ELEVEN
“H
APPY
N
EW
Year. And welcome back.” Josie’s assistant, Frank, set a cup of coffee down in front of Cooper. “Man, you look beat.”
“Hey, Frank,” Cooper greeted the younger man without much enthusiasm. He looked at the piles of phone message slips and the mountain of mail that sat on his desk. “I feel like I should be part of a medical study on sleep deprivation. We’ve been back for more than a month, and still—I swear to God—Ben is awake and crying every two or three hours every night. Occasionally he’ll miss a shift, but that’s okay, Lucy wakes me up for him. I haven’t gotten five consecutive hours of sleep since we left Tennessee at the beginning of December. I thought maybe after the excitement of Christmas died down, things would get better. But no. Bedtime is still an all-out battle. Lucy—God! That kid will
not
go to bed. She’s up until eleven-thirty every night, so along with no sleep, Josie and I have had absolutely no time alone.”
He looked down at the mess on his desk and grimaced. “Meanwhile, the rest of my life has been on hold—” Cooper shook his head. “Listen to me bitching and moaning. I shouldn’t complain. This was my brilliant idea.” He glanced up, meeting Frank’s eyes. “Don’t get me wrong. I love those kids, but . . .”
“If there’s anything I can do to help . . .” Frank said.
“Actually, there is,” Cooper said. “You can keep an eye on Josie for me, and let me know if she starts popping antacids like crazy again, or if she stops eating.”
Frank frowned down at the floor. “I
did
say I’d like to help, but I can’t spy on her for you, man.”
Cooper started separating his phone message slips into three piles—”must call immediately,” “must call sooner than immediately,” and “travel back in time and call yesterday.” “I’m not asking you to spy, Frank,” he said levelly. “I’m asking you to help take care of your boss’s physical health.”
“Sounds like spying to me, Cooper,” Frank said, “and I can’t do it, man. It wouldn’t be right. I work for Josie, not for you.”
Frank was right. Jesus, what was Cooper doing, asking such sneakiness from Frank? Fighting a sudden wave of despair, he pressed his hands down on top of his desk to keep them from shaking. “I’m sorry,” he said, blinking back the tears that suddenly appeared in his eyes. God, he was falling apart.
It had to be the lack of sleep, combined with the fact that today was the first day of day care for Lucy and Ben. Even though Cooper had tried to prepare Lucy for the day care center, even though they’d gone to visit it every single day last week, even though they had talked about it, even though Cooper had shown Lucy his office, shown her where he would be all day, she had started to cry when he dropped her off.
Mrs. Fitzhugh and the other ladies who worked at the day care center had made Cooper leave, assuring him that all children cried a little for the first few days, and that Lucy would no doubt stop crying and become involved in the structured play shortly after he left.
So he’d walked away, leaving Lucy crying his name as if her world were coming to an end.
Add to that the fact that in the past month he’d seen very little of his wife and the end result was a solid case of depression. Cooper didn’t have a clue how Josie was feeling physically. She told him very little—mostly because there had been very few opportunities over the past few weeks to sit down and talk for more than five minutes at a time.
The thought that she was avoiding him had crossed Cooper’s mind more than once. The last time they’d really had a chance to talk had been back in Tennessee—and that conversation had left a definite chill in the air. Sure, Josie had apologized for what she’d said, but they hadn’t had time to discuss it again, and her angry words and his terse reply still seemed to hang between them, creating an ever-widening rift.
“Maybe this is none of my business,” Frank said earnestly, “but if you’re worried about Josie, man, you should be talking to her about it, not me.”
“Good advice,” Cooper said. “Maybe you should check her appointment book, see when she has a couple of hours free and pencil me in.”
“You’re already in there for today,” Frank said, ignoring Cooper’s obvious sarcasm. “At lunch time.”
Somehow that thought plunged Cooper even deeper into despair. He’d been relegated to a line or two in Josie’s appointment book, reduced to the same level of importance as all of the other slugs who vied for her time during the day.
Cooper closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. It wasn’t going to be long now before things started getting better. It was only a matter of time until they got into the rhythm of their new routine. Lucy would start going to bed at eight o’clock again, Ben would sleep through the night, he and Josie would have a chance to talk every single day, and maybe, just maybe, they’d even find the time to make love more than once a month.
