The Book of Someday (29 page)

Jack meanwhile is putting the car into gear. And speaking so softly AnnaLee is having trouble making out the words, as he’s asking: “Should I be ashamed that I needed three drinks in me before I had the courage to finally be a man?”

***

AnnaLee and Jack are home now—they’ve been here for about ten minutes.

AnnaLee is upstairs, tucking Bella into bed.

She is kneeling at Bella’s bedside. Her head resting on the pillow beside Bella’s. She’s being lulled by the buttery scent of Bella’s skin, the clean sweetness of her breath.

The room is quiet and perfectly calm.

Bella’s eyes flutter open—she seems momentarily startled.

AnnaLee is still in her costume from the party. The wig and the makeup are probably making her look unfamiliar. “Shhh,” AnnaLee whispers. “It’s me, it’s Mommy. Go to sleep, baby. Sleep in heavenly peace. I’m here, watching over y—”

AnnaLee pauses. And listens.

A sound. Very faint. Is coming from outside. The crunch of tires on gravel. As if a car has pulled into the driveway. And stopped.

AnnaLee glances at her watch. She and Jack left the gala early. It’s not quite eleven. Too soon for the party to be over and for Rebecca Wang to be bringing Persephone home. AnnaLee goes to the window, raises the linen shade, and looks out. No one. Nothing. Only darkness.

In the time it takes her to lower the shade, AnnaLee’s thoughts have already gone back to the conversation with Mrs. Jahn, and to Jack’s triumph, and to the brightness that may soon be in their future. Jack is downstairs in the living room. Reading. And AnnaLee is eager to tell him, for a second time, how proud she is of him.

As she’s exiting Bella’s room, AnnaLee is leaving the door slightly ajar. She wants to be able to hear Bella, if she wakes up.

AnnaLee is moving into the hall—approaching the window at the top of the stairs—a window, like the one in Bella’s room, that also overlooks the driveway. As she’s passing the window, just about to go down the stairs, AnnaLee is certain she has heard another noise come from outside the house. This one, slightly louder. Faintly more distinct. A sound like a car door being closed.

From this window, AnnaLee has a clear view of the section of driveway that’s directly below it. Again, she’s encountering exactly what she saw when she looked out of Bella’s window—the empty dark of night. But the counterpoint between the muffled sounds and the motionless darkness is making her uncomfortable.

She looks again, more closely. Sees nothing. Wonders if she’s imagining things and leaves the window.

AnnaLee is halfway down the stairs when she hears the crash. Coming from the kitchen—from somewhere near the back door.

The sudden noise of breaking glass.

The chilling sound of a window being smashed.

Livvi

Pasadena, California ~ 2012

In the wake of the disturbing visit from Calista earlier in the day and the news it brought about Livvi’s father being on the brink of death, old wounds have been reopened.

And Livvi is doing her best to hide her pain. Behind a mask of giggles and smiles. She doesn’t want to visit any of it on Grace.

For the past two hours Livvi and Grace have been in Livvi’s kitchen, baking cookies. Surrounded by flour and vanilla and drifts of sugar. Tomorrow morning, the three of them—Livvi, Grace, and Andrew—are leaving on their trip to Aspen. And Grace is excited about taking the cookies with them because they are Andrew’s favorite. Chocolate chip.

Grace is at the counter, standing on a low stepstool, carefully dropping spoonfuls of dough onto a baking sheet.

Livvi has just answered the phone. The call is from David; he’s telling her: “You never got back to me about the Manhattan Literary Luncheon. I pulled every string I could think of to make sure you were one of the invited authors. It’s next month, December 20, and—”

“David, I know we talked about it and I’m so sorry I forgot to call you.” Livvi is wiping sugar from the countertop—her mind on her father. On the fact that he might soon be dead. And that he wants to see her. After all these years. When she thought he didn’t even remember she existed.

“This luncheon is important,” David is reminding her. “It gets serious press coverage, generates major book club chat on the Internet, which is valuable for you right now. You need to keep people talking, interested. We want to keep your name out there, especially since you still haven’t gotten your second book off the ground.”

The mention of her inability to get started on a second book is an embarrassment to Livvi. While David has been relentless in working to promote her writing career, Livvi has been doing nothing to help. Her every waking moment has been consumed by the drama with Andrew. And his wife, and his parents.

