"Do I have to go?"
Nancy looked down at Sam. The expression on Sam's face was heartbreaking. She knelt down, so their faces were level.
"You know the deal we made," Nancy said, brushing Sam's hair back. "You just have to go today. If you don't like it, then we'll do something else."
Sam shifted her backpack, the one she'd picked out a week ago, back when the prospect of preschool was still far-off and vaguely exciting. The furrow was between her eyebrows again. "Okay," she said, grudgingly. "You'll be back soon?"
Nancy nodded. "I'll be back soon. We can go have lunch together, wherever you want."
Sam did finally smile, then, and Nancy wrapped her arms around her daughter's shoulders and hugged her before she allowed herself to be led inside by one of the aides.
Nancy stood and watched until Sam was out of her sight. The aide standing outside, helping children out of cars, looked up expectantly.
"Noon, right?" Nancy said faintly.
The aide nodded. "She'll be fine."
"I know," Nancy said.
Sam would be at preschool for four hours. She wasn't yet old enough to stay an entire day, nor did Nancy especially want her to. The days were so long already. Frank was at the office.
She was glad.
Since she had come back from the weekend of the reunion she had been hypersensitive while around her husband. The first time he'd reached for her in their bed she had hesitated for a moment, her mind racing, wanting to think up some excuse. In the end she had given in and stared at the ceiling, and when he was out on their porch smoking she crept silently to their bathroom and knelt on the floor, fighting the nausea and the sickening certainty that she had just betrayed Ned again.
They had not attempted to contact each other and she told herself that it was for the best. She didn't hate Frank. She had vowed to stay with Frank. She didn't tell anyone else what had happened that weekend, she didn't write it down anywhere, she didn't look through brochures of weekend getaways fantasizing about seeing him again.
But she thought about it all the time.
She almost wished that she could bring herself to hate her husband. But when she looked back, she couldn't have made any other choice. Despite the feelings she still had for Ned, Frank was Sam's father, and Frank had deserved to know that, and she owed it to Frank and to her daughter to stick by the decision to marry him.
She didn't love Frank. She was fond of him, and in their own way, they did love each other, but if she had ever been in love with him that time was long past. He was familiar, now, after three years of sporadically sharing a bed. He was considerate and he was a good guy, but he was not her good guy alone. She was slowly understanding that he never would be. But he wasn't just leaving her anymore, he was leaving Sam.
Better for Sam to have a father who was sometimes there, than no father at all. Nancy did believe that, even while she lay awake brushing away tears and wishing Frank was home, if for no other reason than to help protect them from the danger his job had put them in.
If not for Sam, she would not be with Frank.
If not for Sam, she would never have married Frank. Not because Frank was a congenital flirt, but because Frank took his job so seriously; he believed that his calling was to help others. That he could do so because she agreed to stay home with their daughter instead of doing the same was just a testament to the fact that she believed it too.
It wasn't fair. Life had stopped being fair the minute the doctor walked in with her test results.
She shook her head. No, she had accepted Frank Hardy's advances on the edge of the lake that rainy night because she wanted to, and she had accepted the consequences. But Sam was far more than a consequence. She would give up her life for Sam. She would do everything she possibly could for the sake of her daughter.
Even if doing what was best for Sam meant cutting the man she loved out of her life completely.
--
"You want to send her where?" Frank had asked.
"Montessori," Nancy said, smoothing the brochure open on the dining room table. "It's a half-day preschool, it's about half an hour away from the house..."
"Ahh, you just want some free time."
"Not at all," Nancy said. "She doesn't get to see that many kids her own age. This way she'll get a head start on school, and she won't be away for too long, not until she's comfortable with it."
Frank started skimming through the material she'd brought home. "It's private."
"They have a space open but they need to know by the end of the week."
"Is this what you want? For her?"
"I want her to have the best," Nancy said. "She's already so bright, you don't see her, the questions she's already asking me. She's just..."
"I do see her," Frank protested mildly. "She's ours. Of course she's bright, Nan, she's perfect."
Nancy's fingers twisted against her palm until her nails had made hard bright numb points against her flesh. "So it's okay?"
Frank smiled. "Sure. Just make sure I get the bill."
Nancy ran her fingers through her hair, then went back to the stove, where their dinner was simmering. A lifetime ago she had picked out the Montessori in Chicago that she and Ned's children would go to, but that had been another life.
