Keeping Time: A Novel (19 page)

Hurrying back to the kitchen to make herself coffee, her eyes going immediately to the bouquet. Feeling good about turning over a

THIRTY-TWO

E@lyha home andLISABETH, LEAPING OUT OF BED. Monday morning. Sensing it. A feeling nine weeks behind schedule had finally returned. Racing into the bathroom, certain it was back.

She was wrong.

Elisabeth, slumping over the sink, brushing her teeth. Running a brush through her hair, making her scalp tingle. Throwing on her work clothes with not so much as a glance in the mirror. Not even botheusual way

THIRTY-THREE

THE PHONE, RINGING. WEDNESDAY NIGHT. Dennis and Amanda were not home to hear it. They were on the coast for the first time since moving day. Things had finally settled down enough at home to allow them this treat. Their gazes were locked over the water. Even at that hour, the sun was still running high in the sky. Sprinkling golden rays over them. All was peace and serenity.

Dennis, surprisingly calm. He had never been to this sea before but would be back, for this incredible slice of earth was fewer than five minutes from where he now#LTha home and lived. He found himself dizzy by it. It was deeply shocking to him that this profoundly stirring vision could be his in this new way of life. The two had spent the last twenty minutes standing elbow to elbow and shoulder to shoulder in virtual silence, drinking in the peace and the stunning beauty of what lay before them, behind them, and to their sides. Hearing only the lapping of the unfolding waves and the busy sea birds.

Dennis, removing his pensive eye’s grip on the sea. Turning to the top of Amanda’s head, the side of her face. Watching the gentle breeze lift and part her hair. His fingers doing the same. His sandals, squishing rocky sand. Reaching down to kiss her damp lips, saying, “Thank you for all this.”

Amanda, smiling up at him, lips apart, her pretty teeth revealed, her eyes shining. Saying, “I ks. Hurrying do

THIRTY-FOUR

DART MAN, CAUGHT RED-HANDED.

Launching a dart. At 10:17 a.m. on E#e.plCrast Thirty-ninth Street and Third Avenue. From a red mountain bike. It was a risky move because people knew about him. People were on the lookout. He struck earlier than usual but was seen, chased, and caught by a Korean grocery store owner who was stacking tangerines in orderly rows. He saw Dart Man making his escape, thought quickly, and rolled a barrel of fresh-cut flowers into his path, causing Dart Man to swerve, hit a lamppost, crash, and land on his back, feet in the air. The heroic Korean grocery store owner managed to hold him down until the police arrived.

Dart Man had finally fallen. He was a white, twenty-two-year-old, skinny, pointy-chinned redhead, an out-of-work actor from the Midwest whose only fame had come, and would come, from terrorizing the city for thirty-three days.

Elisabeth, hearing the news on the radio. Feeling relief. And humiliation. It made her want her bed, piles of pillows, heavy blankets—a place to hide.

Instead, performing an act of penance. At lunchtime, dashing out of her office, into her car, off to a bike store. Discussing pros and cons with
the young, overweight, very personable salesman. Explaining what she wanted. Listening to his advice. Together, choosing a bike.

Guilt made the purchase. Guilt signed the credit card screen with the tethered stylus. Guilt bought the most expensive bike in the store.

ELISABETH, ALL SMILES when Richard got home. At ten after ten.

He found her in the kitchen, ironing the white shirt that Pete would need for graduation. Richard, going upstairs to change out of his suit, to say hello to the boys, and to hear from Michael that the Regents was a breeze. Passing through the hallway, finding Daisy, exchanging pleasantries with her, asking for an update on her search.

Daisy, beaming, remarking casually that she was doing her
own
Google search and was undeterred despite continuing to come up empty.

Richard, back in the kitchen. Elisabeth, still on the white button-down shirt. Putting the iron down, asking Richard to follow her—which he did, first stopping at the refrigerator for a beer.

“You’re never going to believe who I met today,” Richard saying, popping the top off the bottle then putting the bottle opener on the kitchen counter above the open drawer. Following Elisabeth out of the kitchen.

“Who?” Elisabeth, asking, more interested in presenting her surprise than in the answer. She was excited, thinking that in the end she had done the right thing. It had been time to put the other bike to rest anyway.

Richard, “Heather Clarke. Remember her?”

