“Bobby.”

“Well, I think Bobby’s had a bit too much to drink to drive you home. Why don’t I call your father to come get you?”

“No.” Lacey suddenly lost her tough-kid facade. Her eyes filled. “Please don’t.”

Olivia looked down at the folder. The idea of calling Alec was appealing, but he would not be pleased to find Lacey in this situation, and Lacey was clearly terrified of having him know what had occurred here tonight.

“How about your brother?” Olivia asked.

Lacey shook her head, dropping her eyes to her lap.

“Well, let’s go talk to your friends and see if we can come up with a way to get you home safely.”

Olivia stood up, and Lacey took off out the office door, obviously relieved to be dismissed. Olivia stared after her for a moment before she followed, wondering if there was anything in the world quite as fragile as a fourteen-year-old girl.



CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN


Paul had forgotten the feel of a Washington summer. It was only seven o’clock in the morning, and already his T-shirt stuck in wet patches to his back and chest as he walked through Rock Creek Park. He had walked this same route with Olivia several times a week, and he could still feel her presence on the path. There was the expansive, thicktrunked oak tree she had claimed as her own, never failing to admire it no matter how many times she passed beneath its branches. There was the spot where she’d found a perfect robin’s egg nestled in the grass at the side of the path. She’d picked it up in a tissue and made Paul climb the tree to put it back in the nest. It was not possible to walk along this path without thinking of Olivia.

The branches of the trees hung low to the ground from the weight of their leaves, and everything around him, as far as he could see, was green. The color soothed him, despite the heat. This is what he missed in the Outer Banks. Greenness. Lushness. Sand and water and blue sky were not enough.

The work he had to do up here this week was unbearably boring, not his type of material at all. He had already made up his mind to refuse the next assignment like it, although he didn’t have much choice on a little paper like the Gazette. He missed the Post. He missed just about everything he didn’t have right now.

He reached the end of the path and crossed the street to the deli he and Olivia had frequented. He stepped inside, breathing in the scent of onions and garlic and cinnamon. So strong, so utterly comforting.

It was early, and only two other customers were in the deli, sitting at a small table near the back of the store.

“Mr. Simon!”

Paul smiled as he recognized Joe, the round-faced, balding owner of the deli who was working alone behind the counter. Joe had learned Olivia’s name many years earlier and assumed that since Paul was her husband, his name was the same. He and Olivia had never bothered to correct him.

“Haven’t seen you in months!” Joe grinned.

“How’ve you been, Joe?” Paul asked, approaching the counter. “Olivia and I moved to North Carolina. The Outer Banks.”

“Ah,” Joe said. “It’s beautiful down there. You really get the weather, though, don’t you?”

“A bit.”

“Have a seat.” Joe gestured to the tables. “You want the onion bagel with salmon cream cheese?”

“You’ve got quite a memory.”

“Some people stick in your mind, you know what I mean?” He set a cup of coffee on the top of the deli case and Paul carried it to the nearest table.

“So how is Dr. Simon doing?” Joe asked as he worked on Paul’s bagel. “She’s still doctoring, I hope.”

“Uh huh. She’s working in an emergency room down there. I’m up here by myself on business.” At some point he was going to have to come up with a way of saying they were separated. He could imagine Joe’s reaction. He could almost picture the pain and disappointment in his eyes.

“She liked cinnamon and raisin, right?”

“Right.”

Joe shook his head as he carried the plate to Paul’s table. “You give her my best,” he said, setting the bagel next to Paul’s coffee. He wiped his hands on his apron, then reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He glanced toward the door before sitting down across the table from Paul. “Let me show you something,” he said. He took a picture from the wallet and set it on the table in front of Paul. A small, dark-haired girl, about five years old, grinned up at him. “Know who that is?”

“One of your grandkids?”

“That’s right. Lindsay. The one who wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for that wife of yours.”

“Oh.” Paul lifted the picture to get a better look at the child. “I’d forgotten.”

“A crazy coincidence, wasn’t it? You and Dr. Simon were sitting right here when that beeper of hers went off, like it did more times than not, right? And she zipped off like she always did, no matter if she’d gotten her bagel yet, and you and I were saying what a shame it was she always had to take off like that. Remember?”

