“The tragedy of it is that nobody sees the look of desperation on my face.”
—HENRY MILLER
She just had to get through today.
Zoe splashed cold water over her cheeks that Monday morning, breathed deeply, and glared at the small bottle in the medicine cabinet. Carly told her the pills would help. “But just take one. And a Red Bull. You’ll ace that exam.”
She didn’t know about acing it, but she needed to stay awake for it. A two-hour test that would make or break her grade. And if she didn’t pass this course . . . Oh, she was so not ready for this. How did it creep up on her so fast? Christmas and New Year’s should have given her time to study. She thought she’d prepared. But it was now the end of January and she felt like she didn’t know a thing.
If she could stop thinking about Mom and Dad for just a few minutes, perhaps her mind would be clearer. But the thought of her parents divorcing consumed her. It had become an obsession that kept her awake at night and dogged her waking hours, as she wondered what the future held for her family. When Dad showed up at Christmas, Zoe hoped it was a new start. That her parents might take a few steps forward and try to work things out.
That hadn’t happened.
Dad went back to Boston and Mom stayed in the Berkshires. With that Brock Chandler guy living next door. It was so obvious something was going on between them. Zoe couldn’t blame her mother, not really. After the way Dad treated her, she deserved to find someone who could make her happy. And maybe Brock would.
But Zoe still wished it could be Dad.
She slipped into her boots, yanked on her jacket, and beat a path across campus. As she passed the window of the coffee shop, she thought she saw Tim. She backtracked, ready to wave, but then stopped in her tracks. A chill slithered through her. It was Tim, all right. Laughing. He leaned back in his chair the way he did when he was completely relaxed. His eyes held that sparkle she’d fallen in love with almost right away. He looked like he was having the best time in the world.
With a blond girl Zoe didn’t recognize.
He looked up and caught her eyes through the foggy glass. Zoe pulled her scarf tight, turned into the wind, and walked away. Quickly.
“Zoe! Zo . . . wait!” Tim’s voice made her walk faster. He ran up, jogging alongside her until she slowed and glared at his confused expression.
“I have my poli-sci test, Tim. I can’t do this right now.”
“Do what? Zo, stop!” He stepped in front of her and gave her no choice. “What’s the matter with you? What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” She practically spat the question back at him. “Who is that in there?”
“What? Who? Oh . . . come on. Seriously?” His eyes narrowed, but he kept a firm grip on her arms. “Her name is Caroline. She’s my lab partner. We’re meeting with our two other partners, Rich and Stan. Who haven’t arrived yet. I don’t know what you think . . .”
The pained look he wore said he knew exactly what she thought. Zoe blew out a breath, her heart racing. They’d never fought. Not really. And this was probably ridiculous. “Never mind. Tim, I have to go.” She yanked herself free, shook her head, and brushed past him. She seriously didn’t have time to deal with this. Or even think about it.
“Good luck, Zo! I’ll call you later!” Tim’s voice got lost in the wind and the surge of students around her. Zoe kept her eyes down and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Tried to ignore the suspicions seeping into her subconscious.
Nothing. It was nothing. She was stressed and overreacted.
And if he wasn’t telling the truth?
What had she expected?
All men cheat.
Her father was proof of that.
Her cell buzzed just as she was about to enter the building. If it was Tim, she wouldn’t answer. She fished it out of her pocket, kept walking, and glanced at the number. “BRO.”
Great. Zoe rolled her eyes. She didn’t have time to help Adam with math or listen to his latest love problems. Not right now. But she picked up anyway.
“Hey, dude.”
“Zo?”
“Hey, what’s up? I’m about to go take a test.”
“Oh.” He sounded stuffy, like he had a cold. Come to think of it, he shouldn’t be calling at this hour of the day.
“You sick today? You’re at school, right?”
“Zo . . . I just . . .” Silence. “Do you know where Dad is?”
Zoe glanced at her watch and frowned. She had to get inside. “No. I haven’t talked to him since last week. Why?”
“Because.” Adam’s voice sounded very far away, almost like he was slurring his words. “I called him Saturday, and some chick answered.”
No, no, no.
“You called his cell?”
“He wasn’t answering for the longest time. It was going straight to voice mail. I called a few times over the weekend. I don’t know where he is. And then she picked up.”
