“That’s okay. I don’t want your car sitting on the street. I’ll open the bay door.”
She turned into the driveway and watched as the door rumbled open to reveal an orderly garage where tools hung on a pegboard and built-in shelves held rows of paint cans. Even the concrete floor seemed to gleam. She eased into the bay, and the door immediately rolled shut behind her, closing off any view of her car from the street. For a moment she sat listening to the ticks of her cooling engine, and braced herself for the evening ahead. Only moments ago, returning to her own house had seemed unsafe, unwise. Now she wondered if this choice was any wiser.
Ballard opened her car door. “Come on in. I’ll show you how to arm the security system. Just in case I’m not here to do it.”
He led her into the house and up a short hallway to the foyer. Pointed to a keypad mounted near the front door.
“I had this updated only a few months ago. First you punch in the security code, then you press ARM. Once you’ve armed it, if anyone opens a door or a window, it’ll trigger an alarm so loud it’ll make your ears ring. It also automatically notifies the security company, and they’ll call the house. To disarm it, you punch in the same code, then hit OFF. Is that clear so far?”
“Yes. Do you want to tell me the code?”
“I was just getting to that.” He glanced at her. “You realize, of course, that I’m about to hand you the numerical key to my house.”
“Are you wondering if you can trust me?”
“Just promise not to pass it along to your unsavory friends.”
“Lord knows I have plenty of those.”
“Yeah.” He laughed. “And they probably all carry badges. Okay, the code is twelve seventeen. My daughter’s birthday. Think you can remember that, or do you want to write it down?”
“I’ll remember it.”
“Good. Now go ahead and arm it, since I think we’re in for the night.”
As she punched in the numbers, he stood so close beside her she could feel his breath in her hair. She pressed ARM and heard a soft beep. The digital readout now said: SYSTEM ARMED.
“Fortress secure,” he said.
“That was simple enough.” She turned and found him watching her so intently, she had the urge to step back, if only to reestablish a safe distance between them.
“Did you get any dinner?” he asked.
“I never got around to it. So much was happening tonight.”
“Come on, then. I can’t let you go hungry.”
His kitchen looked exactly the way she expected it would, with sturdy maple cabinets and butcher-block countertops. Pots and pans hung in orderly array from a ceiling rack. No extravagant touches, just the workspace of a practical man.
“I don’t want you to go to any trouble,” she said. “Eggs and toast would be fine.”
He opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of eggs. “Scrambled?”
“I can do it, Rick.”
“How about you make us some toast? The bread’s right over there. I’d like one, too.”
She took two bread slices from the package and dropped them into the toaster. Turned to watch as he stood by the stove, scrambling eggs in a bowl, and remembered their last meal together, both of them barefoot, laughing. Enjoying each other’s company. Before Jane’s phone call had made her wary of him. And if Jane hadn’t called that night, what would have happened between them? She watched him pour the eggs into a pan and turn up the burner. Felt her face flush, as though he’d lit another flame inside her as well.
She turned and looked instead at the refrigerator door, where photos of Ballard and his daughter were displayed. Katie as an infant in her mother’s arms. As a toddler, sitting in a high chair. A progression of images, leading to a photo of a blond teenager with a grudging smile.
“She’s changing so fast,” he said. “I can’t believe those photos are all the same kid.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “What did you decide to do about that joint in her locker?”
“Oh, that.” He sighed. “Carmen grounded her. Even worse, she’s said no TV for a month. Now I’m going to have to lock up my own set, just to make sure Katie doesn’t sneak over here and watch it while I’m not at home.”
“You and Carmen are good about keeping a united front.”
“There’s not much choice, really. No matter how bitter the divorce is, you have to stand together, for the kid’s sake.” He turned off the stove and slid steaming eggs onto two plates. “You never had children?”
“No, fortunately.”
“Fortunately?”
“Victor and I wouldn’t have managed to stay as civil as you two.”
