Beach House No. 9 (23 page)

“I want Daddy,” Rebecca moaned, her eyes squeezed shut.

Things were serious indeed. Her daughter hadn’t called her father “Daddy” since her thirteenth birthday.
David,
Tess thought, then pinched off the fruitless longing. He was somewhere pushing pedals in circles or lifting a weight that wasn’t the weight of their family’s situation.

She stood over her daughter, rocking the baby back and forth. Perhaps the movement would counterbalance the seasick feeling in her stomach. Her decision-making process felt just as unbalanced as she pondered her options. “Maybe I should call Uncle Griff,” she said.

One of Rebecca’s eyes opened. “You called Uncle Griff. He said he was rushing right over…to put a quarantine sign on the door.”

“I didn’t tell him we needed help.” That had been eight hours ago, when she’d thought the kids were suffering from a mild tummy bug.

“If you call next door again,” Rebecca said, “ask for Jane. Men aren’t any good at caretaking.”

More tears burned behind Tess’s eyes. Her lovely, sweet, trusting little girl had already been disappointed enough to internalize that message.
Men aren’t any good at caretaking.
Hadn’t her father given up on that job during the past few months?

Anger added itself to Tess’s mix of sickness and sadness. David had done this! David had fractured Rebecca’s faith. The thought put a bit of steel in her spine, and she sought to reassure her teenager. “I’m here to take care of us. We don’t need anyone but me.”

One-handed, she pulled up the covers around Rebecca’s neck while the other hand balanced Russ, draped over her shoulder. Then she put the drowsing baby down in his crib and ignored her own queasiness to gather the clothes and towels strewn around the house. She filled the washing machine and pressed Start, just as she heard yet another round of retching.

Duncan or Oliver or possibly both had missed the bowl. Standing in the doorway of her bedroom, holding on to the jamb to keep herself upright, she stared at the miserable children and the messed sheets. For just a moment she envisioned that other life she’d stopped fantasizing about the night David had dropped by with his carton of files. It beckoned more seductively than before. Shared custody—and they’d be sick on David’s watch. Hours of blissful alone time. A different man with whom she could play on the beach while her children were someone else’s responsibility.

“Mommy,” Duncan whispered.

The plaintive word broke her heart. She hurried toward her little guy. “Mommy’s here,” she assured him, as she moved forward to tackle the task of changing sheets and pajamas. “Mommy will always be here.”

A couple of hours later a knock roused her. She’d been half-asleep on the living room couch, the baby slumbering on her chest. Her movement woke him, and he started to cry a little.

Tess just managed not to join him as she pulled open the door. Her brother stood on the doorstep. “Plague over?” he asked. “I’ve brought provisions for you and the minions.” He waved a greasy bag in her face that was branded with the golden arches.

The smell of the burgers and fries—usually one of her favorites in the whole world—wafted in on a briny breeze.

Tess felt herself go green. Then, Russ still in her arms, she slammed the door in Griffin’s face and ran to the kitchen sink where she left the contents of her stomach and entered the eighth circle of hell. According to Dante, the eighth circle was the provenance of Fraud, which made perfect sense because she’d have brief moments of elated good health following a trip to the bathroom before queasiness rose up once again.

Now she was glad she was alone with the kids because she couldn’t imagine wanting anyone to see her like this: worn down, lank-haired and sweaty around the edges.

There wasn’t a name for the next level of hell, the one in which the baby finally caught up with the rest of them and started throwing up too. It was his first experience with the oh-so-unpleasant activity, and clearly it frightened him, even though Tess had been prepared enough to unearth another plastic bowl.

He cried through the whole procedure.

Sitting on the living room couch, she cried afterward, silently though, so as not to frighten the kids.
Mom needs to be strong,
she reminded herself.
Mom can go it alone.
While Russ kept up a low whimper, she half dozed and held him close to her heart, the bowl in her lap at the ready.

