CALEB WAITED IN THE KITCHEN with his mother. They’d drunk more coffee than was logical, and they were each so tense that every sound plucked at their already raw nerves.
“You’re going to wear a hole in that floor, Caleb,” Catherine chastised.
She had dressed in her Sunday best, but looked as if she hadn’t slept last night, worry lines prominent on her face.
Just when Caleb thought he couldn’t stand another minute, a car pulled up in the driveway. His mom stood. Caleb forced his legs to move him to the front door. His heart was beating so fast he could feel the pounding in his temple.
He heard the child’s crying before he opened the door.
On his porch stood a solemn woman holding the little girl who sobbed a single word. “Mama.” Her eyes were red and tear-swollen, and Caleb’s heart caved at the sight of her.
He swallowed, and the woman said, “Mr. Tucker? I’m Carrie Jones with Social Services. Grace is very upset. I haven’t been able to console her. If I could bring her inside?”
Caleb nodded and stepped back. His mother stood to the side, visibly torn by the child’s wrenching cries. Caleb led the way to the living room where Mrs. Jones set Grace down, one hand on her shoulder.
Grace ran to the corner of the living room, scooted behind the oversize chair, her sobs on the verge of hysteria.
Mrs. Jones wiped a hand across her forehead. “She’ll be all right?”
Caleb nodded, having no idea whether she would or not. He had never heard such heartbrokenness.
Mrs. Jones went back to the car, returned with Grace’s things and then left without saying another word.
The sound of the child’s anguish filled the room.
“Oh, Caleb,” Catherine said, one hand going to her mouth.
Noah trotted in, having sneaked through the door from the front porch as the social worker was leaving. He went straight to the chair, ducking behind it even as Caleb started to call him back. The dog’s tail thumped back and forth between the wall and the chair. Grace’s crying softened to sniffles.
Caleb and Catherine stood like statues, until Noah backed away from the chair and threw a questioning look at Caleb.
Catherine crossed the room, pulled the chair out and lifted Grace into her arms. “Oh, honey,” she said. “I’m so sorry. You’re going to be fine. I promise.”
Grace looked at Catherine, then Caleb, her lower lip still quivering uncontrollably.
“You’re exhausted, aren’t you?” Catherine said, smoothing a hand over the child’s blond hair. “Why don’t we show you your room upstairs?”
Grace looked down at Noah.
“Noah can come with us,” Catherine said.
That seemed to soothe her enough to still her trembling mouth for a moment.
“I’ll carry her upstairs, Mom.”
Catherine started to hand Grace to him, but the child shrank away and began crying again.
“It’s all right,” Catherine said.
The room was at the end of the upstairs hallway. Laney had painted it a year or so after they’d been married in the hope that they would soon use the room as a nursery. The walls were a buttery yellow, adorned with nothing more than a single mirror above a small white dresser and a twin-size bed that looked lost in the large room.
Caleb and his mom had spent half of yesterday in Toys “R” Us looking for things Grace might like. Caleb had been clueless but for the age recommendations on the boxes. Catherine had been a little more adept, picking out a soft, cuddly doll and an oversize stuffed gorilla, which now sat in the corner of the room, a silly smile on its face.
Catherine lowered Grace to the edge of the bed. “There you go, honey.”
Grace shot a longing glance at the gorilla, then crawled to the head of the bed, curling up on the pillow in a fetal position. Her thumb went to her mouth, soft snuffling noises replacing the sobbing from earlier, as if she were too worn out to manage more.
Catherine looked at Caleb, pity filling her eyes with tears.
Caleb’s own throat locked suddenly, and they stood there under a cloud of knowledge that there was nothing they could do to take the child’s pain away. And yet, he knew, too, he was the one responsible for it.
In a few moments, the snuffling eased, and Grace’s eyes closed. Noah dropped to the floor beside the bed, clearly intent on standing guard until she woke again.
Catherine pointed at the hallway and they quietly left the room, leaving the door cracked so they could hear her if she called out.
Downstairs, Caleb went to the window and looked out across the yard. “I’m sorry to put you through this, Mom.”
“She’s heartbroken, Caleb.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, grappling for his own belief in what he was about to say. “Things will get better. Everything is new.”
