Don't Go (11 page)

Mike read to the next page, under a section that was titled Finances:

The parties have jointly agreed that such guardianship shall be provided by Robert and Danielle Ridgeway to me, Michael Scanlon, completely gratis and free of charge, and that all reasonable expenses of care of the minor child shall be borne by the guardians, Robert and Danielle Ridgeway. In the event of extraordinary medical, legal, or other expenses relating to her care, the parties agree to discuss reimbursement of same, and will use best efforts to arrive at a mutually agreeable reimbursement and settlement.

Mike felt amazed by their generosity, but he didn’t expect Bob and Danielle to pay Emily’s bills and would leave a lump sum for them to draw from for the next three months. He knew how to fix it in the contract, because Bob himself had told him when he’d reviewed the partnership agreement for Suburban Foot & Ankle. Mike picked up the pen, drew a line through the section, initialed his change, then read to the bottom:

This agreement is effective upon signature of all parties, and will extend as long as necessary, beginning on the date of execution.

He thought that sounded right, and a red flag had been affixed next to his signature line,
SIGN HERE
. Bob and Danielle had already signed on their signature lines, and he picked up the pen, but paused, feeling strange. He couldn’t shake the sensation he was giving Emily up, and the papers made Chloe’s death so real, even before her wake. He wondered what would happen if he was killed in Afghanistan, then realized this agreement would probably remain in place.

“Mike?” Danielle called from the kitchen. “Your eggs are ready.”

“Be right in.” Mike stared at the signature line, holding the pen. He felt the weight of the world, but the opposite was true. If he signed, he was completely unencumbered. He had signed away his child and he had no wife. He didn’t even have a cat anymore. If he died in Afghanistan, it would be as if he didn’t exist at all and never had. Emily wouldn’t remember him, but he hoped they would explain to her who her father was and why he had signed these papers.

For her.

Chapter Nineteen

Pewter clouds concealed the sun as Mike cruised down his old street, relieved to see that none of his neighbors was out, undoubtedly because it was twenty degrees. He pulled into the driveway, cut the ignition, and got out of the car. He avoided looking at Chloe’s Beetle, hustled up the porch steps, unlocked the front door, and went inside. His gaze went automatically down the hall to the kitchen, but he caught himself. His pity party was supposed to be over.

He glanced at the family room, relieved that he hadn’t messed it up. The couch and chairs were a cheerful paisley pattern that Chloe had loved, and they looked good next to an end table she’d bought at an auction.

Isn’t that the cutest table ever? It’s Sheridan.

Sheraton like the hotel?
Mike had been half-joking.

Please, you’re embarrassing yourself. It’s an antique.

It’s not antique, it’s secondhand.

Stop. Now you’re embarrassing me, because I married you.

Mike tried not to think about Chloe, but it was impossible. He walked into the family room, aching inside. She’d picked out most of the furniture, and he’d been happy to let her do it, not only because she loved to go antiquing but because she could put different things together and make them look like they belonged that way.

He crossed to a pine chest they used as a coffee table, which held last week’s newspapers. The entertainment section lay on top, because she’d always read the gallery openings, circle some, and never have time to go. To test himself, he picked up the paper, turned to the gallery openings, and sure enough, there were three ballpoint circles. He stared at the circles, imagining Chloe making them. He wondered if there had been a mug on the table beside her and whether it held coffee or vodka. He wondered why she drank, and if it was because she was unhappy that she didn’t get to go to art shows, or had quit teaching when the baby came. Or simply because she missed him, or all of the above. His chest constricted, and he dropped the newspaper.

He left the family room for the sunroom, which Chloe had made into a studio of sorts. Her artwork was everywhere, lying propped against the walls, and there was an easel set up with a half-finished watercolor of the cat. Coffee cans of brushes sat on a shelf, and trays of paints were stowed in their own special area. Chloe had told him that she didn’t miss painting, because creating a baby was the most fulfilling thing she had ever done. He had believed her until he found the bottles. Now he didn’t know what to believe.

He turned away, walked to the kitchen, and stopped at the threshold. The bloodstain was still there, and even if he replaced the floorboards, he would always know it had been there. He had seen her standing at that spot a thousand times, rinsing a glass, getting water for a recipe, or filling a vase of roses from their garden. Chloe had died in her own kitchen, and Mike realized all of a sudden that he could never live in this house again. He’d price the house to sell and take the first offer that came along.

