Catching Air (23 page)

She’d rested her hand atop his, her fingernails just grazing his knuckles, already knowing that later, they’d jokingly argue about who had made the first move. “Sure, you can call me. How about tomorrow?”

He’d stared at her for a moment before smiling back. His eyes were a light shade of blue—almost a violet, in certain lighting—and he had a strong jawline. At that moment, she’d remembered his yearbook quote, the one that had made her wish they’d been friends back in high school: “Sometimes I think the surest sign that intelligent life exists elsewhere in the universe is that none of it has tried to contact us—Calvin and Hobbes.”

Of course, if they’d been friends or had dated in high school, their love might have burned out long ago and they wouldn’t be here now, living in Vermont. Trying to find their way toward a better life together.

“It snowed again,” Kira said, getting out of bed and drawing back the curtains. She wanted to get a little light into the room. “See?”

“That’ll be good for business,” Peter said, but his voice sounded flat.

Kira knew from experience that her husband would spend much of the day thinking about his mother, remembering how he’d held her hand as his father had paced and Rand had driven to the house, arriving an hour after she’d taken her final breath. Their mother had been cremated and her ashes tossed into the ocean she’d loved, so there was no grave to tend, nowhere to send flowers. Only old memories to revisit.

Kira curled up next to him and put her head on his shoulder and stayed there for a long time, her coffee forgotten. She must have fallen back asleep, because the next thing she knew, the room was much brighter and someone was rapping on the door and calling her name.

“Oh my God!” she blurted, sitting bolt upright. “I forgot to make breakfast!”

She jumped out of bed and ran for the door. Rand was standing there, holding her cell phone, his hand muffling the receiver.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Nine,” he answered.

“The guests!” she moaned.

“It’s fine, they all just headed out to the ski slopes,” he said. “Dawn made breakfast. But listen, I think it’s the adoption agency calling.”

Kira instantly went still. She could hear Alyssa shuffling down the hallway; she must’ve overheard Rand and be desperate to learn the answer to the most important question of her life.

Kira reached for the phone.

Chapter Twenty

ALYSSA WAS RECLINING ON
the sectional couch, her legs propped up and two pillows tucked under her head, but she might as well have been turning cartwheels, or leading a brass marching band, or skydiving. Exhilaration coursed through her body, sweeping away her accumulated pain and tension.

Their adoption agency had no pregnancy-related rules. Rand could go alone to get Grace. Her daughter was safe!

She would never ask for anything again; she’d never complain, or take a single moment with either of her children for granted. She ran a hand across her belly, sending light and love to her baby:
You’re going to have a sister. You’ll have each other for your entire lives.

“It’s incredible!” Kira said. She hadn’t stopped moving since she’d heard the news. She fluttered past Alyssa again. “Water! You should have something to drink. Remember the doctor said you needed to stay well-hydrated.”

She ran into the kitchen, then popped back out again.

“Or would you rather have juice? Or herbal tea?”

“Juice would be great,” Alyssa said. “Thanks.”

Kira came out with a glass of pineapple juice. “How about a snack? Some cheese and crackers? Or I could put together a fruit plate with yogurt. The protein might be good for you.”

“I’m fine,” Alyssa said, laughing. “Really.”

She took a long sip of juice and looked across the room, to where Rand sat on a big chair adjacent to the fireplace. She could still see conflict creasing his face, but she wasn’t going to worry about that, not right now. This was a day to celebrate her children.

“So you’ll go to China alone?” Peter was saying to Rand.

“Yep,” Rand said.

“When do you think you’ll get the call?” Peter asked.

Rand shrugged. “A few months, I guess?”

“More like a few weeks,” Alyssa interjected.

She watched as Peter looked back and forth, staring at her and then Rand as long moments passed. Something in Peter’s face changed. He must’ve read the energy between them, Alyssa thought.

“What’s up, man?” Peter asked. “Grace is coming and the baby’s doing okay, too.”

