Catching Air (24 page)

Chapter Twenty-two

THE CALL FROM DONNA
Marin came at ten o’clock on a Friday morning. Snowflakes were falling outside of Alyssa’s bedroom window, adding to the drifts leaning against the sides of the B-and-B. The forecasters had been right; it was going to be the snowiest winter in Vermont in years. Alyssa was cocooned in bed, staring at the view and feeling as if she were inside a snow globe.

“Your red letter arrived!” Donna’s voice popped with excitement.

This must be her favorite part of her job, Alyssa thought. The red letter was travel approval, the final hurdle in the endless adoption process. All that was left was a sprint to the trophy, the grand prize, the miracle: Grace.

“You’ll—I mean, Rand will—spend a week in her province, Jiangxi, and then the second week in Guangzhou, where you’ll wait for the consulate appointment,” Donna said, infusing the Chinese names with a flawless accent. “When would he like to go?”

“As soon as possible,” Alyssa said. She was crying now, but she didn’t try to muffle the sounds. Donna must be used to that reaction. “I’ll talk to Rand and we’ll call you later. Is that all right?”

“Of course it is,” Donna said. She didn’t sound like a prim young woman in severe glasses any longer. Donna had transformed in Alyssa’s mind into a grandmother who smelled of talcum powder, one with pillow-soft arms and a ready smile. She’d been so kind when Alyssa had phoned to tell her about the pregnancy, immediately congratulating her and saying that Grace would be lucky to have a little sister or brother.

“It usually takes a few weeks to organize things, so don’t book the tickets for tonight!” Donna was laughing. “But another two or three weeks should be safe.”

“Thank you,” Alyssa whispered before she hung up.

She lay back, feeling her emotions swirl like the snowflakes caught up in a gust of wind just outside her window. She’d fantasized so often about the moment she’d first see her daughter. She’d walk toward Grace slowly and then stop a few feet away, letting Grace get a good look at her.
Remember me?
Alyssa would think as the little girl’s eyes traveled over her face.
We’ve always belonged to each other.

She wouldn’t try to grab Grace, or hold her, not right away. She’d move gently, reaching out a single finger to see if her daughter wanted to wrap a hand around it. She’d drink in every inch of her little girl, from her cap of shiny hair to her delicious nubs of toes.

She wouldn’t bring her camera to that first meeting. She wouldn’t need one. Every detail would be engraved upon her memory for the rest of her life.

And then, when Grace was ready—this was the part that made a hard lump form in Alyssa’s throat—she would take her daughter into her arms, and inhale her smell. She would close her eyes and rest her cheek next to Grace’s. Grace would be coming home, but in that moment, so would Alyssa.

Somehow along the way, Rand had slowly gone from having a costarring role in her fantasy to being relegated to the background. She’d subconsciously known all along that he was teetering on the edge of ambivalence about fatherhood, that this was all too much for him, too fast—two children, one with a very real risk of being born dangerously prematurely, one who’d come from an orphanage and might have adjustment issues or other emotional concerns.

She thought back to how easily he’d accepted the news that her appendicitis had probably caused infertility. What had he said, there in the parking lot, while she’d twisted her wedding ring around and around on her finger? She heard his voice as clearly now as if his words were a boomerang, swinging back at her:
Who needs kids anyway?

She’d believed he’d let go of the idea of having children so easily because he worried she’d blame herself for her infertility. She’d imagined his words were steeped in generosity and kindness and love. But she’d once heard that every joke contained a grain of truth. And now she recognized— or finally
let
herself recognize—that there was a hard nugget of it buried deep inside his lighthearted tone, like an unpopped kernel in a handful of fluffy popcorn.

She’d been the one to come up with the idea of adoption. She’d filled out all the paperwork, telling herself Rand’s dyslexia would make it difficult for him to do so. She’d written their essay pledging to love Grace without his help for the same reason. She’d selected the photographs for their dossier, because she was the photography expert, after all. He’d gone along with everything, like a water-skier being pulled by a powerful motorboat.

She was still holding on to the phone when he brought in her lunch—a glass of lemonade, a dish of mixed berries, and a toasted cheese sandwich.

“Thanks,” she said as he set the tray on the bed next to her.