“It’s not as easy as it looks. Especially since…”
“Yes?”
“We manage to keep up appearances. That’s all.”
They set the table, laid out plates of eggs and toast and butter, and sat down facing each other. The subject of their failed marriages had left them subdued. We are both still recovering from emotional wounds, she thought. No matter how attracted we are to each other, this is the wrong time to get involved.
But later, as he walked her upstairs, she knew the same possibilities were surely dancing in both their heads.
“Here’s your room,” he said, opening the door to Katie’s bedroom. She walked in and confronted Britney Spears’s come-hither eyes, gazing down from a giant poster on the wall. Britney dolls and CDs lined the bookshelves. This room is going to give me nightmares, thought Maura.
“You have your own bathroom, through that door,” he said. “There should be a spare toothbrush or two in the cabinet. And you can use Katie’s bathrobe.”
“She won’t mind?”
“She’s with Carmen this week. She won’t even know you’re here.”
“Thank you, Rick.”
He paused, as though waiting for her to say something more. Waiting for words that would change everything.
“Maura,” he said.
“Yes?”
“I’ll take care of you. I just want you to know that. What happened to Anna-I won’t let it happen to you.” He turned to leave. Said, softly: “Good night,” and closed the door behind him.
I’ll take care of you.
Isn’t that what we all want? she thought. Someone to keep us safe. She’d forgotten what it felt like, to be watched over. Even when she’d been married to Victor, she had never felt protected by him; he’d been too self-absorbed to watch over anyone but himself.
Lying in bed, she listened to the clock ticking on the nightstand. To Ballard’s footsteps creaking in the room next door. Slowly the house settled into silence. She watched the hours advance on the clock. Midnight. One A.M. And still she couldn’t sleep. Tomorrow she would be exhausted.
Is he lying awake, too?
She hardly knew this man, just as she’d hardly known Victor when she’d married him. And what a mess that had turned out to be, three years of her life thrown away, all because of chemistry. Sparks. She did not trust her own judgment when it came to men. The one man you most want to sleep with may be the worst choice of all.
Two A.M.
The beams of a car’s headlights slid past the window. An engine purred on the street. She tensed, thinking: It’s nothing, probably just a neighbor coming home late. Then she heard the creak of footsteps on the porch. She held her breath. Suddenly the darkness was shrieking. She shot up in bed.
The security alarm. Someone is in the house.
Ballard pounded on her door. “Maura? Maura?” he yelled.
“I’m okay!”
“Lock your door! Don’t come out.”
“Rick?”
“Just stay in the room!”
She scrambled out of bed and locked the door. Crouched there, hands covering her ears against the alarm’s shriek, unable to hear anything else. She thought of Ballard, moving down the staircase. Imagined a house full of shadows. Someone waiting below. Where are you, Rick? She could hear nothing except that piercing alarm. Here in the darkness she was both blind and deaf to whatever might be moving toward her door.
The shrieks suddenly ceased. In the silence that followed, she could finally hear her own panicked breaths, the pounding of her heart.
And voices.
“Jesus Christ!” Rick was yelling. “I could have shot you! What the hell were you thinking?”
Now a girl’s voice. Hurt, angry. “You chained the door! I couldn’t get in to shut off the alarm!”
“Don’t you yell at me.”
Maura opened her door and stepped out into the hallway. The voices were louder now, both raised in fury. Looking over the banister, she saw Rick standing below, shirtless in blue jeans, the gun he’d carried downstairs now tucked in his waistband. His daughter was glaring at him.
“It’s two in the morning, Katie. How did you get over here?”
“My friend drove me.”
“In the middle of the night?”
“I came to get my backpack, okay? I forgot I needed it tomorrow. I didn’t want to wake up Mom.”
“Tell me who this friend is. Who drove you?”
“Well, he’s gone now! The alarm probably freaked him out.”
“It’s a boy? Who?”
“I’m not going to get him in trouble, too!”
