Something woke Isabel up. She stirred in bed, then began to drift back off, only to hear it again, a clicking against the window. She turned on her side and listened.
At first she heard nothing, but then it came again: the sound of pebbles being tossed against the glass. She got up and made her way across the tiles. Outside the window only the faintest sheen of moonlight illuminated the garden. And then she saw it.
A ghost.
It moved through the olive grove, a vaporous apparition. She thought about waking Ren, but going anywhere near his bed didn’t seem like the best idea. Better to wait until morning.
The ghost moved behind a tree, then drifted out again. Isabel waved, shut the window, and went back to bed.
13
Tracy reveled in the luxury of waking up without being poked by a five-year-old or lying in a damp spot from Connor’s leaky diaper. If he didn’t potty train soon, she was putting him in Depends.
She heard a catcall from Jeremy followed by Steffie’s shrill scream. He was teasing her again, and Brittany probably running around naked, and Connor got diarrhea if he ate too much fruit at breakfast, but instead of getting up, she buried her face in the pillow. It was still early. What if Harry hadn’t left yet? She couldn’t bear the thought of watching him drive away.
She closed her eyes and tried to force herself back to sleep, but the baby was stomping on her bladder, so she dragged herself out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. The moment she sat on the toilet seat, the door flew open and Steffie burst in.
“I hate Jeremy. Make him stop teasing me.”
Brittany appeared-dressed for once, but with Tracy’s lipstick smeared over her mouth. “Mommy! Look at me!”
“Pick me up!” Connor demanded, padding in, too.
And then Harry was there, standing in the doorway gazing down at her. He hadn’t made it to the shower yet, and he wore jeans with one of his sleeping T-shirts. Only Harry Briggs could have T-shirts he’d specifically designated for sleeping, old ones he considered too worn for regular daytime wear but too good to throw out. Even in his sleeping T-shirt he looked better than she did, sitting on the pot with her gown bunched at her waist.
“Could I have a little privacy, please?”
“I hate Jeremy. He called me a-”
“I’ll talk to him. Now, leave. All of you.”
Harry stepped back from the door. “Go on, kids. Anna said breakfast would be ready in a minute. Girls, take your brother.”
The kids reluctantly filed out, and she was left with Harry, the person she least wanted standing around right now. “Everybody means you, too. Why are you still here?”
He regarded her through his glasses. “Because my family’s here.”
“Like you care about that.” She was never at her best in the morning, and today she felt particularly shrewish. “Get out. I have to pee.”
“Go right ahead.” He sat on the edge of the tub and waited.
Sooner or later pregnant women were robbed of every shred of dignity, and this was one of those times. When she was done, he handed her a precisely folded stack of toilet paper. She rumpled it just to make the point that everything in life couldn’t be as neat as he wanted. She wiped, flushed, and stood up to wash her hands, all without looking at him.
“I suggest we talk now while the children are eating breakfast. I’d like to be on the road by noon.”
“Why wait until noon when you can go right now?” She squeezed toothpaste onto her brush.
“I told you yesterday. I’m not leaving without the children.”
He couldn’t work and care for the children at the same time, they both knew that, so why was he doing this? He also knew she wouldn’t let an army of stone-hearted husbands take her kids from her. He was trying to manipulate her into going back to Zurich.
“Okay, take them. I need a vacation.” She began brushing her teeth as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
In the mirror she saw him blink behind the lenses of his glasses. He hadn’t expected that. She noticed that he’d found time to shave. She loved the smell of his skin in the morning, and she yearned to bury her face in his neck.
“All right,” he said slowly.
In a fit of sadomasochism she laid down her toothbrush and cupped her belly. “Except this one. We agree. As soon as this one’s born, it’s all mine.”
For the first time he couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m-I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Apology not accepted.” She spat in the sink and rinsed. “I think I’ll take back my maiden name-for me and for the baby.”
“You hate your maiden name.”
“You’re right. Vastermeen is a terrible name.” He followed her from the bathroom to the bedroom, giving her a chance to devastate him as he’d devastated her. “I’ll go back to Gage. I always liked the sound of Tracy Gage.” She shoved a suitcase out of her way. “I hope the baby’s a boy so I can name him Jake. Jake Gage. You can’t get much stronger than that.”
“Like hell.”
She’d finally managed to pierce his wall of indifference, but the fact that she was hurting him didn’t give her satisfaction. Instead, she felt like crying. “What difference does it make? This is the baby you don’t want, remember?”
“Just because I’m not happy about this pregnancy doesn’t mean I won’t accept the baby.”
“Am I supposed to be grateful?”
“I’m not going to apologize for my feelings. Damn it, Tracy, you’re always accusing me of being out of touch with my emotions, but the only emotions you want me in touch with are the ones you like.” She thought he was finally going to lose a little of that self-control, but then he reverted to the cool, unemotional tone that drove her wild. “I didn’t want Connor either, but now I can’t imagine life without him. Logic says I’ll feel the same way about the new one.”
“And thank God for logic.” She snatched her swimsuit from a pile on the floor.
“Stop being so childish. The real reason you’re upset is that you haven’t been getting enough attention, and God knows you like attention.”
“Go to hell.”
“You knew before we left Connecticut that I’d be working most of the time.”
“But you neglected to mention that you’d also be screwing around on me.”
“I wasn’t screwing around.”
The overly patient note in his voice set her teeth on edge. “Did you explain that to your little hottie at the restaurant?”
“Tracy…”
“I saw you with her! The two of you cuddled up in that corner booth. She was kissing you!”
He had the gall to look annoyed. “Why didn’t you come rescue me instead of leaving me with her? You know I’m not good in awkward social situations.”
“Oh, yeah… it looked real awkward.” She grabbed her sandals.
“Come off it, Tracy. Your drama-queen routine’s getting old. She’s the new VP for Worldbridge, and she drinks way too much.”
“Lucky you.”
“Stop being a spoiled brat. You know I’m the last man on earth who’d have an affair, but you had to invent a Greek tragedy out of a drunken woman’s slobbering because you’ve been feeling neglected.”
“Yeah, that’s right. I’m just having a little sulk here.” Somehow it had been easier to deal with the idea of infidelity than his devastating emotional abandonment, but she’d probably known all along he hadn’t been having an affair. “The truth is, Harry, you started freezing me out months before we left home. The truth is, Harry… you’ve bailed out on our marriage, and you’ve bailed out on me.”
She wanted him to deny it, but he didn’t. “You’re the one who left, and you’re not turning this on me. And where did you go running? Right to your party-boy ex-husband.”
Tracy’s relationship with Ren was Harry’s only insecurity. For twelve years he’d dodged meeting him, and he got frosty when she talked to him on the phone. It was so unlike him.