Rand didn’t answer him.

“I mean, I figured you’d be more excited about becoming a father,” Peter said, an edge sharpening his voice. “A lot of people would be thrilled, you know.”

“Cookies!” Kira jumped up again. “Let’s forget calories today. I made some chocolate-chip ones. I’ll bring them out.”

She hurried back into the kitchen.

“Peter, it’s . . . kind of complicated,” Alyssa interjected.

Peter leaned back in his chair. Agitation seemed to be vibrating off him in jagged little waves. Where was Kira? The brothers kept glaring at each other, but no one was saying anything.

Alyssa reached for her juice again, just to have something to do, then her hand stilled. She felt as if fizzy, carbonated bubbles were tickling her stomach from within.

“Oh.” She gasped softly as she realized what had just happened.

She’d felt her baby kick for the first time.

She cupped her hand around her belly, wondering if he or she could sense her touch. How could life treat her so bountifully? How could one woman be so blessed?

She felt tears begin to trickle down her cheeks, but before she could say a word, she noticed Peter staring at her again, then leaping up out of his chair and stalking across the room toward Rand.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” he said. “You’re bailing.”

“What?” Rand asked, looking up and blinking a few times. He appeared dazed.

“That’s why she’s crying. That’s why you’re not excited. Bailing.Someone who fails to appear when you need them. Someone who disappears,” Peter said. “Or do you need me to explain it again using smaller words?”

Rand leapt to his feet, towering over his brother. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, so back off.”

Both men were using their history together as weapons, Alyssa realized. Peter was insulting Rand’s intelligence, and Rand was demonstrating his physical dominance over his younger brother.

“He leaves when things get tough, Alyssa,” Peter said. He was addressing her, but he kept his gaze locked on Rand. “That’s what he does.”

“Peter!” Kira was standing on the threshold of the room, holding a platter of cookies, a shocked look spreading across her face.

“You quit the football team in the middle of the season senior year when they started giving your backup quarterback more time. You faked an injury. When Dad got you that job at a construction company, you only did it for a week because you didn’t feel like getting up at five
A.M.
, even though he’d called in a favor to help you.”

Alyssa was too stunned to say anything. Peter must’ve been suppressing his emotions for years, judging by the force with which they were gushing out now. Peter’s face was turning red, and his fists were clenched at his sides. He looked like a completely different man from the one who’d hugged her earlier, and whispered in her ear that he was going to spoil both of her kids rotten.

“He’s got ADD about life; nothing holds his attention. I’m surprised he’s lasted here this long, to be honest. I figured he’d go after a few months and we’d stay on alone. I was kind of hoping that would happen, actually,” Peter said.

“Peter!” This time Kira’s voice was firm instead of shocked.

Alyssa turned to her in relief. Kira would get Peter to stop before he inflicted more pain on Rand. Couldn’t he see his older brother was truly hurting?

“Your mom wouldn’t want this,” Kira was saying. “Especially not today.”

“She’s right,” Alyssa said hastily. “She’d be happy her grandchildren were coming, and she’d want us to be happy, too.”

“Kira wasn’t talking about that,” Peter said. He looked at Rand and waited for a beat.

“Unbelievable,” Peter finally said. “You don’t remember.”

Rand started. “Oh, shit. Is today . . . ?”

“Mom died ten years ago today,” Peter said.

The look on Rand’s face was so wretched Alyssa nearly gasped.

“I fed her when she was too weak to eat! I washed her! I read to her!” Peter shouted. “Do you know what it was like to hear her cry out in pain and not be able to do anything? No.” He narrowed his eyes. “Of course you don’t.”

Please stop,
Alyssa thought, feeling as powerless as if she were a pedestrian watching a terrible car accident unfold.

“She couldn’t breathe well at the end,” Peter was saying. His loud words seemed to be hitting Rand like physical blows. “She was . . . gasping. It sounded like she was being tortured. Like someone was punching her over and over again.”

