Keeping Time: A Novel Page 15

  Dennis, removing his pensive eye’s grip on the sea. Turning to the top of Amanda’s head, the side of her face. Watching the gentle breeze lift and part her hair. His fingers doing the same. His sandals, squishing rocky sand. Reaching down to kiss her damp lips, saying, “Thank you for all this.”

  Amanda, smiling up at him, lips apart, her pretty teeth revealed, her eyes shining. Saying, “I ks. Hurrying do

  THIRTY-FOUR

  DART MAN, CAUGHT RED-HANDED.

  Launching a dart. At 10:17 a.m. on E#e.plCrast Thirty-ninth Street and Third Avenue. From a red mountain bike. It was a risky move because people knew about him. People were on the lookout. He struck earlier than usual but was seen, chased, and caught by a Korean grocery store owner who was stacking tangerines in orderly rows. He saw Dart Man making his escape, thought quickly, and rolled a barrel of fresh-cut flowers into his path, causing Dart Man to swerve, hit a lamppost, crash, and land on his back, feet in the air. The heroic Korean grocery store owner managed to hold him down until the police arrived.

  Dart Man had finally fallen. He was a white, twenty-two-year-old, skinny, pointy-chinned redhead, an out-of-work actor from the Midwest whose only fame had come, and would come, from terrorizing the city for thirty-three days.

  Elisabeth, hearing the news on the radio. Feeling relief. And humiliation. It made her want her bed, piles of pillows, heavy blankets—a place to hide.

  Instead, performing an act of penance. At lunchtime, dashing out of her office, into her car, off to a bike store. Discussing pros and cons with the young, overweight, very personable salesman. Explaining what she wanted. Listening to his advice. Together, choosing a bike.

  Guilt made the purchase. Guilt signed the credit card screen with the tethered stylus. Guilt bought the most expensive bike in the store.

  ELISABETH, ALL SMILES when Richard got home. At ten after ten.

  He found her in the kitchen, ironing the white shirt that Pete would need for graduation. Richard, going upstairs to change out of his suit, to say hello to the boys, and to hear from Michael that the Regents was a breeze. Passing through the hallway, finding Daisy, exchanging pleasantries with her, asking for an update on her search.

  Daisy, beaming, remarking casually that she was doing her own Google search and was undeterred despite continuing to come up empty.

  Richard, back in the kitchen. Elisabeth, still on the white button-down shirt. Putting the iron down, asking Richard to follow her—which he did, first stopping at the refrigerator for a beer.

  “You’re never going to believe who I met today,” Richard saying, popping the top off the bottle then putting the bottle opener on the kitchen counter above the open drawer. Following Elisabeth out of the kitchen.

  “Who?” Elisabeth, asking, more interested in presenting her surprise than in the answer. She was excited, thinking that in the end she had done the right thing. It had been time to put the other bike to rest anyway.

  Richard, “Heather Clarke. Remember her?”

  Elisabeth, stopping in her tracks. Remember her? She was the closest thing to a super model their high school had ever known, the most popular girl in the school, hands down. She was an original. Everyone knew her. Half would have loved to hate her if only she hadn’t been as nice as she was beautiful and smart. Elisabeth knew Richard had lusted for her as much as everyone else did.

  Elisabeth, saying flatly, “Didn’t she marry a billionaire?”

  Richard, nodding. His eyes bright, looking inward. Remembering the encounter. “Yeah, but she’s divorced now. She said she got a very generous settlement and the apartment on Park Avenue. She looks terrific, almost the same as she did in high school.”

  Elisabeth, glumly# as she habck assuming that Heather was still on a perfectly precise twenty-eight-day schedule.

  “She has two daughters.” Richard, saying, his eyes fuzzy and soft around the edges, reliving the conversation. “One is at Harvard, and the other is away at boarding school.”

  “How nice for her.”

  “She seemed as sweet as ever. She’s involved in philanthrrd. The house

  THIRTY-FIVE

  DAISY, HANGING UP the Jettys’ phone. Staring down at her lap, busily fingering a nonproblematic nub in her creamy peach skirt. Her chair was pulled out, angled from the kitchen table. Her feet were flat on the floor, back stiff, and erect as usual. Daisy, absorbing the news. Shocked. Lenny? Remarrying? Sensing eyes on her, looking up. Josh, in a Star Wars clone trooper costume, was standing at the refrigerator, about to open it. Turning to her, asking through the mask if something was wrong. Daisy, shaking her head. Telling him that she had just re?” Elisabeth, askingL. What stceived surprising news from home.

