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“Who is—” Oh, hell. “Who was he?”
“Kyle Grainger. His son, Josh, was in Molly’s class last year. Both of Josh’s parents came today.”
The searing words were bad enough, but the hatred in her eyes...
No wonder Molly had become so skittish around Nate. What had Sonja been telling his daughter about him?
“Is she here?” he managed to say. “Josh’s mother?”
“How would I know?”
What would he have said, anyway? I’ll come to your husband’s funeral in thanks for him saving my kid’s life?
“All right,” he said. “We can go pick up your car if you feel up to driving. If not, I’ll take you home. If you’ll give me the keys, I’ll have somebody bring it to your place.”
“Mr. Fixit,” she jeered. “But why not? Molly needs to go home, not drive all over the county.”
She was right, of course. Maybe he did suck at being a parent. He loved his daughter, though, and he’d have sworn she loved him, too. He worked long hours, but he’d spent a great deal of his off time with Molly. The one who had been shorted was Sonja, but he’d expected her to understand. But, hey, probably his marriage had been over a lot longer than he’d known.
Standing, he reached out for Molly. “Let me carry her.”
“No!” Shielding their little girl with her body, Sonja struggled to her feet. “She needs her mother. Just take us home. Then you can go back to work.”
Aware that people were staring, he clenched his teeth and said nothing. He might go back to work. Clearly, Sonja wouldn’t be inviting him in so he could talk to Molly about her terrifying experience. His beautiful house wasn’t much anymore but a place where he slept. He’d have happily let Sonja have it, but she’d wanted only money.
“If I stayed in this house, I’d keep thinking you might walk in the door anytime.” Her ringing endorsement of their marriage.
He walked beside his ex-wife and daughter down the corridor to the elevator. Molly clung to her mother and didn’t once look at him.
They had the elevator to themselves until it stopped at the lobby level, where the doors opened. A lone woman waited, blond hair falling out of an elastic, strands straggling around her too-pale, fine-boned face. She looked drained, as if she couldn’t summon the will to so much as step into the elevator even if she had pushed the button to call it.
Instinct drove Nate to take a step toward her. As he did, her vacant stare shifted from him to Sonja and Molly. Horror took over her face. Her eyes fastened on him, and she lurched back. The next thing he knew, she was hurrying away, walking faster and faster.
The elevator doors tried to close but bounced back open with him in the way. He didn’t move. It tried again, and finally he stepped back.
Not looking at Sonja, he said, “That was her, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
An impassive expression was his default. Inside, he’d been shredded. His heart raced. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the way the new widow had looked at him.
CHAPTER TWO (#u26416ed5-13a2-5021-9a99-72c96c0505e0)
THE MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN gazed at Anna with unmistakable pity. “You weren’t aware your husband cashed out his retirement fund?”
Given the past weeks, she’d grown increasingly numb, unable to feel much other than a crawling sense of fear. Pity couldn’t touch her.
She didn’t respond directly to the question. “When did he do that?”
“The week before...” She hesitated.
He died.
The matching fund wouldn’t have been much, given the short time Kyle had worked here, but anything would have been better than nothing.
Somehow she managed to nod and even smile as she rose to her feet. Pride was a wonderful thing. “Thank you. I so wish he’d kept better records.” Anna held on to her smile until she’d left the building and was making her way across the parking lot.
Better records? What she so wished was that her husband hadn’t been a fool. She’d begun to realize that much over the past few years, but her attempts to talk sense into him hadn’t made a dent. Learning how deceitful he’d been, that came as a surprise. He’d erased every bit of security she’d thought she had. And for what? She’d been so enraged to see the pittance he’d gotten when he cashed out his life insurance. It hadn’t developed much value, since they’d only purchased it when she was pregnant with Josh, but it would have been paid out in full now that he’d died—$100,000.
“I want to be sure you and any kids we have are taken care of,” Kyle had murmured in her ear after they’d left the insurance office. His smile had been so tender. “Even if something happens to me, you’ll have this.”
That shock had been the worst, if not the last. No insurance payout. No savings. No retirement funds. Over time, he had cashed out everything, often paying substantial penalties to do it. With what he’d gotten, he had made risky investments that all bombed, apparently certain each time that he’d make big money.
No, what she should wish was that she hadn’t been such a fool. She’d asked about money and investments, but allowed him to get away with explanations that didn’t quite make sense and reassurances that he had everything handled. Since he had been working and she hadn’t, she’d felt a little funny about demanding an equal financial partnership.
And yet Anna had grown increasingly uneasy and frustrated with Kyle’s inability to stick with a job. Early in their marriage, she had believed in him wholeheartedly, but by the time they started a family, she saw the pattern.
