The Pieces We Keep(6)

But this wasn’t adorable. It was terrifying—for Jack and Audra both. These went far beyond his bad dreams at age five, when comprehending that Daddy was never coming home. Audra had been grateful, so grateful, those teary nights had waned. The stab of self-blame had been painful enough without a child’s cries twisting the blade.

She tossed cold water at her face. It splashed the thought away, yet failed to make her more alert. Fortunately, the drive would be only fifteen minutes from here in Wilsonville to her job in Sherwood. Ten minutes shorter than her commute from home.

She had no obligation to work today—after all, she had taken vacation time for the trip—but the clinic remained her sanctuary. There was no better place to regain confidence from something at which she excelled. Of all days, Mondays offered ample opportunity, packed with pet mishaps from the weekend. Meanwhile for Jack, with no classes on a teacher in-service day, an afternoon with the grandparents would be a nice treat.

Patting her face with a hand towel, Audra winced at the tenderness of her forehead. A knot left from the plane. She smoothed her hair to cover the bruise, hoping to hide her emotions as easily, and headed for the backyard. On the way, she averted her eyes from the photos of Devon. They dappled the bookcases and end tables and walls, artifacts in a museum of memories.

She focused instead on her path through the house. Design wise, the English colonial was the perfect balance of luxury and practicality, as would be expected from the owner of a construction company. Robert had built the place for his wife, Meredith, soon after Devon was born. A good cure for the baby blues, Robert would say, explaining his motive behind the elaborate kitchen and elegant bathrooms. The walk-in closet off the master bedroom was half the size of Audra’s apartment.

Years ago, during a late night of holiday baking, after their spiked eggnog and laughter had dwindled, only then did Meredith tell Audra about her bout with depression. Though the comments were brief and slightly slurred, Audra gathered it was a much darker period than the family let on. She always wanted to find out more but chose not to pry. And now, with the widening gap in their relationship, she would probably never know.

“Well, I’d better get going,” she announced on the back deck, where a hammering noise drowned her out. Robert was on his knees, repairing a wobbly rail. She spoke louder: “I thought you were close to retirement. Don’t you have people to do that for you?”

He smiled, his silver-gray mustache trimmed as neatly as his hair. “Yeah, but then I’d have to pay them. And I’m way too cheap for that.”

“Ah, yes. I forgot that part.”

Robert rose in his carpenter pants and boots. Aside from a solid build, his rounded face and widened middle resembled a teddy bear from the county fair. “I imagine you’re looking for those two culprits.” He used his hammer to indicate the far corner of the yard.

Audra should have guessed where Meredith would take Jack on a sunny day. Already, just minutes after his arrival, his grandmother had him crouched down for a chat in her enormous garden. Lessons about nature—from roots and leaves to caterpillars and bees—were always appreciated. But inevitably she would move on to all the varieties of lilies Devon had given her, and the memories attached to each Mother’s Day on which he had planted them.

While the sentiment was a sweet one, Audra wished the woman would center on the future, rather than the past. At least where Jack was concerned.

“Hey, buddy!” Audra intervened. “Come on over and tell me good-bye.”

Jack came to his feet. He treaded over with his shoulders up and the bill of his baseball cap lowered. Raising his eyes, he said in a tight voice, “When’ll you be back?”

She recognized the true question, one she hadn’t detected in over a year: Would she ever be coming back?

The crushing doubts in his face tempted her to stay. Yet she heard the echo of a teacher’s voice, back when Jack started to cry during his first preschool drop-off: By proving that when you leave it’s not forever, you’ll build your child’s trust.

Audra knelt on the deck and cupped his baby-soft cheek. “I’ll just be gone for a few hours, then we’ll go get pizza together. Sound good?”

After a beat, he nodded sharply in a show of bravery. But when she leaned in for a hug, his tentative hold confirmed that the boy she missed—the ever-beaming Jack who found wonderment in a potato bug and made drum sets out of Cool Whip tubs—was a thousand miles away.

She smiled at him. “You’re going to have so much fun today. I want to hear all about it when I pick you up.”