Paul nodded.

“And it turns out it was little Lindsay in the emergency room they were calling her for.”

Paul did remember that morning, as well as the morning after when all of Joe’s family came into the deli to meet Olivia and the bagels were on the house. Paul had been proud to be her husband.

“Drowned in the bathtub,” Joe said. His eyes had filled. “The gal in the ambulance said she was as good as dead till your wife got to her.” Joe tapped the picture. “You take this to her—to Dr. Simon. Show her what good work she did that morning.”

Paul swallowed. “All right,” he said. He pulled out his own wallet and slipped the picture inside. “Thanks, Joe. She’ll be happy to see it.”

There was a sudden rush of customers, and Joe returned to his place behind the counter. Paul wrapped the bagel in his napkin. His throat had constricted. He couldn’t eat. He waved good-bye to Joe and went outside, the air hitting him in the face like a hot, wet rag as he walked quickly across the street and back into Rock Creek Park. He knew exactly where he would sit to finish his breakfast—on the lush green grass beneath Olivia’s favorite old oak.



CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT


“How did it go today?” Alec asked. “The amnio?”

Olivia held the phone against her ear as she rolled onto her side. She’d hiked her nightgown up to her hips, and her hand rested on the bandaid below her navel.

“It was all right.” She was relieved to hear Alec’s voice, relieved to talk to someone who knew about the baby. She had felt more alone today than at any time since Paul left her. She’d wept on the far-too-long drive to Chesapeake, as well as on the way back, and she’d gone to bed early tonight—nine-thirty—as though she could hasten Alec’s call just by being there. “Today was the easy part,” she said. “Now comes the waiting.”

“I thought of you driving up there alone. I should have offered to go with you. Didn’t think of it till too late.”

Olivia smiled. He was so sweet. Thoughtful. And his voice was sleepy. Warm. Like the triangle of moonlight that crept across her bed, and her legs, and her hand where it rested on her belly. More than likely his room was drenched in moonlight too. It was in his eyes, perhaps. On his chest. She could see the wedge of white light playing with the softly curled hair of his chest. She had not stared at his body the other day at Rio Beach. She had barely noticed it, but right now she found she could remember it in detail.

“Olivia?”

“Yes?”

“You’re very quiet. Are you sure you’re all right?”

She lifted her hand from her stomach and watched the diamonds in her ring soak up the moonlight. “My bed just feels particularly empty tonight.”

“Oh,” he said. “Do you know how to reach Paul? Maybe you should call him.”

“Actually, you’re a lot easier to talk to than Paul these days.”

“Yeah, but I can’t do much about filling your bed.”

She cringed, and rolled onto her back again. “Where is this conversation going?” she asked.

“Shall we change the subject?”

“Actually, this subject has been on my mind a lot lately. I think it began when you told me about Paul saying he might have made a mistake. I started thinking about him—you know, about being with him—and then he takes off for D.C.”

“Maybe when he gets back.”

“Maybe. Alec? How do you…” She struggled for the right words. “How are you coping with celibacy?”

He laughed. “That’s pretty damn personal, Dr. Simon.”

“Sorry.”

Alec sighed. “Mother Nature has a way of taking care of things,” he said. “Having your spouse die seems to obliterate any libidinous urges, temporarily at any rate. At least I’m assuming it’s temporary.” He chuckled. “Actually, I’m sure it is. I guess it doesn’t work that way when you’re only separated, huh?”

“No,” she said.

“Are you still getting massages?”

“It’s not the same thing,” she said grumpily.

Alec was quiet for a moment. “What would happen if you showed up in Paul’s hotel room?”

“I don’t want to be humiliated.”

“I’m certain he still cares about you.”

Almost unknowingly, she had moved her hand to the warm delta of her pubic hair. She parted her legs a little. She could do this. She could listen to Alec’s voice and…

“Oh, God.” She sat up abruptly, tugging her nightgown to her knees.

“What’s the matter?”

“Talking about this is definitely not helping, Alec.” She propped her pillow up against the headboard and sat back, lifting the blue file folder from her night table to her lap. “Why don’t you just quiz me on the lighthouse?”

Mike Shelley walked into her office late the following afternoon.