Blueprints: A Novel (24 page)

“That was after my first year, and I hated it so much that I did a one-eighty the next summer and never looked back. I’m a real estate lawyer, Jamie.”

“But you know how this state works. I want to know whether I should ask Theo to pull strings and speed things up.”

“Why do you need speed? It’s not like there’s anyone else who wants custody.”

Jamie recoiled. “Like Tad’s a booby prize?”

He gave a tiny frown and silently reached for his wine.

“You think he is,” she charged. She kept her voice low; it wasn’t in her to yell. She couldn’t control the tiny tremor in it, though. Her heart was breaking. She shouldn’t have to work so hard to remember why she loved Brad. But after spending the week tiptoeing around him, soothing his ego, and giving him time to adjust, this issue remained huge. “You and I swore we would talk things out, so let’s talk. You don’t want Tad.”

Yes, I do,
he would have insisted in an ideal world, because Tad was an adorable, smart, healthy little boy whose now-dead parents had named Jamie his legal guardian. Just as important, how could Brad not want what Jamie so badly did?

Instead, he was silent as he considered his answer. It was only after a pensive swallow of wine that he set down the glass and said, “It’s not Tad. It’s fatherhood. I was hoping we’d have time to ourselves before that.”

“Well, so was I. Do you know how often I think about the fact that if my father had been on that road five seconds sooner or later he’d be alive now? No,” she answered, still quiet despite the ache inside, “no, you don’t know, because I’m afraid to tell you, because it’s so obvious that everything about Tad annoys you.”

“Not everything—”

“You hate his noise, his food, his music, his mess. You hate his existence in the condo, but on little more than a week’s notice, I don’t have a better option—and do
not
suggest Roy’s house. You know my feeling on that. You also know that my mother and I are barely talking, and that she might have been a resource for me if it hadn’t been for the
Gut It!
mess—and that’s
another
thing you and I disagree on. This is not the time to make a host change, Brad. My mother is too good at it, and I suddenly have a whole other job.”

“The show is important to MacAfee Homes.”

“And MacAfee Homes has always been my first priority, but it isn’t now. Tad is.” She knew Brad well enough to recognize the flash of hurt in his eyes, and she nearly caved. He needed love. But so did she. And so did
Tad.
So she whispered, “Don’t, Brad. Please don’t. Selfishness doesn’t work right now.”

“Selfishness?” he asked, sounding offended, but at least that was something. “It’s not selfishness. It’s concern for
you.
You’ve worked your tail off building a career. To just throw it away—”

“There’s nothing throwaway about what I’m doing.”

“You’re an architect.”

“And I can’t be a mother, too?”

“You can, but it means compromise. You’ve never been one to do that.”

“Brad.”
Frustration beyond belief. “Things
change.
What would you have me do? Where would you have me put Tad?”

He didn’t answer.

“Where?”
she repeated, desperate for an answer. If she and Brad couldn’t find a middle ground, there was no hope. “Remember I told you how my father came over just hours before he died? He accused me of being selfish and shortsighted, and he wasn’t talking about this”—she wagged a finger between them—“clearly he couldn’t have been, but his words haunt me. He told me to act like a grown-up.” Her eyes filled with tears, not very grown up at all, but when it came to self-control, she was depleted. “I’m trying to do that, Brad. I’m looking at a situation that was not my doing, and I’m trying to figure it out. Buying a bed for Tad may seem like a stupid little thing to you, but if it’s the very first major purchase I make as a mother, it isn’t stupid at all. This is my life, Brad. This is who I am from here out. You’re either on board or you’re not.”

He didn’t take a stand on that, and Jamie didn’t push it. Clinging to a last lingering hope, she told herself that he needed time to consider what she’d said. But the rest of dinner was awkward, and, though he came home with her, she wasn’t sure why. She half-wished they were fiery people who fought and made love, fought and made love. But sex didn’t happen that night either. Not that she wanted it. Still, he might have tried, at least.

And then they were barely asleep when Tad woke up crying. Naturally, the monitor amplified his sobs, which brought a groan from Brad, who murmured a groggy “Shut that off,” which, Jamie later realized, said it all. At the moment, though, she was simply worried about Tad.

