Chapter 3
ETHAN
All the downstairs lights were on when I came in.
The clock in the entryway showed nearly eleven.
I took off my jacket and closed the door quietly.
All the way home, I’d been wondering whether Claire was asleep.
If she was still awake, I could get her a glass of water, sit beside the bed, and explain what had happened that afternoon.
The last look she’d given me at the hospital still left me uneasy.
The caregiver stood up in the living room.
“You’re back, Mr. Mercer.”
I put my index finger to my lips and pointed upstairs. “How is she?”
“She didn’t come home.”
My jacket slipped from my hand onto the floor.
“What do you mean, she didn’t come home?”
“She went to her sister’s. I checked with her sister later. They have everything she needs, and she can be looked after there tonight. I stayed to see whether you needed to change tomorrow’s arrangements.”
I already had my phone out. Claire’s message had arrived about ten minutes earlier. I opened it, and only when I saw that she and Nora were both safe did some of the tension leave my back.
Below that, she said we wouldn’t be meeting tonight, and we needed a serious talk.
I looked upstairs. The pillows and quilt I’d chosen were waiting, dinner saved in the kitchen. The caregiver had been here for hours.
I’d had everything ready.
The thought came so fast it even crowded out my worry. She could be angry with me. She could call and yell at me. Why go sleep somewhere unfamiliar when she’d just had shoulder surgery?
The caregiver was still waiting. I bent to pick up my jacket and said I would find out what was happening, then confirm tomorrow’s care with her. After I saw her out, the house was so quiet I could hear my own shoes against the floor.
I called Mia.
On the first call, she picked up just before it stopped ringing, her voice very low.
“Is she asleep?” I asked.
“She just fell asleep. She gave me her phone too, so she wouldn’t keep checking it.”
“Is she in a lot of pain?”
“It was better by the time she lay down. She’s exhausted.”
I put my jacket back on as I listened. “I’m coming over. Don’t wake her. I just want to look in on her.”
“Ethan, she said she wouldn’t be seeing you tonight.”
“I’m her husband.”
Only after I said it did I hear how urgent I sounded. Mia didn’t raise her voice.
“I know. She only just got to sleep.”
“She shouldn’t have left the hospital angry. I didn’t know she’d gone somewhere else. I thought?—”
“You thought she’d gone home to wait for you.”
I gripped the phone. It sounded unfair. I’d arranged the car and the care, even the pillows.
“Sam fell and hurt himself today,” I said.
There was a pause on the other end.
“She knows. She was there.”
My keys jangled as I picked them up. I remembered Claire in the wheelchair, pale and looking up at me. I hadn’t seen how she’d managed to stand. By then, I’d walked away.
“I’m not going to argue with her,” I said. “I just want to see her.”
“Then let her sleep tonight. She sent that message because she was afraid you’d come over and want to talk.”
I took a step toward the door, then stopped.
If I rang the bell, Claire would hear. She would have to push herself upright, trying not to move her injured arm, and answer my questions all over again.
I stood there for a long time before putting the keys back on the cabinet.
“Have her call me when she wakes up.”
“I’ll tell her you called.”
I disliked the answer, but let it stand. Mia confirmed Nora’s school things and rides were arranged before we hung up.
Claire’s usual cushion was on the living room sofa. As I sat down, I moved it aside out of habit to leave room for her. When I let go, the gesture seemed foolish.
I hadn’t forgotten her.
I’d checked the time at Vivian’s. I’d meant to drop them off and leave, but Sam pulled at me, wanting to show me the model cars on his windowsill.
Once he’d settled down, Vivian asked me to stay and eat something, thanking me for all my help that day.
I thought Claire had probably fallen asleep after getting home.
If I came in later, she could rest longer.
Then my father called about work. I went out onto the terrace to answer, and by the time we finished, it was fully dark.
I could tell her all of this. There was nothing I couldn’t say, and nothing going on between Vivian and me that she might be worried about. I’d just been held up.
But that “just” seemed painfully slight against the three sentences on my phone.
I typed that Sam had been scared, then deleted it. I’d seen his grandmother’s car. I’d known they could get home. But Vivian had held my cuff, looking so hopeful.
Claire had said she needed me too.
Tomorrow I would apologize and clear my schedule. She had to let me make it up to her instead of leaving me to guess what she was thinking from what Mia told me.
I picked up the phone again and sent, “When can we talk tomorrow? I can come to Mia’s whenever works for you.”
I waited. No reply.
I knew she was asleep, but I checked again anyway.
Two nights earlier, Claire had moved her foot away from my cold one, then brought it back against me. Tonight it should have been my turn to be there.
I typed “I miss you” but left it unsent. Mia had her phone. I didn’t want her sister to read it first.
Mia messaged that she would come later for Claire’s regular clothes and work files. I was to let the staff know so nothing would go into storage. Only Nora’s school things were needed tomorrow morning.
I read the word “clothes” twice. A change of clothes for a night or two was normal. She’d had surgery. Of course she didn’t want the trouble of coming back for them.
But why her work files?
I went to the study. Her folders stood in the low cabinets by the window, their covers worn and fuzzy.
Now I didn’t even know which ones to take.
I opened the overseas itinerary on the computer. There were photographs of a sunny room Claire could use, a park nearby. I nearly sent them, offering to choose somewhere else if she didn’t like it.
But the itinerary began with my meetings, followed by her appointments to view homes. I couldn’t find anything she’d told me she wanted to do.
I remembered asking her. At least, I’d told her to take a look. These were only preliminary arrangements. Of course they could be changed.
I closed the photographs. Sending them now might make her angrier.
I read the words “work files” again. Those were the things she’d packed into boxes herself the last time she moved with me.