethed.
What was she saying to Molly? Wondering had tension crawling up his neck. Did she have the sense to see that Molly needed reassurance instead of excuses or accusations? Gentleness?
He kept sneaking glances at his watch. Scanned incoming emails and texts on his phone while verifying that his watch was accurate.
At twenty-eight minutes after they’d signed in, he returned to the small room. Sonja had her arm around Molly and was murmuring into her ear. Molly had rounded her shoulders, giving her a hunched posture he’d seen so often when she’d been unhappy but wouldn’t tell him why.
“Hey, kiddo. Time to say goodbye to your mom.”
Sonja shot him a look of intense dislike, then kissed Molly on top of her head and said something he thought was “Remember.” Remember what?
Molly stared at her feet as she came to his side. He nodded and said, “I’m glad to see you past the worst, Sonja. You may not think so, but I’m rooting for you.”
“Sure you are.”
His mouth tightened, but he nodded again, said good-night and steered Molly out of the room. He signed them out and they walked to the car. Dusk turned the sky purple, and the air felt pleasantly cool after an unexpectedly hot day. He’d have felt more relief at having this over with if he hadn’t feared they’d have to visit several more times before Sonja completed treatment. And then what? Could he trust that she was recovered? How could he monitor her? He was damn well not going to turn Molly over to her until she’d demonstrated sobriety for a few weeks, at least. He made a mental note to talk to Anna about staying those extra weeks.
Driving from the parking lot, ready to wend his way through city streets to the freeway, he glanced in the rearview mirror. “Did you have a good visit?” he asked at last.
She shrugged.
Maybe this was none of his business, but he asked, anyway. “What did your mom mean when she asked you to remember?”
This look was distinctly fearful. “I don’t know,” she mumbled.
Startled, even shocked, Nate realized his seven-year-old daughter had just lied to him. He had a really bad feeling he knew what Sonja had urged Molly to remember.
* * *
DESPITE HER DETERMINATION to avoid Nate, Anna loitered the next evening while he greeted the kids. This had been one of his long days. For Molly’s sake, she had to talk to him. She could be strong and ignore the shimmer of anticipation at having an excuse to spend even a few minutes with him.
He backed out of the family room and saw her hovering in the living room. “Hey,” he said, strolling toward her and dropping suit coat and briefcase on the sofa as he did every day when he got home. “Is something wrong?”
“I did want to talk to you for a minute. In the kitchen?”
Obviously understanding that she didn’t want the kids to overhear, he suggested, “Why don’t we step outside?”
It was another beautiful evening, the sky vivid orange, Lake Washington in dark shadow. Glad he hadn’t turned on porch lights, Anna drew in a deep breath and let herself enjoy the spectacular view. She could hear more than see a boat passing, the sound of the motor muted. Tiny waves splashed against the dock and shore.
“What is it?” Nate asked, his voice deep, quiet.
“I wondered how the visit went yesterday. Molly has been really withdrawn. She told Josh she didn’t want to play, and sat at the table to do her homework all by herself, instead.”
He gazed out at the lake for a minute before responding. “Sonja asked me to leave her alone with Molly. I didn’t see how I could say no. We were limited to half an hour, so I waited out in the hall.”
“Did she tell you what she and her mom talked about?”
The sound he made could have been a laugh if it had held any amusement at all. “She locks down when she’s scared or worried or even just feels uncertain. Turns inward. When she came out of the room, she was...changed. Not in a good way.” He hesitated, then said with clear irony, “The last thing Sonja said was ‘Remember.’”
“Oh.”
“You have a right to be angry. What I don’t understand is why she’s so goddamn set on hating me for canceling on one outing.”
“One?” Anna wished she could see his face better. “I used to hear her grumbling about how you were always breaking promises.”
He said a word he definitely shouldn’t use within the kids’ hearing and swung away.
Feeling uncertain, she studied his back, an unrevealing sight. She swallowed, her essentially nice core overcoming her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you that. Or...or necessarily believed her. I mean, people tend to say ugly things about each other after a divorce.”
Nate blew out a long breath, rolled his head as if to ease tight muscles and faced her again. Only a hint of color remained in the sky, but light from the kitchen and the one lamp on in the living room let them see each other.