Catherine moved to the window beside him, pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes. “Do you really think this is what Laney would have wanted, son?” she asked, her voice low and hushed. “That child is innocent. More a victim than any of us. Her life has just been torn apart. It seems so unfair, Caleb.”
He said nothing. He couldn’t deny the truth behind her words.
“Caleb?” His mother put a hand on his arm. “I know you’ve wanted someone to pay for what happened to Laney. God knows we all did. But please don’t let it be this child. Promise me that.”
Caleb stepped back as if she had just slapped him. “Is that what you think?”
“By taking that little girl from the only mother she has ever known, you are punishing her, whether you mean to or not.”
Caleb flinched, then ran a hand across his face. “So you’ve teamed up with Dad now, huh?”
“That’s not fair.”
“What is?” he asked.
“Caleb—”
“Maybe you should go, Mom,” he said and turned away from her.
Long after she had disappeared down the gravel drive, he felt the sting of his mother’s words. He went upstairs and looked in on Grace, finding her curled up in the same position asleep, Noah still on the floor beside her.
Back downstairs, he went from kitchen to living room, creating things to do that didn’t need doing. His mother’s accusation, however well-meant, had hit some sensitive spot inside him. Was he looking for someone to punish? Had he picked this child as his target?
Was he doing this for himself after all? On some level, had he grouped this little girl into the same category as the man who had taken his wife’s life?
It was an ugly thought, and Caleb shied from it, certain only that he would never consciously hurt Grace.
But God help him if he ever laid even an ounce of his own need for revenge at the feet of that child.
God help him.
FOR AN HOUR AFTER the social worker had left with Grace, Sophie put herself on autopilot. Placed the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher, dumped the coffee grounds, set the trash out back. With every motion, her arms and legs grew heavier until she finally forced herself up the stairs, her steps like that of an old woman.
The phone rang, Darcy’s cell number flashing on caller ID. She had called the day before to say her grandmother had died. She and Neal had driven to Tennessee that night to help with the funeral arrangements, Darcy upset that she could not be there for Sophie.
Sophie let the phone ring, certain she could not bring herself to talk about what had happened this morning.
She collapsed, instead, onto her unmade bed, staring up at the ceiling and wishing for some switch to pull within herself that would stop the pain gnawing away at her.
There were sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet, a prescription written for her after some minor surgery a few years ago when she’d been unable to sleep. The bottle beckoned now like a light at the end of a pitch dark road. She pictured exactly where it was on the shelf, behind the bottle of Centrum vitamins.
What would it hurt to take one?
If she could have just an hour without this awful pain, one hour, maybe she could begin to think clearly again. She got up and went into the bathroom, opened the cabinet door, reached for the bottle and stared at it.
She turned the lid, tipped the edge to the palm of her hand and shook out one tablet. The ache inside her was so all-encompassing that the pill felt like a single raindrop hitting parched earth. She shook out another.
She reached for the glass by the sink, then turned on the tap and tossed the pills to the back of her throat.
GRACE SLEPT FOR SEVERAL HOURS.
Caleb stuck his head in her room, saw that she was awake, but curled up in a ball still, thumb in her mouth, tears sliding from the corners of her eyes.
He stood as if glued to the wood floor, immobilized by his own ineptitude. Her body language alone said, Stay there, I don’t want you to come closer. So he stayed where he was. “Grace?”
She shook her head and continued to look at the pillow, as if his voice were more than she could handle. He stepped back. Noah stayed at the door beside him. “I know you must be very sad right now. But everything will be all right. Will you believe me on that?”
She didn’t raise her eyes from the pillowcase. “Mama,” she said.
The word was so pitiful, so replete with meaning that Caleb’s heart twisted into a tight knot.
Beside him, Noah whined.
Caleb put his hand on the dog’s head and said, “Okay.”
Noah trotted over to the bed, licked Grace’s cheek, then sat with his eyes trained on her tiny face, waiting for any sign of response.
There was none. Noah whined again, as frustrated by the desire to reach her as Caleb was.
He glanced at his watch. Already midafternoon. Way past time for lunch.
