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In the evenings, after dinner, he did more of the same. Researched. Read.
Started to get a little bored. And then his mind, craving stimulation, began to segue into useless questions.
Emily’s perfume, for instance. What made it so noticeable? And why hadn’t it been as obvious in the past? He knew it was the same stuff she’d always worn because he’d actually checked it out in the bathroom one morning after his shower.
He goog
led olfactory glands one night. Didn’t find anything of pertinent use.
Searched morning sickness, too, although as far as he knew, Emily hadn’t been sick other than that one time. What he read told him too much and nothing at all. Some women got it. Some didn’t. Some had it violently, some mildly. Sometimes, it came within the first two weeks. More generally it happened around the sixth week. Some had it throughout the pregnancy. A lot didn’t.
He paid a bit more attention when he read that some women actually had to be hospitalized because of it if they weren’t able to keep enough down to get proper nutrition. If she started to puke again, and it became clear that him being there was causing the stress that made it happen, he’d insist on staying elsewhere. Even if that delayed the culmination of his plan.
The last thing he wanted was her in the hospital. She needed to be healthy and strong or she wasn’t going to be happy.
On Friday of that first week back in Marie Cove, he came home to find Emily in the kitchen, stirring a big pan of kielbasa, green beans and potatoes—one of his favorites—and talking on the phone. She got off almost as soon as he came in.
“’Bye, Mom, love you!”
Shock hit him flat in the face. Which sent a spiral of panic through him that he quickly obliterated with conscious reminders that he had nothing to fear except being afraid. He’d proven he could trust himself to handle anything else.
“How was your day?” Emily’s question, aimed at him, though she hadn’t turned around, helped put his world right—bringing him fully out of the places down deep that could kill a guy if he couldn’t get out.
Of course she’d be talking to her mother. He should have asked about the woman. And his own parents... He’d put off telling them he’d been found, but his superiors had made it clear that they’d only hold off on official announcements to secondary family for a short period.
The short period was probably up. The fact that he hadn’t given much thought to either his parents or Emily’s mom and brother bothered him. A lot.
He cared about them all. Took for granted that they’d be there when he was ready. But why hadn’t he asked about them? Or needed to know what had transpired in their lives over the past couple of years?
“I was told my folks are still in Florida,” he said to Emily’s back. The pot didn’t need to be stirred continuously. An occasional swipe over the couple of hours the stew would cook was enough. And yet she hadn’t turned around.
“They are.” In another one of her short-skirted suits—navy this time—and those three-inch heels that had always drawn his attention straight to her calves—she’d obviously started dinner as soon as she’d come in from work.
“And doing well, I presume? Since you haven’t said otherwise?”
“I haven’t spoken to them since a week after you were declared officially dead,” she told him. “But they were doing fine then. Your dad’s golfing five days a week in a men’s league. And your mom’s involved with a women’s political group. Doing some rallies, making signs. Having a lot of lunches with the girls.”
They were coping, he translated. A new weight settled on him. Not so much a need as an awareness. He should call them.
Should want to see them.
He didn’t, really.
Which kind of bothered him. But not as much as it should have. When parts of you were dead to self, when you knew that duty was stronger than so-called love or the pull of family ties, you were free of some of the confines that emotions put on you.
He should put a call to them on the schedule, though.
“And your Mom?”
“Still in San Diego with Michael. Jamie’s six now and Dylan is seven. They’re getting involved in school activities and keeping her busy.”
Michael. The brother-in-law who had once been like a brother to him. Again...that shock shot through him that he’d given so little thought to them all. It just didn’t seem right.
His in-laws lived about forty-five minutes south from the base where he spent his time, in a suburb, not really San Diego proper, but still...they were a lot closer than Florida and...
“Does she know I’m back?”
“Of course not. I told you I wouldn’t tell anyone, other than the people at work, until you were ready. You know that once we do there’ll be a deluge of activity.”
