The Replacement Wife (24 page)

When they got back to the house, Camille showed their guest around while Edward and Holly saw to the refreshments and the kids set the table out on the deck. She was tired and still not feeling well but determined to play the good hostess. It was important that Elise feel welcome.

Elise took it all in, seeming genuinely interested. “I prefer these old houses to the newer ones,” she said, admiring the dining room’s built-in china cabinet. “They have character, and I’ll take that over modern any day.” She darted Camille a worried glance, as if it had only just occurred to her that Camille might think she was eyeing the house with future ownership in mind.

Camille pretended she hadn’t noticed, saying smoothly as they continued on upstairs, “You should have seen it when we first bought it, before we fixed it up.” It had been the victim of a godawful seventies remodel, complete with faux-brick linoleum and aqua bathroom fixtures, the memory of which made her cringe even all these years later, with no evidence of it anywhere in sight. “We had to tear out all the bathroom fixtures and completely redo the kitchen. And the shag carpeting—you don’t even want to know. It was a nightmare.”

“Anyone who would cover these beautiful old wood floors in shag carpeting should be taken out back and shot, in my opinion,” said the churchgoing schoolteacher, showing a side of herself Camille hadn’t previously seen. Elise, she guessed, could handle anything that came her way.

Camille led the way into the guestroom, which was in keeping with the period like the rest of the house. An antique pencil-post bed covered in a white chenille spread and flanked by mismatched nightstands faced a pair of double-hung windows, which provided a peekaboo view of the ocean during daylight hours. Against the opposite wall was a Victorian pine washstand, on it a pitcher in which Camille had placed fresh-cut flowers from the backyard. “It doesn’t have its own bathroom, but I think you’ll be comfortable,” she said.

“I’m sure I will—it’s lovely. But where will your sister sleep?” Elise asked, eyeing the lone bed.

“Don’t worry about her—she always bunks with Kyra when she visits,” Camille assured her. After the one and only night Holly had spent in this room, she commented that she’d felt like Little Red Riding Hood visiting Grandma without the Big Bad Wolf to make it interesting.

“Your sister’s nice, but she isn’t at all what I expected,” Elise observed as she dropped her tote onto the luggage rack by the cherry lowboy. “You two don’t seem to have very much in common.”

Camille laughed. “You can say that again.”

“Are either of you anything like your parents?”

Camille pondered a moment before replying, “I guess I’m more like mom. As for Holly, well, she’s Holly—they broke the mold with her. She looks a little like my dad, but other than that, the only thing she got from him was his height.” Not for the first time Camille blessed the fact that neither she nor her sister had inherited any of her dad’s traits, though now the thought was accompanied by a twinge of guilt. Larry had left several messages on her answering machine over the past couple of weeks, and she had yet to return his calls. She suspected the only reason he was making an effort was because she’d shamed him into it. Still, the fact remained that he
was
making an effort. She owed him a call at least, if only as a courtesy.

“People say I’m like my dad,” Elise said. “Which, if you met him, you’d know was a compliment. In fact, your husband reminds me a little of him. I don’t mean just because they’re both doctors, but I get the sense he . . .” Her voice trailed off, and her cheeks reddened. “Not that you can know someone just from talking to them on the bus. I only meant . . . well, he seems nice.”

Camille decided the time had come to confront the elephant in the room. They couldn’t go on like this all weekend, with Elise second-guessing her every remark. “I’m glad you two hit it off, but if you’re worried I’ll read too much into it, you can relax. As far as I’m concerned you’re here to enjoy yourself, nothing more. After that . . . well, we’ll see how it goes.” Elise nodded, and some of the tension went out of her face. Satisfied, Camille left her to unpack and freshen up.

Minutes later, Elise joined the other adults out on the back deck. Holly had made mojitos—virgin for herself—and Camille had set out the crackers and cheeses and prosciutto she’d picked up at Zabar’s. Holly, ensconced in one of the old rattan chairs that had come with the house, remarked contentedly from its cushioned depths as she sipped her drink, “Man, this is the life.”

“She’s says that each time, and then after a day or two, when she’s covered in mosquito bites and sick to death of Parcheesi and Monopoly, she wonders why anyone in their right mind would choose this over city life,” Camille told their guest, prompting Holly to cry out in mock indignation.

