Author: Kristan Higgins

“Actually, I figured I’d leave Nicky with you.”

His smile dropped. “Isn’t Lavinia around?”

“She’s around. If you need help, you could give her a call. But I figured you boys could hang out. Pee outside, hammer things, do what men do.”

James ran a hand through his hair. “Okay. But I…I don’t have a lot of experience with kids.”

“Well, feed him once in a while, and if he asks if he can drive your truck, the answer is no.”

“Parker, I’m not sure if I’m, um, qualified.”

“You are,” she said softly. “James. He’s the person I love most in the world. I wouldn’t leave him with just anyone.” He didn’t look convinced. “Besides,” she added, “it’d be good for him to spend some time with you.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Thank me when I get back. If you still have the capacity for speech, that is.” She turned to the yard. “Hey, Nicky! James is going to stay with you today while I run a few errands, okay?”

Nicky bolted up from the grass. “Yes! Can we use the nail gun? Can we? Huh? Please, James? Please? Yes? Is it yes? We can do it now, if you want. Do you want to? Let’s go.”

Parker’s mood was light as she drove the Volvo southwest. Where the talk of babies had come from last night, she had no idea. Oh, please. It was totally Freudian, Spike said. Your subconscious wanted to have the baby talk, and bang. The baby talk occurs.

“I love babies,” Parker said aloud.

No matter what, though, it was nice to think about the future. Their future. I’m in, he’d said. Parker could see where he’d be hesitant and unsure. But she’d seen his face as he lifted her sleeping child from the car. She’d also seen what it took for him to swim to the raft yesterday. James might not have any idea how big his heart was, but she did.

She caught a glimpse of her face in the rearview mirror. She was smiling.

So this was love. Funny how it had crept up on her, this feeling. Sure, Thing One had always been attractive, and yes, they’d had that shag three years ago. But it was odd; she almost couldn’t remember him before, when he was her father’s puppy. Now when she thought of him, she pictured his smile, his big, work-roughened hands and kind eyes. Now, she was thinking of him as…well, hers.

Yep. Hers. Nice word. Aware that she was now not only smiling but also humming, and possibly purring, Parker pulled off the highway. She had time for a stop, and Harry would appreciate the gift. Maybe. Hopefully.

* * *

NEW HAMPSHIRE NORTH SIDE Correctional Facility looked like a big box store. The men wore blue work shirts and pants, resembling custodians more than convicts. The visiting room was a cafeteria-like space, the tables and chairs bolted to the floor.

When Harry came in, Parker almost didn’t recognize him. No power suit, no sleek haircut, his gray hair now thinner and a bit scraggly. He’d lost a little weight, too, and his face was slack. “Dad,” she said, standing up. The word surprised her.

“Parker. How are you?” They looked at each other for a second, not sure what to do next.

“No touching,” the guard said, relieving them both of the awkwardness of expectations. They sat. There were several other families in the room—a man and his wife and three children were playing backgammon; a couple murmured in the corner, leaning toward each other so that only an inch or two separated them.

“So this isn’t too bad, is it?” Parker asked.

“It’s not the Drake,” Harry said.

“No.” She pulled the envelope from her bag. “Brought you some pictures.”

Harry’s face softened as he looked. They were of Nicky; she’d stopped at a CVS on the long drive in and had them printed. “He’s gotten big,” Harry murmured.

“Yeah.” She tried to remember the last time Harry had seen her son and couldn’t. Easter, maybe. “He says he has a loose tooth.”

“Is that right?”

“I can’t tell, but he says so.”

Her father smiled faintly, still gazing at the photos. “He looks like you.”

Parker snorted. “No, he looks like Ethan. Almost exactly.”

“No. Very much like you at that age.” Harry glanced at her, suddenly wary, as if he’d crossed a line. “Well. A good-looking boy, that’s for sure.” He put the photos back and passed them to her. “Thank you for showing me.”

She slid the packet back toward him. “They’re for you, Harry.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you even more.” He looked at the envelope, resting his fingertips on it. “Have you told him I’m in jail?”

Parker gave a half nod. “I told him you were in a time-out for grown-ups.”

“Maybe I could talk to him sometime.”

“Sure. That would be nice. Um, I did tell him you were in here for being greedy and breaking some rules.”

“True enough,” Harry said, studying the table. An awkward silence fell.

Okay. So they’d covered Nicky, and it was reassuring that Harry had wanted to talk to him. He might not be the best grandfather in the world, God knew, but he wasn’t the worst, either. Maybe his time in here would help her father figure out some priorities.

On to the next topic. Parker racked her brain for something neutral to talk about. “So what do you do in here to pass the time?”

Harry shrugged. “I read. There’s a gym. Sometimes we have television privileges. Go to meetings.”

“What kind of meetings?”

“Alcoholics Anonymous.”

Wow. Okay, yes, she knew her father could put away the wine and scotch. Once, when Nicky was a baby, James had driven Harry to Grayhurst and put him to bed, but Parker’d been too busy with trying to soothe her colicky child to really take note. Figured it was a case of overindulgence, not really alcoholism. “Are you… Is it really a problem? Your drinking?”