Rand had come back quickly after his fight with Peter, which surprised her. She’d figured he’d disappear for a while, trying to outrun his emotions. But she’d still been on the couch when the front door opened and he walked inside, his lips tinged blue from the cold.

He hadn’t said a single word. He’d just approached her and knelt down and rested his head on her lap.

She’d known he needed comfort, so she’d pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and tucked it over his shoulders and patted his back, like he was a little boy. He’d stayed like that for a long time, his cheek resting against her belly so that his head rose slightly with every breath she took. She’d been grateful when she’d seen Dawn start to enter the room with a dust mop in hand, then quickly wheel around to return to the kitchen.

“Do you need anything else?” Rand asked. He’d been subdued ever since his fight with Peter—his voice muted, his movements softer and slower. Rand had always seemed larger than life, but now he looked diminished.

“No, this looks wonderful. Kira always knows what I’m craving,” Alyssa said.

“Actually, I made it,” Rand said. “I know I’m not much of a cook, but . . .”

“Oh,” she said, surprised. She took a bite of the sandwich. It was overbuttered and on the verge of burned, but she smiled appreciatively. “It’s good.”

She needed to tell him about the travel approval, but first she had to ask the questions that had been building in her mind.

“Why did you go ahead with the adoption if you had doubts? Why didn’t you say, ‘Hey, let’s talk about this,’ before I sent in the paperwork?” she asked.

He sat down next to her on the bed. “They told us it would take years and years,” he finally said.

Rand never focused on the future, Alyssa thought. It was a quality they’d shared, until recently.

“So you figured your feelings would change?” she asked. She wasn’t challenging him; she was truly trying to understand, and she made sure her tone conveyed that. “Or that it might not happen?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I guess I just didn’t think about it much. It just— It didn’t seem real.” He ran a hand over his forehead. “And now I can’t stop thinking about it. We wouldn’t even get to ease into it, to see if one was enough . . . And you can’t get out of bed, and the damn snow never stops, and Kira’s jabbering on like she’s throwing the royal wedding, and I’m just—I guess I was feeling stuck.”

She nodded.

“But I don’t want to be that guy any longer,” Rand said.

“What guy?” she asked.

“The guy who cops out when things get tough,” he said.

“Oh, Rand,” she said. Peter had needed to speak those words—he’d deserved to, even—but they’d cut Rand deeply. She reached out for her husband’s hand, running her fingers over the rough calluses on his palm and tracing the wormlike scar in the crease between his thumb and index finger. He always had dirt or car oil under his nails, and one of the tips of his fingers was slightly misshapen from a long-ago carpentry accident. She loved his hands; they told stories about his life.

“I never stayed with a woman for longer than a few months, a year tops, until I met you. People can change, right?” he asked.

“I think so,” she said.
I don’t know,
she thought.

“Is it easy for you?” he asked. “All this? I’d go crazy staying in bed, but you make it look so simple . . . you don’t have any doubts.”

They’d always been in sync. He must’ve felt so alone with his fears.

“With Grace, yes,” she answered honestly. “I fell in love with her the second I saw her picture. The baby took a little longer because I wasn’t prepared for him or her . . . but I’m so happy about them both now, Rand. I really am.”

“I messed up,” he said. “I know that.”

He reached out a hand and rested it on her abdomen, and she realized something: When he’d laid his head there after his fight with Peter, she’d thought it was because he needed comfort. But suddenly she knew he’d been trying to give something instead of taking it.

He’d been trying to form a connection with the baby.

• • •• • •

“Have you seen my bread knife?” Kira asked as she crossed the kitchen and pulled open a drawer.

Dawn busied herself stirring a pot on the stove. “Which one is that?”

“The one with the blue plastic sheath,” Kira said. “Remember you used it that time you hollowed out the mini–bread bowls for chili? I always keep it in this drawer, but I can’t find it.”

“I might’ve put it in the wrong place when I unloaded the dishwasher,” Dawn said. Only Kira was organized enough to have a mental inventory of every single utensil and device in her kitchen, as well as dedicated places to keep them.

“Hmm. I just can’t imagine where it went,” Kira said, opening another drawer and rummaging through it. Kira had seemed especially agitated ever since the incident or argument or whatever it was that had transpired in the living room. Maybe it was just the fact that the wedding was approaching so quickly, but something bigger seemed to be going on, Dawn thought.