“I’m not
that
bad! Anyway, I may see it differently when I’m a mom.”

“I doubt that.” Edward smiled indulgently at his sister-in-law. “If he’s anything like you, your kid will have the entire subway system mapped out before he’s reciting his ABCs.” He turned to their guest. “What about you, Elise? Are you more of a city mouse or a country mouse?”

“A little of both, I think,” she replied thoughtfully as she sipped her drink. “I grew up in a small town, so there’s a part of me that will always miss that. But I know if I were to move back to Grantsburg, I’d miss my life here even more. The theaters and museums and restaurants, and, oh, just that fact that you can never walk down the same street twice—it’s different each time.” In the glow of the candles flickering on the low table in front of her, she looked especially pretty in the flowered dress she’d changed into, which showed off her slender figure without flaunting it.

Holly turned to her. “So, my sister tells me you’re a teacher.”

Elise brightened. “Yes, I teach fourth grade at Saint Luke’s.”

“You must like kids, in that case.”

Camille darted Holly a warning look, but if Elise was aware that she was being subtly grilled, it didn’t show. She replied enthusiastically, “Oh, yes! The best part about being a teacher is that it keeps you from becoming just another jaded adult. Where we see the ordinary, kids see a world full of wonders. At the end of the day, I always come away feeling there’s hope for mankind.”

Edward smiled his approval, his gaze drifting to his own children, who could be seen through the sliding glass door, sprawled on the braided rug in front of the fireplace playing a card game. “I just wish more teachers felt as you do,” he commented. “Your students are lucky to have you.”

Camille felt a vicious stab as the sprout of jealousy inside her sunk its roots deeper. Edward was clearly enjoying Elise’s company. Her sweetness and sunny nature seemed to have melted any initial reservations he might have had. She thought of the saying
Be careful what you wish for.

She was getting up to freshen everyone’s drinks when a wave of dizziness swept over her. She didn’t know if it was due to the mojito or the fact that she was running a fever, but she felt decidedly woozy. She was wondering if she could slip away for a quick lie-down without it being too noticeable, but before she could excuse herself, her husband turned to her and asked, “Dinner about ready? I should put the steaks on.”

“I just need to boil the water for the corn,” she told him.

Elise jumped up. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Thanks, but Holly and I have it covered. Why don’t you stay and keep Edward company?” Camille replied, keeping her tone light. She couldn’t allow herself to show any sign of weakness, not when she’d made it this far, so she summoned every ounce of will she possessed to keep her smile from becoming a grimace and her knees from buckling as she headed inside.

She somehow managed to get the corn boiled and the potatoes microwaved to the proper consistency while Holly made the salad. But when the food was on the table and everyone else digging in, she could only pick at what was on her plate. She had no appetite whatsoever and barely enough energy to saw at her steak. She didn’t feel as woozy anymore, but she was having trouble staying focused—the conversation at the dinner table buzzed in her ears like white noise. Though she didn’t miss the keen look of interest Elise wore as she listened to Edward talk about his work.

“It’s nice to meet a doctor who’s more concerned about his patients than the bottom line,” Elise commented. “My dad’s like that. If a patient can’t afford his fee, he has them pay what they can.”

“
My
dad works for free!” piped Zach.

“Not quite.” Edward chuckled, explaining to their guest that he hadn’t given up his day job, he only volunteered his services at a free clinic in the Bronx a couple of afternoons each week.

“That’s admirable,” she murmured, looking at him as if he’d hung the moon.

Camille felt the crack in her heart widen.

Just then, Kyra let out a cry of dismay and began dabbing with her napkin at the front of her dress, where a stain now showed. “It’s ruined!” she said. “And this is only the first time I’ve worn it!”

While Camille just sat there, too out of it to respond, Elise came to the rescue. “The trick is to treat the stain before it sets. Come on, I’ll show you.” As she and Kyra headed inside, Camille heard her remark, “By the way, I tried on that same dress at H&M, and it didn’t look nearly as good on me. It really suits you.” Kyra beamed at her, while Camille’s heart broke a little more.

