Don't Go (6 page)

“Yes.” Mike glanced around for his backpack, which was leaning beside the couch. He went over, unzipped it, and yanked out his laptop and power cord.

“Hi, how are you?” Danielle came downstairs with a sympathetic frown, dressed in a maroon V-neck with khakis.

“Fine, thanks. Danielle, I’m sorry I was such a jerk last night.”

“Don’t say that, and you weren’t, poor thing. Bob called and told me what happened at the house.”

“I know.” Mike slipped the laptop under his arm and kissed her cheek. “Is Emily awake?”

“No, she just went down.”

“I keep missing her. When does she sleep? Does she have a schedule?”

“Yes. She naps twice a day, the first time around now, the second around four.”

“Good to know. I won’t wake her up again.” Mike managed a smile, and Danielle smiled back, touching his elbow.

“When she wakes up, we’ll reintroduce you, like you said. She’ll get used to you. Don’t worry.” Danielle met his eye directly, her gaze a sharp blue, with an intelligence behind them. “Now, did you eat? I have turkey sandwiches, if you want one. I’m not going to work.”

“Thanks, I’d like that.”

“Good.” Danielle led him into the kitchen, and Mike looked around for an outlet for the laptop.

“I need to check my email. Do you mind?”

“Not at all, make yourself at home. We have Wi-Fi, and the outlet’s by the end of the table.” Danielle went into their stainless steel Subzero. “We’d love for you to sleep here while you’re home, in the guest room. It would be more comfortable for you and the baby, too.”

“Thanks so much, I’d appreciate that.” Mike plugged the laptop in, set it on the table, opened the lid, and fired it up.

“We’re happy to have you.” Danielle poured him a Coke and brought it to the table.

“Thanks, again.” Mike let his laptop find the network, typed in the password, and logged into his email, skimming subject lines that read Condolences, Sympathy, So Sorry To Hear About Your Loss, and We’re So Sorry until he got to PhillyNanny, AuPairinPA, Live-In Professionals, and Childcare Professionals. “As far as childcare for Emily, when I go back, I know you work during the day, but I know you’ll want to help with her.”

“Of course, I will.” Danielle was opening the turkey. “It’s only for a month, so we think she should stay here.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. Thank you so much. I’d appreciate that.” Mike’s mouth went suddenly dry, because he didn’t want to presume anything. “I know you love your job, and Bob needs you at the office, so I’m thinking that I should hire a nanny to take care of Emily during the day, or whenever you guys need a break or have something you need to do at night.”

“I have a better idea.” Danielle set down the plate with a thick turkey sandwich, then sat across from him, with a growing smile. “How about I stop working for Bob and take care of Emily until you get back?”

“Really?” Mike asked, surprised. “How would that work? Can you take off for a month?”

“Yes. Look, I love my job, and I loved helping build the firm, but I also love Emily and I feel as if she needs me now, now that Chloe is gone.” Danielle’s expression darkened, falling into the sad lines of last night, and the folds around her mouth deepened. “The more I think about it, the more I think Emily should be with family, full-time, until you come home.”

“That’s such a kind offer, but I would never presume to ask you. It’s a whole month you’d be out of the office.”

“You’re not asking me, and I adore that child. She’s so much fun, and she’s supersmart.”

“What makes you say that? Love, bias, or both?” Mike took a bite of his sandwich, which was delicious.

“Besides her incredible genetics? I mean, her daddy’s a doctor.”

Mike smiled, flattered. “Does she say any words yet?”

“Not really, but she babbles. She picks things up so quickly, and she asks for information. At the zoo, she’ll point at an animal, as if she’s asking you to name it.” Danielle’s eyes lit up. “She loves giraffes, and we got her a stuffed giraffe that plays music. I think babies know more than we give them credit for.”

“Ha! Everybody knows more than we give them credit for.”

“And she’s so active, and you can see she really wants to walk. She’s unbelievably cute, isn’t she? Apropos of nothing, but she is.” Danielle’s face shone with warmth. “I’d love to be home with her, all day. It’s the least I can do for my sister. She’d do it for me, and I know she’d want it this way.”

Mike felt a pang, knowing that was true. “But really, what does Bob say? Can he spare you at work?”

“Yes, and he’s all for it. He wants what’s best for Emily, too.” Danielle nodded toward the toys in the family room. “We’re all set up for her, and her crib is here. She loves us and she’s used to being here. Why introduce a third party to her now, when she’ll already have so much to adjust to? It’s only until you come home.” Danielle’s eyes turned plaintive. “Let me do this, for Chloe, Emily, and for you.”