He turned his back on the kitchen, walked to the front door, and twisted the knob. He said a mental good-bye, and the front door closed behind him.

Chapter Twenty

Mike held open the door to the funeral home, letting Bob and Danielle go inside with Emily, bundled up in her puffy pink jacket. The baby had stopped crying at the sight of him, but he was keeping his distance to play it safe. He let the door close behind them and shook off the cold.

“Welcome.” Scott Beeberman strode toward them, in his dark suit. “Hello, Dr. Scanlon, Mr. and Mrs. Ridgeway.”

Mike gestured at Danielle. “Scott, I don’t think you met Chloe’s sister Danielle or our daughter, Emily.”

“No, I haven’t.” Scott smiled sympathetically at Danielle. “Please accept my condolences on the loss of your sister. The baby is adorable.”

“Thank you.” Danielle hoisted Emily higher, cradling her.

“Please, walk with me, and you can spend some time together, privately.” Scott led them down the hall, stopped at a small sign that read
VOULETTE
, and opened a set of curtained French doors. “Would you like me to take your coats?”

“We’ll keep them, thanks,” Mike answered for Bob and Danielle, whose attention had turned to the front of the room, where Chloe lay in her casket. He realized that they hadn’t seen her yet, and they looked stricken. Their foreheads buckled, their eyes filmed, and their lips parted at almost the same time, their expressions matching so perfectly it almost looked rehearsed.

Danielle hiccupped a sob, turned to Bob, and handed him the baby. “Bob, take her out of here. Go.”

Mike stepped over. “Here, let me,” he said, but Emily started to whimper, and Bob took the baby.

“Mike, I got her. You go with Danielle to the casket.”

“Okay,” Mike said, because Danielle was already walking toward the casket, beginning to cry.

“Oh no, Chloe. This can’t be. This can’t be true.” Danielle knelt on the pad in front of the casket, her hands clutching its polished side. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, Chloe. I should’ve been there, I should’ve been there.”

Mike put his arm around Danielle’s shoulder, anguished. He thought he’d saved her from the what-ifs, but he hadn’t.

“I should’ve been there, Chloe. If we’d been together, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Danielle, no.” Mike reached for her as she burst into hoarse, choking sobs that wracked her small frame, coming from deep within. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Chloe’s body again. The scent of refrigerated flowers filled his nose.

“I never should’ve left her alone.” Danielle pulled some Kleenexes from her coat pocket and cried into them. “What kind of sister am I?”

“It was an accident. Don’t blame yourself.”

“No, Mike, you don’t understand. It
is
my fault. I did this. She’s dead because of me. I killed my own sister.”

“No, don’t say that.” Mike rubbed Danielle’s back in the thick tweed coat. “You didn’t do this. Nobody did this, it was an accident.”

“Mike, no. You don’t know everything. You don’t know the truth, not all of it.” Danielle looked up at him, her eyes flooded with tears and her cheeks streaked with mascara. “I was supposed to be home earlier, but I was late. I picked up Thai food, and I should’ve gone straight home, but I didn’t get home until late.”

Mike listened, agonized. Now it would come out, about why she got home late the night that Chloe died.

“I was supposed to be home at five, we agreed. But on the way home, I was driving down Lancaster Avenue, and I saw this antique store in Paoli, you know that one, near the Rita’s?”

“Yes, I know.”

“Well, I saw they had this hutch in their window, and I wanted to get it, but I couldn’t decide.” Tears flowed down her cheeks into the Kleenex. Her words and the sobs seemed to run together. “I went and looked at it, then the baby had to be changed and fed, and I didn’t want to make her wait until we got home, you know I like to keep the schedule. I was so wrong, I was late, and I’m never late. The one day I’m late, my sister … my sister…”

“It’s okay, I understand.” Mike hugged her around the shoulders, trying to calm her down. “What’s done is done. It’s not your fault, it just isn’t.”

“Yes, it is, Mike. I was being selfish. It wasn’t even for her. It was for me. I was going to ask Bob to give it to me for Christmas.” Danielle held the soggy Kleenex to her nose, and Mike could see she was heartbroken.

