He shrugged at Caitlin. “Like I said, I didn’t exactly think this through.”
“Mommy!” Leo came running through the door first, and beyond him she caught sight of Gus extending a hand to help Bear up the last step. They were like brothers, the three of them. Even if Caitlin’s plan to get Bear home worked, would Violet ever allow the boys to be friends after this? Her heart ached.
“Can we do the tent? We want to do the tent!”
The tent had been a gift from George’s parents over the Fourth of July holiday. The boys had used it that weekend in their grandparents’ backyard—if you could consider acres of untouched Ohio countryside a “backyard”—but not since. They’d insisted on bringing it along when she was packing them up yesterday. It was still in the trunk. She’d forgotten all about it.
Caitlin sighed. It was amazing how kids could fail to retain the things you wanted them to remember—look both ways before stepping into the street, ask before helping yourself to a cookie, wash your hands before you eat—but when it came to something you didn’t really want to deal with, they had memories like little elephants.
Finn was shaking his head. No tent in the yard. It was too far outside the controlled area of his experiment.
“Maybe just here in the living room,” Caitlin said wearily, hoping they’d lose interest.
“Yay!” the three shouted in a chorus. “Camping!”
Gus encircled her knee with his arms, pulling on her Bermuda shorts. “Can we have a campfire and marshmallows too?”
Caitlin laughed. “It’s too hot for a fire, Gus. Look at you guys! You’re covered in sweat! But maybe tonight. If we have marshmallows, I mean…”
Finn opened a cupboard and tossed a half-full bag of marshmallows onto the counter. “Found these earlier,” he said. “A little stale, but they’ll work!”
He was trying to act cheerful for Bear, Caitlin could tell. And Bear seemed happy enough. So she went to get the tent out of the trunk. Maybe setting it up would distract Finn from any of the early effects he might be feeling. Maybe it would ensure that he’d keep downing that coffee and still have room for the refill that was waiting for him on the counter.
*
Caitlin’s bare feet sank into her in-laws’ luxurious bath mat as she stepped out of the shower. In spite of the August heat, it had felt good to turn the water on as hot as she could stand it and let it steam-clean her mind, just for a minute. But she couldn’t stay in any longer. She questioned her judgment in leaving the kids with Finn even momentarily, though she had activated the security system again at the keypad while he was busy helping them haul blankets and pillows into the tent they’d erected in the center of the living room floor.
But the shower was a calculated move. She sensed that Finn was less likely to let his guard down while she was hovering around. Once the boys were situated at their “campsite,” they’d asked for a DVD, and she’d purposely chosen the one about the trains at the rail yard turning in for the night—the one that bored her to tears but that she often suffered through solely because it seemed to have a sleep-inducing effect on the twins. Maybe it would work on Finn too. Maybe he’d just … just not wake up until after Caitlin had returned Bear to Violet’s side.
As Finn had settled onto the couch and started the show for the boys, she’d risked a look into his thermos on the end table. It was empty. But on the counter, the other half of his oversweetened drink remained untouched, cold, forgotten. She just hoped he’d ingested enough to take effect. Thank goodness she’d gone with the five pills and not just one or two.
Caitlin toweled off as quickly as she could, straining her ears for signs of giggling or talking from the living room. All she could hear was one of those dreadful sing-along Island of Sodor songs. “Let’s pray to God they tire of this show by the time they can read lyrics,” George had once said, echoing her own thoughts exactly. But instead of agreeing, Caitlin had grumbled that he didn’t have to sit through half as many episodes as she did. If she got herself out of this mess somehow—if she got all of them out of this mess somehow—she’d be kinder. There was no reason for bitterness toward George. Even though his job took him away too often, he had their best interests at heart. And he was on track to do what his father had groomed him to do. She’d never aspired to be a senator’s wife, or even a high-powered businessman’s wife, for that matter, but now that Finn had threatened George’s future prospects, she felt defensive of her husband’s hard work. She should never have allowed herself to be anything but proud, even on her most tired days.
She pulled on drawstring khaki capris, comfortable for the long car ride that with any luck she’d be taking today. Please let this work. Please. Let this work. She buttoned up a sleeveless cotton sheath and slipped her feet into canvas deck shoes. No time to mess with hair or makeup—she ran a brush through the wet, tangled mass, twisted it up, and secured it with a clip. She poked her head into the hallway, and when she still didn’t hear anyone, crept toward the living room.
Finn was stretched out on the couch away from her—she could see only the top of his head. He didn’t stir. She inched closer, then closer still, and finally came around the corner, her breath in her throat, a cheerful greeting ready on her tongue. But his eyes were closed. She watched his breathing closely. It was slow, heavy, the sleep of someone who hadn’t really rested for days on end and was badly in need of a deep, undisturbed slumber, one he would’ve kept denying himself if he had anything to say about it.
But he didn’t.
She must have stood there for a full minute, watching the rise and fall of his chest, checking that his cheeks still had color, which they did, and scanning him to see if she could spot any signs of distress, which she couldn’t. She said a silent prayer that she hadn’t given him enough to hurt him. Then she said another that he wouldn’t wake up until she was long gone.