“Well, who was it?”
“I didn’t ask. I hung up.”
Zoe rolled her eyes. “Are you sure you had the right number?”
“Of course I have the right number.”
“Did you try him again? Leave a message?”
“No. Zo, do you think he’s—”
“Adam, stop.” Zoe swore and shook off unwanted thoughts. She couldn’t handle this now. She was on thin ice with this course, and if she missed this test . . . “Look, I really can’t talk now. I’m gonna call you later, okay? Sorry, but I really have to go.”
Maysie stands in the middle of my living room on Monday afternoon, attempting to teach Hope to sit. We told her the puppy is probably a bit young still, but Maysie is stubborn. Like somebody else I know.
Brock is stretched on the La-Z-Boy by the fire, maybe sleeping, and Clarice is on the couch, reading. I’ve taken to inviting them for lunch instead of dinner. It’s easier on Brock, and I don’t think Clarice minds the earlier mealtime either.
He stayed in Atlanta two weeks. Now we’re at the end of January and he still hasn’t said much about his appointment in New York. I don’t know what the doctors told him. Every time I ask, he says he’s not ready to talk. Truthfully, I’m not that sure I want to know.
He spends most of his time writing and sleeping. I’m trying to be there for Maysie, to support Clarice, and to be a friend for him if he wants me to, but he doesn’t always make it easy. Some days I think he’s right. It might have been better if we’d never met.
The peaceful afternoon is suddenly shattered by the sound of Martin the parrot’s obnoxious squawking. “Hello, Savannah! Hello, Savannah, SAVANNAH!”
“Goodness gracious!” Clarice jerks her head up. “Is Martin here?”
I’m wondering the same.
Maysie’s uncontrollable giggles tell us she’s hijacked my cell phone again. I pull her in close for a hug and a tickle and she laughs harder. “I thought you liked Martin, Miss Savannah. Aren’t you going to answer it?”
Brock groans but doesn’t bother to hide a grin. “Cute, Mays. Savannah, I don’t suppose you know where that thing is?”
“I do!” Maysie skips across the room, Hope bounding after her, the puppy’s little black tail wagging a mile a minute.
Brock has only eaten half of the ham and cheese baguette I made for lunch. I pick up the plate from the side table next to him. “You want anything else?” His color is okay, but his mood could use an upgrade.
“My rifle.” He pulls up the plaid blanket that’s covering his legs and grumbles out a yawn. His face is lined with exhaustion and worry, and dark circles shadow his eyes. I don’t think he slept well last night. I don’t think he’s slept well in weeks.
Neither have I.
Clarice gets to her feet, hovers over him, checks his forehead, and ignores his protests. Maysie skips back with my phone, which is still squawking.
“I’ll go make some tea, shall I?” Clarice places a hand on Maysie’s shoulder. “Come along, dear. I suspect that puppy will need to go out for a piddle.”
“A piddle!” Maysie is overtaken by another fit of giggles as they head in the direction of the kitchen. I take the call, surprised it hasn’t gone to voice mail.
“Mrs. Barrington? Hi, this is Louise Eldridge . . . How are you?”
Adam’s principal. I’m instantly on alert.
“I’m well, thank you. Is everything all right?” Please let everything be all right. I suppose it’s a mother’s prerogative to jump to dramatic conclusions almost at once.
“Well, I’m not sure. Mrs. Barrington, I wanted to schedule a meeting with you and your husband. To talk about Adam. I realize your separation has been hard on him, understandably, but his grades have slipped terribly the past few months. As you saw by his report card, I’m sure you’re aware that he’s failing most of his classes.”
His report card. I never saw Adam’s report card over the holidays. Didn’t even ask to see it. Guilt pounds me and I close my eyes for a moment. “Did you mail a copy to me?” I informed the school I’d be here in the Berkshires, but I don’t recall giving them this mailing address.
“No, I’m afraid not. We emailed the online link to your husband’s address and sent one copy to your home address. I assumed Mr. Barrington would discuss it with you. In any event, I think we should meet as soon as possible to talk and see how best to approach things, don’t you?”
“Of course.” My heart plummets. What else can possibly go wrong?
“Good. Now, that said, I wondered how Adam is feeling. I know he was with his father this weekend, but when Mr. Barrington called this morning to say Adam was sick and wouldn’t be coming back to school today, I was a little concerned. He didn’t sound himself either. Are they both ill?”