“Danielle, don’t blame yourself, people are late every day, it happens.”

“You have her phone, and if you listen to her messages, you can hear me calling her. I even said I was coming home at five.” Danielle wiped her nose with the Kleenex. “I didn’t even bother calling to say I’d be late. I figured we’d have to microwave the food anyway, and I thought it didn’t really matter what time I got home, but it did, it did.”

“I understand, you don’t have to explain it to me.” Mike gentled her to her feet. “Don’t blame yourself, you have to stop this now.”

“I can’t, I can’t. I did this. I’m so selfish. She’s my sister. My little sister.” Danielle took a final sniffle. “Oh, no, I’m a mess, I need to go to the ladies room.”

“I’ll help.” Mike steered Danielle out of the room and into the hallway, where Scott joined them, taking her other arm.

“The lounge is this way.”

“Lead us, please.” Mike kept Danielle on her feet and going forward down the hall as she sagged between him and Scott.

“I never should’ve done it, I never should’ve done it.” Danielle sobbed, sniffling. “I wish I could take it all back. I wish I could take everything back.”

“Right this way.” Scott led them to a paneled door that read
LADIES LOUNGE
. “Dr. Scanlon, it’s empty, so if you would like to go in with her, you may. I’ll stay here in case any guests come early.”

“No, don’t.” Danielle sobbed, shaking her head. “I want to be alone. I need to be alone.”

“Okay, just take it easy, we have plenty of time.” Mike let Danielle go, and she pushed open the door and went inside. He spotted Bob in the hallway and crossed to him. The baby was on his shoulder, but turned away. “Oh boy, she’s really upset.”

“I know.” Bob nodded sadly. “She’s been beating herself up since it happened.”

For the next few hours, Mike greeted a teary blur of mourners, hugging him, telling him they were sorry, saying they were praying for him, and he felt awash in the comfort and love of so many people. “Sara, Don,” Mike said, hugging them both. “Thank you for coming, I really appreciate it.”

“You know we love you, Mike.” Sara wiped her eyes, grief-stricken. “We’ll be praying for you.”

“Thank you.” Mike felt relieved he hadn’t told Sara about the vodka. It wasn’t the way he wanted her to remember Chloe. The reception line shifted, and Jim appeared with his wife Laura, throwing open his arms in his dark topcoat, his eyes pained and his face ruddy from the cold.

“Mike, we’re so sorry, we both are.”

“Thanks.” Mike released him, then Laura hugged him, too.

“Oh, Mike, we’re just beside ourselves. Please accept our deepest sympathies. We can’t imagine how awful this is for you, and we love you.”

“Thanks so much.” Mike managed a smile, then hugged the next person and the next, until he caught sight of his partners Tony and Dave, with their wives.

“Mike, we’re so sorry.” Tony gave him a hug, and so did his wife Jill, then so did Dave and Bonnie, then all four stood around him in a teary circle.

“It was so nice of you guys to come.” Mike hadn’t realized how much he missed them, and it was surreal to be among them without Chloe. He felt suddenly shaky. “Is it hot in here, or is it me?”

“Mike, you okay?” Tony took his arm, his brown eyes filled with concern. He had thick black hair and a large nose. “You want to sit down, man?”

“Let’s go outside, get some air.” Mike glanced at the reception line, which was basically over.

“Sure, good idea.” Tony, Dave, and Mike left the room while their wives went to talk to Danielle and see the baby. The three men made their way down the hall and to a screened-in porch outside, with patio chairs around a table.

“Great, that feels better.” Mike eased into a chair at the table.

“You needed the break. That’s a lot of people in there.” Tony sat down, plunging his hands into his pockets and drawing his coat around his compact frame. “We’re so sorry about Chloe.”

Dave sat down next to him, nodding. “Yeah, Mike, if there’s anything we can do, let us know.”

“Thanks.” Mike liked them both, so much. Dave was tall, skinny, and African-American, and Tony was short, dark, and Italian. They couldn’t have looked more different, but they called themselves brothers-from-another-mother.

“Sorry I missed you yesterday.” Dave frowned behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “I heard you came in.”

“Yeah, sorry I missed you, too. I was surprised by the changes in the office, though. It was more than I thought from the emails. How are you guys working with that?”