Should he stay here or try to take her downstairs for something to eat? He didn’t want to upset her further, and yet, they had the weekend ahead of them. He had to feed her. They would have to start somewhere.
He crossed the floor, keeping his body posture as unintimidating as he could. He squatted by the bed, his kneecaps hitting the side of the mattress. “Would you like to go downstairs and get some lunch, Grace? I understand peanut butter and jelly is your favorite.”
She shook her head again. Her tears began to build in momentum. “Mama. Mama.”
The walls of the house seemed to sway with the sound of the child’s grief. The crack in Caleb’s heart widened, and he saw himself as he must look to her. A man who had taken her from her mother. The truth hit him hard. And wasn’t it so? Because to her, he was nothing more than exactly that.
IT WAS NEARLY FIVE O’CLOCK when Caleb pulled into Sophie Owens’s driveway.
Grace sat in her car seat in the backseat of the truck, Noah on the floorboard beneath her. Only now did her sad face transform with happiness.
She had cried for the remainder of the afternoon, until her eyes were swollen and she could barely catch her breath. Nothing he said could console her.
Finally, he’d gathered her up, put her in the truck and driven her home.
Sophie’s car sat in the driveway and lamplight shone from the living-room window.
“Mama,” Grace said and began trying to unfasten the buckle to her car seat.
Caleb got out and opened the back door. It took him a few seconds to unclasp the belt. He lifted her out, set her on the ground beside him and told Noah to wait in the truck.
They headed across the yard, and Grace offered no resistance when Caleb reached for her small hand.
At the front door, he knocked. A minute passed with no answer. He rang the bell. Still no answer. Maybe she was out back.
He leaned over and picked Grace up, surprised now to find that she didn’t pull away from him, then walked around the house. No sign of anyone out there.
He tried the front door again, but still no response.
He went back to the truck, reached for his cell phone and dialed the number she had left inside Grace’s suitcase.
The phone rang and rang, and he began to get a worried feeling in the bottom of his stomach.
They walked back to the front door where he knocked again.
Grace pointed at the flowerpot on the top step. “Key.”
Caleb bent down, lifted the edge and pulled it out. “Thank you,” he said and then wondered if he should just leave and come back. But having brought her this far, he couldn’t imagine doing that to Grace.
Without giving himself time to change his mind, he put the key in the lock and turned it quickly. He stuck his head just inside and called out, “Sophie?”
There was music coming from somewhere in the house and light shone from the upstairs hallway.
A bark sounded from the top of the stairs and then Grace’s dog came scampering down the steps.
“Lily!” Grace said, clapping her hands together.
The dog’s tail wagged so hard, it was a near blur.
Where was Sophie? Caleb’s bad feeling intensified. “Grace, would you wait here with Lily while I look for your mama?”
The child nodded.
In the kitchen, Caleb opened a couple of cabinets, found some animal crackers and took them into the living room for Grace before heading upstairs.
Grace’s bedroom was the first on the right, judging by the little-girl baby dolls and stuffed animals. He passed another that looked like a guest room. The door to the room at the end of the hall was closed. He knocked, tentatively, and then more forcefully.
He turned the knob. Not locked. He opened the door a few inches and called her name again. He stuck his head just inside and saw her on the bed. She lay with her face away from him, and there was something in the way she appeared to have collapsed into the position that sent a spear of panic through him.
“Sophie?” He crossed the rug-covered floor to the bed, his heart pounding hard. He put his hand on her shoulder, but she didn’t move. Fear grabbed him by the throat now. She wouldn’t do this. He scanned the room for signs of anything she might have taken, then ran to the bathroom, flicking on the light.
A bottle sat on the sink, the lid removed. He picked up the container and quickly scanned the label. For Temporary Relief of Insomnia. Quantity: 8.
The bottle was empty. He dropped it into the sink as if it had scalded him. In the bedroom, he sat on the edge of the mattress and lifted her to a sitting position. “Sophie. Sophie, can you hear me?”
Her head lolled back and another hammer of panic slammed through him. This couldn’t be happening. She wouldn’t have done this. He grabbed her wrist, put his thumb to her pulse. Thank God, it was there.
