The Mother's Promise(43)

David stared at her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That wasn’t fair.”

He sighed. “I don’t want to argue, Kate.”

Kate looked at him. His face was full of compassion, full of determination to work this out. But there was something else in his face too. Resolve. He’d made his decision.

“Neither do I,” she said, even though it was the opposite of the truth.

*

Kate knocked gently on Zoe’s door. “Zoe? Are you awake?”

There was no movement inside. She was probably asleep. The kid had had a rough day. Kate turned back toward her room, then hesitated. She was responsible for the girl, at least for tonight. She should probably at least sight her before going to bed. She knocked again, a bit louder. “Zoe?”

Still nothing. Kate felt a flap of panic.

“Zoe?” This time she yelled it, flinging open the door. The room was empty, the bed made. The lasagna Kate had left her was on the desk, untouched. In a millisecond she went from concerned to hysterical. What if something had happened to her? What if … she’d done something to herself? Most of all … What had she been thinking, inviting her here?

“Zoe?” she cried. The bathroom door was closed, a thin line of light beaming out from the crack at the bottom. Just as it had been two hours earlier when she’d dropped off the lasagna. Kate lurched toward the bathroom door, but a moment before she got there, it opened.

“Hi.”

Zoe stood there. Her hair was wet and she wore a pair of dark sweatpants, a T-shirt, and socks.

“Oh,” Kate said. “Hi. I was just … checking you were okay.”

“Sorry. I was having a bath.” She looked at the floor, but Kate could see that her face was red and tearstained. Kate herself had had many a long cry in the bath.

“You’re not hungry?” Kate said, gesturing to the lasagna.

“No.” She blushed. Poor sweet thing was shy just having a conversation.

“I can make you something else?”

“It’s okay,” Zoe said. “Thanks though.”

“Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do for you,” Kate said. “Even if you just want to talk.”

“I will.”

Kate started to turn, but Zoe reached out and touched her arm. “Thank you … for … you know, letting me stay at your house.”

“Oh.” Now it was Kate’s turn to feel shy. “Well, we’re happy to have you.”

Zoe hesitated. “Is my mom going to die?”

In her job, Kate was a believer in absolute truth. But this situation was different. It wasn’t her truth to tell. She opened her mouth, unsure of the words that were going to come out.

“I thought so,” Zoe said before Kate could answer, and she walked back into the bathroom and closed the door.





31

Zoe stood at the unfamiliar gate with her finger poised. She knew she should just press the buzzer. If she turned back now, there was every possibility that she’d be caught. A car could drive up or someone could come out to check the mail, and find her hovering there. Explaining that would be worse than just ringing the damn bell.

That morning, for the second day in a row, Zoe had woken in a strange house. She’d barely slept a wink the night before. Right before she’d nodded off she’d received a text message from her mom saying she needed to stay in the hospital for a few more days. This worried Zoe, not only because it meant she couldn’t go home, but also, what did it mean for her mom? Were things worse than she was letting on? This morning she’d remained holed up in her room until the last possible minute before she had to leave for school, eager to avoid any sort of family breakfast routine. Kate had knocked, but she seemed to accept that Zoe was not hungry and didn’t force her to come down.

School had been as awful as she expected. It had been easy to avoid Emily—as she seemed to be doing her best to ignore Zoe. In fact, no one paid Zoe any attention. It was a relief, of course, but as always, somewhere deep down inside, it hurt. She didn’t register on anyone’s radar. What did that say about her?

Now, sweat bloomed under her arms. Idly she wondered what on earth she was doing here. She’d had every intention of canceling—making up an illness or injury—but as the school day went on, she realized her alternatives were as bad as going to Harry’s. She could go there … or go to Kate’s. She lifted her finger one more time and, before she could think better of it, pressed the button. A moment later the gate buzzed.

Harry’s house was nearly as big as Kate’s—with a sweeping path winding up to the front door. By the time Zoe made it to the double doors, a tiny girl with coils of blond hair stood in the open doorway. A grand staircase rose up behind her.

“Huwo.”

The girl was maybe two or three, dressed in a ratty Tinker Bell costume and carrying a wooden spoon wrapped in a tea towel. She frowned as if Zoe’s presence was highly inconvenient. “Tum in.” She sighed. “You’re about to miss da so.”

“Um, what?” Zoe said.

“You’re about to miss the show,” Harry translated, jogging down the stairs in jeans, a gray T-shirt, and bare feet. His T-shirt showed off his torso—which was narrow but toned. Zoe felt a frisson of something deep down. Wow.