Woman in Black (58 page)

Abigail seemed about to make some definitive statement about their future—or lack of one—but in the end, she only shrugged and said, “I'll write, sure. We've always been good at that.”

Then she was gone, walking briskly back the way she'd come, as though fleeing some unseen assailant. Leaving Vaughn amid the beauty and serenity of this improbable setting, which all of a sudden seemed to mock him. She was right in one sense, he knew—they were polar opposites in nearly every respect—but wrong to think she could simply walk away. Neither of them would be able to walk away so easily. Memory was like evolution in that way, he thought, a process of natural selection—it took what it needed and discarded the rest—and for whatever reason, Abigail was encoded in his. It wasn't a matter of choice. It simply
was
. Like the earth revolving around the sun, his thoughts would revolve around Abigail.

He waited until he was sure she was gone; then with a sigh he turned and headed back inside.

20

“Mom? Can I talk to you?” Neal hovered just outside Lila's workstation. His hair was windblown and his shirt untucked, as if he'd ridden over on his bike, which he probably had. The ten-year-old Hyundai he'd bought through a want ad hadn't left the garage since he'd brought it home and wouldn't until he'd earned enough money to pay for needed repairs.

“Sure.” She punched the button on the phone that connected to her headset. She'd been on hold with one of the airlines, but it could wait. “What is it, sweetie?”

“Sorry to bother you at work.” He appeared hesitant all of a sudden as his gaze swept her desk, which was cluttered with paperwork and brochures, itineraries to be faxed. Or maybe it was just that it always seemed to take him a moment or two to adjust to the sight of his mother with a headset on, wearing office attire—today's outfit an off-white linen suit and pale blue top and the new Kenneth Cole slingbacks she'd bought on sale. “If you're busy, I guess it could wait until later.”

She flashed him a smile. “Never too busy for you. Anyway, I could use the break. I've been at my desk all morning. Why don't we step outside?” Whatever it was, she didn't want any of her coworkers listening in. Barb Huggins was a dear soul but somewhat of a busybody, as Lila had found in the months since she'd come to work at the agency—a temporary position that had become permanent, she'd proven so “indispensable,” according to Barb.

Lila experienced a flutter of unease, wondering what was so urgent that it couldn't have waited until she'd gotten home. But she held her apprehension in check. Neal's therapist had warned against spinning worst-case scenarios. She could hear Dr. Frye's voice in her mind now:
Remember, you're not in control of Neal's decisions. You're not responsible for their outcome, either. Your only role is to guide him if he asks for your advice
.

They stepped outside, where they were met by a warm gust of air that filled the striped yellow awning overhead, causing it to luff like the sail of a schooner setting out to sea. They walked a little way along the sidewalk to the used bookstore a few doors down, where they settled onto the wrought-iron bench outside. They sat for a minute or two in companionable silence, watching the parade of pedestrians go by, locals and tourists alike, none of whom appeared in a hurry to get anywhere on this cloudless summer day. The store in front of which they sat, the Bell, Book & Candle, was owned by an older lady named May Crossley; in addition to used books, it sold greeting cards and such handicrafts as sand candles, wind chimes, and kitschy knick-knacks. At the moment, it was shuttered. The hand-lettered sign in the window read, “Closed for funeral.” It wasn't the first time Lila had seen it hanging there. May had summed it up in saying bluntly to her the other day, “You get to be my age, all your friends are dropping like flies.”

“So, what gives?” Lila was careful to strike a relaxed tone. No need to jump to dire conclusions just because her son had said he wanted to talk. Maybe it was good news. He'd been waiting to hear back from the law firm where he'd applied for an opening as tech support, and she said with a tentatively hopeful smile, “Don't tell me—you got the job.”

He shook his head. “No. I mean, I don't know yet. I haven't heard.” Clearly, that wasn't what he'd wanted to talk to her about. He tilted his head to peer up at her as he sat bent over with his elbows resting on his knees. “Anyway, I've decided not to take it even if they do offer it to me.”