When the baby’s weight lifted from her chest, she thought the sudden change was part of a dream. Since David’s fortieth birthday, rarely had anyone taken Russ from her when he was fussy—and she’d asked for help even more rarely. An almost-fatherless baby shouldn’t have his mommy pass him off too.

Time passed. Minutes probably as she drifted into the dream where there was a male voice murmuring and a male presence moving about the small house. Occasionally a note of a child’s voice would spike through her slumber, but that couldn’t be real either, because there was no one home to take that responsible
shh-shh
tone of voice. She allowed herself to fall into sleep because she knew she needed her strength. And because she knew that her kids would make a riot if Mom was really needed. They only had her.

Then a new sound poked her into wakefulness. Baby Russ was retching again, and her hands registered he wasn’t with her. And that his bowl still lay in her lap.
What?

Tess lurched from her sprawl on the couch. Her eyes opened as she stood and there was a figure in front of her. She blinked a few times to put it into focus. Her husband. David. He was holding her baby.

She might think it was still a dream, but little Russ’s body was moving, undulating in that way—

“The bowl,” she said, holding it out.

But David ignored her, murmuring to their baby and cradling him close as their smallest son puked all over David’s favorite high-tech, fancy-fiber, sweat-wicking spin shirt.

She stared. “The bowl.”

“It’s all right. He’s not so scared when I’m holding him like this.”

Another moment passed, then she heard sounds from her bedroom. With her hand on one wall, she made her way to her other sons. Looking more bright-eyed, Duncan and Oliver were propped up on pillows and watching cartoons on the flat-screen TV across the room. Each had a glass of what looked to be water in hand, a bent straw ready for a small mouth.

Oliver noticed her, sketched a wave. “Mommy.”

She echoed the movement. “Sweet boy.”

Duncan sipped his water and then glanced over. “Daddy’s home.”

“I see that,” she said. Then a wave of sickness slammed into her, and she ran for relief.

Bout over, she checked in on Rebecca. There was a glass of water and a bent straw beside her cell phone. The teenager was sleeping. The sound of a shower running drew her to the end of the hall. Through the half-open door, she saw her husband holding her youngest in the shower, both of them fully dressed.

“What are you doing?” she croaked out. But she realized he couldn’t hear her over the rushing water and his own crooning voice as he sang to their son.

“‘Hush little baby don’t say a word, Daddy’s goin’ to buy you a mockingbird.’” David had sung to all their children when they were small. A story, a song, and then good-night. Once Rebecca had begged for “A Hundred Bottles of Root Beer on the Wall,” and she’d made it to twenty-seven remaining before dozing off. He’d never fallen for that again.

Watching him now, Tess was absolutely positive she’d never fall for anyone else besides him.

She pushed open the door the whole way as he stepped onto the bath mat in his dripping clothes. “Give me Russ,” she said, reaching for a towel.

David shook his head and took the terry cloth out of her hand. “I’ve got him.”

With her energy at an all-time low, she could only watch as he stripped himself and the baby out of their wet clothes. Then, with a towel around his waist, he found the boys’ room and quickly diapered Russ and put him in a soft onesie. Russ’s eyes closed. Tess watched from the doorway. “He’s almost asleep. You can put him in the crib.”

“Think I’ll hold him awhile,” David said over his shoulder. “You’re almost asleep too. Go lie down.”

The suggestion was nearly irresistible. Nearly. “You’ll stay with the kids?”

He hesitated. “I’m staying with all of you. Always.”

It was enough to get her moving in the direction of an empty bed, even though the stranger of the past few months wasn’t a man she’d want with them for always. If that was who was in the house, then once she was better, he’d just have to leave again.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I
T
WAS
EVENING
and the kids had all kept down water, chicken noodle soup and soda crackers for hours by the time David saw his wife peek into the living room where the older boys and Rebecca were crowded together watching a Disney movie. He’d had time to dry his clothes, and though he was holding Russ again, he managed to pour her a mug of the soup he’d kept warm. “Drink this,” he said, crossing to her, “and then go take a shower.”