Rand just stood there, Peter’s words raining down on him, his shoulders slumping. He seemed unable to meet his younger brother’s eyes.

“I turned up the morphine drip when she needed it,” Peter said. His voice broke on his final words: “I held her hand when she died.”

The room was absolutely still for a moment, then Rand released a noise that Alyssa could describe only as a kind of anguished roar.

“I didn’t get to say good-bye!” Rand yelled.

He launched himself at Peter, knocking his brother against the coffee table before they tumbled to the floor. A vase fell off the mantel and shattered.

“Stop it!” Alyssa cried. She started to sit up, remembered the baby, and forced herself to relax her abdominal muscles. The guys were rolling around on the floor now, grappling, the cords in their necks standing out.

“Peter!” Kira was screaming, but neither man seemed to hear her.

And then Rand stopped fighting. His hands fell to his sides and he allowed his brother to pin him. Peter hit him in the face once, twice, three times. Blood began trickling down Rand’s nose, and still he made no move to defend himself or to knock Peter off.

Finally Peter pulled back and rested his hands on his knees. He was breathing hard, and his glasses were crooked.

Rand lay there for a moment, pieces of shattered glass all around him, then he sat up slowly. His baseball cap had fallen off, and his hair was messed up, revealing the bald spot he’d been trying so hard to hide. The small white patch stood out so clearly against the dark of his hair.

“He’s right,” Rand said, looking at no one. “About everything.”

He stood up and walked out the door without his coat.

“Rand!” Alyssa called. She wanted to run after him, but she couldn’t move.

Peter began picking up broken pieces of vase and putting them on the coffee table. She could see his hands shaking.

“I’m sorry, Alyssa,” he said, not meeting her eyes. “I guess it’s better you know now, though.”

Chapter Twenty-one

SOMETHING BAD MUST HAVE
happened in the brief sliver of time between the guests’ breakfast and Dawn’s return to the kitchen after taking a shower.

Dawn had woken early that morning with a nagging sense of guilt about abandoning Kira. Kira was clearly annoyed; when Dawn and Peter had returned from the FedEx place, the guests had been finishing up an après-ski spread in the living room and Kira had been at the sink, scrubbing a platter with more vigor than necessary.

“Can I help?” Peter had offered.

“I’m almost done,” Kira had said, her voice driving home a larger point.

So Dawn had rushed into the kitchen as soon as she’d woken up to start a full pot of coffee and set the table for breakfast. By seven-thirty, Kira hadn’t materialized, so Dawn had sliced strawberries and arranged them in ramekins with shards of fresh mint, then she’d fed oranges into the juicer. She’d found a few containers in the freezer labeled
Emergency guest breakfast!
and she’d chosen the one that held batter for blueberry pancakes.

She’d been frying bacon when Rand wandered in—was there any man on earth who wasn’t drawn to a kitchen by the smell of bacon cooking? Perfumers should bottle the scent; single women would snap it up.

“Morning, sunshine,” Rand had said, stealing a slice.

“Hi,” Dawn had responded. “Have you seen Kira?”

Rand had shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe she’s sleeping in.”

“Good,” Dawn had said. “She deserves it. I’ve got breakfast under control.”

“So I see,” Rand had said. “I’ll just do a little quality control to assist you.” He’d taken another piece of bacon and she’d shaken her head but smiled.

A few minutes later they’d heard guests’ footsteps clomping down the stairs and Dawn had rushed to finish the pancakes while Rand went to pour coffee.

Dawn had cleaned the kitchen while the guests ate, then, after they’d left to hit the slopes, she’d slipped off to take a shower in the only unoccupied guest room. She’d taken much longer than usual, scrubbing her hair twice and soaping her entire body, then finishing with a long, icy spray. The water had given her a sense of renewal, and she’d reveled in it. She’d been like a frightened little bunny, hiding in the tall grass so the hawk soaring overhead didn’t spot her—but yesterday had marked a turning point. She was going to fight back, starting right now.