Kira turned to look at Dawn. “Hey!”

Dawn startled and nearly dropped the wooden spoon she was holding.

“Your glasses! You’re not wearing them,” Kira said.

“I don’t really need them,” Dawn said. “I just wore them because I thought they’d help me stay hidden.”

“Well, you don’t need to hide when you’re here,” Kira said. “You’re perfectly safe.”

Dawn thought of the knife tucked in an inside pocket of her purse and the way she’d begun to hear creaks as she lay in her sleeping bag at night. Sometimes the wind moaning outside sounded almost human. Her little room was comfortable enough, with the heaters and futon, and she’d added an old cardboard box draped with a bright cloth as a nightstand. Kira had given her a little lamp, too, but Dawn couldn’t help noticing the light cast long, eerie shadows against the walls.

“I need to run into town and hit the grocery store later today,” Kira was saying. “Want to come?”

Dawn took a deep breath. She hadn’t had a chance to touch up her hair, and the light roots might make her stand out. People would probably remember a girl with a skunk-like stripe down her part. But she was through being intimidated by Tucker, she reminded herself. “Sure,” she said.

The money would have arrived at the firm by now. Kay would have had to sign for the package, and Dawn knew her well enough to know curiosity would’ve gotten the better of her. She imagined Kay opening the box, reading the note, and peeling back the layers of newspaper to see those stacks of hundred-dollar bills. Kay would’ve marched into John Parks’s office, her back straight and her expression serious, but inside she would’ve been bursting with excitement at being part of this intrigue.

The question was what John Parks would do next. He’d tell the police about the package, but would they be satisfied now that the money was back in its rightful place? Or would they intensify their efforts to find her?

“Let me review this one more time,” Kira said, reaching for her wedding binder. “Then we can go.”

“Is Peter coming?” Dawn asked.

She enjoyed having him around and felt the most comfortable with him of the foursome. But if Tucker was in town, it would also be good to have a guy there for Kira’s protection.

She noticed Kira, the woman who never stopped moving, suddenly grow still.

“I doubt it,” Kira finally said. “Why?”

Dawn shrugged. “No reason.”

She tried to keep her voice light as she wiped down the counter, but she could feel Kira’s eyes lingering on her.

• • •

Kira flipped through the pages, musing that Jessica’s day was going to be a very long one. The flowers would arrive by noon, the cake would be rolled in at 2:00
P.M.
, and the ceremony would begin at 4:00—which meant guests might start coming as early as 3:00
P.M.
So the B-and-B would have to be fully ready by then. No—actually, everything needed to be finished an hour earlier, Kira realized. Jessica was spending the morning having her hair and makeup done in town, and she’d arrive with the rest of the wedding party by 2:00
P.M.
to get dressed. If things weren’t in place, Kira would hear about it. At length. Better to wake up even earlier, and scramble harder, than have to answer to Jessica.

Kira made a mental note to get a tray full of Jessica-tinis to the bride’s room the moment she arrived. Better yet, she’d have Rand deliver them. That would either ward off potential problems or create a slew of new ones.

Rand had been making himself scarce since the brawl with Peter, but Kira noticed he was spending a lot of time in the bedroom with Alyssa, their door firmly shut. She couldn’t stop thinking about Peter’s prediction that Rand would desert his wife and kids. Surely Peter had a skewed perception because of his troubled history with his brother, Kira thought. Rand and Alyssa had been hit with so much overwhelming news in the past few weeks, and Rand’s silence, his absences from the house—maybe it just meant he was trying to absorb everything.

Alyssa was facing the exact same news, though. You could argue that it was even more intense for her, since she was the one on bed rest, with a baby inside of her threatening to emerge dangerously soon. And Alyssa wasn’t withdrawing; she was fighting for her kids. She’d never seemed more focused or intent.

The wedding, Kira thought, jerking her attention around again. She had to focus on the wedding. It was what was going to pull them all through this year, and even though Rand and Alyssa seemed carefree about money, when their children arrived they’d realize how important it was. In a way, handling the wedding would be a gift from Kira to them—a financial bonus when they needed it most. She just hoped they had good health-care coverage.