“Who is this boy?”
“Don’t, Dad. Just don’t.”
“You stay down here and talk to me. Katie, don’t go up there-”
Footsteps thumped up the steps and suddenly halted. Katie stood frozen on the stairway, staring at Maura.
“Get back down here!” Rick yelled.
“Yeah, Dad,” Katie murmured, her gaze still on Maura. “Now I know why you chained the door on me.”
“Katie!” Rick paused, suddenly cut off by the ringing telephone. He turned to answer it. “Hello? Yeah, this is Rick Ballard. Everything’s okay here. No, you don’t need to send a man out. My daughter came home and didn’t shut off the alarm system in time…”
The girl was still staring at Maura with open hostility. “So you’re his new girlfriend.”
“Please, you don’t need to get upset about this,” Maura said quietly. “I’m not his girlfriend. I just needed a place to sleep for the night.”
“Oh, right. So why not with my dad?”
“Katie, it’s the truth-”
“Nobody in this family ever tells the truth.”
Downstairs, the phone rang again. Again Rick answered it. “Carmen. Carmen, calm down! Katie’s right here. Yeah, she’s fine. Some boy drove her over to pick up her backpack…”
The girl shot a last poisonous glance at Maura, and went back down the stairs.
“It’s your mother calling,” Rick said.
“Are you going to tell her about your new girlfriend? How can you do this to her, Dad?”
“We need to have a talk about this. You need to accept the fact your mother and I aren’t together anymore. Things have changed.”
Maura went back into the bedroom and shut the door. While she got dressed, she could hear them continue to argue downstairs. Rick’s voice, steady and firm, the girl’s sharp with rage. It took Maura only moments to change clothes. When she came downstairs, she found Ballard and his daughter sitting in the living room. Katie was curled up on the couch like an angry porcupine.
“Rick, I’m going to leave now,” Maura said.
He rose to his feet. “You can’t.”
“No, it’s okay. You need time alone with your family.”
“It’s not safe for you to go home.”
“I won’t go home. I’ll check into a hotel. Really, I’ll be perfectly fine.”
“Maura, wait-”
“She wants to leave, okay?” Katie snapped. “So just let her go.”
“I’ll call you when I get to the hotel,” said Maura.
As she backed out of his garage, Rick came out and stood by the driveway, watching her. Their gazes met through her car window, and he stepped forward, as though to try once again to persuade her to stay, to return to the safety of his house.
Another pair of headlights swung into view. Carmen’s car pulled over to the curb, and she stepped out, blond hair in disarray, her nightgown peeking out from beneath a bathrobe. Another parent roused from bed by this errant teenager. Carmen shot a look in Maura’s direction, then said a few words to Ballard and walked into the house. Through the living room window, Maura saw mother and daughter embrace.
Ballard lingered in the driveway. Looked toward the house, then back at Maura, as though pulled in two directions.
She made the decision for him. She put the car into gear, stepped on the gas, and drove away. The last glimpse she had of him was in her rearview mirror, as he turned and walked into the house. Back to his family. Even divorce, she thought, cannot erase all the bonds forged by years of marriage. Long after the papers are signed, decrees notarized, the ties still remain. And the most powerful tie of all is written in a child’s flesh and blood.
She released a deep breath. Felt, suddenly, cleansed of temptation. Free.
As she’d promised Ballard, she did not go home. Instead she headed west, toward Route 95, which traced a wide arc along the outskirts of Boston. She stopped at the first roadside motel she came to. The room she checked into smelled of cigarettes and Ivory soap. The toilet had a “sanitized” paper band across the lid, and the wrapped cups in the bathroom were plastic. Traffic noise from the nearby highway filtered in through thin walls. She could not remember the last time she had stayed in a motel so cheap, so run-down. She called Rick, just a curt thirty-second phone call to let him know where she was. Then she shut off her cell phone and climbed in between fraying sheets.
That night she slept more soundly than she had in a week.