“Thank you.” Her hand trembled a little as she reached for it.

Seeing her like this made him want to kick his own ass all over again. In using distance to try to save himself, he’d allowed Tess to get overtired and sick. If Griffin hadn’t called him…

His wife took a tentative sip from the mug, then seemed to think it was going to stay down and so took another. “Rebecca, are you kids okay?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t take her gaze from the screen. “Daddy handled things.”

Tess glanced over at him, her expression unreadable. “Will you be all right with Russ while I take a shower?”

“Yes.” That she felt she had to ask twisted his gut. “Take your time.”

When she next appeared in the living room, the four kids were in bed asleep. Tess’s hair was still slightly damp, and she was dressed in a pair of plaid flannel pants and a sweatshirt proclaiming Happy Mom from Eaglewood Elementary. There was a little more color in her cheeks, but her blue eyes still stood out too brightly against her pale features.

He reached in the oven. “Hungry? I made mac and cheese.”

Her gaze jumped to his. “You made your mom’s mac and cheese?”

“My specialty.” He smiled a little. “That and hot dogs.”

She sat gingerly in a chair at the kitchen table, as if maybe her bones hurt. As he placed a plate and glass of water in front of her, he wanted to lift her from its hard surface and cuddle her on his lap, whispering promises that he would always cushion her, that he would always be what she needed.

But when he’d shown her the cushion of their financial situation, she’d thrown it back in his face. And as to always being what she needed…if he’d done that she wouldn’t be sitting in that chair, shivering.

“I’ll light a fire,” he said, though the pressed-sawdust log wouldn’t give off much heat. On his way back toward the kitchen alcove, he grabbed a small blanket hanging over the arm of the sofa. He draped it over her shoulders while she sat staring at the steaming mound of pasta.

“Would you rather I put it away?” he asked. “I can make you something else.”

She shook her head and managed to eat a few bites. Then she downed the entire glass of water. It revived her a little, and when he thought she was through, he encouraged her to stretch out on the sofa.

He tucked the blanket around her.

“Thank you,” she said.

So polite again. He sat on the coffee table in front of her, his elbows on his knees, his hands dangling between them. Now that they had privacy and time, he couldn’t seem to get his tongue to wrap around the words he’d been planning since walking into the house and finding his family looking like ghosts.

Tess pushed at her hair, her wary gaze on him. “David—”

“Come home.” The words burst from his mouth. “Please, come home. I’ll step up. Change more diapers. Make more mac and cheese. When Russ wakes up in the night, I’ll get up with him.”

“He sleeps through the night, now. He’s slept through the night for months.”

“I knew that.” Not exactly. “I just meant…if he has nightmares or…” David looked away, scrubbed a hand through his hair, faced his wife again. “I’ll do just about anything to have you all home again.”

“‘Just about anything,’” his smart and beautiful wife echoed.

“That’s right.” He tried blustering his way through the qualifier. “You name it.”

“I won’t go home to the man you’ve been lately, David.” She dropped her gaze to pick at some lint on the blanket. “That man made me doubt myself. I thought maybe I wasn’t enough because I don’t have a degree or because I ‘only’ take care of our kids. But I loved that life we had before. I enjoyed being the woman who lived it, and I thought we were very happy. Maybe I can’t have it back. Maybe I’ll have to go to work or go to college because we’re not going to be together anymore.”

Her words sent those dull knives digging into him again. What he’d done, the pulling away, it hadn’t been about any failing of hers. “Tess…”

“But I know I deserve a man like the one you were before you turned forty, and I’m not going to settle for anything less.”

David jumped to his feet and paced to the window, staring out over the sand to the ocean that looked like a black hole in the night. The same as what would be inside him if he lost what he and Tess had together. He didn’t know how to stop that from happening, and he felt as if he was drowning in all that darkness already. The cold seemed to be overtaking him, dragging him deep, deep, deep.