“I’m not proud of how often I let Molly down. My only excuse is that my job is exceptionally demanding and stressful. I still believe that if Sonja had understood, Molly would have, too. Sonja liked the money I made, but seemed to think I should still be able to cut out at five o’clock every day and never go into the office on Saturdays or Sundays. I don’t know why I even deluded myself that I could take that particular day off. I will say that I never agreed to anything like that without warning her I might not be able to make it.”
Anna felt worse about repeating Sonja’s complaints and ashamed that she’d believed every word of them.
“As our marriage deteriorated—” the usually smooth voice had become ragged “—I made more excuses. I let my frustration with Sonja impact Molly. I can’t forgive myself for that.”
Anna’s fingernails bit into her palms. “I know why she’s set on hating you for canceling that day.”
He went so still she thought he had even quit breathing.
“She feels guilty. It’s...hard to live with thinking it might be her fault a man died. If she can blame you...” Anna couldn’t believe she was saying this. There she went, determined to be fair again.
She also couldn’t believe she was telling him anything he hadn’t already guessed.
After a minute, he said, “I wondered.”
“Well.” She backed away. “I’ll try to give Molly some extra attention. Maybe she’ll talk to me. Right now, I need to get my kids heading for bed.”
“Wait. I need to ask you something.”
Wary, she heard him out and couldn’t argue with his reasoning. The original month they’d agreed upon wasn’t long enough. Both of them should have realized sooner that he couldn’t return Molly to her mother the minute she walked out of treatment.
“I don’t see that a few more weeks makes any difference,” she said.
He thanked her and she said something noncommittal, then retreated into the house, very aware of his quizzical gaze. She only hoped she hadn’t given away her relief at having the reprieve extended.
* * *
ANNA’S EYES POPPED open to a dark room. There was the moment of disorientation she hadn’t gotten past; the windows leaking faint light weren’t in the right place, and neither was her clock.
Sofa. Apartment. Muffled sobs.
Josh.
She jumped up and rushed into the bedroom to see him curled away from her, his body shaking. Jenna, thank goodness, still slept. Anna sat on the edge of Josh’s bed and touched his shoulder.
“Nightmare?” she murmured.
She thought he nodded amid the snuffles.
“Come on out to the living room,” she whispered.
He didn’t say anything, but he swiped his face with a corner of his sheet and, when she stood, slipped out of bed. She pulled the bedroom door almost closed behind them, then turned on a lamp in the living room. Anna detoured only long enough to grab several paper towels from the kitchen before sitting on the sofa and holding out an arm. Rarely willing to put up with hugs from his mom anymore, tonight Josh snuggled against her. She bundled the comforter around both of them.
“Here. Blow,” she said, tucking one of the paper towels in his hand.
He mopped himself up, then leaned trustingly against her.
“Did you dream about your dad?” she asked after a minute.
He nodded, his thin face splotched with red and his eyes puffy. So often now she looked at him and saw the teenager he’d be in the blink of an eye. Tonight, he was very much her little boy.
“Do you remember it?”
“Not really,” he said uncertainly. “But... I miss him.” A shudder passed through his thin frame, and he pressed his face to her side. “Why did he have to die?” he begged.
Anna had to blink back tears of her own. “Because he was the kind of man who couldn’t watch a little girl die.”
“I hate her!” he cried. His body vibrated with outrage. “Daddy would still be here if she hadn’t been so stupid!”
“I understand,” she whispered, resting her cheek on top of his head. “But I hope you’ll get past blaming Molly. All kids do stupid things sometimes.”
“I don’t—”
She managed something close to a laugh. “Do you remember when Austin kicked the ball over your head and you ran out into the street to get it?” It had been one of the worst moments of her life. She’d been looking out the window, unable to do a single thing to prevent her son being hit and killed by a pickup approaching on the street. The driver had slammed on the brakes, almost too late. His bumper had tapped Josh, knocking him down. He’d been frightened, unhurt except for skinning both knees and the palms of his hands.
Now he peered up at her in chagrin. “That was kind of stupid.”
“Kind of?” Her voice broke.
He scrunched up his face. Anna let the silence draw out, waiting for him to tell her what he was thinking.
“I guess it is kind of the same.”