"Thanks," she murmured, her fingers drifting through the edges of steam, smoking the rings on her left hand.
--
"See?" Sam demanded.
Nancy strapped her daughter into the seat, then accepted the sheet of paper Sam was thrusting at her. On an off-white sheet of newsprint Sam had glued a square of fabric approximating a pink mitten the same size as her hand, too carefully trimmed to have been her own work. Nancy smiled.
"It's beautiful," she said, and rubbed her other palm over her face in a weary gesture. "Where do you want to go for lunch?"
After chicken nuggets and a cup of applesauce Sam had twisted out of her light jacket and tossed off her shoes, and was now climbing her way through the ball pit. Nancy stabbed the last few shreds of lettuce with her fork and brought it to her mouth, then changed her mind and let it drop.
She kept looking at the pink mitten, carefully wedged under the tray so it wouldn't flutter away in the cooler wind.
Her cell phone was ringing, Frank's specific tone. Nancy sighed and flipped her phone open.
"I'm really sorry," he began, before she had even said hello.
"I know," Nancy replied.
--
"You'll be in when?" Carson asked.
"Around six tonight," Nancy replied. "We can take a cab, if it's too much trouble."
"No trouble at all," her father replied. "We can have dinner together, unless you're going to leave me babysitting the whole weekend again."
Nancy laughed at him. "You can't blackmail me," she said. "Besides, there's no reunion this weekend. We can do whatever you want. Play checkers, cards, dominos, go out to a movie, the ballet..."
"Lucky for you, my schedule is entirely clear this weekend," Carson said. "Next weekend, it's that special time again."
"Fishing trip?"
"Yeah, before it gets too cold," he said. "See you tonight. I've missed you."
"Miss you too."
She had been going down to Bayport over weekends, ever since, respecting Ned's wishes and his decision. But she missed her father, she missed Chicago in the fall, and her in-laws needed a break.
Nancy put the phone down. "We're going to go see Grandpa," she told Sam, who smiled.
--
Sam at the age of three had more frequent flyer miles than she'd ever be able to use, all from the brief flights between their house and her grandparents. The prospect of a plane trip held no thrill for her anymore. She flipped through the laminated and much-handled book she had brought home from school with her, then stared out the window, watchful and quiet.
Nancy looked at the fields spread out under the plane as they descended, and her heart began to speed.
Her father had to have driven straight from the office. He was still in a grey suit and shirt sleeves, and even if Sam no longer anticipated or feared planes, she still grinned and hugged her grandfather when she saw him. Nancy kissed Carson on the cheek, shouldering her carry-on, making sure Sam had her bright backpack on her shoulders.
At the house, Nancy saw the chess problem set up on the table, and walked over to touch the white queen. Sam followed her, and after she climbed up onto the table she reached out for the same.
Nancy put her hand over her daughter's. "It's for a game," she said. "Not a toy."
Sam nodded seriously. "Can we play?"
Carson walked up behind them, and Nancy smiled at her father. "Trying to puzzle through something?"
"Well, now that you're so far away, I have to do something when I'm stuck on a case," Carson laughed. "We can play."
Sam smiled, but Nancy picked her up. "You can sit on my lap and watch," Nancy told her daughter. "And then maybe one day Grandpa will teach you like he taught me."
Carson poured them both cups of coffee while Nancy returned the board to starting positions, but Sam only made it through watching the opening moves before she started digging through her backpack for a coloring book. Carson took a thoughtful sip of coffee, looked at his granddaughter, then at the young woman across the table, considering her next move.
"How have you been, Nan?"
Nancy's mouth half-curved up in a smile. "You trying to distract me?" she asked, taking her turn. "We've been well."
"As though I could distract you," Carson said, looking down at the board. "I was just wondering if something happened the last time you were here. I barely saw you that weekend, and it's been months..."
Nancy looked up and caught her father's gaze. Her fingers were trembling slightly on the table top. She was the first to look away. "Frank and I were," she began, feeling terrible. "We were going through a patch. But we're okay."
"Just okay?"
Nancy forced a smile. "I think it's fair," she said, then glanced over at her daughter, who was oblivious. "I don't see him enough for it to be anything more or less."
Carson made his own move. "Maybe I should talk to him."