He rested his forehead against the cool glass. “I love all of you so much, Tess. Too much.”

Behind him, he sensed her sitting up on the sofa. “We love you too. Why is this a problem?”

His hand flailed wildly. “Rebecca is a teenager, for God’s sake!”

“Yes, well,” his wife said, her voice dry, “after the past couple of weeks I think I’m a little bit more aware of that than you.”

“And Russ…” He couldn’t finish the thought because it had a stranglehold on his throat.

“What is it about Russ?” Tess asked. “I’ve been racking and racking my brain trying to understand why you’ve treated him differently than the other babies.”

She stood now and came closer to him. “Do you…do you have some doubts that you’re his father?”

Startled, David turned. “What?”

Her hands were in the kangaroo pocket of her sweatshirt. There was a paint stain on it, the pale sky color of their youngest child’s room. He remembered her up on a ladder with a roller, her pregnant belly round under the cotton fleece. He’d lifted it from her taut skin, his kiss for her and their growing baby boy.

Tess smoothed her hair. “I just thought maybe that’s why you’re so cool to him.”

“Of course I know he’s mine! And not just because I know it, but because—” David shoved his hands in his own pockets and transferred his gaze to his shoes “—he has my ear.”

“What? You mumbled that last bit.”

“He has my ear.”

“Your
ear?
”

David felt the back of his neck go hot and he lifted one shoulder. “The rim of my right ear is not the same as the rim of my left. It’s thicker. Larger.”

Tess stomped right up to him then and took his jaw in her cool hands. She turned his head this way and that. “You’re right. I’ve known you for fourteen years and I never noticed that before.”

“I didn’t want you to notice. I used to get teased about it when I was a kid. It was worse then, but it’s still a…a flaw.”

“You have a lot worse flaws than that,” Tess informed him, then she hurried out of the room.

He looked after her, unsure of her purpose until she came back, wearing a bemused expression. “You’re right. Russ does have your ear.”

“I talked to the pediatrician about it,” David muttered. “I asked about plastic surgery.”

Her arms slammed across her chest. “No one is changing a hair on my little baby’s body. You’re crazy.”

“That’s pretty close to what Dr. Gomez said.”

There were roses in her cheeks now, and she looked as if her health had returned with her indignation. Her blue eyes blazed at him, and he found her so beautiful that he felt that tightening in his chest again, that vise constricting his ribs. Or maybe the pressure was coming from the inside, because his heart felt as if it was swelling, its beat banging hard against his bones.

Tess’s brows drew together. “Are you all right? Are you feeling sick now?” Her face showing clear concern, she came toward him and put her arm around his waist. “Come sit down.”

Put yet another black mark on his side of the record books because he didn’t tell her it wasn’t the flu that was affecting him. Instead, he slid his arm around her shoulders and made sure she sat beside him on the sofa. But there was still worry in her eyes when she turned to him. “David, is there something wrong with your health? Is that what you’ve been keeping from me?”

“No, no.” He drew her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “It’s not about me.”

Her fingers tightened on his as her eyes searched his face. “You’re lying to me. That’s why you’ve been exercising. That’s why—”

“Tess, it’s not my health. It’s…everything. Rebecca growing up. All the kids moving out into the world where things…things can happen to them. I’ve tried to separate from all of you because of how much that could hurt me.”

She shook her head. “What kind of things are you talking about?”

“What if we lost Russ?” Again, the words just burst out of him. They tasted bitter on his tongue, and he hated that he’d said them, as if they could pollute the air with the ugliness of the idea.

Tess’s hand trembled in his. She sat back in the cushions, her other hand rising to her throat. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“The other Russ, my brother…”

Her gasp was loud in the room. Then his wife drew closer, her arms circling him. His arms closed around her. It felt so good. So right.

“My love,” she said against his pounding heart. “Oh, my love.”

Then she pulled back, relief written all over her face. “This is what it’s about. Your little brother dying of leukemia. You’re afraid to be hurt that way again.”

