Chance Harbor (36 page)

“You must be relieved.” Catherine stared at the coffee dripping into the pot, surprised at how easily Russell had found another teaching job and wondering how she felt about that. He wasn’t exactly a predator, but he had taken advantage of one of his students. She still had trouble reconciling that fact with the husband she’d loved.

On the other hand, Nola was a young woman of eighteen and very independent. She could see where, in a contest of wills between Nola and Russell, Nola would win.

“You bet I am. So how is she?” Russell asked.

Startled, Catherine realized that she didn’t know who Russell meant: Nola, Willow, or Zoe?

It was liberating to feel so disconnected from him. But she was wary about it, too. Where had her self-righteous ire gone? How had it evaporated so suddenly, without her even noticing? And what did that mean if it had?

It means you’re moving on emotionally
. That’s what Bethany would say. And a therapist, if she could have afforded one.

She brought the coffee to the table with a plate of cookies and sat down across from Russell. “How is who?” she asked. “Willow?”

“Of course, Willow. Who did you think I meant?”

“I was thinking about Zoe, actually.” Sort of a lie: just then she’d been thinking about Grey, Zoe’s gypsy, and how ridiculous these bear-shaped cookies had looked in his hand. She’d found herself thinking of him more often than she would have admitted to anyone, even Bethany, picturing Grey’s black hair, his dark eyes, the way he’d looked on that motorcycle. Bad-boy alert! Luckily, she’d never been attracted to that sort of man, beyond her obvious and ridiculous physical response, unlike poor Zoe.

“Ah.” Russell stirred sugar into the coffee. “How are Willow and Zoe getting along? And how are you doing with it all?”

Funny, Catherine thought, watching Russell stir sugar into his coffee. He never used to take sugar. She was glad. The way his spoon clinked against the cup would have driven her mad through the years.

“I think they’re doing fine,” she said. “I was angry, of course, that Willow was sneaking off to see her. But then I realized how wrong that was. Why wouldn’t she want to see her mom, maybe get some answers? I’d like answers, too. I got Zoe’s address from her. I’m planning to see her tomorrow.”

“Really? Good luck with that.” Russell set the spoon down. “I imagine Zoe is as terrified of having a real conversation as you are. Does she know you’re planning to visit?”

“No. Not because I’m trying to ambush her, but either Zoe doesn’t have a phone or won’t give out her number, remember?”

“Christ.” Russell shook his head. “I’m sorry you’re going through all this, Catherine. But I’m glad for everyone’s sake that Zoe’s alive. So strange that she could pull off that total disappearing act. I wonder how she did it.”

“It couldn’t have been easy. She must have been looking over her shoulder every minute. It makes me wonder if she was running away from something.”

“Like what?”

Catherine shrugged. “With Zoe, the possibilities are endless. A drug deal gone sour. A gambling debt. An abusive boyfriend. A landlord suing her for back rent.” She sipped her coffee and winced; still too hot. “Anyway, my main concern is keeping Willow safe. I want to check out Zoe’s living situation before I give Willow permission to visit her alone, especially overnight.”

Russell frowned. “Willow wants to
stay
with Zoe? After everything her mother put her through?”

Catherine shrugged. “It’s an obvious next step. Willow is curious about her mom. I think, on some level, that Willow wants to take care of Zoe so she doesn’t leave again.”

“We can’t let her do that,” he said emphatically. “It’s dangerous. Zoe can’t be trusted.” His voice was rising in alarm.

“We don’t know that,” Catherine said, but she had to sweep her own panic into a dark corner of her mind. She’d visited Zoe in Worcester once, when her parents had pleaded with Catherine to talk her into a new rehab program. Willow must have been about three years old, a chubby preschooler with tightly coiled ringlets. It was a disaster of an apartment with scarcely any furniture.

Zoe was clearly high, grinning like a jack-o’-lantern and speeding around the filthy apartment, pretending to clean but really only moving clutter from one corner to the other. She’d asked for money right away, started sobbing when Catherine refused. Then she’d asked for vodka. Again, Catherine had said no, appalled.

“I need alcohol with my molly. You don’t get it. You just don’t get it. I’m going to crash!” Zoe had shouted, picking up one of the sofa cushions and flinging it hard across the room.