“That’s so amazing of you.” Mike felt his heart ease. “You would have to let me pay you.”

“I wouldn’t hear of it.”

“No, really. We’ll fight over that later.”

“You’ll lose. I always get what I want.”

Mike smiled. Danielle was funny and smart, but tougher than Chloe, with a logical mind. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, totally. You know, this is an impossible time for you, and for me, but most of all for Emily. She lost the best mother ever.”

“Chloe was, you think?” Mike had never doubted Chloe as a mother, but his world turned upside-down last night. “I always thought she was, but now—”

“Stop.” Danielle’s mouth set firmly. “Chloe was a wonderful mother, even if she indulged a little, I know. She was devoted to Emily, and don’t blow this drinking thing out of proportion. She wasn’t with the baby the day she died, and I’m sure she didn’t drink when Emily was with her.”

Mike thought of the Dunkin’ Donuts cup and the hidden vodka bottles, then remembered he wasn’t supposed to say anything. “Why do you think she drank? Was she unhappy?”

“She didn’t
drink
. She missed you, I know, and I’d understand if she had a drink or two. We grew up with wine at the table, and I have a glass or two, every night. It doesn’t mean I’m an alcoholic, and Chloe wasn’t either.” Danielle shook her head. “She just had an accident while she was drinking, which was terrible, terrible luck.”

Mike let it go. The sisters had been close, but Danielle was the conservative one, and Chloe might have edited what she told her, so Mike changed the subject. “Do you think Emily misses her?”

“I’m sure she does, and it breaks my heart. She doesn’t say Mommy yet, but she tries.” Danielle bit her lip. “But the good thing is, Emily’s used to being with me. I used to go with them to music class on Saturdays, too. Chloe and the other moms would play recorders and xylophones for the babies, or shake maracas.”

Mike thought of a photo that Chloe had emailed him, of Emily and the other moms and babies, wearing sombreros at music class. He didn’t understand how such a good mother could be such a bad mother, both at once.

“I think Emily deserves that kind of attention, and you can’t buy that. It’s love. It’s love of family.” Danielle gestured at the laptop. “I know I sprung this on you, and you don’t have to tell me now. Mull it over. It’s a standing offer.”

Mike felt reassured, and grateful. “You would’ve made one helluva lawyer.”

“That’s what Bob says.” Danielle cocked her head. “Hold on. Did you hear that? The baby monitor. I think she’s up.”

“But she just went down.” Mike heard a babbling sound coming from the monitor.

“It happens.” Danielle rose, smoothing down her sweater, her eyes twinkling. “Shall we try again?”

Chapter Eleven

Emily wailed at the top of her lungs, clinging to Danielle as she stood at the entrance to the family room. The baby had burst into tears at the sight of Mike, who had walked over to her, holding out his arms.

“Danielle, what did I do wrong?” Mike stopped, his arms falling to his sides. “I was just happy to see her.”

“She didn’t expect to see you. You’re new, and babies don’t like new people, especially around this age.”

“What about this age?”

“At seven months, their stranger anxiety is strongest, and she got introduced to you in the worst way, last night in the dark. Go back to the couch and give her time to get used to the idea that you’re here.”

Emily cried harder, her eyes as red as her holiday romper, which had an embroidered penguin in a Santa hat. Her hair looked damp at the scalp, under a headful of dark blonde curls.

“Okay.” Mike backed up to the couch and kept smiling. “Hi, Emily, hello, Emily.” He kept his voice soft and sweet. “It’s Daddy, honey. How’s my baby girl?” He didn’t know whether to sit or stand, so he popped up and down like a suburban jack-in-the-box. “Did you have a nice nap?”

Danielle rocked the hysterical baby. “Aw, sweetie, it’s okay, that’s your Daddy, and he just wants to say hello.”

“Don’t be afraid, Emily.” Mike looked around, picked up a toy dog, and gave it a kiss. “See the dog? You like dogs, don’t you? I like dogs.”

“Put that down. She hates that toy.”

“Oops, sorry.” Mike dropped the dog, flustered. “What toy does she like?”

“The bunny, the pink.”

“A bunny, yay!” Mike picked up the bunny and stroked its fuzzy head. “Look, Emily, I’m a nice guy. I come in peace.”