“I loved him so much, Tess,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I made promises and avoided cracks and took all my favorite toys and put them on his bed and he still didn’t come home from the hospital.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, pressing herself to him again.

He squeezed his eyes against the burn behind them. His hand cupped her head, and he pressed his mouth against her hair. It smelled of baby shampoo. “He was a good little kid. He never did anything wrong.”

“And neither did you,” his wife said.

His body gave him away. He stiffened as the horror of that morning came to him again. Panic flushed through his blood at the memory, and he sharply inhaled as if it might be the last oxygen his lungs would ever take in.

Tess moved back, wary once more.

“I need to tell you…I did do something wrong,” he said, feeling as if each word was pulled from his throat. “On the morning of my fortieth birthday.”

She swallowed. “I was out shopping for the party we were throwing that night. You took the kids to the park.”

“The Gordon kids from next door wanted to come with us. All three of them and their bikes. No, the oldest had his skateboard.”

“Rebecca was still at her friend Marcy’s…”

“Right. And as we were getting ready to head out, the Gordons’ cousins showed up, so I said I’d take them too.”

“So you had—what?—eight kids with you?”

David, knowing he would never be the same in her eyes, shook his head. “Seven. I left one behind, sitting in his stroller on the sidewalk in front of our house. I left Russ.”

She shot back on the cushions until she was pressed against the sofa’s arm. “But you turned back…you remembered….”

He was still shaking his head. “We’d been gone fifteen or so minutes when Mac Kearney from across the street called my cell. Mary Hampton—from the PTA?—was at the park, and I asked her to watch my pack until I got back. I ran, Tess, God, I ran as fast as I could, and it was then that I realized what those stupid fifteen flabby pounds might cost me.”

“Surely Mac…”

He nodded now. “He stayed with Russ, but I wasn’t going to be able to breathe again until I could see our baby.”

She sat silent now, one hand over her eyes. David didn’t believe he had organs or blood or bones anymore. He felt like a husk of himself and maybe it wasn’t so bad, because perhaps he’d finally reached that place he’d been striving for…where he felt nothing. Where he could be that distant and unfeeling man like his father.

Then Tess’s hand dropped, and he saw that she was crying and the tears caused everything to come flooding back: his panic, his shame, his absolute terror and the certain knowledge that he didn’t deserve the beautiful creatures that had been entrusted to him. He saw his wife reach for the box of tissues on the side table, and she grabbed a fistful that she passed to him.

Because he was crying too. He mopped up the wetness as best he could, while avoiding her eyes. He didn’t know what he wanted to see less: her condemnation or her abhorrence of his weakness.

“You once told me,” Tess said, “that accountants never cried…”

“…unless there’s an audit,” he finished with her, his voice a rough croak. But that’s what this was, wasn’t it? An examination of his accounts. His records were completely open now. The numbers laid bare.

But it was all revealed for him as well. What a fool he’d been to try to separate his heart from her, from those who sprang from what they had together.

You couldn’t duck love. It was the nature of being human to want the connections. And it was his own nature to hold close to his family with everything he had.

He dried the final dampness on his cheek with the heel of his hand, then got down on his knees, shoving aside the coffee table to make room for himself. “I love you. Forgive me for what I did that morning and for how I’ve been since then. Stay married to me. I promise I’ll do better.”

“You won’t go back to the way you’ve been?”

He shook his head. “I won’t be that stupid.”

Her hand came out to brush his face. More tears overflowed the most beautiful eyes in the world. His
OM
girl who hadn’t quieted his wild mind but who’d brought light and life to his tame world. “You can’t get rid of me so easily,” she said.

No, you can’t duck love.

Relief unbalanced his heart, and a supreme sense of rightness steadied it again. “Thank you,” he said, dropping his head so his cheek pressed against her knee. “Thank you for being my wife and their mother.”

Tess tugged on his arms then, bringing him to the cushions beside her. They embraced, but she resisted his kiss. “Germs,” she said.