Catherine had taken Willow home with her, had given the girl supper and a bath. Willow had slept with her that night, her small sticky fist keeping such a tight grip on Catherine’s hair that she couldn’t turn over.

To Russell, she said, “Zoe told me she left Massachusetts because she couldn’t quit her lifestyle if she had the same friends. I think a social worker was threatening to take Willow from her, too, if I’m remembering right. Anyway, I don’t know how Zoe will do now that she’s back. She’s living in Salisbury Beach, not far from the people she partied with in high school. I think, in a way, that she came back not only to see Willow, but to test herself.”

“That sounds risky,” Russell said.

“I know. But all we can do is wait and see what Zoe’s next move is, right?”

“I guess. But I don’t like this a bit.”

At her feet, Mike circled between her chair and Russell’s, finally settling by Russell’s feet and looking up at him with a gaze groupies reserve for stage icons. She smiled. “Do you give that dog food from the table at your place?”

Russell reddened. “Sometimes. Accidentally. Maybe.” He glanced down at Mike and laughed. “It’s hard to resist that face.”

“I know. But that dog’s going to be the shortest two-ton pony on the planet soon. Hey, how’s Nola doing? Only two months to go, right?” There. She’d done it. All right, so she’d compared Nola to a two-ton pony, but still. She’d brought Nola up in a civil tone.

Russell shifted in his chair. “About that, yeah. I’ve got something to tell you. That’s the real reason I came by early.”

Catherine grew very still. “What is it? Twins?”

“No. It’s Nola. She’s kicking me out.”

“What?”
Catherine had to force herself to close her mouth. “Why?”

Judging from the circles under Russell’s eyes, it was more than financial pressure and his job loss making him look older: he was unhappy. “She thinks we’re rushing into things by getting married so soon,” he said.

“But what about the baby?”

“Nola wants the baby. And she loves me, I think. It’s just that she doesn’t feel like I really love her.”

“Do you? I hope to hell you do. You threw away fifteen years of marriage for her! Willow, too. You jeopardized your career for that girl. Doesn’t that count for anything in her eyes?”

He looked at her in surprise. “No, actually. She’s young. Romantic. Passionate. What matters to her is love. Nola says we don’t have any sort of true love built on longevity or deep emotions. She’s a smart girl and a thoughtful one. Now she’s questioning everything, and I don’t blame her. Nola’s parents got divorced before her mother died. Her dad abused her, I think, though Nola won’t talk about it. Anyway, Nola knows what Willow went through with Zoe and what Willow’s going through now with us. She doesn’t want to put her child—our child—through that kind of pain, she says. She only wants us to get married if we’re very, very sure of each other.”

“But aren’t you?”

“I thought so.” Russell rubbed his face again and blinked hard at her. “Now I don’t know.”

Catherine felt on high alert, as if the refrigerator were humming inside her skull. “Why not?”

His voice was gentle. “Because I miss you. I miss
us
. And our life together.”

“Of course you do,” she said slowly, trying to gather her wits. “You and I were habits for each other.” Could he possibly be serious? Or was this just Russell’s way of trying to reel everything back, as his life was spinning out of control? She must represent safety to him, as he did to her. “I miss it all, too, what we had. But I’m beginning to think you were right.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You were right when you accused me of not being interested in your work or your biking or in most other things you do. I was putting more of my energy in Willow and in keeping up with my work and the house than I was in you most of the time. And I’m sorry about that.”

“That hurts,” Russell said.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But I don’t think you and I have been in love for a long time. We were working on staying married. There’s a big difference between that and love. Somehow, when we weren’t looking, our love morphed into something else, like resigned contentment.”

“I don’t know about that,” Russell said. “It nearly killed me when I showed up here the other night and that guy was here, Seth. Seeing you with him made me wonder what the hell I’d done, letting you go. What kind of fool am I?”

She thought of Grey on his motorcycle. “One thing you don’t need to worry about is Seth. I promise.”

“That’s good.” Russell reached out and took her hand. “Because that wasn’t a rhetorical question. I really have been a fool, Catherine. Maybe there’s a way we can fix this. What would you say if I moved back home and we gave things another shot?”

