He stares back at her. ‘You’re not interested in the job at my firm, are you?’
She smiles. ‘No. I already have a job.’
He takes another big swallow of his drink, his unease growing. What is she playing at? ‘So why did you apply?’
‘I wanted to see if it was really you.’
‘You could have tried to get in touch with me in the ordinary way.’
‘I’m not sure you would have responded,’ she says. He doesn’t answer that. ‘When you left Colorado, all I knew was that you had talked to Greg about returning to New York.’
And there it is. He’d left Colorado rather quickly, after Lindsey’s funeral, with no forwarding address. He’d wanted to run away from everything. And he’d thought no one there – Erica included – wanted to stay in touch with him. It was all just too hard. Better for everyone if he left. Erica had been his first wife’s closest friend. Perhaps she’s here to apologize for the way she treated him afterwards, at the funeral. She’s had time to get her head on straight. They were all a bit out of their minds. It was a terrible time.
‘Yes, well,’ he says at last, ‘probably better for everyone.’ She looks back at him thoughtfully. He goes on. ‘With Lindsey gone, I just wanted to come home.’ He’d left a few months into his architecture internship; he’d had to start all over again in New York State. He didn’t care. He takes another deep drink of his Scotch and realizes that somehow he’s finished it. He leans forward a little and lowers his voice. He pauses for a moment and then says, ‘I was absolutely devastated by what happened.’
‘I know. So was I.’
When Patrick arrives home a little later than usual, he can tell Stephanie’s been waiting impatiently for him to help her with the twins. He pitches in, but his mind is elsewhere, thinking about his meeting with Erica. The conversation had remained fairly superficial. She hadn’t volunteered much about herself, but he’d noted the absence of a wedding ring. She’d flirted with him a little, but she was subtle about it. He hadn’t flirted back. He’d told her he was happily married, with twin baby girls.
After half an hour, he’d made a show of looking at his watch, and said he had to go. He thought that might be the end of it, but she’d insisted on exchanging cell phone numbers before he left. Now it feels … unfinished. And that worries him.
CHAPTER FIVE
CHERYL MANNING WAVES at her son, Devin, from the side of the soccer field. He’s almost nine years old, going into fourth grade in September. For the month of August, though, he’s spending his days in soccer camp. He loves the sport, he’s good at it, and she’s proud of him. She and her husband both. Devin, it turns out, is a talented athlete.
She watches him run out onto the field. They spend a lot of money on him. This speciality camp is expensive, and the gear is pricey, but they can easily afford it, and there’s nothing they won’t do to help their son realize his potential. They enjoy spending money on him; she finds it strange when the other moms she knows – who can also afford it – complain about how much their kids’ activities cost.
There’s nothing quite as satisfying, Cheryl thinks, as seeing your kid excel and feeling in some measure responsible. She stands on the edge of the field watching him for a moment. He’s a good-looking boy. His brown hair tosses in the wind as he runs. He grins as he manoeuvres the soccer ball skilfully with his feet. He waves at her, and she waves back. She’s pleased that he’s confident. He calls out to the other boys on the field, a natural leader. He makes friends easily. She knows she should go, not hover like this, but she stands a minute longer to enjoy the morning sun on her face, and to enjoy her son, appreciate his abilities.
The coach walks over to her. ‘Devin’s doing really well,’ he tells her. ‘He’s a natural.’
She smiles at him. One doesn’t like to brag. ‘So we’ve been told,’ she says modestly.
The coach smiles at her and heads onto the field, blowing his whistle. He takes attendance and starts lining the kids up for drills. It’s time for her to leave. All the other parents have already gone – often having to take a second child, or even a third, to a different camp somewhere else. But Devin’s an only child, and she’s a stay-at-home mom, so she doesn’t have anywhere else she has to be. She always seems to hang around longer, as if she can’t let go. As if she still can’t quite believe that Devin is hers.
It would have been perfect if they could have had a daughter too. She might have been one of the mothers racing to drop off at soccer so that she can get to ballet camp on time. But they only have one, and she and her husband, Gary, are desperately grateful for that.
She can’t have children.
It had been such a shock to discover she was sterile.
It was more than that – it was traumatic, profoundly disorienting. The years of trying, the heroic efforts – none of it had paid off. The chronic disappointment had led to depression. She felt like a failure. All around her women were having babies, seemingly effortlessly. She was secretly afraid Gary might leave her. It was a dark time.
They’d come to adoption only after exhausting all other options, including IVF. Even then, things hadn’t gone smoothly. They had arranged an adoption to get an infant girl, but the birth mother had changed her mind right after the baby was born. They were heartsick – left with empty arms, and out of pocket for all her expenses. It had been devastating. There was nothing they could do but suck it up and try again.
But then, working again with the same private adoption agency, another birth mother chose them. It was an open adoption, so they were able to meet her. They were cautiously optimistic. She seemed smart and they liked her right away. She didn’t seem flaky; she seemed to have her head on straight. No drug or alcohol problems. She told them she wasn’t ready to have a baby on her own – she wanted to finish school. She didn’t want her baby to be raised by a single mother without any money, and she had no extended family to help her. She wanted what was best for him, not what was best for her.
She was also physically attractive; more importantly, she looked a lot like Cheryl herself – blonde and blue-eyed, fairly tall and slim, with fine bone structure. Cheryl had wanted a child who might resemble her in some way. They didn’t know anything about the father, except that he was white, university educated, and wasn’t interested in becoming a father.
Devin must have taken after his biological father, because as he grew, he didn’t look anything like Cheryl.
Cheryl takes one last look at Devin on the soccer field and waves goodbye, but he’s not watching and doesn’t notice. She turns back to her car and drives home, thinking about how lucky she turned out to be in the end. Devin’s such a great kid – he’s even good in school. So many of the moms she’s got to know are discovering that their kids have learning disabilities, allergies, all kinds of problems. Finally, she’s one of the lucky ones.
Nobody around here knows that Devin is adopted; they haven’t even told him yet. They’ve decided they’ll tell him when he’s twelve or thirteen. Everybody except close family thinks he’s their biological child. She doesn’t really want anyone to know – it’s none of their business. Devin can tell people once he finds out, if he wants to. She hopes he keeps it to himself, though. She hopes he never wants to know about his birth mother. So many adopted kids do nowadays. Nothing good comes of it, Cheryl thinks. Why rock the boat? He has all the love and everything else he’ll ever need, right here, with them.