  Elisabeth, coming into the kitchen at that moment, dragging the vacuum—just in time to overhear their exchange. Asking if the news was good.

  Daisy, so stunned that she was almost unable to string together the words. “My son Lenny is getting married.” Sounding quizzical, as if she were passing along a silly rumor.

  Elisabeth, holding off vacuuming. Hurrying to Daisy at the table to warmly express her good feelings. At various times Daisy had filled Elisabeth in on her family, leaving Elisabeth with a degree of ownership large enough to feel joy at the news. Asking when.

  Daisy, saying it would take place as soon as she got home. Thinking about Sarah. Seeking to elicit new information about her future daughter-in-law from the one frozen image in her memory bank. There were three blank spaces for the three new stepgrandchildren—girls eleven, fourteen, and seventeen, Chloe, Carrie, and Christine. A dizzy head for Daisy. Three blank spaces. Three blank faces. New grandchildren. A new daughter-in-law. Lenny, a married man.

  The Star Wars clone trooper had poured himself orange juice and was almost finished when a surprise attack sacked him from behind. David, currently Darth Vader, caused the clone trooper to spill his juice all over the counter and floor. Loud, angry, boisterous screams—David with laughter, Josh with anger. Elisabeth, with paper towels, to supplement the lousy cleanup from David.

  All of it stirring Daisy. Sucking her out of Liverpool, back to Long Island, back to the kitchen table.

  Standing up. Straightening her skirt with the palms of her hands. Clearing her throat and raising her voice to speak over the maelstrom. “I should be going home.”

  Six alarmed eyes suddenly on her. Josh, immediately running, screaming the news to Michael, who was seated at the computer in the next room, sifting through the hundreds of thousands of Michael Bakers to find “the one.”

  Elisabeth, stooped, soaking up the juice from the floor. Crouching over the sticky area, looking up at Daisy, saying that she couldn’t go because she hadn’t found Michael Baker yet. Pushing herself up off the floor, moving the hair off her forehead with her wrist.

  “I know.” Daisy, saying, her voice sad. Reflective. “But they want to get married. I shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

  “What?” Michael, charging into the room like a bull, straight to Daisy, his arms crossed defiantly over his chest. Demanding an answer. “What? You’re going?”

  Daisy looked at Michael, then Josh, then David, and then Elisabeth, the four standing before her, waiting for the answer, poised to pounce. Daisy, wobbling slightly on skinny ankles, tears of sincere affection springing to her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Michael, I know you’ve been working very hard to find him, but what if we never do? There’s a good chance he’s already dead. And if we can’t find him, we’d never be able to find any children he might have had. I tried. We tried. I’m truly glad we did. I am indebted to you, all of you,” looking into each face, “forever. But I should be getting back home now for Lenny.”

  Nobody speaking.

  “You can’t go yet,” Michael. “I might be getting somewhere now.”#atT close

  Elisabeth, who was so proud of him, asking, “How many more Michael Bakers are there?”

  Michael, grimacing. His face, a vision of youthful flexibility. Reddening. �
�I don’t know exactly.” Meaning hundreds of thousands.

  He looked beaten. Daisy wanted to hug him, but instead Elisabeth did. Pulling him into her arms, placing her warm maternal lips on his bare forehead. Michael, allowing her in, stiffly, for a second, then pushing her off, saying, “Please, Daisy, don’t go.”

  “I’m sorry, Michael, believe me. It will be very difficult for me to leave here—you, your family, and our goal—but it looks as if I must.” Her voice, soft, matching the expression in her eyes.

  “When will you go?” Elisabeth, asking, feeling a sadness and a sudden rush of loss that she never would have expected, coming through in her voice.

  “I’ll see if I can get on a flight today.”

  Again, no one speaking. Josh, taking off his clone trooper helmet, his face sweaty. “Today? That’s so soon.”