After dessert, a strawberry pie from Sarabeth’s, everyone pitched in on the cleanup. Edward and Zach cleared the table while Camille, moving about as if underwater, loaded the dishwasher and Holly and Elise went to work scrubbing the pots and pans. Camille was bending to stack the last of the plates in the dishwasher when she was overcome by a fresh wave of dizziness. She straightened and swayed on her feet, black specks gathering at the periphery of her vision. Then the floor tipped sideways, and everything went dark.

When she came to, she was lying on the kitchen floor, looking up into her husband’s worried face. “How long have you been running a fever?” he asked, holding a hand to her forehead. She muttered something unintelligible and his frown deepened. “We’ve got to get you to the hospital.”

Her disorientation gave way to panic. She’d had enough of hospitals to last three lifetimes. “No! Please, I just need to lie down,” she told him. “If you could just help me up to bed . . .”

“Mom! Do what he says!” Kyra shrieked. She looked pale as she stood with her arm around an equally white-faced Zach.

Edward’s voice was gentle as he helped her to her feet. “Do you think you can make it to the car, or do you need me to carry you?” He was making it clear the matter wasn’t up for debate.

“I . . . I think I can walk,” Camille told him.

Holly rushed to take her other arm, and together she and Edward maneuvered her out the door and down the driveway. “Don’t worry about the kids. I’ll keep an eye on them,” Holly promised.

Camille was vaguely aware of Elise climbing into the backseat; then she lost consciousness once more. When she came to again, she was lying on her back on a gurney under a bank of fluorescent lights, Edward standing at her side. As he bent to kiss her on the forehead, she saw he was still wearing the worried look from before. Before she could reassure him, she was wheeled away.

Everything was a blur after that, until a smiling face framed by curly blond hair swam into focus. “Just a quick pinch,” said the pretty young nurse as she inserted an IV needle into Camille’s arm. There was a sharp prick followed by a burning sensation and then a warm weightlessness as the drug took effect, setting her afloat like a bit of flotsam being swept out to sea. “Are you married?” she asked groggily. She’d noticed the girl wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

The nurse only smiled in reply.

Camille slept. She didn’t know how long. Periodically, she was roused by the nurses who came to check her vitals or administer more drugs, but each time it was as though it were happening in a dream. In her semiconscious state, she found herself drifting back in time. At one point, she heard a baby crying down the hall and imagined it was Zach when he was little, needing to be rocked back to sleep. Her one lucid thought in the middle of it all was
I’m not ready yet. S
he couldn’t die until she’d made sure her family would be safe and secure after she was gone.

When she woke again, it was to a room filled with light. A vacuum cleaner droned in the corridor. There were other noises, too: the sound of voices and rattle of carts. A different nurse from the one last night, a stout older lady with gray hair, took her temperature and declared, “Ninety-eight point nine. Well, that’s an improvement! You gave us quite a scare last night, young lady.”

Young lady? Camille felt a hundred years old.

“Where’s my husband?” she croaked.

The nurse smiled. “He should be along any minute. He’s just having a word with the doctor.”

Soon after, Camille heard the squeak of rubber soles in the corridor, then the door whooshed open and Edward came striding in, looking tired and disheveled and sporting a day’s worth of beard stubble. Coming up behind him was Elise. “Dr. Harding tells me you’re doing much better,” he said, taking her hand and smiling down at her. “You really had us worried there.”

“Thank goodness, we got you to the hospital when we did,” Elise said, stepping up alongside him.

Camille glanced from Edward to Elise. When had they become an “us” and a “we”? She noticed that Elise still had on the dress she’d been wearing last night. “You’ve been here all night?”

Elise nodded, explaining, “I was going to call my friend in Amagensett and have him pick me up. I was afraid I’d be in the way, but your husband said he could use the company, so I stayed.” Edward flashed her a grateful smile. “It was the least I could do,” she said modestly.

But Camille saw from the veiled look she gave him that it had been more than a kind gesture on her part: She was smitten. An icy hand gripped her heart. Edward talked about her blood readings and white cell count, but it was as if he were speaking a foreign language. She couldn’t focus on his words, only on the picture he and Elise made. No one would guess they’d known each other less than twenty-four hours; they might have been a husband and wife come to visit a sick friend.