Livvi knows she’s letting David down—letting herself down. But she doesn’t know how to fix it. The truth is that she’s lost in Andrew’s maze of secrets. And delights. And promises.

A part of her is wondering if she is already too far into the maze to ever find her way out.

“Livvi, you should make your travel arrangements right away.” There’s a subtle persistence in David’s voice. “The luncheon is—”

“Can you wait for a minute?” Livvi is asking.

Grace is holding up the baking sheet, showing off wobbly balls of cookie dough, excited for Livvi’s approval. Livvi’s tucking the phone between her shoulder and her ear. Giving Grace a round of silent applause. And in return, receiving one of Grace’s irresistibly enchanting smiles.

“Livvi, this is important. You need to start making plans,” David is insisting. “The luncheon is on the twentieth. Right before Christmas. When lots of people will be looking for hotel rooms in New York.”

Livvi’s thinking that during the week before Christmas Grace will be with Andrew—and with her—and that she promised Grace they would spend every single day together, either at Andrew’s house or at Livvi’s.

She’s hating how ungrateful she seems as she’s explaining to David: “I won’t be at the luncheon. I can’t come to New York next month.”

“Oh” is all David says. A single syllable in which there is surprise and irritation—and what sounds like profound disappointment.

After Livvi has ended the call and dropped the phone back into her pocket, she takes the baking sheet from Grace and carries it to the oven.

Grace climbs down from the step stool, following Livvi across the kitchen. “When you were my size, who baked cookies with you?” she asks.

Beneath the surface of lightness in her response there’s a cavernous sense of emptiness in Livvi, as she says: “Nobody baked cookies with me, Gracie.”

“Then who showed you how?”

“I showed myself.” Livvi is back at the kitchen counter now. Gathering the mixing bowls and measuring spoons. “I learned from a book, after I was all grown-up.”

Grace observes Livvi for a moment, then climbs onto the step stool and wraps her arms around Livvi’s waist.

“This is an extra-special hug,” Grace says.

“What for?”

“Because your face looks so sad.”

Determined not to feel sorry for herself, Livvi dips her finger into one of the measuring cups and rapidly freckles her cheeks with flour, while she’s crossing her eyes and breaking into a goofy grin. Chirping in a cartoon voice: “Me not sad. Me hungry. For cookies!”

Grace bursts out laughing and dots her own face with flour, mimicking Livvi’s silly tone. “Me too. I’m hungry for cookies too. I’m—”

Grace’s eyes suddenly light with surprise. “Daddy,” she calls out. “You’re back!”

Andrew has come into the kitchen—Grace is running to him.

And Livvi is seeing that he looks the same as he did on that afternoon in Rolling Hills, in his parents’ driveway. He looks beaten up. Depleted.

Livvi is immediately bracing for whatever axe is about to fall. “How come you’re back so soon, Andrew? You said you’d be stuck at the office until dinnertime.”

Andrew turns to Grace and asks: “Where’s Piglet, and your games?”

“In Livvi’s bedroom,” she says.

“Go in there and play for a while, honey. I need to talk to Livvi.”

Grace’s eyes dart from Andrew to Livvi—full of alarm. “I want to stay. You can talk. I’ll be quiet.”

Andrew points Grace toward the door. “Go,” he says softly. “I’ll be in to get you in a few minutes.”

Livvi watches as Grace gives Andrew one last beseeching look. Then circles around him and walks away. Heartbreakingly small and defenseless.

“What’s going on?” Livvi asks.

Andrew seems emotionally ravaged. He gestures toward the living room, where their suitcases are stacked beside their skis and poles. And says: “The trip’s off.”

Instantly. For Livvi. The sensation of falling into the bottomless hole.

While Andrew is saying: “Kayla’s not comfortable with the idea of you, me, and Grace going off on what’s essentially a family vacation. It’s tearing her up.”

Livvi’s stomach has heaved. She’s trying not to choke.

“Olivia, I don’t have a choice,” Andrew insists. “I’ve just gotten Kayla to the place where she’s agreed to meet with a divorce lawyer. The last thing I want to do right now is make the situation any harder on her than it has to be.”

Livvi, for the briefest instant, is thinking of grabbing a knife from the kitchen counter. And…

…and what?

And nothing. Grace is in the next room. Livvi doesn’t want to make a scene. She goes back to the sink and begins washing cookie dough out of a glass mixing bowl.