With each new job, he would start with great enthusiasm. Like clockwork, she’d watch that enthusiasm dim. He was bored. They weren’t making use of his talents. He’d start looking around for something better. “Today was the last straw,” he would finally declare, with great indignation. “I had to quit. But don’t worry, I won’t have any trouble finding a new job. A better one.”
He hadn’t, until the last time, two years ago. His inconstancy had begun to look bad on a résumé. It took two months before he was offered a position he grudgingly accepted. She’d cut every corner she could to get them through until a paycheck.
Kyle teased her for being a worrier. “Lucky you have me to provide balance.” How many times had she heard him say that?
In her car now, Anna put the key in the ignition but didn’t start the engine. She sat without moving, staring ahead blindly as her mind raced.
She’d have to take Josh out of day camp. One less bill. Except...then when she had to go out, she’d have to pay Mrs. Schaub more to watch both kids. He was happy with his friends at the camp. If she could find a job right away...
Waitressing? Being a receptionist? Day care? She could offer day care at home and not have to pay other people to watch her kids, but only if she could afford to keep the house, which she couldn’t. Substitute teaching for the local school district, even if the work proved to be reasonably steady, wasn’t an option. Given the area’s cost of living, the pay was inadequate, and as a part-time employee, she wouldn’t have benefits. Anyway—school didn’t start for another six weeks.
Fear cramped in her again at the reminder that in less than two weeks, she and the kids would lose their health insurance.
What it came down to was that no job she was qualified to do would pay the basic bills, never mind justify the additional day care. Staying home with the kids, not working for so many years, had been a mistake of monstrous proportion. She’d trusted the man she loved, who had been untrustworthy.
A man who’d willingly sacrificed his own life to save a young girl he didn’t even know.
How could she harbor feelings so bitter, so angry, for the funny, kind man who would do something like that?
How could she not?
She almost had to leave Josh at day camp until she could finish painting the entire interior of their house and pack enough of their possessions to make it ready for prospective buyers to view, she concluded. At least Jenna took naps and was usually able to play quietly while Mommy scrubbed and painted and sorted. With his energy level, Josh couldn’t be as patient.
Maybe there’d be a quick sale. But her panic didn’t subside, and for good reason. Even if the house sold at full price, she wouldn’t end up with all that much money. The market had sagged since they’d bought the modest rambler in Bellevue. They hadn’t spent the money they should have to update it. Increasingly, people expected granite countertops, skylights, hardwood floors, not aluminum windows, ancient Formica, worn beige carpets.
The real estate agent had strongly advised new carpet, at least. Anna could put that on a credit card and pay it off once the house sold. Other improvements were out of reach.
She had no choice but to move away. The Seattle area was chasing San Francisco and New York City for the most expensive places in the country to live. Of course, salaries would be lower in Montana or eastern Oregon or wherever else she went, too. At the very least, she’d have to find a college town where she could take classes to refresh her teaching certificate or make herself employable doing something besides hoisting a heavily laden tray or answering phones.
When finally the tension eased enough to leave her limp, she started the car and saw the dashboard clock. She’d been chasing herself on the hamster wheel for twenty minutes. Twenty wasted minutes. Usually, she put off her frightened scrabbling in search of solutions until bedtime. Who needed sleep when you could lie rigid in the dark and try to figure out how to survive with two young children when you had next to no money?
Anna had never imagined being so close to having no home at all.
* * *
THE ONLY LIGHTS in the family room were one standing lamp and the ever-shifting colors of the TV. Through the window, Nate saw the glitter of lights across the lake in Seattle and a few sparkling on the mast of a boat gliding through the dark water.
Staying unnoticed in the doorway, he glanced at the TV to see what Molly was watching. The Lego Movie. Amusing, as he recalled.
He switched his attention to his daughter, who had curled into the smallest possible ball in the corner of the sofa. She clutched a throw pillow in her arms as if it was a flotation device—all that would keep her from drowning. He’d swear she hadn’t blinked in at least a minute. She was either mesmerized by the movie or not seeing it at all.
At least she wasn’t watching Moana again. That one, with the tense father/daughter thing going, made him uncomfortable.
All she’d wanted since he’d picked her up this morning was to watch a succession of DVDs. Having a waterfront home on Lake Washington used to be a plus. Today, she’d been careful to keep her back to the view of the lake. Okay, that was understandable, but she hadn’t wanted to ride her bike, which he kept in his garage, either, or play a board game. He’d bought two skateboards a while back, one child-sized, one adult, along with pads for knees and elbows and helmets. Sonja didn’t approve, of course, but skateboarding on the driveway was one of the few activities done with her father that had delighted Molly. Today? “No, thank you, Daddy.”