  “It’s just not right, Daisy.” Michael, angry. “I just finished my last Regents—which I studied for because of you! I’m totally done with school now. Summer vacation has started. I’ll have all day long to continue the search. You can’t leave now!”

  Daisy, exhaling, her shoulders sinking, uttering, “I’m sorry, Michael.” Falling back down into the hard-backed chair. Looking wistful, her kind light blue eyes, wet. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll leave the watch with you for you to continue the search. If you find him, you can send it to him. Or if you don’t, you can keep it for yourself. I’m sure it’s very valuable even without its being engraved by Arthur Rubinstein.”

  A quick inhale from Josh and David. Looking at Michael as if he were the luckiest kid on earth. Michael’s eyes, brightening, the surprise of the words working their way through. But lasting only a minute before darkening again. Clouding over. Because as appealing as the idea was, it was not what he wanted. He wanted Daisy to stay. He wanted to find Michael Baker.

  They all did. They all stared sullenly at Daisy. A heaviness in the air.

  “Are you sure you have to leave today?” Elisabeth, asking, tossing the sticky sponge into the sink, the wet paper towels into the trash. “We were planning another day with my sisters. We were thinking we’d all go on the Circle Line, the boat that goes around Manhattan, and then stay in the city for dinner. I’m sure Richard would love having dinner in the city with you.” Thinking he might love it even more in a subway car.

  Forcing herself to snap out of it, making herself stop. Richard loved her as much as ever. Nothing had changed outside of her own head.

  Daisy, regretfully repeating that she really had to go. Sudden thoughts of her house and of keeping it herself. Lenny had told her that Dennis and Amanda had made the move and that Dennis had actually sounded quite happy until Lenny mentioned the wedding. He also said that Sarah was wondering when Daisy would be getting back, that they were both quite eager to tie the knot. Telling Daisy he would be calling back in an hour to see if she had return-flight information by then.

  Michael, saying, “Thanks for the watch, Daisy, but it’s not what I# it washabck wanted.” Stomping off. Josh and David, arguing over who got to use the computer now that Michael would be off the Internet. Elisabeth, saying neither; she needed it to arrange Daisy’s flight.

  Daisy, following Elisabeth out of the kitchen to the computer. Elisabeth, tapping away at the keyboard. Daisy, watching Elisabeth intently, thinking she might have been able to do it herself at this point, marveling at the miracle of the Internet—how easily she was rebooked and how quickly.

  It was done. She was booked on an evening flight. Arrangements were made for her to be picked up at 6:00 next morning at the Manchester Airport.

  Red suitcases were repacked, zipped tightly, standing upright in the living room.

  DAISY, OUT ON THE DECK, sipping tea she had just made. Naturally she had offered to make a cup for the others, and naturally they all declined. She would be returning to England without ever having served anyone a single cup.

  She sat silently, enjoying the last look at the incredibly gorgeous property. The sweet smell of honeysuckle was pungent around her. The brightly colored flowers seemed to be enjoying themselves. Some new summer perennials were making their appearance, beginning their romp with the late spring varieties. The familiar and unfamiliar birds chattered and zoomed from one specimen tree to some other utterly majestic one. There was the sun, the weather, the bees, and an assortment of other sinister-looking flying things that Daisy chose to ignore, refusing to crumble in terror at the sight of any of them. She inhaled and exhaled slowly and deeply. The setting called for relaxation, asking only that from its viewers, but not for lack of trying or desire, Daisy was not relaxed. Instead, she was filled with so many mixed emotions, she couldn’t possibly relax. She needed to be alone, to sort through them.

  She was going to miss the boys; that much was certain. She would miss the boys and the family more than she ever could have imagined. She had grown to love it here in a short time, being back amid the joys of living with a family: the daily beat of life, the promise of new days, the energy of children, the fulfillment of others sharing the same calendar. Richard was exhausted and rarely around but was as nice as can be. Elisabeth was mixed up, goofy, overwrought, and overwhelmed. She had been slow to start in those early days after the airport, with her mysterious disappearances deep in the night—which still remained a mystery although the activity itself appeared to have ceased—but she was very sweet, sympathetic, and kindhearted, and did her best. Pete, the high school senior, talked of girls and sports and would be off to college in the fall. Steve was the only one Daisy had never met; he was expected home within days. Daisy was disappointed that they wouldn’t overlap. And there was sweet Michael with all his noble attempts and determination, a different child entirely from the one who had picked her up at the airport. And Josh and David who had played for her night after night as she sipped her Cointreau in the living room, listening to them at the piano, interrupted more and more lately by Michael’s racing in with a Michael Baker question, a comment, or an update, never tiring of the quest. He tried so hard.

