The Wife Between Us(110)

On our third visit, though, when I wondered aloud if I should simply try to leave Richard and go stay with Aunt Charlotte, Kate abruptly stood and offered me tea.

I nodded, confused.

She walked into the kitchen while I stared after her.

Her right foot dragged along the floor; her body compensating for it by tilting down and up, gathering momentum to propel her forward. Something had happened to her leg, the one she massaged at times during our talk. Something that had left her with a pronounced limp.

When she returned with the tray of tea, she merely said, “What was it you were saying?”

I shook my head when she tried to hand me a cup. I knew my hands were trembling too violently for me to hold it.

I looked at the intricate platinum necklace she was wearing, that cuff bracelet, and the emerald ring on her right hand. Such exquisite, expensive pieces. They stood out against her simple clothing.

“I was saying . . . I can’t just leave him.” I choked out the words.

I rushed out a few moments later, suddenly terrified that Richard was trying to call my cell phone. That was the last time I’d seen Kate until today.

“There’s a police record of the incident. And Maureen has stepped in to watch over Richard,” I say now.

Kate closes her eyes briefly. “That’s good.”

“Your leg . . .”

When Kate speaks, her voice is emotionless. “I fell down some stairs.” She hesitates and shifts her gaze to stare at her fish gliding through the aquarium. “Richard and I had argued that night because I was late to an important event.” Her voice is much softer now. “After we got home and he went to bed . . . I left the apartment. I was carrying a suitcase.” She swallows hard and her hand begins to massage her calf. “I decided to take the stairwell instead of the elevator. I didn’t want anyone to hear the chime. But Richard . . . he wasn’t asleep.”

Her face crumples for an instant, then she recovers. “I never saw him again.”

“I’m so sorry. You’re safe now, too.”

Kate nods.

After a moment, she says, “Be well, Vanessa.”

She stands and walks me to the door.

I hear her lock click behind me as I start down the hallway. Then my head snaps back to look toward her apartment, a connection firing in my brain as I recall a long-ago vision.

The woman in the raincoat who’d stood outside the Learning Ladder, staring while I packed up my classroom. She had turned away with an odd jerking motion when I approached the window.

It could have been a limp.





CHAPTER





FORTY-TWO




I awaken to feel rich sunlight pouring through the slats of the window blinds, warming my body as I lie in bed in Aunt Charlotte’s spare room.

My room, I think, spreading out my arms and legs like a starfish so I take up the entire bed. Then I stretch out my left hand and turn off my alarm before it can blare.

Sleep still eludes me on some nights, as I turn over in my mind all that has happened and try to put together the pieces that remain a mystery to me.

But I no longer dread mornings.

I rise and wrap myself in my robe. As I walk toward the bathroom to take a quick shower, I pass my desk, where the itinerary for our trip to Venice and Florence rests. Aunt Charlotte and I leave in ten days. It’s still summertime, and I won’t begin work teaching pre-K students in the South Bronx until after Labor Day.

An hour later, I step out of the apartment building into the warm air. I’m not in a rush today, so I stroll down the sidewalk, taking care not to smudge the chalk hopscotch squares a child has drawn. New York City is always quieter in August; the pace seems gentler. I pass a cluster of tourists taking photos of the skyline. An elderly man sits on the steps of a brownstone, reading the paper. A vendor fills buckets with clusters of fresh poppies and sunflowers, lilies and asters. I decide I’ll buy some on my way home.

I reach the coffee shop and pull open the door, then scan the room.

“Table for one?” a waitress asks as she passes by with a handful of menus.

I shake my head. “Thanks, but I’m meeting someone.”

I see her in the corner, lifting a white mug to her lips. Her gold wedding band glints as it catches the light. I pause, staring at it.

Part of me wants to run to her. Part of me wants more time to prepare.

Then she looks up and our eyes meet.

I walk over and she stands up quickly. She reaches out unhesitatingly and hugs me.

When we draw back, we wipe our eyes in unison. Then we burst into laughter.

I slide into the booth across from her.

“It is really good to see you, Sam.” I look at her bright, beaded necklace and smile.

“I’ve missed you, Vanessa.”

I’ve missed me, too, I think.

But instead of speaking, I reach into my bag.

And I pull out my matching happy beads.





EPILOGUE

Vanessa walks down the city sidewalk, her blond hair loose around her shoulders, her arms swinging free at her sides. Her street is quieter than usual in the waning days of summer, but a lone bus lumbers by the spot I’ve staked out. A few teenagers loiter on the corner, watching as one spins on a skateboard. She passes them and pauses at a flower stand. She bends down, reaching for a generous cluster of poppies in a white bucket. She smiles as the vendor makes change, then continues on toward her apartment.