Putting an arm under her legs, he picked her up and carried her into the bathroom. He opened the shower door, set her against the wall, then turned on the water, checking to make sure the temperature was right. He pointed the nozzle directly at her, the cold water sluicing across her face.
For a couple of moments there was no response, and then she made a sound, visibly struggling to open her eyes.
Within seconds, she was completely soaked, the cotton of her white blouse sticking to her skin and outlining the sheer bra beneath.
She made another sound of protest and opened her eyes fully, looking up at him. He could see her trying to focus, finally registering his presence.
“Oh, no,” she said so softly he could barely hear her.
He turned off the shower. “Are you all right?”
She turned her head to the side and squeezed her eyes together. “Why are you here?”
Before he could answer, she jerked her gaze back to him and began struggling to get up. “Oh, my God. Grace. Is she all right?”
Caleb squatted down, placing his hands on her wet shoulders. “She’s fine. Let’s talk about you for a second.”
She looked up at him, relief in her eyes. “Where is she?”
“Downstairs with Lily. How many of those pills did you take?”
Sophie sank back against the wall of the shower as if her bones refused to hold her up. “I’m not sure. I—” She thought for a moment and then said, “Oh. You don’t think I tried to—”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“I just wanted to sleep for a while. I didn’t think I could stand—” She stopped again, as if realizing he wasn’t the one she should be telling this to.
“There were no pills in that bottle. How many did you take?”
She frowned. “I…a couple, I think. I just wanted to make it all go away for a little while.”
The honesty of the words turned the blade of remorse inside him several degrees. In trying to get his own life back to a place of sanity, how had he managed to block out the devastation he would be bringing to this woman’s life, to Grace’s life? Here, in this moment, he was sorry to see how successfully he had managed to ignore all but his own pain and the need to end it.
“Wait right here, okay?”
She nodded once and rubbed at her eyes.
He headed back downstairs to the living room where Grace was happily sharing her animal crackers with Lily. Caleb gave her a few more and then went to the kitchen, found the coffeepot on a counter, filled it halfway. He searched the pantry for coffee, finally thinking to look in the freezer where he found a bag of beans. He dumped some in the grinder beside the pot, measured out a few tablespoons, then poured in the water.
“Where’s Mama?”
Grace stood in the doorway, her small voice surprising him. “She was asleep. I’m making her some coffee, and then she’ll be right down.”
Grace danced one of the animal crackers through the air, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge what he’d said, as if she was considering whether to believe him. She turned and went back to the living room.
Once the coffee had finished, Caleb filled a cup and retraced his steps back upstairs.
Sophie still sat on the shower floor with her head resting against the tile wall. Her eyes were heavy, as if she could barely keep them open.
“Here,” he said, squatting beside her and putting the cup to her lips.
She blinked once, sipped the hot coffee, then took the cup from him, touching the back of one hand to her mouth. “Thank you.”
They said nothing for a few more sips. Halfway through the cup, she straightened her back against the wall and pushed her hair from her face. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Better.”
“Can you stand?”
She nodded, accepting his hand to help pull herself up. She managed to lean against the wall, then glanced down at the blouse clinging to her skin. She raised both arms to cover herself while awkwardness struck them both mute.
Caleb set his gaze on the shower floor and said, “If you’ll tell me where to find them, I’ll get you some dry clothes.”
“Anything from the closet. Maybe just my robe.”
He went into the bedroom, retrieved it from the hook on the closet door. When he returned to the bathroom, she looked as if it had required every ounce of her strength to remain standing.
“I didn’t do this intentionally,” she said.
He handed her the robe and turned his back to her. “It didn’t seem in character.”
“Meaning?”
“You seem like a strong woman,” he said, unsettled by the rustling sound of clothing being removed.
“I’m not sure how you could think that considering my current state.” She stepped around him to drop the wet clothes in a pile by the sink. Her hair still dripped water. She reached for a towel and rubbed at the ends. “Why did you bring her back?” she asked softly.
He didn’t answer right away, and then admitted, “She needed to see you.”
Sophie raised her gaze to his, and Caleb thought he’d never seen such gratitude—and he’d never felt so completely unworthy of it. Neither of them said anything else.
But then words didn’t seem necessary when two people understood one another as the two of them now did.