She danced with Al for three more numbers, eyes closed, letting herself drift, following his steps. He was a good dancer, smooth and sure, and the music seemed to run straight through her. Phoebe's voice could do this to her too, the pure tones of her singing drifting through the rooms, making Caroline pause in whatever she was doing and stand still, the world pouring through her like light. Nice, Al murmured, pulling her closer, pressing his cheek to hers. When the music shifted to a fast rock number, he kept his arm around her as they left the floor.
Caroline, a little giddy, scanned the room for Phoebe by long habit, and felt the first filaments of worry when she didn't see her.
"I sent her down for more punch," Linda called from behind the table. She gestured to the dwindling refreshments on the table. "Can you believe this turnout, Caroline? We're running out of cookies too."
"I'll get some," Caroline offered, glad for an excuse to go after Phoebe.
"She'll be okay," Al said, catching her hand and gesturing to the chair beside him.
"I'll just check," Caroline said. "I won't be a minute."
She walked through the empty halls, so bright and quiet, Al's touch still present on her skin. She went down the stairs and into the kitchen, pushing open the swinging metal doors with one hand and reaching for the light switch with the other. The sudden fluo?rescence caught them like a photograph: Phoebe, in her flowered dress, her back against the counter, Robert standing close, his arms around her, one hand sliding up her leg. In the instant before they turned, Caroline saw that he was going to kiss her and Phoebe wanted to be kissed and was ready to kiss him back: this Robert, her first true love. Her eyes were closed, her face awash with pleasure.
"Phoebe," Caroline said, sharply. "Phoebe and Robert, that's enough." ■ < ? .
They pulled away from each other, startled but not contrite.
"It's okay," Robert said. "Phoebe is my girlfriend."
"We're getting married," Phoebe added.
Caroline, trembling, tried to stay calm. Phoebe was, after all, a grown woman. "Robert," she said, "I need to talk to Phoebe for a minute. Alone, please."
Robert hesitated, then walked past Caroline, all his gregarious enthusiasm evaporated. "It's not bad," he said, pausing at the door. "Me and Phoebe—we love each other."
"I know," Caroline said, as the doors swung shut behind him.
Phoebe stood beneath the harsh lights, twisting her necklace. "You can kiss someone you love, Mom. You kiss Al."
Caroline nodded, remembering Al's hand on her waist. "That's right. But, honey, that looked like more than kissing."
"Mom!" Phoebe was exasperated. "Robert and me are getting married."
Caroline replied without thinking. "You can't get married, sweetie."
Phoebe looked up, her face set in a stubborn expression Caroline knew well. Fluorescent light fell through a colander and made a pattern on her cheeks.
"Why not?"
"Sweetheart, marriage…" Caroline paused, thinking of Al, his recent weariness, the distance he put between them every time he traveled. "Look, it's complicated, honey. You can love Robert with?out getting married."
"No. Me and Robert, we're getting married."
Caroline sighed. "All right. Say you do. Where are you going to live?"
"We'll buy a house," Phoebe said, her expression intent now, earnest. "We'll live there, Mom. We'll have some babies."
"Babies are an awful lot of work," Caroline said. "I wonder if you and Robert know how much work babies are? And they're ex?pensive. How are you going to pay for this house? For food?"
"Robert has a job. So do I. We have a lot of money."
"But you won't be able to work if you're watching the babies."
Phoebe considered this, frowning, and Caroline's heart filled. Such profound and simple dreams, and they couldn't come true, and where was the fairness in that?
"I love Robert," Phoebe insisted. "Robert loves me. Plus, Avery had a baby."
"Oh, honey," Caroline said. She remembered Avery Swan push?ing a carriage down the sidewalk, pausing so Phoebe could lean over and touch the new baby gently on the cheek. "Oh, sweetheart." She crossed the space between them and put her hands on Phoebe's shoulders. "Remember when you and Avery rescued Rain? And we love Rain, but he's a lot of work. You have to empty the litter box and comb his hair, you have to clean up the mess he makes and let him in and out, and you worry about him a lot when he doesn't come home. Having a baby is even more, Phoebe. Having a baby is like having twenty Rains."
