Sunburn: A Novel(74)

He wants to hold her. But there is the bar between them. The bar and the gun.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “There never seemed to be a right time to tell you. Once we were in love—did it really matter?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t have the luxury of thinking about things like that. There are more pressing matters.”

Adam looks at the gun on the bar. He remembers thunder, an explosion. Which came first?

“Polly, did you kill Cath?” he asks.

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“That’s honest, at least.”

She still hasn’t answered his question.

“Where did you go, Polly? Where have you been?”

“I went to Baltimore. Gregg told me earlier this month that he’s going to pursue full custody of Jani. That he might even expect child support from me, down the road, although he’s waiving it for now. Isn’t that rich? Of course, he doesn’t know that I have money coming to me. That was the whole point, to get out of that marriage before Gregg found out about the settlement. I’m guessing you know about that, too? I assume that’s why Irving hired you. He heard I had money, he wanted it. And not because he needed it, just to make things hard on me.”

“I get why you don’t want your ex to have your money, but if you’re not going to raise your kid, would it be the worst thing in the world to pay support if you can?”

“You don’t get anything.” Her tone is weary, impatient. “Come with me.”

She leads him out of the bar, across the street, to room 3. As she opens the unlocked door, he’s saying, “I don’t think this is the time to—” Although part of him thinks maybe it’s exactly the time, maybe it’s the only thing to do now. Maybe if they make love, he’ll remember why he loves her.

But the bed already has someone in it—a little girl with high color in her cheeks and dark, tight curls. It’s only seeing the girl, close up, that Adam registers how much she looks like her father—and how much she looks like Adam. He couldn’t see that before, but he and Gregg bear a strong resemblance to each other.

“Jani,” Polly says. “But, again, you know that. You’ve seen us together, right?”

He nods. “At the beach. Before you left her.”

“I figured I was only going to be gone for a few months, tops. I didn’t realize how long things would take. I thought I could get to Reno, get a divorce in six weeks. Belleville wasn’t part of the plan. Neither were you. I had so many lovely plans. I sure didn’t expect her father to fight me for custody. I assumed he’d be going crazy after a few months alone with her, would beg me to take her off his hands.”

“You kidnapped her.”

“She’s mine. There’s no custody order, no law broken. I took a bus to Baltimore Thursday afternoon. Spent the night in the bus station, which was interesting. On Friday, while Gregg was at work, I went to the old house, packed up a bag for her, put it in the trunk of the Toyota. I still had my keys, after all. Then all I had to do was let myself in about eleven, when the house was dark, and pick her up. She wasn’t even that surprised to find me carrying her. I think she always knew I would come for her. I drove straight to the Valley View, checked in about one a.m.”

“Why did you bring her to the motel instead of our place?”

“I didn’t want to involve you.” It’s the first thing she’s said that doesn’t ring true. After all, she was sitting across the street, in the dark, with a gun.

“Involve me? Like you said, there’s nothing illegal about a mom having her kid. He could call you in for auto theft, I guess, although if your name is on the title—”

“It is.”

“Then I don’t think the cops can get involved. But your ex must be going crazy.”

“He shouldn’t be. I left a note that I was taking her for Christmas and would bring her back next week. He had her for all other holidays this year. It’s only fair.”

Adam has never had a kid, but he’s pretty sure that sneaking into your estranged husband’s house and taking your daughter two days before Christmas is guaranteed to make a man crazy. And he’s pretty sure that Polly knows that, too.

The girl stirs in her sleep. “Let’s go back to the High-Ho,” Polly says. “She’s a light sleeper.”

“Is that safe, leaving her here?”

“Safe enough. I told the desk clerk to keep an ear out for her, that I had to do some inventory for overtime pay, but that my daughter was sleeping.” Her voice positively caresses those last few words.

“What about the gun?”

“I heard someone pulling up and I got a little scared.”

But Mr. C keeps his gun in his desk. And you don’t do inventory in the dark.

They cross the highway, head into the still-dark bar. Now they are on the stools, just as he imagined it. Where is the velvet box? Back at their apartment, still hidden in that little grove of tampons. Maybe that’s for the best. This isn’t the time for a romantic proposal. Instead of a blue velvet box between them on the bar, there’s a gun.

“Polly, what are you really up to?”

“I’m going to run, Adam. Possession is nine-tenths of the law. I’m going to disappear with her, make him divorce me in absentia. Once we’re divorced, I’ll be okay to use my money. With money, I can fight for her.”