Except . . . what had happened while she’d been trying to scour away the last traces of her former self? Alyssa was lying on the couch, red-eyed and staring out the window, while Peter knelt on the floor, picking up pieces of glass. Kira was holding a platter of cookies—which seemed strange, since it wasn’t even 10:00
A.M.
—and everyone looked a little dazed.

“I can get the vacuum cleaner,” Dawn offered, and they all turned to her with startled expressions.

“For the broken glass,” she explained when no one responded.

“Thanks,” Peter said. “I’m going to . . .” His voice trailed off as he left the room. Kira set the cookies down on the coffee table and hurried after him.

Uh-oh
, Dawn thought. Something bad, or strange, had definitely happened. It seemed to be still happening. Alyssa would’ve rushed to the hospital if it involved the baby, so that couldn’t be it. Where was Rand? Dawn wondered. Maybe he and Alyssa were still fighting.

She sensed Alyssa wouldn’t welcome questions right now. So Dawn silently vacuumed up the broken glass and brought the cookies back into the kitchen and covered them with a sheet of Saran Wrap. She paused, catching sight of the knives Kira kept in a butcher-block stand.

She listened for a moment to make sure no one was coming, then she eased one out, watching the way it gleamed as it caught the light. Kira would notice if this one was missing from the set, but Dawn knew which kitchen drawer held extra knives. She chose one that was thick and serrated, with a six-inch blade. It came with a plastic protective cover, so she could carry it in her purse, and sleep with it under her pillow.

• • •

Kira was perched on the edge of the bed, waiting for Peter to come out of the bathroom. Her mild-mannered husband had erupted like a bomb, and she was still stunned.

She’d always prided herself on being a fixer, but she was flummoxed. Peter and Rand had never been close, but now she wondered if they’d ever speak to each other again. And those things Peter had said, about Rand abandoning Alyssa—could they possibly be true? Alyssa hadn’t disputed them, but then, things had unfolded so quickly and violently that maybe she hadn’t had the chance.

Kira realized her hands were shaking. She’d known some of what Peter had gone through in caring for his mother, of course. But she hadn’t realized how vivid and painful those moments still felt to him. The look on his face, when he’d told of his mother crying out in pain . . . Kira knew it would always haunt her.

She heard the bathroom door unlock, and Peter stepped out. He stopped short when he saw her. His knuckles looked raw, and his face was still flushed.

She didn’t hesitate. She stood up and wrapped her arms around his neck and held him. After a moment, his rigid body softened. But then he pulled back. “Is Alyssa okay?”

“I don’t know,” Kira said.

“The stress probably isn’t good for the baby,” Peter said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have . . . Oh, hell, I just can’t believe he forgot. Anything that doesn’t fit into Rand’s selfish little life gets pushed aside and ignored. What’s he think he’s going to do when he turns fifty? Play his guitar and pick up girls at bars and ride his motorcycle? Is he still going to be switching jobs and apartments every few months when he’s sixty?”

“I don’t know,” Kira repeated. Peter seemed to be getting agitated again.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” she suggested. “Just get outside and breathe some fresh air for a while?”

He shook his head.

“It’ll do you good,” she urged. “I know this is such a tough day for you . . .”

“Kira, I said I don’t feel like it, okay?” he barked. She took a step back.

“Look,” she said. “I know you’re furious with Rand. And he was wrong to have disappeared when your mom was sick. It was so unfair that you were left to deal with all that, okay? Your dad should have helped, too, even if they were separated. But I think Rand tried to make up for it by giving us a share in the B-and-B. I think he’s sorry—”

“I can’t believe you’re defending him,” Peter interrupted. “Didn’t you see Alyssa crying? And Rand acts like he couldn't care less about the baby and Grace. You and I are the ones running around and bringing Alyssa meals and doing everything. You know what he did the day after they got back from the hospital? He took a four-hour hike. And he’s always in the garage, doing his own thing, while she has to lie in bed. Tell me he isn’t the most selfish person alive.”