Taking him from his crib, she bundled them both up on the living room sofa, where they slept until she heard Brad let himself out at dawn.

Much as her heart ached, she didn’t get up. Tad hadn’t woken, and she decided he needed the sleep more than she wanted to run after Brad. Every minute of peace and quiet with Tad was a treasure.

So she lay on the sofa with him, appreciating the whisper of the AC, the cycling of the fridge, and the gentle sough of baby breath, as she alternately studied his rosy-cheeked face, fingered the ring on her left hand, and wondered how she could simultaneously feel so in love and so hollow. It wasn’t until Tad opened his eyes and snuggled closer that she realized the “in love” part had to do with the child.

*   *   *

What Jamie wanted to do that Sunday morning was to race to Caroline’s. She didn’t because, for starters, Caroline hadn’t called, which meant she was still angry. Then there was the fact of Tad being Roy’s son, and Roy had been awful to Caroline for years. Finally, though, Jamie had to behave like a grown-up, and a grown-up didn’t run home at the first sign of trouble.

Besides, she was a mommy herself now, and if she planned to be an architect at the same time, she needed to work. Her MacAfee inbox was starting to clog, and it wasn’t that her clients were insensitive. Inevitably, they expressed condolences. But they quickly got to the point, which was wanting to know whether she had made progress on their house, office, or bank.

In nearly every case, she had not.

So she spent much of Sunday morning meeting with sitters on Chip’s list. All three were warm and affectionate with Tad, but only one was interested in a nanny slot.

One was all she needed. Jamie hired her.

Wanting to thank Chip, she picked up her phone and realized she didn’t have his number. So she e-mailed.
Good news. June Flores will be here tomorrow at seven. She’s lovely. I can’t thank you enough.

Feeling victorious and more hungry than she had in days, she took Tad for lunch at McDonald’s, where she proceeded to eat every last crumb of a Quarter Pounder and fries, plus more than a few crumbs of the Happy Meal she had torn into small pieces for Tad. Then, feeling too stuffed, she drove by Roy’s for the jogging stroller. She didn’t go into the house, simply backed up to the garage and piled in the stroller and as many other outdoor toys as the back of the SUV would hold. She had a patio, she reasoned, and Brad was already disenchanted with baby gear, so would a little more hurt?
No.

She wasn’t quite as bold when it came to Tad, though. Praying that he wouldn’t notice where they were, she left him in his car seat, playing with his Happy Meal bendy dog. She was barely back in the car when he asked for his mother.

Her insides twisted. Buckling her seat belt, she said an apologetic, “Oh, sweetie, Mommy’s not here.”

“Daddy?”

She put the car in gear. “He’s not here either.” Her voice was higher now, filled with tentativeness, because how did one discuss such a cruel truth with a child? She had wondered it before, but the question plagued her. Blogs offered a dozen different answers. Which to use? Caroline would know, but she was temporarily off-limits. Next best bet would be a pediatrician or even a grief therapist. Now that she had a nanny, she could consult one, but what was she supposed to tell Tad at this very moment?

“Woof?” came his little voice, sounding curious but not tragic, and she was saved.

“Woof? Oh my
goodness.
” She couched her relief in exaggerated excitement as she started down the road. “That little dog on the wall?” It was a painting in Tad’s bedroom. He used to wave at it when he walked by, but it hadn’t occurred to Jamie to take it along. “Good
thought,
Taddy. We’ll have to get him another day, because right now we are going for a nice, healthy run and then,” with drama, “to a
puppet show.
” The show was held every Sunday on a green several towns over. Jess had never taken him, which was partly the point. It would be a new memory with minimal connection to things Jamie couldn’t discuss, like death.

*   *   *

I’m glad June signed on,
Chip e-mailed that evening.
She’s motherly and mobile. Give her a car seat and she’ll take Tad to kids’ programs in the area. Are you nervous about leaving him?

Oh yeah, he did get it.
VERY,
she wrote back in caps
. It’s easy to leave him with a sitter for a few hours when he’s sleeping, but leaving him for the whole day, mostly awake, is something else. But I don’t have a choice. I have to work. BTW, what pediatrician do you use?