Phoebe's face was falling, tears were slipping down her cheeks.
"It's not fair," she whispered.
"It's not fair," Caroline agreed.
The stood for a moment, quiet in the bright harsh lights.
"Look, Phoebe, can you help me?" she asked finally. "Linda needs some cookies, too."
Phoebe nodded, wiping her eyes. They walked back up the stairs and through the hallway, carrying boxes and bottles, not speaking.
Later that night, Caroline told Al what had happened. He was sitting beside her on the couch, arms folded, already half asleep. His neck was still tender, reddened from shaving earlier, and dark cir?cles shadowed his eyes. In the morning he would rise at dawn and drive away.
"She wants so much to have her own life, Al. And it should be so simple."
"Mmm," he said, rousing. "Well, maybe it is simple, Caroline. Other people live in the facility and they seem to manage okay. We'd be right here."
Caroline shook her head. "I just can't imagine her out in the world. And she certainly can't get married, Al. What if she did get pregnant? I'm not ready to raise another child, and that's what it would mean."
"I don't want to raise another baby either," Al said.
"Maybe we should keep her from seeing Robert for a while."
Al turned to look at her, surprised. "You think that would be a good thing?"
"I don't know." Caroline sighed. "I just don't know."
"Look here," Al said gently. "From the minute I met you, Caro?line, you've been demanding that the world not slam any doors on Phoebe. Do not underestimate her—How many times have I heard you say that? So why won't you let her move out? Why not let her try? She might like the place. You might like the freedom."
She stared at the crown molding, thinking it needed painting, while a difficult truth struggled to the surface.
"I can't imagine my life without her," she said softly.
"No one's asking you to do that. But she's grown up, Caroline. That's the thing. Why have you worked all your life, if not for some kind of independent life for Phoebe?"
"I suppose you'd like to be free," Caroline said. "You'd like to take off. To travel."
"And you wouldn't?"
"Of course I would," she cried, surprised at the intensity of her response. "But Al, even if Phoebe moves out, she'll never be com?pletely independent. And I'm afraid you're unhappy because of it. I'm afraid you're going to leave us. Honey, you've been more and more distant these past years."
Al didn't speak for a long time. "Why are you so mad?" he asked at last. "What have I ever done to make you feel like I'm going to leave?"
"I'm not mad," she said quickly, because she heard in his voice that she'd hurt him. "Al, wait here a second." She walked across the room and took the letter from the drawer. "This is why I'm upset. I don't know what to do."
He took the letter and studied it for a long time, turning it over once as if its mystery might be answered by something written on the back, then reading it once more.
"How much is in this account?" he asked, looking up.
She shook her head. "I don't know yet. I have to go in person to find out."
Al nodded, studying the letter again. "It's strange, the way he did this: a secret account."
"I know. Maybe he was afraid I'd tell Norah. Maybe he wanted to make sure she had time to get used to his death. That's all I can imagine." She thought of Norah, moving through the world, never suspecting that her daughter was still alive. And Paul—what had become of him? Hard to imagine who he might be now, that dark-haired infant she'd seen only once.
"What do you think we should dp?" she asked.
"Well, find out the details, first. We'll go down to see this lawyer fellow together when I get back. I can take off a day or two. After that, I don't know, Caroline. We sleep on it, I guess. We don't have to do anything right away."
"All right," she said, all her consternation of the last week falling away. Al made it sound so easy. "I'm so glad you're here," she said.
"Honestly, Caroline." He took her hand in his. "I'm not going anywhere. Except to Toledo, at six o'clock tomorrow morning. So I think I'll go up and hit the sack."
He kissed her then, full on the lips, and pulled her close. Caroline pressed her cheek against his, taking in his scent and warmth, thinking of meeting him that day in the parking lot outside of Louisville, the day that defined her life.
Al got up, his hand still in hers. "Come upstairs?" he invited.
She nodded and stood, her hand in his.