“Emily, see your bunny?” Danielle tried to put a pacifier in Emily’s mouth, but she wouldn’t take it, crying full bore. “Here, have your binky.” Suddenly the doorbell rang, and Danielle looked over. “Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

“Sure.” Mike flopped on the couch, hearing the wailing subside as soon as they left the room. He tossed the bunny aside and remembered how he used to hold Emily all the time. She would look up at him, sucking her pacifier. She even used to fall asleep on his chest.

“Mike, Sara’s here!” Danielle called to him, and Mike stood up as she came back holding a teary Emily, sucking on her pacifier. They lingered at the threshold of the family room while a grief-stricken Sara entered the room and crossed to Mike, opening her arms in her thick wool coat.

“Oh, Mike, I’m so sorry about Chloe.”

“I’m sorry, too, for you.” Mike hugged her close, and Sara made a short, bulky bundle in his arms, sagging against him, drawing strength from him. She and Chloe had been best friends from their first year teaching, and Mike found himself in a solar system that revolved around Chloe, but the sun was missing.

“I still can’t believe it, can you?” Sara released him, tears filling her large eyes, as brown as chocolate syrup. Her hair was almost the same color, cut at her chin, and her thin lips quivered with emotion. “She should be here. She would’ve been so happy to see you. It’s good that you’re safe, thank God.”

“Thanks, but it’s so strange, isn’t it? You and me, but not her?”

“I know, I miss her, so much.” Sara blinked her tears away and moved a strand of hair from her roundish cheek. “I’m not making this easier on you, am I?”

“You don’t have to make it easy.” Mike managed a smile for her. “It’s not easy. It’s impossible.”

“That’s how I feel, too. Chloe was my best friend, since forever. I knew her before Don. She even knew my parents.” Sara wiped her eyes with her palm, like a little girl. “Nobody at school can believe it. They all loved her, and Sue, Allison, and Michelle are beside themselves.”

“I bet.” Mike winced at the names of Chloe’s teacher friends. He liked them all, and there was no tighter-knit group than teachers, except soldiers.

“Don sends his love, too. He had to work, but he’ll be at the wake. By the way, is it okay with you that we took Jake?” Sara brightened a little. “The boys always wanted a cat, and they fell in love with him. But don’t worry, they know we have to give him back when you get home.”

“Thanks so much for taking him,” Mike said, wondering how he would ever take Jake away from her boys, but he’d deal with that later.

“Sara, would you like coffee?” Danielle asked, keeping her distance with the baby, who’d stopped crying, sucking wet-eyed on her pacifier.

“No, thanks.” Sara took off her coat, revealing dark slacks and a silly red sweater with a huge candy cane, obviously one of the Ironic Holiday Sweaters that she and Chloe used to wear every Christmas, for a joke at school. Mike suppressed a stab of pain, and Sara grimaced, reading his expression. “Oh no, Mike, the sweater, I forgot.”

“It’s okay.” Mike didn’t want her to feel bad and changed the subject. “So if you’re wondering why my daughter is hysterical, it’s my fault. She hates me.”

“No, she doesn’t.” Sara smiled, shakily. “She’s just getting used to you again.”

“That’s a good way to think about it.” Mike forced himself to smile back. “We’re like those movies where the wife gets amnesia and forgets she loves the husband.”

“She’ll be fine, in time.” Sara patted him on the back, and Mike always liked her easy manner, especially with kids. She had three sons and twenty-four students in her class, so nothing fazed her. “Here, maybe I can help. Danielle, can I have her?” Sara took Emily from Danielle, grinned at the baby, and held her up so that her tiny legs drooped together like an old-school clothespin. “How’s baby Emily? How’s the littlest angel?”

Mike marveled as Emily smiled down at Sara, then Sara cradled her and moved slowly toward him.

“Emily, you don’t have to worry about a thing.” Sara kissed her on the head. “So many people love you, and we’re gonna take great care of you, aren’t we?” Emily sucked harder, her blue eyes trained on Sara, and Mike noticed the baby’s eyes were a pale blue, like bluets growing wild in a meadow. Sara moved closer to him with Emily, saying to her, “You know much I love you, and so does your Daddy, and he’s here with us, right now. This big, hunky handsome guy belongs to you, did you know that?” Sara kissed Emily again. “Isn’t that great? That you have a Daddy who loves you?”

Mike held his breath and stayed perfectly still, then Sara stopped. Emily was closer to him than she’d ever been in daylight, and her gaze met his directly. He felt the same wondrous connection as last night.