Christening

Christening

Claire Kent

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 by Claire Kent. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks referenced in this work of fiction: Jell-O and UNO.

Erin waited five minutes longer than she should have, hoping the phone might still ring.

It didn’t. As the minutes passed, the weight in her gut that had been there all day—that had been there for weeks, although she’d tried to ignore it—got tighter until it actually hurt.

Finally, when she heard Mackenzie’s loud request for “Mommy!” echo through the apartment, Erin stopped staring at the phone and got up to kiss her daughters goodnight.

She glanced into Anna’s room first, but saw that it was empty, with the violet color-scheme, delicate white furniture, and large collection of stuffed puppies (lined up lovingly by order of size) remaining in semi-neat quiet. Having expected Anna’s absence, Erin simply moved on to the next bedroom.

There were twin beds in Mackenzie’s room. Mackenzie was in one, and Anna in the other.

“Are you going to sleep in here again tonight?” Erin asked as she entered the room and moved toward her younger daughter, who was curled up under the gold and green coverlet.

Anna nodded and stared up at Erin with the wide eyes. Anna was blond, like Erin, and she’d recently had her fourth birthday. “Yes. I wanna sleep with Mac.”

She spoke pretty well most of the time, but when she was tired she would often swallow over her words.

Erin sank down to the edge of the twin bed. “Did Mackenzie say it was all right?” She glanced over at her other daughter, whose delicate features looked rather grumpy.

At her mother’s questioning look, however, Mackenzie nodded in a silent affirmation.

“Yes. I asked her like you told me.” Anna snuggled under the covers of the small bed. “I sleep with Mac tonight.”

“Okay.” She stroked Anna’s messy shoulder-length hair back from her rosy face. “As long as Mackenzie doesn’t mind, then you can sleep in here with her. But it’s her bedroom, so you have to sleep in your room if she wants to be alone.”

Anna nodded solemnly, her eyes wider than ever. Then she raised her arms up toward Erin, requesting her goodnight kiss.

Erin smiled at her, secretly pleased that one of their daughters looked like her. Mackenzie, of course, was exactly like Seth in almost every way, but Anna was more like Erin, particularly when she smiled.

Giving Anna a hug and a kiss on the cheek, Erin murmured, “Mommy and Daddy love you, sweetie. Lots and lots.”

Anna giggled happily and hugged Erin in return, but her mouth turned down into a frown as she pulled away.

“What is it?” Erin asked.

The girl’s forehead wrinkled in deep thought. “I can’t remember what Daddy looks like.”

The weight in Erin’s gut clenched sickeningly, but she managed to smile and shake her head. “It’s only been a few weeks, Anna. I don’t think you’ve really forgotten so soon, have you?”

Seth had been out of town since last month, on a work trip that was only supposed to have taken two weeks.

“She hasn’t forgotten,” Mackenzie said from the other bed. Her voice sounded impatient and a little bossy. “She looks at his picture all the time.”

“I have forgot,” Anna insisted, offended by this slur to her credibility and four-year-old dignity. “What color is Daddy’s eyes?”

“You know what color his eyes are.” Erin knew that twenty-five days was a really long time for their father to be absent. She knew they needed to talk about him, to remind themselves he was important to them. She smiled and reached down to tickle Anna lightly on the side. “What color are
your
eyes?”

Anna giggled and tried to scoot away from Erin’s tickling fingers. “Blue!”

Erin’s smile widened at the girl’s characteristically quicksilver shift in emotion. She tickled Anna a little more. “And what color are Mackenzie’s eyes?”

“Blue,” Anna burst out, trying to slap Erin’s hand away.

“And what color are Daddy’s eyes?”

“Blue!”

“That’s right. Daddy has blue eyes, just like you and Mackenzie.”

Anna reached her arms up for another hug, and Erin pulled her daughter close to her again. Snuggled with her a little longer than normal. Felt that same weight in her gut. It hadn’t gone away, even though she’d made her daughter happy again.