“Really? What made you change your mind?” She tried to sound only mildly concerned, though every nerve ending was on red alert. Dr. Frye had cautioned her about coming across as overly anxious.

“Something's come up.” He shoved a hand through his hair, looking a little nervous. She noted that he was in need of a haircut; the dark curls spilling down his forehead were covering his eyebrows. “You remember John Kaplan from Riverdale?” he said. She nodded, recalling John as one of the boys Neal used to hang out with in high school. “Well, I ran into him the other day when I was in the city. Anyway, we got to talking, and it turns out that the guy he's sharing his place with is moving out. John asked if I'd be interested in taking over his roommate's share of the rent.”

It took a moment for her to absorb the full impact of what he was saying: Neal wanted to leave home. Move away from her. Away from his safety net. It took a huge effort for Lila to reply in a neutral tone, “Do you think you can afford it?” As if her only concern were such practical matters. As if she weren't sick with fright at the prospect of her son's fending for himself, in New York City of all places, where he would face a thousand avenues of potential despair.

He shrugged, appearing unconcerned. “I'll get a job,” he answered with the blithe optimism of youth. “I'm sure I won't have any trouble finding one. There are plenty of jobs in the city.”

“What about school?”

“I can always take a year off.”

What about me?
she cried inwardly.
Am I supposed to sit home alone every night waiting for the phone to ring so I'll know if you're all right?
But all she said was, “Are you sure that's a good idea?” The real question, the one that had haunted her ever since the night of the fire, she kept to herself. It was one she never uttered aloud:
Will you try to hurt yourself again?

Neal gave a derisive little laugh. “The only thing I'm sure about is that if I don't get out of this shitty little town, I'll go nuts.”

“Is it really so awful?” She remembered when she'd felt as trapped as Neal. But it had been winter then, and the circumstances that had blown her here like an ill wind far from ideal. Now, as she looked about—at the people lingering outside the ice cream shop next door, licking their cones; the couples lunching at the sidewalk tables outside Gabriella's across the street; and farther off, the young girls in shorts and bikini tops sunning themselves on the grass along the river walk, no doubt hoping for some cute boy to notice—she couldn't think of another place she'd rather be.

“I can't believe you actually
like
it here.” Neal shook his head in disbelief.

“Oh, I don't know—it kind of grows on you.” She turned to smile at him. “Why don't you give it until the end of the year and see where you're at then? You might feel differently.”

“I'm not asking for your permission, Mom.” His firm tone made it clear that this subject wasn't open to discussion. He straightened to look her in the eye. “I already told John to count me in. I'm just giving you the heads-up. You know, in case you were making any kind of long-range plans.”

She felt a familiar clutch in the pit of her stomach, and her resolve to keep her worries to herself crumbled a little. “Oh, Neal. Are you sure you're ready for this? Dr. Frye—”

He cut her off before she could finish. “Dr. Frye's the one who suggested it.”

“He did?” Lila felt unreasonably hurt, as if the two had been colluding behind her back somehow.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. He thinks I'm ready for it.”

“Still, couldn't you have at least talked it over with me first?”

“The only reason I didn't was because I knew you'd react this way,” he said.

“Am I so predictable?”

“Yeah, you are.” Neal spoke gently, as if to let her know that he wasn't going to hold it against her. “The way you look at me sometimes, it's like you don't trust me out of your sight. Not that I blame you. I'd probably feel the same way if it were my kid, after what happened. But, Mom, it can be a little hard to take, you know? I feel like I'm walking on eggshells half the time.”

“Well, it hasn't exactly been easy for me, either.” An injured note crept into her voice.

“I know it hasn't.” The look her son gave her was almost tender. “And I'm sorry for what I put you through. But deep down, you know as well as I do that this will be the best thing for both of us.”

“Speak for yourself,” she said.

He shook his head, smiling at her in an oddly indulgent way, as if she were the child and he the parent, one whose patience was wearing thin. “Listen, Mom, don't take this the wrong way, but you need to get a life.”