Catherine felt the smile fade from her face so abruptly, it was as if a hand had suddenly covered her mouth. “You can’t be serious.”

Russell was looking at her steadily. “I am. Think how good it would be for Willow if I moved back in.”

“But what about the baby?”

“I’d support the baby. I’d make sure I had joint custody. And I know how much you’ve always wanted a baby. You could help me raise mine.” Russell was warming to the idea now, leaning forward so that she could practically count the lashes around his brown eyes. “Besides, if I moved back in, Willow would feel more secure. You’d have a better shot at keeping her if Zoe decides she wants to fight you for custody, too. What judge would rescind the guardianship of two loving parents who have always given Willow the best of everything, in favor of a drug addict who abandoned her kid for five years?”

“Former drug addict,” Catherine said.

Russell shrugged. “So she says. Zoe would have to go a long way to prove that.” He put his other hand over Catherine’s, too, effectively trapping her hand on the table. “What do you think? Can we start over, maybe add a baby to our household?”

Privately, Catherine had her doubts about Nola wanting her baby anywhere near their house, but that wasn’t her main objection. “I don’t know.” She was having trouble breathing.

“Come on. You know it’s the best thing for us. For Willow, too. Just say yes!” He was smiling now, his brown eyes creased at the corners.

She’d always loved Russell’s smile, but her hands were sweating inside the cage he’d made of his palms. She pulled out of his grasp and wiped her hands on her jeans. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” Russell’s voice was patient, but she could tell he was agitated by the way he was bouncing one knee.

Catherine didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until she blew it out again, trying to relieve the pressure that had built in her chest. “Because I don’t think I love you anymore.”

“What?” Russell sat back in his chair.

For one absurd moment, Catherine nearly laughed at Russell’s shocked expression. Had he really expected to convince her so easily?

A faint and nauseatingly petty voice inside her was saying,
See how it feels, buddy? Huh? See how it feels?
But she had to ignore that voice and give Russell’s suggestion serious thought. This was their marriage they were discussing, after all. The rest of their lives. Everyone was allowed to make mistakes. And if it came down to a custody battle with Zoe, Russell was right: the court might be more likely to let them keep Willow if they were a couple.

“I’m not saying I don’t love you,” Catherine said, wishing she could sort through her words and feelings more easily. And alone.

“Yes, you are. You just said exactly those words!” Russell argued. “How could you say that? I’ve said all along that I still love you!”

“You sure have a funny way of showing it,” Catherine snapped. “Look, Russell. Don’t rush me. I need to think. This is very sudden, and not at all what I was expecting.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Russell wrapped his hands around his coffee mug again, his expression contrite. The portrait of a well-behaved man. Mr. Manners. “I got carried away. I love the idea of a new start with you, Catherine.”

Russell was feeling at a loss because Nola was rejecting him, Catherine reminded herself. “I appreciate that,” she said slowly. “We’ve been through a lot together. It’s tempting to say yes. But I can’t just jump back into bed with you.”

“We wouldn’t have to,” he said quickly. “We could be roommates. I’ll stay in the guest room. I mean, while we work things out,” he amended, catching her expression. “We’ll take things slowly.”

She shook her head. The thought of Russell moving in was making her feel claustrophobic, as if the kitchen walls were moving in toward the table. She stood up and went to the sink to get a glass of water. “We can take things slowly without living together. I’m sorry,” she repeated, relieved to hear the front door open and Willow’s voice.

“Hey!” she called. “I’m home. Where are you?”

“In here, waiting for you,” Catherine called, and went to the hallway to meet her with a hug.

•   •   •

The excitement on the couch led them to the floor, and then, when both of them admitted they might be too old for that, to the bed.

At first Eve was hesitant about bringing Darcy into the bed she’d shared with Andrew, but none of the other beds were made-up.
A bed is just a piece of furniture,
she told herself as Darcy slowly undressed her.
It can’t have any meaning you don’t give it.

But, oh, how wrong she was, Eve thought, her skin still humming as she and Darcy walked Bear down to Plum Island Roasters by the waterfront the next morning, where they had coffee and scones outside in the bright November sunshine. She would never look at that piece of furniture in the same way, now that Darcy had shown her all of the marvelous ways there were to not sleep in a bed.