kindly. She got up, discarded the cotton ball, put the kit on the counter. She washed her hands. “Well, be careful, young lady. You have a little one to watch over. You have to take care of yourself—for her.”
Most people think that a mother’s greatest fear is that something will happen to her child, and that’s true. But of equal horror to most mothers was that something would happen to her, and that she wouldn’t be there to care for her baby. That thought, what she did this afternoon, it gutted her. What would have happened if Greta hadn’t shown up with her stick and her inherent toughness?
“Things are harder on you girls,” said Mitzi. “I mean, it was hard on us, too. Just the beginning, you know, of women being very career-minded. Me? I never wanted to be anything but a mother and wife. Which I kind of felt guilty about back then. Like you were supposed to want more, you know. And I just wanted kids.
“That’s what my Bruce wanted, too,” Mitzi went on. “He earned a good living and we did well enough. Trips to Disney, the Grand Canyon—Janey got a scholarship, and we had enough for Jack’s education.”
She came to sit next to Rain, ran a hand through her gray hair. “Janey’s a lawyer, two little ones—not so little anymore. High school. But it was hard. She wanted both things.”
“And?”
“She wishes she spent more time with the kids now that they’re out, here and there, living busy lives with not much time for their parents.”
“And you?”
“Now I guess I wonder what else I might have done,” she said. “Especially since Bruce passed away, five years ago now.”
She looked sad for a moment, and Rain reached out for her. The other woman squeezed her hand. She laughed a little. “I think, there are always regrets—or maybe wondering. But I guess I’d rather wonder what else I might have done, than wonder if I’d done right by my children.”
Rain nodded, looked at Lily, who was on her back, holding her toes, very interested in her feet. Her legs were so chubby, her feet and hands such perfect specimens of cuteness.
“Do you think it’s possible?” asked Rain. “To do both things well?”
“I do,” she said, with a firm nod. “You just have to give up sleeping.”
They both laughed then. They were still laughing when Greg came through the door, looking just south of frantic.
His messages. The Do Not Disturb setting. Shit.
“Look at that,” Mitzi said. “Daddy’s home, too!”
“Hi, Mitzi,” said Greg, voice low. “Thanks for coming today.”
“Well, I best get on,” said Mitzi, maybe sensing the encroaching storm. “Did we say Wednesday same time?”
“We did.”
“I can’t wait, Miss Lily,” she said, waving to the baby. “More fun on Wednesday.”
Then she was off; Rain watched her slip out of the door, wishing she had a reason to call the older woman back. When was the last time anyone had cleaned and bandaged a cut on Rain’s body? She flashed on the man—the imagined Kreskey—lunging for her. Greta. The injured cat. The blank-eyed birds under glass. She didn’t have the energy for a fight.
He walked past them, not stopping to kiss Lily.
“What happened to your head?” he asked from the kitchen. He was still wearing his coat, took a bottle of bourbon from the liquor cabinet and poured himself a generous portion.
“AAAH-CHOO!” yelled Lily from the floor. Rain smiled at her, which encouraged her to do it again.
“I knocked it on a door,” she said. She really wanted to be honest with her husband, but how could she when she was acting like such an idiot?
“In the Kreskey house?” he said. “A condemned building if I’m not mistaken.”
“I needed footage, pictures,” she said. “It’s being torn down.”
“Well, thank god for small favors.”
He shifted off his suit jacket, rubbed at his temples. “You blocked my calls.”
“I know.” She tried for sheepish. “I’m sorry.”
She got up and walked over to him, wrapped him up. He was stiff at first, then folded her in his arms, buried his face in her hair. But then he pulled away, walking over to the window and looking out with his back to her.
Lily pulled herself to standing on the coffee table.
“Careful, bunny,” said Rain, heading back to her. Lily fell on her bottom, rolled back and started to laugh. Rain righted her again.
“How am I supposed to trust you, Rain?” Greg said, his voice thick.
“What does that mean?” She pressed at her injury, felt the sting of