I lean back in my chair and stare at Brock. He’s listening, concern etching a line between his eyes. My throat dries up. “What . . . When?” I can’t even get words out. “Did Kevin pick Adam up? I’m sorry to say this is the first I’ve heard of it, Ms. Eldridge. I thought Adam was at school this weekend.”
“Oh dear. No, he didn’t pick Adam up. Mr. Barrington emailed us the permission slip and asked that we put Adam on the bus to Boston on Saturday morning. I just assumed . . . Mrs. Barrington, is there a problem?”
Um, yeah. There is a problem, all right. I have absolutely no idea where my son is.
“I’m sure everything is fine. I’ll call you back, Ms. Eldridge.” I end the call and stand, not sure my legs will hold me. “Adam’s not at school.” Brock struggles out of his chair. I’m already punching in Kevin’s number. It goes straight to voice mail. So does the landline at his apartment in Boston. I try Adam’s cell, but that goes to voice mail too. “I don’t believe this.”
“Where is he?” Brock doesn’t bother telling me to calm down.
“She said Kevin emailed and apparently Adam’s with him, but this doesn’t feel right.”
“Would Kevin make those arrangements without talking to you?” He’s skeptical, and I’m inclined to follow that train of thought. Kevin wouldn’t do that. He might not have been happy with me over Christmas, maybe he was expecting me to fall at his feet and just take him back, I don’t know, but when it comes to the kids, he doesn’t play games.
“No. He wouldn’t.” I press the button for his cell again. “Kevin, it’s me. Is Adam with you? Call me back right away. As soon as you get this.” I put a hand to my mouth and shake my head. My stomach churns. “Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”
“Okay. Savannah, stop it.” Brock runs his hands down my arms and forces me to look at him. “You don’t know that. This could all be a misunderstanding. Don’t go climbing a tree unless you know for sure you’re being chased by a bear, darlin’.”
I sigh and manage to nod. And grin. “That makes no sense. Bears can climb trees.”
Brock grins back. “Lion, then.”
I shake my head. “Could probably jump into the tree and eat me alive.”
He laughs a little. “Rhino. That sucker ain’t climbing anything.”
“He’ll push the tree over with his horn thingamajig.”
“I’m not going to win this one, am I?”
“Nope.” He’s distracted me, though, which was probably his intention. I glance at the clock on the mantel. “Maybe Kevin left a message I didn’t get or something. You know I’m useless with this thing.”
“Got that right.” He gives me a hug and heads back to his chair.
I check all my messages and email and find nothing. I want to call Zoe but I know she’s in class. She’s got that test she’s been worrying about. Clarice and Maysie return with tea, but I’m too restless to drink mine. Another hour passes and I figure Zoe has to be done by now.
“Mom. Hey.” She doesn’t sound happy. At all.
“Zo? How did the test go?” We haven’t talked all weekend because I wanted to let her study. My throat is tight. I concentrate on Maysie playing with Hope and try to smile.
“It went. I don’t know. We’ll see. What’s up?”
“Zoe, have you talked to Adam lately?”
“Yeah. He called me just before I was going into my class. He sounded kind of weird.”
“Oh no.” I sink onto the couch and lean over my knees. “Did he say where he was? Zoe, is he with Dad?”
“With Dad? No. I thought he was at school.” Her voice rises a notch. “Actually, he asked me if I knew where Dad was. He said—”
“He said what, Zo? Whatever it is, just tell me.”
She’s panicked now. I inhale and lean into Brock when he comes to sit beside me. “He said he called Dad’s cell on Saturday and some woman answered. But I couldn’t talk to him to find out more. I had to get to class for the test. I was just about to call him back. Mom, what’s going on?”
“I’m not sure. Adam isn’t at school. The principal just called. Apparently he was supposed to be spending the weekend with your father, which I knew nothing about. And neither of them are answering their phones.” My phone beeps and a shot of relief fires through me. “I have a call coming in. It’s probably Dad. I’ll call you back.” I hang up with Zoe and answer the incoming call, fully expecting to hear Kevin’s voice.
“Savannah?” But it’s not Kevin.
It’s Beth.
Crying.
And I know.