Sonja didn’t understand her bafflement. “Are you all right, Zoe?”
She shrugged in a way that Sonja read as Yep. All good here. But Sonja was getting the feeling that that was far from the truth. In Sonja’s profession she’d learned to recognize “the feeling”—that elusive knot that appeared in your belly when something was not right. She had it now.
“So your mom tells me you’re staying here alone while she’s in the hospital?”
“Yeah.” Zoe’s voice was barely audible.
“Do you stay home alone much?”
“No.” Zoe hovered at the window, looking out. “Mom’s always here with me.”
“Always?” Sonja smiled, but it was wasted because Zoe was looking out the window. “She never goes out with friends or away for a weekend?”
“No.”
It was unsettling the way Zoe wouldn’t make eye contact. Her cheeks were deep red, as if she’d just sprinted up some steps, or perhaps humiliated herself in front of a group of peers. Sonja thought again about the things the old woman outside had said about her. The mark on her face. “Zoe, I have to ask you a few questions, is that all right? There’s nothing tricky.”
Zoe concentrated on the floor. “I guess.”
“Thank you. Do you have the numbers of any adults who live nearby that you could contact if you need anything?”
“Zoe shrugged. “I mean there’s Dulcie next door.”
Sonja waited, but that appeared to be it. “Okay. What about if the phone rings? Has your mom taught you what to say and what not to say to strangers on the phone?”
“I don’t answer the phone.”
Sonja wondered if she’d ever met a teen quite like this one. “And if there was a fire? Do you know at least two escape routes to get out of the apartment?”
Zoe just stared at the floor.
“All right,” Sonja said finally. There was no doubt that this child was not fit to stay home alone. However, it wasn’t Sonja’s call to make. She needed to get in touch with Children and Family Services.
“You know, I have another client to see this afternoon, and I’m quite exhausted. Would you mind if I made myself a quick cup of coffee before I go?”
“Uh … I guess that’s okay,” Zoe said.
“The kitchen is this way, right?”
Sonja headed for the kitchen. Then, when she was certain Zoe wasn’t following, she opened a few cupboards and the fridge. The pantry was reasonably well stocked, as was the fridge, but with food that required cooking—dry pasta, rice, chicken breasts. She’d expected to find food that could be reheated—lasagna, casseroles, a pie. The girl must be more competent than she looked. Then again, they often were, children of single parents. They had no choice but to step up and do their share of the cooking, the cleaning. Their parents needed the help.
Sonja got out a mug and flicked on the kettle. Then she slid her phone from her purse. She had the number for Children and Family Services saved in her contacts. She decided to call Chelsea, her contact there.
“What kind of treatment will my mom need after she’s been released from the hospital?”
Sonja startled. Zoe was in the doorway to the kitchen, half in, half out. A cat was nestled like a newborn in her arms.
“I really don’t know yet, Zoe.”
Zoe’s eyes, which were downcast, darted back and forth with thought. Her forehead was pinched in a serious frown.
“I know all of this is scary, but it’s really better to take things one at a time,” Sonja continued. “Each treatment is individual, and it’s decided by the type of cancer they find.”
Zoe’s eyes widened, making her look even more childlike. “My mom has … cancer?”
It took Sonja a second to realize what she’d just done. “Oh. Zoe, I…”
The color leached out of the girl. Sonja took a step toward her, just as she took a step back.
“I’m sorry, Zoe. I thought your mom would have told you.”
Zoe lowered her arms and the cat jumped from them. Her breath was coming in shuddery bursts. Within seconds, the hair around her temples was damp. It took Sonja a moment to realize what she was witnessing.
The girl was having a panic attack.
21
Kate lay on the couch in leggings and a T-shirt, a blanket across her knees. The TV was on and a book was beside her—she looked at neither. For days she’d stayed in this position, staring into space. Her baby was gone. Gone.
David was working from home, checking in on her regularly and bringing her endless cups of tea. They had been tiptoeing around each other for days, speaking to each other with careful courtesy. Hilary had stopped by last night with flowers and hugs. The kids were constantly checking if she needed anything. She was lucky, in lots of ways.
“Another tea?” David said, popping his head around the door.
She looked at the mug, still warm and full in her hands. “No. I’m good.”
“How about some company?”
“Sure,” she said, managing a smile.
Things were strange between them now. Bizarrely polite, like they were strangers, not people who knew the most intimate parts of each other. David relaxed onto the other end of the couch with a great exhalation and pulled her socked feet into his lap.
“I thought maybe we could go away for a few days,” David said. “I spoke to Hilary, she’s happy to take the kids for the rest of the week to give us some space.”
“That sounds great but I need to go back to work tomorrow. Alice Stanhope, one of my patients, has had her surgery and it wasn’t wonderful news.”
David exhaled. “Look, Kate. I want to clear the air. I don’t think you understand—”
“I do,” she said. Because she did. This wasn’t the first time she’d spent days lying, catatonic, on the couch after a miscarriage. David didn’t want to see her suffer anymore. He worried about what it was doing to their relationship. He wanted them to get back to being happy.
“I just…” He shook his head; closed his eyes. “You deserve to be a mother. You, perhaps more than anyone. If I thought we had a chance … I mean, I wanted this for you so badly—”
For you.
“—but it’s causing nothing but pain. I think that … if we were to focus on the good things between us … it might get better. We have so much. I realize it will take time. This is a huge loss. But we can have a different kind of life together. We can travel!”
She felt tears start to well up in her eyes, but she tried to smile.
“Too soon, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “But Kate … are we okay?”
No, we’re not okay. The thought bounced out of nowhere, floated around in her consciousness, and burned with truth.
“Yes,” she said, tucking the thought away again. “We’re okay.”
*
Kate had just drifted off to sleep on the couch when she heard Scarlett call her name. She opened her eyes. Scarlett hung over the back of the couch.