“You have to understand.” Andrew’s voice is shaking with emotion. “Kayla is my wife, Grace’s mother. I can’t just trash her life and then turn my back on her. I can’t inflict that kind of hurt.”

And the hurt in Livvi is crushing her. Bending her over the sink. Pushing down on her like a brick wall.

While Andrew is explaining: “I’ve spent too much time damaging people I love. What I’m trying to do is make up for that.”

He moves closer to Livvi, as if he wants her to look at him. She can’t—she doesn’t have the strength.

“Olivia, I’ve run up debts that I’ll never come close to being able to repay. I owe a big one to Kayla. I bailed out on her. What I did destroyed her. It’s me, it’s what I’ve done, that’s made her so bitter and crazy. Which means I also owe a gigantic, unpayable debt to Grace. For putting her in the crosshairs of all of that.”

Livvi is barely able to listen to him, as he’s saying: “Grace and Kayla aren’t the only ones…I owe my sister and my brother too. Because I wasn’t there when they needed me. My mother has every right to keep on making me pay for that. I’ve taken things from her that are irreplaceable.”

Andrew sounds sick with guilt. And shame. “I sneaked away. To have sex. While Katherine and Matthew burned to death. I wasn’t anywhere near as drunk as they were that night. If I’d been there, maybe my mother wouldn’t have had to bury her only daughter. Along with her first-born son.” Andrew pauses, then says: “I’ll never be able to get out from under that. I’ll owe her until the day I die.”

For several moments there is unbroken quiet in the kitchen.

Then Andrew puts his hands on Livvi’s shoulders and quickly removes them. As if he isn’t sure he has the right to touch her.

“Won’t you please talk to me?” he asks.

Livvi shakes her head. Not looking at him. She has no words, no thoughts—only the sensation of the bottomless hole.

“Olivia, listen…this Aspen news, it isn’t as bad as it sounds. Kayla understands how excited Grace is about going, and the last thing she wants to do is disappoint her. The trip isn’t canceled. Everything is the same. Except for one little detail. Instead of us taking Grace to Aspen, Kayla wants to be the one to take her.”

In Livvi’s head, a pair of echoes—Calista saying,
“It wasn’t cruelty, it was discipline”
…Andrew saying,
“Everything is the same, except for one little detail.”

And Livvi is shouting: “Liar!”

While she’s smashing the glass mixing bowl into the sink. While she’s whirling around and slamming Andrew with her full weight. Sending him stumbling backward. Into the wall.

“It isn’t Aspen that Grace is looking forward to,” Livvi is telling him. “What Grace is excited about is the three of us being there together. And you know that!”

Andrew takes a deep breath—walks a short distance away. His voice is full of apology when he says: “I’m flying up with them in the morning, to get them settled. I’ll make sure Grace is okay and then come straight home. I’ll be back by tomorrow night.”

Livvi is looking at Andrew—seeing his unhappiness—hearing James say,
“…be kind to my brother. He’s a decent guy who’s had a lot of indecent things happen to him.”

There is decency in Andrew. But the decency is crowded in with guilt and weakness. And now Livvi knows that to stay with Andrew is to spend the rest of her life being shuffled aside. Waiting. While he’s making room for the women who came before her.

It’ll be like going back to Santa Ynez,
she’s thinking,
always
wondering, “Do you see me?” “Do you remember me?” “Do you love me enough to keep me safe?”

Livvi is turning toward Andrew. Preparing to tell him
“I need to leave you.”
But as she’s opening her mouth, she’s seeing that Grace is in the room.

It’s as if Grace has read Livvi’s mind. “Don’t go away,” she’s begging. “Be here when I get back.”

And Livvi is remembering the little book of dreams and promises wrapped in a white paper cover. She’s remembering the promise that said,
Someday
when
I’m a mommy I’ll never run away because I’m selfish and bad. I’ll stay and I’ll say I love you.

It was a promise Livvi vowed she would never break—when she became a mother.

But Livvi isn’t Grace’s mother. Grace already has a mother.

And that—is Livvi’s dilemma.

***

Silver bells. Department store Santas. Early December. The shine of Christmas has arrived in Pasadena. Elves and tinsel. People brimming with holiday cheer. A month has passed since the aborted trip to Aspen.

Livvi and Grace are in a bustling, family-friendly restaurant on Colorado Boulevard. They have just ordered lunch.