The phone rang, jarring his thoughts.
“See you later, Coop,” Frank said, heading for the door. “If you can think of anything I can do to help that doesn’t involve using my secret decoder ring, let me know, okay?”
The phone rang again.
“Thanks, Frank,” Cooper said. “And I’m sorry—”
“No problem.” Frank grinned. “Good to have you back, man.”
Cooper picked up the phone, hoping that it was Josie.
“Mr. McBride?” It wasn’t Josie.
“Speaking,” Cooper said.
“Mr. McBride, this is Mrs. Fitzhugh.”
Fitzhugh? The name sounded familiar, but Cooper blanked out and couldn’t place it. And how the heck had she gotten his private number?
“From the Children’s Center?” Mrs. Fitzhugh prompted.
Recognition crashed down around Cooper. Mrs. Fitzhugh. From Ben and Lucy’s day care center. “Oh yeah,” he said. “How’s it going?”
“Well, actually, Mr. McBride,” the woman said. “It’s not.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Lucy’s separation anxiety is more than we can handle,” Mrs. Fitzhugh said. “I reviewed her file, and noted the recent death of her parents. Mr. McBride, the child is obviously emotionally impaired. We’re not equipped to deal with such children at this particular facility.”
“Is Lucy all right?” Cooper asked.
“She’s still crying, Mr. McBride,” she said. “She hasn’t stopped since you left three hours ago, and the intensity hasn’t let up. She’s almost entirely lost her voice and—”
“I’m on my way,” Cooper said. “We can talk when I get there.”
“There’s no need for further discussion,” Mrs. Fitzhugh said gently. “I’ll see that your deposit is returned.”
“Whoa,” Cooper said. “You’re not going to try to help me work this out with Lucy?”
“Like I said, Mr. McBride, we’re not equipped—”
“Right,” he said shortly.
“I’ll expect you immediately,” she said and hung up.
Cooper buzzed Josie, but Annie told him she was in a meeting with a client. He buzzed Frank, and the younger man picked up.
“I need a favor,” Cooper said.
“Shoot,” Frank said.
Cooper explained what had happened at the day care center, and asked Frank to pass the story on to Josie. “I’m going to need everything on my desk packed into a box and messengered to my apartment,” Cooper said.
“No problem,” Frank said.
“And Frank, tell Josie . . .” What? Tell her that he loved her? It seemed too ludicrous—having to resort to sending that message via her assistant. “Tell her I’ll see her later. Tell her I’m sorry about lunch.”
When Josie looked up from her desk, it was twenty minutes after seven.
Damn.
She’d meant to stop working at five-thirty, but had been smack in the middle of something, and had sworn that she’d come to a stopping point by five-forty-five. Obviously, she’d gotten caught up.
If she left now, she’d arrive home smack in the middle of the nightly ten rounds in the ring with Lucy, who was determined to stay awake until after the eleven o’clock news.
Maybe they weren’t firm enough with that child. But Josie didn’t know how they could be any more firm. They’d put her to bed, and ten minutes later she was out in the living room again. They’d scold her, and send her back to her room. Ten minutes later, she’d be up again, only this time she’d cry. She didn’t
want
to go to sleep.
It was hard as hell to listen to that child weep the way she did.
Josie smiled grimly, remembering that not too long ago, she’d been overjoyed at the sound of Lucy’s crying. She’d been so grateful for any kind of emotional response from the little girl.
But now it drove her crazy.
The pediatrician and every book that had ever been written on the subject of getting children to go to sleep agreed that Lucy’s crying had to be ignored. Cooper and Josie had to let her cry, and not give in to the child’s manipulations.
It was much easier said than done.
Supposedly, Lucy would cry for a shorter and shorter amount of time every night. So far Josie hadn’t noticed any measurable difference.
She’d hoped that sending Lucy and Ben to the day care center would mark the start of returning their lives to some semblance of order. But apparently after Cooper had dropped the children off this morning, the shit had really hit the fan.
Lucy had panicked, the victim of a mysterious psychological condition called “separation anxiety.” All of the books that Josie had read about raising children had devoted at least one chapter to this phenomenon.