“Yes, it is. All Molly wanted to do was wade. She had no idea the current was strong enough to knock her down. Even if she’d been to a river before, usually she could have safely waded in early summer.”
“But Dad couldn’t swim! He shouldn’t have gone in.”
She repeated a lot of what they’d talked about before, knowing Josh needed to hear it over and over. Anna had no doubt Kyle had been his usual heedless self. There wouldn’t have been a question in his mind that he could pull Molly out without plunging in over his head. But she felt equally certain he would have made the same choice even if he’d been afraid. She wanted Josh to believe his father hadn’t willingly left him—but also that, in the end, Kyle had died a hero.
Josh cried some more, and so did she. Even though his soccer game was an early one tomorrow, meaning they couldn’t sleep in, she didn’t suggest he go back to bed. Instead, she told him a few other stories about his dad, reminding him of times they’d all been together, talking softly, until she knew he was asleep.
Then she carried him to bed.
After turning out the light, she couldn’t settle down as readily as he had. As she squirmed in an attempt to get comfortable on the couch, her emotions roiled. Kyle wouldn’t be at tomorrow’s soccer game to cheer on Josh—but Nate would. Nate, who should have been at the park that day...except she understood why he hadn’t. Miserable and confused, it took her ages to fall asleep.
* * *
NATE WAS DAMN glad to reach the middle school where today’s game was being played. This morning, neither Josh nor Molly were speaking. She hadn’t wanted to come, and he’d almost decided to give her her way. But if he had, she’d have stared at whatever movie she put in the DVD player, and instead of being able to concentrate on work, he’d have felt restless and wondered how the game was going and what Molly was thinking.
Squeezed in the middle of the back seat, Jenna had given up on the other two and resorted to playing an irritating, handheld game that flashed lights and trumpeted loudly whenever she beat it. Beside him, Anna looked strained, too. Even once he found a parking place and they started for the field, he and she wouldn’t have a chance to talk. Josh ran ahead to join teammates, but Molly and Jenna stuck close.
In an obvious attempt to prevent that talk, Anna planted her lawn chair beside another woman she knew. Eventually, both girls succumbed to the lure of playing with other kids, so Nate watched the game.
This week, Josh stopped every ball before it reached the goal in the first half. Because his team was ahead 3-0, the coach switched him to forward for the second half and put another boy in as goalie. The substitute let a couple balls by, but Josh slammed a hard kick past the opposing goalie to make the score 4-2, which held until the end of the game.
Sweaty and grinning as he came off the field, Josh was a different boy from the one he’d been earlier. “Did you see, Mom?” he demanded, detouring by her as another mother started distributing drinks and snacks.
She grinned at him. “I saw. You were awesome.”
Nate held up a hand, and after only a brief hesitation, Josh gave him a high five. “Good game,” Nate said sincerely. “You’re a heck of a player, Josh. Your mom’s going to be sorry when you’re a little older and get picked for a select team.”
She rolled her eyes in exaggerated dismay, and Josh chortled as he rejoined his teammates for the snacks and a huddle around the coach. Molly and Jenna showed up for the snacks and juice Anna had brought for them. When she offered him a juice box, Nate laughed. “I think I can wait until we get to the pizza parlor.”
“Are we...?”
“Sure,” he said in surprise. “Why not? Makes the kids happy, and then you don’t have to cook.”
Anna nodded, but something about his suggestion made her not happy. It was that bad, sitting at a table and eating with him? She hadn’t seemed to mind last week. Did she dislike the fact that he had insisted on paying last week, and would again today?
Maybe. For good reason, money was a sensitive issue for her. If they kept this up, he’d have to let her pick up the check sometimes whether he liked it or not.
But all three kids cheered when he made the suggestion as they walked back to the car. Anna was watching, and he saw her lips twist in resignation and some other emotion he couldn’t read.
He didn’t like knowing he’d dropped some notches once again in her regard, but this wasn’t the first time it had happened, and it wouldn’t be the last. He ought to be counting the days until he didn’t need her anymore, and she’d moved on with her life and out with her kids. Life would be a hell of a lot more peaceful.
If he felt something closer to dread than anticipation, Nate tried to convince himself it was only because when that day came, it would mean Molly had gone back to live with her mother.