Get a life
. Wasn't that what she'd been doing? Wasn't that what this job was all about? “I didn't realize I was holding you back,” she said stiffly.

“Not me. You're holding
yourself
back,” replied this new, strangely adult son of hers. “You never go out at night, unless it's with Abby or the ladies from work. And when was the last time you went into the city to see a play or go to a museum? You're hardly an old lady, Mom. You should be going out on dates. What happened to Karim? You two have a fight or something?”

“No, not exactly. Anyway, I thought you didn't approve of my seeing him.”

She was glad they were sitting under the awning, where it was shady, or he might have seen that she was blushing. She'd thought she was past all that by now, but apparently not. Whenever she ran into Karim downtown, while out shopping or running errands, she felt that old quickening inside. She recalled what it had felt like to be wrapped in his arms. She missed the long talks they used to have and the feeling she'd had when she was with him that the world wasn't such a blighted place after all, that there was hope.

“Well, you shouldn't have paid any attention,” Neal said. “I was being a selfish prick.”

“I guess I've been a little selfish, too,” she admitted. “It's just …” She reached out to smooth a stray curl from his forehead, the way she used to when he was a little boy, feeling herself start to choke up. “I was so afraid of losing you.” She never took it for granted the way most mothers did, her son's being healthy and whole and on his way to manhood; she knew how lucky she was.

“You act as if I'm going away for good. I'll still come back for visits and stuff. And you'll visit me,” he said. “It's not like I'm going off to the dark heart of Africa, like Uncle Vaughn.”

“The less said about your uncle's whereabouts, the better,” she replied. Lila didn't like the fact that her brother was so far away. Not after the scare he'd given them all last winter.

Neal rose to his feet. “Well, I should get going. I have to pack my stuff.”

“So soon?” She cast him an anxious look.

“Relax, Mom. I'm not leaving until tomorrow. There's still plenty of time for you to sew up all the holes in my socks.” He flashed her an irreverent grin as he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

That broke the tension, and they both laughed. She'd never in her life darned a sock; she didn't even know how. But she got the message: He was reminding her that she was still his mom.

Watching him head off, Lila found herself thinking back to his first day of kindergarten. She recalled how proud she'd felt—and, yes, a little bereft—watching her little boy eagerly rush up the steps of his new school, not hanging back or crying like some of the other kids.
Look at him, he's not afraid of anything!
she'd thought then, as she did now.
He'll manage just fine without me
.

For several minutes after he'd left, she remained seated on the bench, mulling things over. Neal had been right about one thing, she thought. She
had
been hanging on, and not solely out of motherly concern. As long as Neal was around, she didn't have to face the fact that she was essentially alone.

Sure, she was getting on with her life in other ways. There were days when she had to pinch herself because she could scarcely believe that she had a real job in a real office, where she was actually proving to be of some value. This month alone she'd booked five cruises, with several more pending. And her boss, Janet Munson, had even entrusted her to put together a wine-tasting tour of Burgundy for next summer, since Lila was the only one in the office who spoke French (albeit she was a little rusty in that area). If she didn't do anything to mess that up, there would be other tours down the line. This job had opened up a whole world of possibilities.

But her private life was another matter. Neal had struck a nerve when he'd accused her of being a stick-in-the-mud (no, he hadn't used those exact words, but that was what he'd meant). It was true that she seldom went out in the evenings, and then only with friends. She hadn't been out on a date since that one time with Karim, what seemed like eons ago. There had been a few male clients who'd asked her out, and Bob Kushner, who owned the insurance brokerage down the street, had once invited her to have coffee with him (she'd fended him off politely), but no one she'd been interested in. And the one man she
had
been interested in—more than that, to be honest—she'd run from as if from the plague.

She wondered if Karim was over her by now. Whenever she ran into him, he seemed fine, other than the inevitable awkwardness between them as they exchanged the requisite pleasantries. He could be seeing someone else, for all she knew. The only thing she knew for certain was that he was still working for Abigail, though it was unclear for how much longer. Abigail had mentioned to her the other day that Karim was thinking of moving out of state.