Nancy propped her chin on her hand and studied her father's face. "It wouldn't do any good," she said quietly. "But thanks."
--
It started with a tiny lie.
"What time are you going back?" Carson had asked, and Nancy, with hardly any deliberation, had replied, "Just before lunch."
And she did get a cab, after brunch, but she didn't take it to the airport as her father assumed. She and Sam went to a park, where Sam climbed on a swing and Nancy pushed her, trying to make up her mind. The weather was gorgeous. They could easily waste the time until their flight here, at dinner...
Nancy took Sam's hand. "You want to go visit someone?"
Sam looked up into her mother's face. "Okay," she said.
Nancy directed the cab from memory through the streets, nervous. But Sam's presence would make things easier. How could he turn down five minutes of her time, when she had Sam at her side?
While they waited for the elevator she almost turned back.
"Where are we going?"
Nancy looked down at Sam. "To see a friend of mine," she said. "Just until we go home."
"Oh," Sam said. "A friend?"
"You've met him," Nancy said, but her heart was pounding in her throat as they approached his door. "It's okay."
Ned answered the door in a soft grey shirt and faded jeans, his feet bare, and his eyes lit when he saw Nancy. "Hi," he said.
"Hi," Nancy said. "I just... me and Sam..."
Her heart sank down to her feet when she heard ice cubes against glass from his kitchen. "You want another one?" a voice called, and then a woman came into view. Smooth jet black hair, piercing blue eyes. Her feet were bare.
"Thought maybe you'd like to get some coffee with us," Nancy murmured, blushing faintly. "But I guess not."
Ned glanced over his shoulder, made some smooth gesture, and the woman pouted before she vanished back into the kitchen. "You have a flight later?" he asked Nancy, his voice low.
"Yeah, but," Nancy said, and swept Sam up into her arms. "I just... forget it."
He reached out and touched her arm. "Can you give me an hour? The Italian place?"
She looked up into his face, but couldn't speak. The tears were rising behind her eyes; she had to get away before he could see them. She couldn't cry about this. She was the one who had left him and been married. She had no right to feel this sick, black jealousy.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here. I'll," she said, and turned away.
He looked after her, his face a mask, but didn't call out, didn't ask her to come back. After he closed the door the woman in his kitchen walked backed to the couch. Sashayed. Her hips were exaggerated curves.
"Who was that?"
"A friend," Ned replied. "She's been going through some bad stuff lately."
"Oh?" she said, taking a sip of her drink. "Looks like it."
She was on her couch with her legs crossed, the remote in her hand, her tone bored. When he walked around the couch and stood staring at her, she looked up, her eyes light and disdained.
He took the remote out of her hand. He leaned over and picked up her drink, took it to the kitchen, and dumped it into his sink.
"Hey!"
He unbolted the door and peered down the hallway, found it deserted. When he looked back at the couch, she was staring at him, her brow furrowed, scowling.
"Get out," he said, his voice low and even, but firm.
"What?"
"Get out," he repeated, stepping back.
Once she had disappeared down the hallway, swearing she'd never go out with him again, Ned dug his cell phone out of his jeans pocket and dialed her number.
After three rings, Nancy answered. "What?"
Ned sighed. "I'll be there in ten minutes. If you'll just wait for me."
--
Her face was flushed when he walked in. He signaled the waiter for a coffee and then sat down opposite her. Sam regarded him with interest. "Hey," he told her softly.
Nancy stirred the cup of coffee in front of her. "I-- I'm sorry," she said. "You have your life and I have mine, and I shouldn't have dropped by like that."
He shrugged. "Drop by whenever you want," he said. "I mean, it'd be easier if you called first," he said, with the same old grin, and she fought down the anger with sustained effort.
"I didn't know," she said, and shook her head. "After the way we left things."
He nodded, thanked the waiter for his coffee and took a sip. "So you just wanted to kill some time before your flight?"
"Did she put up a fight when you threw her out?" Nancy said suddenly, her voice hard, bitter.
Ned reached over and cupped her chin in his hand. "Hey," he said softly, and when she looked up her eyes were flashing, angry. "You know I'd drop everything for you."
She shook her head, pushing his hand away, and glanced over at Sam. "How am I supposed to know that," she said quietly. "She your new girlfriend?"