In the morning she rose early and made breakfast, decorating the plates of eggs, bacon, and hash browns with sprigs of parsley.
"That sure smells good," Al said, as he came in, kissing her cheek and tossing the paper on the table, along with yesterday's mail. The letters were cool, faintly damp, in her hands. There were two bills, plus a bright postcard of the Aegean Sea with a note from Doro on the back.
Caroline ran her fingers over the picture and read the brief mes?sage. "Trace sprained his ankle in Paris."
"That's too bad." Al snapped open the paper and shook his head at the election news.
"Hey, Caroline," he said after a moment, putting the paper down. "I was thinking last night. Why don't you come with me? Linda would take Phoebe for the weekend, I bet. We could get away, you and me. You'd get a chance to see how Phoebe might do with some time on her own. What do you say?"
"Right now? Just leave, you mean?"
"Yeah. Seize the day. Why not?"
"Oh," she said, flustered, pleased, though she didn't like the long hours on the road. "I don't know. There's so much to do this week. Maybe next time," she added quickly, not wanting to turn him away.
"We could take some side trips, this time," he coaxed. "Make it more interesting for you."
"It's a really good idea," she said, thinking with surprise that it was.
He smiled, disappointed, and leaned to kiss her, his lips brief and cool on hers.
After Al drove off, Caroline hung Doro's postcard on the refrig?erator. It was a bleak November, the weather damp and gray and edging to snow, and she liked looking at that bright, alluring sea, the edge of warm sand. All that week, helping patients or making dinner or folding laundry, Caroline remembered Al's invitation. She thought about the passionate kiss she'd interrupted between Robert and her daughter, and about the residence where Phoebe wanted to live. Al was right. Someday the two of them would no longer be here, and Phoebe had a right to a life of her own.
Yet the world was no less cruel than ever. On Tuesday, while they were in the dining room eating meat loaf and mashed potatoes and green beans, Phoebe reached into her pocket and took out a lit?tle plastic puzzle, the kind with numbers printed on movable squares. The trick was to put the numbers in order, and she pushed at them in between bites.
"That's nice," Caroline said idly, drinking her milk. "Where did you get that, honey ?"
"From Mike."
"Does he work with you?" Caroline asked. "Is he new?"
"No," Phoebe said. "I met him on the bus."
"On the bus?"
"Uh-huh. Yesterday. He was nice."
"I see." Caroline felt time slowing down a bit, all her senses growing more alert. She had to force herself to speak calmly, natu?rally. "Mike gave you the puzzle?"
"Uh-huh. He was nice. And he has a new bird. He wants to show me."
"Does he?" Caroline said, a cool wind rushing through her. "Phoebe, honey, you can't even think about going off with strangers. We talked about that."
"I know. I told him," Phoebe said. She pushed the puzzle away and squirted more ketchup on her meat loaf. "He said, Come home with me, Phoebe. And I said, Okay, but I have to tell my mom first."
"What a good idea," Caroline managed to say.
"So can I? Can I go to Mike's house tomorrow?"
"Where does Mike live?"
Phoebe shrugged. "I don't know. I see him on the bus."
"Everyday?"
"Uh-huh. Can I go? I want to see his bird."
"Well, what if I come too?" Caroline said carefully. "What if we take the bus together tomorrow? That way I can meet Mike, and I'll come with you to see the bird. How's that?"
"That's good," Phoebe said, pleased, and finished her milk.
For the next two days, Caroline took the bus with Phoebe to and from her job, but Mike never showed up.
"Honey, I'm afraid he was lying," she told Phoebe on Thursday night as they washed the dishes. Phoebe was wearing a yellow sweater, and her hands sported a dozen little paper cuts from work. Caroline watched her pick up each plate and dry it carefully, grate?ful that Phoebe was safe, terrified that some day she would not be. Who was this stranger, this Mike, and what might he have done to
Phoebe if she had gone with him? Caroline filed a report with the police, but she had little hope that they'd find him. Nothing had ac?tually happened, after all, and Phoebe couldn't describe the man, except to say that he'd worn a gold ring and blue sneakers.