Apparently, it was natural for kids to get freaked out when their mom or dad left them at a day care center or with a baby-sitter. This anxiety tended to be a cyclical thing—it would lessen and intensify depending on the child’s age and level of social development.
But what Lucy had experienced at the day care center—and several times back when Cooper had visited Josie in the hospital, too—was not your every day, normal, healthy separation anxiety. No, sir.
According to the day care facility, Lucy had An Emotional Problem. She had been asked not to return. Ever.
Josie shook her head. Four years old, and already kicked out of school. Lucy truly was her father’s daughter.
It was quarter after eight by the time Josie unlocked the door to the apartment. As she took off her jacket and hung it in the front closet, she became aware that the house was unnaturally quiet.
Was it possible . . . ?
Was Lucy asleep?
Josie couldn’t dare to hope. She walked through the toys that cluttered the foyer, to the living room.
No lamps were on, but in by the light from the kitchen, she could see Cooper lying on the couch, fast asleep.
Ben and Lucy were snuggled in next to him, looking like cherubic angels as they, too, slept. But the room itself looked as if it had been turned upside down by a flock of demons from hell.
With a sigh, Josie went into the kitchen, but stopped short.
The kitchen was in even worse shape. Dirty dishes were everywhere, food was still out, and the floor was covered with a vast sea of little toy cars and plastic blocks and hooks and dolls and . . .
Josie closed her eyes, thinking with longing of her neat little bedroom back at the office, wishing that this entire mess would simply vanish. But when she opened her eyes, it was all still there.
What the hell did Cooper
do
all day, anyway?
It was true that he wasn’t the neatest person in the world, but this was beyond belief.
She carried her briefcase into the bedroom—which wasn’t in much better shape than the rest of the house. Several good kicks with her foot slid the toys out of her room and into the hallway, and she closed the door tightly behind them, as if she were afraid they’d have the power to come back in under their own steam.
It didn’t take long to change out of her skirt and blouse, and she slipped into a pair of faded jeans and a sweat shirt.
She’d brought home some numbers that she’d intended to look over this evening, but she realized that that had been a pipe dream. She’d imagined herself sitting in front of the fireplace, curled on the couch, Cooper at her side, reading one of the science fiction paperbacks that he devoured so quickly. She’d imagined she’d sip a glass of wine—Well, maybe not wine. She was still on a no-alcohol diet.
Josie sighed. That scenario had to get pushed into the someday slot. Someday . . . yeah, right. Maybe by the time Ben was ready to enter middle school, someday would come.
How had it happened?
How had she lost control of her life?
Cooper had willingly agreed to play mommy to Lucy and Ben. But by the end of the day, when Josie got home from work, he was frazzled and short of temper.
His words of welcome home were frequently less than friendly. Josie sighed. Could he really blame her for preferring to work late in the quiet of her office?
Yet at the same time, she realized
Cooper
needed a break at the end of the day. She
tried
to come home early, she really tried. It just wasn’t always possible.
Josie went back into the kitchen, finished loading the dishwasher and turned it on. She rinsed the rest of the dirty dishes and put them in the sink. The food that was salvageable she put into the refrigerator or back in the cabinets. The rest went into the trash.
Her appetite was gone, but she knew Cooper would give her the third degree on where and what she’d eaten, so she put a potato in the microwave. That would keep him happy.
She and Cooper had transformed their former den into a bedroom for Ben and Lucy, and she went in there now, dumping an armload of toys into a huge plastic toy chest.
It didn’t seem as if it would be
that
difficult to contain this mess throughout the day, Josie thought, returning with another armload of toys. But if she knew Cooper, he probably didn’t even notice.
She pulled back the sheet and cover on Lucy’s bed. She made sure a spot had been cleared for Ben among the small mountain of stuffed animals that lived in his crib. Then she went back into the living room and carefully lifted the sleeping baby off Cooper’s chest.
Neither of them woke, and she carried Ben carefully into his bedroom. His diaper was heavy with contained liquid, and she quickly ran through the pros and cons of changing his diaper. In the end, the fact that he was still asleep won the argument. What if she woke him while she was changing him, and he didn’t go back to sleep?