"I won't be seeing her anymore."
Nancy laughed, then. "How many girlfriends have you had, since that day I ran into you at the grocery store," she asked.
He shrugged. "None of them last long," he said. "How can I count people who don't matter."
"Suckup," she accused him mildly, but she was smiling.
He rested his fingertips over hers, then looked over at Sam, who was leaning over in her seat, blinking slowly. "What, did you two go to the clubs last night?" he said, tilting his head to indicate her.
"We've had a big day," Nancy said. "Sorry."
Ned glanced around, then pulled out his billfold, left a bill on the table. "Come on," he said. "She can take a nap at my place."
--
She wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was.
He had his arm around her shoulders and they were on his couch again, taking turns glancing at her daughter every few minutes, trying to keep their attention on the television. She and Frank had never spent an evening this way, waiting for their daughter to drift off before they raced each other to the bedroom.
She glanced over at Ned. Maybe he wasn't feeling it. Maybe it was all her. She was all high nervousness, her every breath marking another second less she could spend with him before she boarded the plane, back to the life she had chosen. It wasn't enough to feel his fingertips resting lightly against her upper arm. It wasn't enough anymore to be able to say his name softly, to see him gaze into her eyes. She wanted more, now. She needed more.
"I think she's asleep," Ned breathed, looking down at Sam.
Nancy looked over at her daughter, holding for a long moment, then turned back to Ned and nodded, afraid to speak, afraid to even breathe, in case Sam would stir and open her beautiful blue eyes and their opportunity would be lost.
He eased off the couch, so slowly, making as little noise as he possibly could, and reached for Nancy's hand.
She took a deep breath and followed him to his bedroom.
After, he was trailing slow kisses over her bare stomach, her hand resting on the back of his head, her rings on the table at his bedside. She made a soft noise and he crawled up, over her, his mouth finding hers in the darkness. She kissed him, hard, and there was nothing beyond the two of them, nothing else in the world.
"Mama?"
"Oh my God," Nancy said against his mouth, and Ned pulled back, reaching over to pick up his boxers. "Robe?"
He tossed his robe to her and made sure she was covered before he pulled on his jeans and opened the door of his bedroom, his chest still bare. Sam blinked sleepily at him from the couch.
"Hey," he said, softly. "Just give her a minute."
Nancy zipped her jeans and tugged her shirt back on, glancing at Ned before she walked out, both of them blushing softly. "Hey baby, did you go to sleep?"
Sam nodded and rubbed at one eye. "Where did you go?"
"Bathroom," Ned covered easily. "Nan, when did you have to...?"
"Oh," Nancy said, glancing at her watch. "Yeah. We'll get a cab."
"I'll drive you," Ned offered.
Nancy started packing as Ned vanished back into his bedroom for the shirt she had pulled over his head and thrown across the room. Sam willingly was manipulated into her coat, and Ned walked out of his bedroom in a soft black leather jacket that made her want to drag him back in, whether Sam was awake or not.
He was just locking the door behind them when Nancy put his hand on his. "Oh God, I-- I left something."
When she came back out, Ned was waiting with Sam in the hallway, and Nancy was just pushing her wedding rings back onto her left ring finger. He raised an eyebrow at her, his mouth falling open slightly.
"Yeah," she said. "Okay, we're good now."
When they were in his car Nancy tugged her rings back off and held them loosely in her right hand, reaching for Ned's. He laced his fingers between hers and glanced at her, in the dim glow of a stoplight. He didn't say anything. She didn't trust herself to speak.
At the check-in counter she just gazed at him. Sam was awake, far too awake, and Nancy's rings were back on, and she couldn't say goodbye to him the way she wanted, which definitely involved far more privacy.
"Okay," she said. "Thanks-- for the ride, and the coffee."
"You're welcome," Ned replied. "Maybe we'll see each other again soon. I'll... why don't you call me, when you're free to talk."
What do you want to say, she wanted to ask. Do you want to say it all over again, now that we both know that what you said meant nothing? Instead she smiled at him, nodding, reaching for his hand, but faster than either of them could realize he was reaching for her. The mingled scent of cologne and aftershave and sex and then he was pulling back and soft color was staining her cheeks.
I love you, she mouthed to him, quick, her heart beating heavily in her chest.
He nodded in wordless agreement.