After thanking him politely and refusing to go out to a pizza place they both liked, she nibbled at what he put in front of her for lunch and dinner. She hadn’t talked any more than she absolutely had to.
Abruptly, he’d had enough.
He flicked on the overhead light and strode to the sofa, where he grabbed the remote and turned off both DVD player and television.
Molly sat up. “Daddy!”
“That’s enough, honey. You haven’t taken your eyes off that TV all day. You and I need to talk.” He sat on the middle cushion, within reach of his kid.
Her lower lip pooched out. “I was watching the movie!”
“How many times have you seen it?” Unsurprised that she didn’t answer, he said, “Often enough to know how it ends.”
She bent her head and stared at her lap.
He reached over and gently tipped up her chin. Her big eyes, a vivid green, finally met his.
“I know falling in the river scared you. But keeping everything you feel inside isn’t healthy. You haven’t told me yet what really did happen.”
She mumbled something about her mother.
“I need you to talk to me, too.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Mr. Grainger is dead,” she whispered. “Like Tuffet.”
Tuffet had been her cat, named because he’d let her lie on him whenever she wanted. When Sonja had moved out, she’d taken the cat along with Molly. According to Molly, Tuffet got sick and died. Sonja had admitted to him that the cat had somehow slipped out and been hit by a car.
“I know,” Nate said now, tugging Molly over to lean on him.
“Mommy says it’s your fault, because it was hard to watch so many kids at the same time.” Even her intonations parroted her mother’s. “If you were there, you coulda watched me.”
“That’s true,” he had to say, “but most of the kids only had one parent along, didn’t they? And were assigned three other kids.”
After a hesitation, her head bobbed against him.
His eyes stung from unfamiliar grief mixed with the rare joy at holding her in his arms. He’d loved his little carrottop with unexpected ferocity from the minute the doctor had handed over the beet-red, squalling newborn. If she’d drowned... Even as he shied away from an inner vision of her limp, lifeless, pallid body, his heart cramped painfully.
“Mommy said it’s my fault, too, ’cuz I did something I wasn’t s’posed to.”
Sharp anger supplanted the pain. Molly was old enough to take responsibility for her actions, but not to confront that kind of guilt. What the hell was Sonja thinking?
“Okay.” He shifted to allow him to see her face, wet with tears. “Here’s the thing. Kids break rules all the time. They hide from their parents, or they run from them because it’s fun to be chased. They sneak an extra cookie, or feed an icky food to the cat instead of eating it the way Mommy said they had to.”
She’d quit blinking again, but she was listening.
“I broke my arm when I wasn’t much older than you because I climbed a tree after my dad said I couldn’t. My brother and I used to climb out a skylight to sit on the roof at night, too.”
Her eyes widened. “Did you fall off?”
“No, and your grandma and grandad never caught us.” Of course, there was the time Adam had jumped off, but that was another story.
Her forehead crinkled, and she gave a small nod.
Give your kid ideas, why don’t you?
“The point is, kids don’t always do what their parents or other adults say. Once in a while, they even hurt themselves, like I did when I broke my arm. But it would never have occurred to me that someone else might get hurt because of what I did. That’s because it almost never happens. You didn’t mean it to happen.”
Nate was disconcerted to realize he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. He forged on, anyway.
“Why did you sneak away?”
She didn’t want to answer, but finally said, “I was bored. I was s’posed to stay with the other girls Mommy had to watch, but they didn’t want to play with me. And anyway—” she began to sound indignant “—Melissa said we were going to the river, but instead there was this big, boring field, and I didn’t want to play soccer or run dumb three-legged races or just sit there. Mommy wasn’t any fun, ’cuz she was—” She shrank from him in alarm at what she’d almost said.
Sonja was what? He decided not to press; asking Molly to betray her mother, if that was the case, would only do more damage.
“I would give anything to have been able to come with you that day,” he said finally. “But I can’t go back and make a different decision.”
She nodded solemnly.
“I bet you feel the same.”
Her face crumpled and she swallowed, but nodded again.
“Same deal. You can’t go back. I’m more grateful than I can say to Mr. Grainger. I can’t imagine losing you.”
“But...Josh and his little sister lost their dad.” Tears fell anew. “Because of me. And...and I can swim.”
“Mr. Grainger knew that a girl your size couldn’t possibly be a strong enough swimmer to get out of the current. It pulled you away from the bank, didn’t it?”
Her head bobbed. “I was so scared, Daddy.”
“I doubt he expected to die. He probably thought he’d be able to put his feet down, because rivers aren’t deep like the lake, especially at this time of year. Or he hoped to reach a gravel bar or a snag he could grab. But because he wasn’t a good swimmer, he must also have known that he might be giving his life to save yours. And you know what?”
She waited.
