Trespassing(32)

Can’t remember.

Or maybe I never paid attention.

Without a body, I can’t bury my husband, and his remains are still en route. He’ll be delivered to the same funeral home that took my mother. Lincoln and his partner have made the arrangements for me.

It’s surreal. I won’t believe Micah’s really gone until I’m holding his death certificate, until he’s officially stamped not alive. And maybe even then I won’t believe it.

If I’d known that cha-cha would be our last . . .

If I’d known, if I’d known, if I’d known . . .

A blink later, I look toward the sink, and Claudette is no longer there.

It’s dark outside.

Despite the late hour, Bella is coloring at her table, and a syndicated sitcom blares from the television set. A witty line—Actually, it’s Miss Chanandler Bong—precedes laughter.

My abdomen is still tender with yellowing bruises from weeks of IVF needles, and I’m nauseous with the drastic hormonal shifts taking place in my body now that I’ve abruptly stopped the injections.

The shift in this house is just as drastic. One minute, I was prepping for a baby with my husband, and now I’m . . .

I don’t know what I’m doing now.

I’m not decorating the nursery. I’m not shopping for onesies and tiny Chicago White Sox wind suits. I’m not doing much of anything . . . including being a mother.

“She is not, Nini.” Elizabella’s voice isn’t much more than a whisper. “She’s just sad.”

I suddenly realize I can’t remember the last time I interacted with my daughter. Judging by the plethora of wrappers littering her table and the floor around it, she’s been grabbing snacks when she’s hungry. I have vague recollections of opening a juice box or two, but beyond that . . . I swallow a sob . . . I’ve been nearly catatonic. “Bella.”

She startles a little when I call her name. Her eyes widen.

“Bella, come here.” I’m out of my chair, gravitating toward her.

Pick up the pieces.

Just like after Mama died.

Like after the miscarriage.

Bella needs me.

“Mommy.”

Her body feels smaller than ever in my embrace.

“It’s okay,” I say.

“He’s at God Land.”

That’s what they tell me.

She pecks a tiny, wet kiss onto my cheek.

I stare out over the fairway and imagine the energy of summer on the course. Early tee times. Fair play. The faint scent of cigarette smoke drifts on the air.

A split second later, I see it: the intermittent orange glow against a black felt sky. Someone puffing on a smoke.

I lock my gaze on it, and somehow I know he’s staring at us. Watching us.

Or . . . I tighten my arms around Elizabella.

Maybe it’s not me he’s looking at.

I could call the police. But I can’t prove he’s casing our house, and I don’t know what they would charge him with if they apprehended him.

Still, I hike Bella onto my hip and slink toward the sliding glass door. I turn the bolt and yank down the Roman shade to shut out the rest of the world. But then, I catch sight of the windows in the breakfast room. We live in a fishbowl. All these windows!

She wiggles. “Down.”

I let her down, when all I really want to do is keep her next to me in one of those slings I used when she was a baby.

“Just a minute, baby. Stay right with me.”

Frantically, I pull on cords, lower blinds. Rip at tiebacks. Catch sight of more glass in the kitchen, then in the dining room. Curtains fall over the windowpanes.

My legs are shaking as I dart to the front door and engage and reengage the two locks on it.

Bella’s shriek sends an adrenaline shot to my heart.

“Mommmmmmy!”

I trip on the rug in the foyer but catch myself against the wall to prevent a fall.

“Mommmmmmy!”

“Bella!” I’m nearly out of breath by the time I see her, screaming, pointing at the shades I just lowered over the patio doors. “Bella! What’s wrong?”

She’s sniffling over her words: “Nini. Nini saw.”

I fold my arms around her and pull her to the sofa. “What, baby? What did Nini see?”

Bella’s brown eyes, reddened at the rims with either fatigue or tears, widen. “Mommy.” A pair of fat tears curb over her pink cheeks.

I tighten my grip.

“I’m gonna go be with Daddy.”





Chapter 15

“Bella, listen to Mama.” I take a deep breath. “Daddy is at God Land. It’s true, but you’re safe at home with me.”

Her cheeks puff out in frustration.

I reach for my phone when it rings and recognize the number as Detective Guidry’s.

Elizabella settles in on my lap.

I take the call. “Hello.”

“Mrs. Cavanaugh, we have a lead on your husband’s car.”

My mouth is dry, as if I’m about to cough. I don’t know why his car matters, if his plane has crashed, if he’s dead.

“Mrs. Cavanaugh?”

“I’m here,” I manage to say.

“I know it’s getting late, but would you mind if I stopped by?”