“Mommy’s eyes isn’t blue,” Anna informed her, when she finally pulled away.

“
Aren’t
blue. That’s right. I’m the only one without blue eyes.”

The girl patted Erin’s arms consolingly and let out a dramatic yawn. “That’s all right. Mommy has pretty eyes too.”

Giving her one last kiss, Erin stood up and moved over to Mackenzie’s bed. Now that she looked closely, she could see that her older daughter was definitely not happy at all.

Her little chin was sticking out, an obvious sign that she was angry. A characteristic expression that Seth insisted she’d inherited from her mother, although Erin strenuously objected to this assessment.

Mackenzie’s blue-gray eyes were exactly like Seth’s. Exactly like Anna’s. And they were clearly stormy at the moment.

“What’s wrong, pumpkin?” Erin asked, smoothing her daughter’s long red-gold hair—hair that Seth refused to have cut any more than the slightest trim.

“Daddy didn’t call tonight?”

Erin’s chest suddenly hurt so much that she wasn’t sure she could even breathe, but she managed to keep her face composed as she shook her head. “No. I guess he wasn’t able to tonight.”

Mackenzie’s chin stuck out even farther, and Erin could tell it was an attempt to hide the way her bottom lip was trembling. Mackenzie had always—like Seth—instinctively tried to hide whatever strong emotion she felt.

“He didn’t want to say goodnight to us?” The wavering words were somewhere in between a statement and a question.

It hurt so much, that her daughters were both so troubled—in different ways—by Seth’s long absence. There wasn’t anything Erin could do to alter the reality, though. He had been gone for a really long time.

She took a deep breath and managed to swallow over the constriction in her throat. “You know better than that, Mackenzie. He was probably in meetings and couldn’t get away. You know he calls whenever he can.”

“Daddy calls last night,” Anna informed them from the other bed. “I told him about the big slide in the park.”

Mackenzie ignored this piece of information. “He’s always in meetings. I
hate
meetings.”

“I hate meetings too,” Anna agreed, more likely in echo of her big sister’s declaration than out of any real resentment.

Erin stroked the curve of Mackenzie’s cheek with her thumb. Tried to figure out the best way to deal with this. “I know, pumpkin, but Daddy has to go to meetings for his work.”

“I hate Daddy’s work.”

“I know.” Erin silently agreed with the sentiment, even though she was supposed to be the adult. “But Daddy has to work. That’s how we have money to live on.”

Mackenzie pushed down the covers with bad-tempered jerks of her arms. “Other daddies work, but
they
aren’t gone all the time.”

This was undeniably true, and it did feel like Seth had been gone forever.

“Mackenzie. You know Daddy isn’t gone all the time. He’s just on a long trip right now. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

“He said he’d be back today.”

“Yeah,” Anna added enthusiastically. “Today!”

Erin sighed and closed her eyes briefly. Prayed she was handling this the right way. She’d been a mother for more than six years now, but she still felt like she was barely muddling through most of the time.

“I already explained. Something came up. Now he’ll be back tomorrow instead.”

Mackenzie’s face was working urgently as she tried to contain her feelings. “Something
always
comes up. He won’t come home tomorrow either.”

Anna’s blond head popped up from her pillow. “He won’t?”

“Daddy promised he’d be home tomorrow,” Erin assured them, feeling like she was on the verge of tears of helpless frustration.

“He always promises.” Mackenzie rolled over to her side and curled up in an angry ball. “I
hate
Daddy.”

The jab in her chest was so sharp that it actually made her feel physically ill. Swallowing hard, she put a firm hand on Mackenzie’s shoulder and turned her back over. “Mackenzie. You never say that about Daddy, or about anyone else, especially when you don’t mean it.”

“I do mean it.”

Erin wouldn’t let her daughter roll back over. “Tell the truth. Do you really hate him? Or are you just mad at him right now?”