Elisabeth, stopping in her tracks. Remember her? She was the closest thing to a super model their high school had ever known, the most popular girl in the school, hands down. She was an original. Everyone knew her. Half would have loved to hate her if only she hadn’t been as nice as
she was beautiful and smart. Elisabeth knew Richard had lusted for her as much as everyone else did.

Elisabeth, saying flatly, “Didn’t she marry a billionaire?”

Richard, nodding. His eyes bright, looking inward. Remembering the encounter. “Yeah, but she’s divorced now. She said she got a very generous settlement and the apartment on Park Avenue. She looks terrific, almost the same as she did in high school.”

Elisabeth, glumly# as she habck assuming that Heather was still on a perfectly precise twenty-eight-day schedule.

“She has two daughters.” Richard, saying, his eyes fuzzy and soft around the edges, reliving the conversation. “One is at Harvard, and the other is away at boarding school.”

“How nice for her.”

“She seemed as sweet as ever. She’s involved in philanthrrd. The house

THIRTY-FIVE

DAISY, HANGING UP the Jettys’ phone. Staring down at her lap, busily fingering a nonproblematic nub in her creamy peach skirt. Her chair was pulled out, angled from the kitchen table. Her feet were flat on the floor, back stiff, and erect as usual. Daisy, absorbing the news. Shocked. Lenny? Remarrying? Sensing eyes on her, looking up. Josh, in a
Star Wars
clone trooper costume, was standing at the refrigerator, about to open it. Turning to her, asking through the mask if something was wrong. Daisy, shaking her head. Telling him that she had just re?” Elisabeth, askingL. What stceived surprising news from home.

Elisabeth, coming into the kitchen at that moment, dragging the vacuum—just in time to overhear their exchange. Asking if the news was good.

Daisy, so stunned that she was almost unable to string together the words. “My son Lenny is getting married.” Sounding quizzical, as if she were passing along a silly rumor.

Elisabeth, holding off vacuuming. Hurrying to Daisy at the table to warmly express her good feelings. At various times Daisy had filled Elisabeth in on her family, leaving Elisabeth with a degree of ownership large enough to feel joy at the news. Asking when.

Daisy, saying it would take place as soon as she got home. Thinking
about Sarah. Seeking to elicit new information about her future daughter-in-law from the one frozen image in her memory bank. There were three blank spaces for the three new stepgrandchildren—girls eleven, fourteen, and seventeen, Chloe, Carrie, and Christine. A dizzy head for Daisy. Three blank spaces. Three blank faces. New grandchildren. A new daughter-in-law. Lenny, a married man.

The
Star Wars
clone trooper had poured himself orange juice and was almost finished when a surprise attack sacked him from behind. David, currently Darth Vader, caused the clone trooper to spill his juice all over the counter and floor. Loud, angry, boisterous screams—David with laughter, Josh with anger. Elisabeth, with paper towels, to supplement the lousy cleanup from David.

All of it stirring Daisy. Sucking her out of Liverpool, back to Long Island, back to the kitchen table.

Standing up. Straightening her skirt with the palms of her hands. Clearing her throat and raising her voice to speak over the maelstrom. “I should be going home.”

Six alarmed eyes suddenly on her. Josh, immediately running, screaming the news to Michael, who was seated at the computer in the next room, sifting through the hundreds of thousands of Michael Bakers to find “the one.”

Elisabeth, stooped, soaking up the juice from the floor. Crouching over the sticky area, looking up at Daisy, saying that she couldn’t go because she hadn’t found Michael Baker yet. Pushing herself up off the floor, moving the hair off her forehead with her wrist.

“I know.” Daisy, saying, her voice sad. Reflective. “But they want to get married. I shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

“What?” Michael, charging into the room like a bull, straight to Daisy, his arms crossed defiantly over his chest. Demanding an answer. “What? You’re going?”

Daisy looked at Michael, then Josh, then David, and then Elisabeth, the four standing before her, waiting for the answer, poised to pounce.
Daisy, wobbling slightly on skinny ankles, tears of sincere affection springing to her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Michael, I know you’ve been working very hard to find him, but what if we never do? There’s a good chance he’s already dead. And if we can’t find
him
, we’d never be able to find any children he might have had. I tried. We tried. I’m truly glad we did. I am indebted to you, all of you,” looking into each face, “forever. But I should be getting back home now for Lenny.”

Nobody speaking.

“You can’t go yet,” Michael. “I might be getting somewhere now.”#atT close

Elisabeth, who was so proud of him, asking, “How many more Michael Bakers are there?”