“I’m not defending him,” Kira protested. “But he’s dealing with a lot . . . the risk to the baby and everything. Maybe he’s just scared.”

She fell silent, realizing she was handling this all wrong. Peter seemed to be growing even more upset.

“Why did you want to move here, Kira?” he asked.

The abrupt turn in their conversation startled her. “I . . . I don’t know,” she finally said. “Mostly for a change, I guess . . . Remember, we didn’t even think much about it. We just decided to do it. To be spontaneous.”

He nodded slowly. She couldn’t see the color of his eyes, and a shiver ran down her spine. She wanted to turn on a lamp, but she felt locked in place by the intensity of their conversation.

“Why did you want to come?” she asked. Had they really not talked about this before?

There were so many reasons she expected he could give: that he thought it would be a good place to have a baby; that it was a smart financial move; that he wanted to get closer to Alyssa and Rand—although she was pretty sure she could rule out that last reason now. But the words he uttered were so completely unexpected that it took her a second to comprehend their meaning, as if she were underwater, listening to blurry, distorted sounds that were more like echoes of words that came from far away.

“I didn’t want to move here,” he said.

“But you told me we should!” she cried. “You said so that very first night when Rand called!”

He nodded. “I know,” he said, his voice steady, his eyes still opaque. “I liked living in Florida. And God knows I didn’t want to be around my brother all the time. But you were constantly stressed-out, Kira. I thought it might . . . help you. Help us.”

She ducked her head and took in a deep breath. Peter had done this for
her
?

“We’re healthy, but we’re not getting any younger,” he said. “We have some savings. We own a third of this B-and-B, and yeah, business isn’t exploding but it isn’t all that terrible either . . . So why are you still taking those damn birth control pills?”

“I just thought we’d give it this year,” she finally said, her voice weaker than she would’ve liked. She tried to remember her reasons so she could form a rational argument, but she felt too unbalanced. Peter never got mad. What was happening?

“I know
you
wanted that,” he responded. “But I didn’t. I’ve already been waiting and waiting, but you keep moving the finish line. When you make partner, when you pay off all your loans, when we’ve been here a year . . . Alyssa’s having two kids this year, and maybe she’s going to do it on her own, and she doesn’t seem the slightest bit worried about it.”

Kira felt something ignite within her. “Don’t compare us!”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Peter said. “But why the hell is it so hard? People have babies all the time. You know how much I want one.”

“I’ve got to get through this wedding!” Kira said. “It’s coming up so fast . . . and Grace will be here in another month or so, probably . . .”

“There’s always going to be an excuse, isn’t there?” Peter said. He looked at her steadily for a moment. She knew her mouth was gaping open like a fish’s, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. How had Peter gone from being so furious with Rand to attacking her?

Peter didn’t look angry, though, not anymore. He just looked desperately sad again.

“Okay,” she blurted. “If you want me to, I’ll throw away my pills. It’s not that I don’t want to have a baby . . . It’s just— I don’t—”

Peter studied her carefully. “What?” he asked when her voice stuttered to a stop. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. It was as if there was some kind of blockage, or dam, keeping her from taking the final step. The thought of tossing out her pills caused her heart to hammer in her chest.

“You need to find out,” Peter said. His voice still held some metal, and she knew he wouldn’t keep waiting for her, not much longer. She couldn’t blame him.

Her cell phone buzzed, and she glanced at it instinctively.

“Jessica.” She sighed.

“Better get it, then,” Peter said.

She’d already picked up the phone and said, “Hello,” before she realized that she’d chosen wrong again. She should have finished her conversation with Peter. He was walking out of the room, and Jessica was prattling on about needing special toasting flutes for the champagne and a quill pen for the guest book because it would be so much classier than a ballpoint one, and it was too late.