Mackenzie tried to hold out. She’d always been as obstinate and determined as her father. When faced with Erin’s unassailable gaze, however, she couldn’t help but cave. “I’m mad at him.” She took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

Erin was so relieved that Mackenzie hadn’t put up a fight that she was just as shaky as her daughter. With a throaty sound she couldn’t control, she reached down and pulled Mackenzie up into a hug. Burying her face in the long, red hair that Seth so adored, Erin murmured hoarsely, “Daddy loves you so much, pumpkin. You have no idea how much he loves both of you. And Mommy loves you too. Lots and lots.”

Mackenzie started shaking against her, making muffled, strangled sounds.

“Pumpkin? What is it?”

The girl’s face was red and contorted when she pulled it back. “I miss him.” The words sounded like they were forced out of her, as if they resisted ever being spoken.

Exactly like Seth, when he was forced to admit something too deep, too private.

“I know, baby. I miss him too.” She pulled her back into a hug.

Mackenzie was sobbing for real now, shaking and gasping against Erin’s shoulder.

Anna, who’d been listening and watching, sat up fully in her bed, the neckline of her cotton nightgown slightly askew. “Mac is crying?” she asked, her bottom lip starting to wobble dangerously.

“It’s okay. She’s sad, but she’ll be okay.” Erin was fighting tears herself and suffering from waves of helplessness as she held her weeping daughter, powerless to comfort her.

Anna had always been more openly emotional than Mackenzie. Had always been quicker to anger, quicker to tears, quicker to laughter. Had always been more like Erin.

It didn’t take long until Anna was crying as well and stumbling over to the other bed so that Erin could hug her too.

So Erin held both of them. Murmured all the soothing words she could think of. Thought she was going to suffocate on the agonizing lump in her throat. Exerted all the control she could muster to keep from crying herself.

She missed her husband as much as her daughters missed their father, and her grief was compounded by so many more complexities. And by a reluctant awareness that had been lurking in her gut for days—one she wasn’t yet ready to acknowledge.

The storm didn’t last as long as she’d feared. Anna’s little sobs soon faded into occasional hiccups, and by then Mackenzie had nearly cried herself out as well.

Erin murmured comfortingly until both of them were under control again. Then she stood up and said, “I know we miss him, but Daddy will come home soon. I promise. It won’t be long until tomorrow.”

Anna seemed basically content as she crawled back under the covers of her bed, although her cheeks were streaked with the remnants of tears. “Tomorrow,” she sighed in satisfaction.

Erin gave the little girl’s hair one last loving stroke. “Tomorrow. Good night, baby.”

“Night night, Mommy,” Anna mumbled.

Mackenzie was quiet now too, but she didn’t seem to have resolved her feelings as quickly as Anna had. Erin knew that Mackenzie tended to bottle things away, brooding on them silently and not letting them go.

“Good night, pumpkin. I love you.”

“G’night,” Mackenzie mumbled hoarsely, her eyes focused unwaveringly on Erin’s face. “Love you too.”

After another minute, Erin walked toward the door and turned off the light. Paused before she cracked the door behind her as she left.

Wondered how it was even possible for a human to love anyone as much as she loved these two little girls. Wished she could always keep them perfectly safe and happy.

After a moment, she went to wash her face and pull herself together a little. Then she walked back down the hall to listen at the cracked door of her daughters’ room.

She didn’t hear anything. Sometimes they talked before they fell asleep, Anna asking earnest questions and Mackenzie answering them with grave, six-year-old wisdom. But not tonight.

She hoped they both had gone to sleep. Thought they probably had.

She glanced at the clock and thought with another pang that Seth still hadn’t called. It was too late for him to say goodnight to the girls.

But surely he would at least want to talk to Erin.

With a shaky sigh, she trudged back to her bedroom. Looked around in vague uncertainty, trying to figure out what to do with herself.

She didn’t feel like reading or watching TV, which was usually what she ended up doing once the girls went to bed. Liz was out of town on a story, or else she would have called to chat with her sister and revel in an actual adult conversation.