“No, Parker, it was AA or cribbage, and you know how I hate card games.” He lifted an eyebrow. “My name is Harry, and I’m an alcoholic. Didn’t really realize it till I had the DTs in here, but yes, I have a problem. I hid it well,” he added, reading her mind.

“So how long have you—”

“Oh, probably since college, technically, though I suppose it got worse after your mother left me.”

Parker shut her mouth, which was hanging open. “This is a bit of a bombshell, Harry.”

“Really? You didn’t know?”

“Nope.”

“Well. I suppose that’s good.” Harry drummed his fingers on the tabletop.

“Speaking of Mom,” Parker said, still a bit stunned. “She came to visit.”

Harry pursed his lips. Parker wasn’t sure, but that might’ve been regret in his eyes. “And how is she?” he asked.

“She’s good.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Another silence fell. She glanced at the clock; she’d been here ten minutes.

“How’s James, by the way?” Harry asked.

Parker felt her face warm. “He’s good. Um, he’s been fantastic this summer.” Should she tell her father they were together? Or maybe that should come from James. She wasn’t really sure how to handle that topic.

“Has he started yet?” Harry asked.

“Started what?”

“His job.”

She felt her stomach tighten as if against a blow. “His job?”

“Yeah. Mitch Stravitz, remember him? At Goldman? No? Well, he’s been to the house a number of times. Came for that wine tasting where we went through the case of the ’82 Margaux.” Harry smiled in fond remembrance. “Anyway, he was happy to do me a favor. This whole insider-trading charge was completely blown out of proportion. Once I’m back, it’ll be like nothing ever happened. Sort of like the Mafia. Everyone does their stint in the joint.” Harry laughed his client laugh, that low, insincere Hollywood laugh.

Parker was finding it hard to draw a deep breath. “Hang on, Harry. James is working at Goldman Sachs? In New York?”

“In the legal department. Yes.”

“Do you know when he starts?”

“Next week, so far as I know.” Harry frowned at her. “He didn’t mention it, I gather?”

“No,” Parker said calmly. “It didn’t come up.”

“Huh. He got an apartment and everything. I figured he’d have told you. Is he still in Maine?”

“Yep. Still in Maine. For now.” She forced herself to smile. “How’s the food here?”

* * *

THE DRIVE BACK to Gideon’s Cove was much longer than the drive down had been. Or so it seemed.

So while Parker had been talking about a long-term monogamous relationship with a possible baby in the future, James had been planning to trot down to Manhattan. He had a job waiting for him. He had an apartment. On the one hand, he said he loved her. On the other, he was moving. And he’d never said a word. Maybe that’s what tonight’s talk was about.

She could see the future spreading bleakly in front of her. She’d get a job, share Nicky with Ethan and Lucy. James would come up a weekend or two, but he’d be busy. Time together would be harder to manage. In the end, he’d feel guilty and burdened, and she’d feel bitter and resentful.

“I’m an idiot,” she said aloud.

It’s just that last night, out on the dock…it had seemed so… Oh, crikey, how many women read into these things? How many men said what a woman wanted to hear, simply to make the moment easier?

Well. She and James were going to have that talk when she got home, that was for sure. She checked her phone. No new messages. Just as well. This was a talk to have in person, and besides, she was entering the area where cell-phone service started to cut out.

The Holy Rollers were silent. Polly patted her shoulder, but no one had anything to offer.

When she finally came into Gideon’s Cove, the town seemed oddly vacant. No one was in front of Dewey’s, and almost no cars lined Main Street. The sun was sinking into the sea, one last ray cutting right into her eyes as she drove past the fisheries parking lot and onto Shoreline Drive

Then she saw the lights.

Fire trucks, the ambulance, a dozen pickup trucks and cars, in front of…in front of…in front of her house.

Malone saw her coming, opened the door for her before she’d come to a complete stop. She got out, but her legs buckled, and he caught her. “Nicky,” she managed to say.

“He’s missing,” Malone said in his rumbling voice. “Whole town’s looking for him.”

* * *

SHE COULD SEE EVERYTHING, but nothing had any impact. The fire chief had sad eyes. Maggie was holding her hand so hard it hurt. Lavinia choked on sobs, sitting on the runner of a fire truck. Rolly, Ben and Stuart stood to one side, saying nothing. James was wet. Jonah Beaumont pulled on his scuba gear, his face white. Collier Rhodes was on his phone.

Parker could hear herself answering questions, but she felt so deep inside herself that it was like looking out from the bottom of a deep, dark mine shaft. She was feeling for her son—feeling for him, reaching for him. Where are you, sweet boy, come to Mommy—

“A blue T-shirt with a dinosaur skeleton on the front. It glows in the dark. Brown shorts,” she said in answer to a question. Please, God. Please. Please. Anything but this.

Her son had been gone for two hours. Two hours, and she hadn’t even known. They’d tried calling her, but the damn cell-phone service sucked up here in this miserable, godforsaken county.

The dive team was in the water.

The dive team was in the water.

Please, God, don’t let him be in there, but the images were too clear, his little body being pulled up, limp and white, a tiny casket, Ethan devastated, their beautiful boy, gone. Parker choked, started to gasp, her breath yanking in and out of her chest. Maggie hugged her, hard. “Easy, Parker, easy,” she whispered.