  And now, despite all this, Daisy was going home. Dennis was now gone, living five hours away, and Lenny was soon to be married. Still, she had her house, her garden, her lawn, her friends. She loved them all. She did. But.

  Daisy, pondering. Still pondering out on the deck when into the house walked Ann. Having heard?” Elisabeth, askingpphabck the news, coming to see Daisy off. Standing in the family room, keys hanging from one hand, her bag slung over her shoulder. Hurrying over to the couch to kiss Josh and David while they were watching a movie. They let her, obediently, although it was clear they were totally involved in Star Wars. Ann, asking them where their mother was. Two hands pointing upstairs, mumbling, “Vacuuming.” Ann, asking about Daisy. Two hands pointing out to the deck.

  Ann, going off to find her daughter. Coming up from behind, unheard over the vacuum, Ann tapped Elisabeth on the shoulder, shocking her. Elisabeth, flying out of her shoes. Turning off the vacuum with the tip of her toe.

  Ann, leaning in conspiratorially, ready for a naughty snicker: “So she’s finally going, huh? You must be ready to uncork champagne.”

  Elisabeth, feeling indignation collecting in her throat. Her mother’s behavior over the last few weeks was shameful. Daisy had taken the hearts of Elisabeth’s family’s by storm, but Ann hadn’t been anywhere near enough to witness it.

  “Actually, Mom,” Elisabeth, saying, her voice not shielding her feelings, “we’re all begging her to stay.” Annoyed enough to add: “I guess you didn’t get the memo.”

  Ann, unusually rebuffed, drawing her head in like a turtle’s. Looking at Elisabeth. Needing to replant herself. Not yet sure what to feel other than astonishment and—no stranger to her lately—left out.

  Elisabeth, adding, “Why don’t you go talk to her while I finish. Since she’s leaving today, it might be a good time to find out why she came in the first place.”

  Turning her back on her mother, toeing the vacuum back to life again, returning t
o the thoughts her mother had interrupted: the world of Heather Clarke, well-toned society gal. Wondering what her life must be like, Elisabeth suffering through the cold splash of her own inadequacies. She had Googled Heather, had seen pictures.

  Ann, standing there, chastised, bewildered, with no idea why or when Elisabeth’s feelings for Daisy had changed so radically. She had no idea when Elisabeth had crossed a line, leaving Ann in a field of one. Turning, without a word, disappearing to find Daisy.

  Ann, sliding open the glass doors, stepping out into the brilliant sunshine. There was no breeze to speak of. Gigantic, tall, puffy white clouds dotted the sky. Daisy was sitting at the table on the deck, looking serious, grave, and sober, contemplating the gigantic ash tree thirty feet away. She lit up when Ann stepped out, offering her a greeting of great warmth. She held nothing against her. Daisy didn’t have a judgmental or critical bone in her body. She’d excised them long ago when it became clear that her mother was made up of little else.

  Ann, lumbering over to the table, pulling out a chair. Sitting down.

  Daisy, smiling. Saying a cheerful, “Good morning.” Asking Ann if she could get her a cup of tea, gesturing to her own. Ann, shaking her head, murmuring a polite “No, thank you.” On her very best behavior, keeping a cork wedged tightly in place. The two, embarking on a polite conversation about the weather. Ann, explaining that usually the humidity this time of year was intolerable but that Daisy had gotten lucky. They talked about the landscaping, Ann only pretending interest when Daisy compared English and American shrubbery.

  Ann, saying that she’d like that cup#use close after all, but coffee, not tea. Asking Daisy if she minded if she just ran in to make herself a cup.

  Daisy didn’t mind. She got up herself, using the opportunity to make herself more tea.

  Following Ann back into the kitchen. Putting the kettle on. The two women, standing in silence, watching the kettle heat up.