Michael, grimacing. His face, a vision of youthful flexibility. Reddening. “I don’t know exactly.” Meaning hundreds of thousands.

He looked beaten. Daisy wanted to hug him, but instead Elisabeth did. Pulling him into her arms, placing her warm maternal lips on his bare forehead. Michael, allowing her in, stiffly, for a second, then pushing her off, saying, “Please, Daisy, don’t go.”

“I’m sorry, Michael, believe me. It will be very difficult for me to leave here—you, your family, and our goal—but it looks as if I must.” Her voice, soft, matching the expression in her eyes.

“When will you go?” Elisabeth, asking, feeling a sadness and a sudden rush of loss that she never would have expected, coming through in her voice.

“I’ll see if I can get on a flight today.”

Again, no one speaking. Josh, taking off his clone trooper helmet, his face sweaty. “Today? That’s so soon.”

“It’s just not right, Daisy.” Michael, angry. “I just finished my last Regents—which I studied for because of you! I’m totally done with school now. Summer vacation has started. I’ll have all day long to continue the search. You can’t leave now!”

Daisy, exhaling, her shoulders sinking, uttering, “I’m sorry, Michael.”
Falling back down into the hard-backed chair. Looking wistful, her kind light blue eyes, wet. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll leave the watch with you for you to continue the search. If you find him, you can send it to him. Or if you don’t, you can keep it for yourself. I’m sure it’s very valuable even without its being engraved by Arthur Rubinstein.”

A quick inhale from Josh and David. Looking at Michael as if he were the luckiest kid on earth. Michael’s eyes, brightening, the surprise of the words working their way through. But lasting only a minute before darkening again. Clouding over. Because as appealing as the idea was, it was not what he wanted. He wanted Daisy to stay. He wanted to find Michael Baker.

They all did. They all stared sullenly at Daisy. A heaviness in the air.

“Are you sure you have to leave today?” Elisabeth, asking, tossing the sticky sponge into the sink, the wet paper towels into the trash. “We were planning another day with my sisters. We were thinking we’d all go on the Circle Line, the boat that goes around Manhattan, and then stay in the city for dinner. I’m sure Richard would love having dinner in the city with you.” Thinking he might love it even more in a subway car.

Forcing herself to snap out of it, making herself stop. Richard loved her as much as ever. Nothing had changed outside of her own head.

Daisy, regretfully repeating that she really had to go. Sudden thoughts of her house and of keeping it herself. Lenny had told her that Dennis and Amanda had made the move and that Dennis had actually sounded quite happy until Lenny mentioned the wedding. He also said that Sarah was wondering when Daisy would be getting back, that they were both quite eager to tie the knot. Telling Daisy he would be calling back in an hour to see if she had return-flight information by then.

Michael, saying, “Thanks for the watch, Daisy, but it’s not what I# it washabck wanted.” Stomping off. Josh and David, arguing over who got to use the computer now that Michael would be off the Internet. Elisabeth, saying neither; she needed it to arrange Daisy’s flight.

Daisy, following Elisabeth out of the kitchen to the computer.
Elisabeth, tapping away at the keyboard. Daisy, watching Elisabeth intently, thinking she might have been able to do it herself at this point, marveling at the miracle of the Internet—how easily she was rebooked and how quickly.

It was done. She was booked on an evening flight. Arrangements were made for her to be picked up at 6:00 next morning at the Manchester Airport.

Red suitcases were repacked, zipped tightly, standing upright in the living room.

DAISY, OUT ON THE DECK, sipping tea she had just made. Naturally she had offered to make a cup for the others, and naturally they all declined. She would be returning to England without ever having served anyone a single cup.

She sat silently, enjoying the last look at the incredibly gorgeous property. The sweet smell of honeysuckle was pungent around her. The brightly colored flowers seemed to be enjoying themselves. Some new summer perennials were making their appearance, beginning their romp with the late spring varieties. The familiar and unfamiliar birds chattered and zoomed from one specimen tree to some other utterly majestic one. There was the sun, the weather, the bees, and an assortment of other sinister-looking flying things that Daisy chose to ignore, refusing to crumble in terror at the sight of any of them. She inhaled and exhaled slowly and deeply. The setting called for relaxation, asking only that from its viewers, but not for lack of trying or desire, Daisy was not relaxed. Instead, she was filled with so many mixed emotions, she couldn’t possibly relax. She needed to be alone, to sort through them.