Jake Babineau. He’s with Williston Medical Associates, in the center of town. He went into private practice after a stint at Children’s, so his qualifications are good. I like his way with Buddy. And he’s good with me, too. He’s alarmist enough to take my alarms seriously, but not so alarmist that he makes me alarmed. Does that make sense?

Absolutely,
she typed with a smile of relief
. And I appreciate the vote of confidence, since he’s the one Jessica used. Tad saw him right after he turned two, so he’s not due again for a while, but I need some advice. He’s asking for his parents more, and I don’t know what to say. Does Buddy ask for his mother?
Jamie still didn’t know the details of that. Several of the local articles, like the one announcing Chip’s teaching appointment, mentioned his son, but only in passing.

He didn’t used to. When he was little he didn’t know that having a single parent was any different from having two. He’s started asking now because some of his daycare friends talk about their moms. I tell him his mom loved him but can’t be here. He seems satisfied with that for now. Each time he asks, I get nervous and think this is it, I need a better answer, but his mind moves on to something else pretty quick. Babineau says when he’s ready to handle more, he’ll ask more. He tells me not to push the issue.

Hadn’t Tad’s mind moved on to something else back at the house? Normal, then. She felt less guilty for having happily evaded the truth.

Does Buddy ever see her?
Jamie wrote.

They had been e-mailing back and forth so steadily that she guessed he had to be sitting with his laptop the way she was—okay, maybe not curled up in a corner of the sofa … maybe, actually, in bed wearing nothing.
That
was a frivolous thought. The relief at being able to talk so freely with him was making her giddy.

He was slower to reply this time. Fearing she had overstepped and thinking that she could not afford to alienate a friend who was an amazing resource, she was about to apologize when his answer arrived.

No. She basically gave birth and handed the baby to me. She didn’t want any part of either one of us. It’s pretty sad when you think of Buddy, but once I embraced (haha) the terror of being a father, I was fine with it. She and I were together one night. Neither of us wanted more. We came from different places and were heading different places. She told me she was protected, so I thought it was over and that I’d never see her again. Turns out she didn’t believe in birth control any more than abortion.

Would you have wanted her to abort?
Jamie wrote back and instantly wished she hadn’t. She feared she had overstepped here, too.

But this was what friends did, wasn’t it? Okay, she had no close girlfriends to judge by, and Chip was male, but did that matter? If he didn’t like the question, he could just not answer.

He did, albeit taking a little longer again.
I want to say no. But at the time, I wasn’t sure I could take care of myself, much less a child. I had just finished college—slightly late, but I finally did finish—and I didn’t know if I’d be any good as a phys ed teacher. I had to do a practicum to get my degree, but the school arranged that. I didn’t know if I’d get a job on my own. Some of my past was, well, out of control. I think the only reason Williston gave me a chance was because I grew up here.

Jamie figured that might have been part of it, but his e-mails were intelligent, his manner at the playground smooth. He had been something of a local hero before losing focus in the pros. He had charisma; she felt it herself.

That said, he was clearly haunted by his past.
Do you worry she’ll show up someday?

If she does, I’ll just have to deal. At some point, Buddy may want to know her, and I’ll have to let him. You’re lucky that way. You may have inherited Tad with no prep time, but at least he’ll grow up with a mom and a dad. I hear your fianc
é
is a nice guy.

Without conscious thought, she let her fingers fly.
Poor guy is pretty upset with me right now. I haven’t had time to plan the wedding or draw plans for a house for us, which is especially critical now that I have Tad, who has taken over my office, meaning that I have no place to work, which is
especially
crucial since I won’t be able to work the kind of long hours at the office that I used to or even be able to travel—I’ve barely thought about that. Sorry. Just broke out in a cold sweat. Must be a panic attack.
She sent it off before she could think twice.

His reply came quickly.
Want to talk? What’s your number?

She sent it. Her phone rang seconds later. Caller ID didn’t identify him, but the timing would have been too coincidental for it to be anyone else. So she picked right up and said an embarrassed “Hey. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose it like that.”