Authors: Antoinette Stockenberg
She hesitated before she said,
"
I
...
don
'
t understand you.
"
He picked up on her reluctance.
"
Of course you don
'
t understand me,
"
he said with forced lightness.
"
I
'
m babbling. Chalk it up to nervousness. I haven
'
t been out for a meal with a woman since
...
.
"
He shrugged.
"
I can
'
t remember.
"
He glanced around for their waitress.
"
Where the hell is she?
"
he wondered irritably.
"
The service here stinks. Oh, miss,
"
he said, commandeering the nearest one he could find. He held up his wineglass to her.
Edgy and nervous herself, Helen watched him fume as he waited for the refill. He was making no effort to pick up the thread of their original conversation about Katie, apparently leaving that burden to Helen.
Well, nuts to you,
she decided.
First you need me, then you don
'
t.
This was a waste of time. Surely she should be home minding her own family instead of second-guessing the hotbed of emotions that was sitting opposite her. She resolved to wait him out. He had come here to talk about Katie. Fine. Let him ta
lk.
But waiting was easier said than done. Something about him—something about the pain and anger and confusion that she saw in his eyes—made Helen want, suddenly, to comfort him. Whatever had happened, however Linda had died, he didn
'
t get it. Helen remembered all too well the sleepless nights when she had asked herself, asked God, asked the sun and the stars and the moon:
why?
Why did Hank have to die?
The only answer she
'
d ever got was: because. Because he had to. Which was no answer at all.
Completely on impulse, Helen reached across the table
and put her hand over his.
"
Don
'
t punish yourself,
"
she whispered.
"
It won
'
t change anything. I know.
"
She felt his hand curl into a tight fist beneath the blanket warmth of her own. He locked a burning gaze on her.
"
What was your husband like?
"
he asked out of the blue.
Helen blinked at the question.
"
The best,
"
she said simply.
Byrne shook his head. His lips firmed into an unrelenting line. The muscles in his jaw flexed. But he made himself respond.
"
Then you
don
'
t
know,
"
he said in a black voice.
Stung, she withdrew her hand.
The waitress came with the chicken and more wine, which at least gave the two of them something to do. By now Helen was an emotional wreck. They had come here to talk about Katie and had ended up talking about Linda— but they hadn
'
t really talked about Linda, either. It was all so cryptic. All Helen knew about Linda was that in some way she had failed her husband.
By having an affair? And then dying before she and Nat could thrash it all out? Undoubtedly that would account for his bitterness.
But it wouldn
'
t account for the anguish Helen was feeling for Linda
'
s sake. That
'
s where all her sympathy had begun to flow—to Linda. Despite Nat
'
s anger, despite his own sense of loss and betrayal, Helen wanted to rally around Linda. The feeling astonished her. She didn
'
t even know Linda. How could she possibly want to defend her?
And meanwhile they hadn
'
t talked about poor Katie at
all.
Helen put aside the odd, deep sense of injustice she was feeling for Linda
'
s sake and said,
"
When do you fly to
Zurich
?
"
"
This Friday,
"
Nat answered in a more civil voice. He seemed grateful to get off the subject of his late wife.
"
We fly back to
Salem
on Sunday. I don
'
t mind te
ll
ing you, I
'
ll be glad to have Katie home where she belongs.
"
"
That
'
s great,
"
said Helen warmly.
"
Before you know it, she
'
ll be making a dozen new friends at The Open Door.
"
Mo
ll
ified, he said,
"
When she gets back Peaches is going to arrange for some of those—what d
'
ya call
'
em?—playdates at the house.
"
He laughed softly.
"
It
'
s all such a hassle. Whatever happened to spontaneity? Does it all have to be done with appointment books and stopwatches?
"
"
Supervised play,
"
said Helen.
"
It
'
s the buzzword of the times.
"
"
Well, the times suck.
"
She was thinking of Hank; worrying about Russell.
"
Amen to that.
"
Their gazes met. She saw in his face an unspoken apology for being a jerk. It was enough. She smiled and said,
"
This vinaigrette is pretty good.
"
"
Mmm,
"
he agreed, but she saw that he was being listless about his food.
"
I want you to know,
"
he blurted,
"
that I never really considered another preschool besides yours. Linda was so adamant about it. And whatever else, I trust her judgment completely in that.
