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“Not until I see Ashley.”
“Ashley isn’t here,” Helen said. “I told you: she’s at a sleepover.”
“Bullshit. Ashley doesn’t have any friends,” Bruce said. “She’s an ice queen, just like you.”
“I believe the lady told you to leave,” Annie said.
“This is my fucking house.”
“You don’t live here,” Annie said. “Youleft.”
“Annie, you don’t have to—”
But Annie could tell that Helen wanted him gone, so she was going to make that happen. “You’re drunk. I can smell it from here. So why don’t you call a cab and go to wherever it is you do live because it sure as hell isn’t here.”
“Please don’t wake up the baby,” Helen said, trying to sound calm, though her voice shook. “I will speak to Ashley tomorrow about when she can see you next, and then maybe, just maybe, Bruce, you could show up for the visit. For once in your daughter’s life, you could work around her schedule instead of expecting an eleven-year-old child to drop everything for you.”
Bruce’s expression flickered with hurt that quickly turned to anger, twisting the handsome right out of his features. “I don’t want that bitch around my children.” He pointed at Annie. Then, with a final snarl at Helen, he headed for the door. Annie stepped aside to let him pass. Once he had stepped outside, Helen hurried to lock the door after him. From behind the door, they watched him stumble to his car parked on the street.Annie realized he shouldn’t be driving, but neither she nor Helen moved to stop him.
“Well, I don’t know how helpful that was.” Helen lifted her glasses to rub at the bridge of her nose.
“Sometimes it just feels nice to tell someone off,” Annie said. “Helps you gauge what a person is capable of right away.”
“Can easily backfire, though, don’t you think?”
“It didn’t this time. I poked hard because I wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to hurt you. Or your kids.”
“That isn’t how he hurts us.”
Annie stared at her thoughtfully for a moment, then said, “Let’s go get them.”
Helen hurried out to the garage and bounced impatiently on the balls of her feet while Annie unlocked the door.
All three kids were still on the bed. Ashley held out Annie’s pager to her. “This keeps beeping.”
* * *
Annie got home too late to eat dinner Sunday night. She was behind on homework and in a foul mood. She was not looking forward to her classes next week; they were taught by inexperienced people who had no idea what they were talking about. Full of students who were worried about term papers and group projects, not real life-or-death situations. She was tired and lonely, and she was sick of sunny California. She was sick of men in cheap suits who called for her expertise and then decided they didn’t want it when they saw her. Sick of being on call24-7.
How was she supposed to live like this? With that stupid life dangling over her head?
She walked in on Helen reading a book in the recliner. She looked up when Annie came in, closed the book over her thumb.
“Hi there,” Helen said. “Where have you been?”
Annie started to cry.
Chapter 7
Helen pressed the cool washclothto Annie’s face until Annie lifted her hands to hold it in place herself. She breathed through the damp fabric, warming it around her lips. It smelled like Helen’s bathroom.
She breathed in again shakily. It felt like something inside her gut was coiled up tight. She tried not to think about what the feeling might mean, tried not to think about Helen’s kindness: their shopping trip, the little treats Helen left for her, their late-night conversations when she was up late with Zach.
After a moment, Helen stroked a hand against her back. “You’re okay,” she said softly.
Annie nodded, but Helen’s words, meant to comfort and reassure, only brought fresh tears to her eyes. She was thankful that the washcloth hid them.
“Shh, it’s all right.”