"
Blind faith: It was the easy way out. Helen decided to give him a little lecture about it.
"
As busy as you are,
"
she said,
"
I still urge you to check out one or two other schools—for your own satisfaction, if not for mine. Sizing up the building and the playground is fairly easy. I can give you a list of things to look for, although I
'
d guess that Peaches has done that homework for you. What you need to pay attention to is the staff. Watch how they relate to the children. Pay attention to how clean they keep the children
'
s hands and faces. Look at how much stimulation they offer to children
'
s senses. Watch to see how nurturing they are, and how the kids respond to them. It
'
s those intangibles that count.
"
He
'
d begun to smile halfway through her little lecture. When she was done he said,
"
I saw enough when I saw you on your knees with the finger-puppets. You were great. Patient, focused, lighthearted
.
I saw enough,
"
he repeated softly.
A slow burn of pleasure began washing over Helen. She
'
d been complimented on her childcare techniques many times by satisfied parents, but never—never—had she responded with such visceral, aching pleasure. Not even close.
"
I
'
d feel better if
...,"
she began. But she wasn
'
t sure anymore what it was that would make her feel better, so she let the thought drift away, like goose down in a summer breeze. She was becoming overwhelmed, and she had no idea why.
"
You make it look so easy,
"
he pursued in the same soft voice.
"
Whereas I—
"
He sighed. It seemed to bring up a lump in his throat, because his voice cracked with emotion as he said,
"
What am I going to do with a three- year-old who depends solely on me? What if I screw up? What if I wreck her for life?
"
If you could see your own face right now,
Helen thought,
you
'
d know you weren
'
t going to do that.
But he couldn
'
t, and so she said,
"
Have you told her anything more about Linda?
"
He groaned and said,
"
Before I left
Zurich
we had a long talk. I explained that Mommy went to heaven. She wanted to know where heaven was. I said, in the clouds. She wanted to know why we didn
'
t stop off and visit Mommy when we were up in the plane.
"
Grimacing at the memory, he said,
"
You can see what a mess I
'
ve already made. I said, God wanted Mommy to be with him because he loved her so much. Obviously that was the wrong thing to tell her. She was scared God was going to take me, too, or Peaches. So then I changed my story altogether and decided to go with the facts. I said, Mommy swallowed something that made her very sick. Katie said,
'
Medicine?
'
I said, yes, which turned out to be an even dumber move. Katie got a touch of the flu after I left and refused to take anything to break the fever because she thought she
'
d die and get hauled off to this heaven place.
"
Medicine. An overdose.
The thought came and went through Helen
'
s mind; she
'
d think about it later. For now, her smile at Nat
'
s confession was utterly sympathetic: there wasn
'
t a parent alive who hadn
'
t been put through the wringer with his kids over the concept of death and dying.
"
How did you finally leave it with her?
"
she asked him.
"
Bottom line? I cut and ran. I think I muttered something about our being healthy and having nothing to fear—you can see how well that logic fed her fever later—and then I just
...
got out of there. Thank God for Peaches. She
'
s been straightening it all out for me.
"
It was disconcerting, how much he relied on Peaches. It was disconcerting that he had cut and run. Over coffee, Helen decided to give him the most profoundly simple advice she could.
"
Katie is young enough to get over the loss of someone, Nat, no matter how close,
"
she said, leaning forward with an urgency that surprised her.
"
But she
'
ll never, ever forget hugs. Reassurances. Warmth. Simple expressions of love. Those are the things she
'
ll remember forever. Believe me when I say that.
"
Helen was thinking of her own mother, who had died when she was four. What she remembered about her mother and then Aunt Mary were the hugs, the reassurances, the warmth, the simple expressions of love. For one brief instant she was thrown back in time to her early years. A tea
r
broke loose from the secu
re vault of those memories and
rolled down her cheek.
Embarrassed, Helen wiped it away and said,
"I love to
wax emotional over childhood.
"
He was watching her with a
soft, appraising look. "Because
you had a good one,
"
he ventured.
"
Yes. And, to be honest,
no. I was raised by an adoring
mother and then her older sister; but my father left when I was Katie
'
s age, and I never
saw him again. I still regret
it.
''
"
Well, I
'
ll be there for
Katie from now on," Nat vowed. His cheekbones flushed
dark with emotion.
"
On God
'
s honor, I
'
ll be there.
"