Into the Dark

24

San Marino, California

Claire set a frozen chicken entree in her microwave oven and keyed the time on the touch pad.

As the fan whooshed and the carousel turned, her unease about Robert began whirling again in the back of her mind. She dismissed it, went to her bedroom, pulled her hair into a ponytail, washed off her makeup and changed into her T-shirt and sweats.

It had been a busy day.

She’d had a late afternoon appointment with Dr. LaRoy, and fighting the rush-hour traffic from his office had been intense. It was just as well that Robert was away at the cabin, she’d use her time alone to decompress.

I need to assess things.

She nestled into her sofa, flipped on the TV, deciding to watch Casablanca already in progress. The Nazis sang while she ate dinner. By the time she’d finished, her attention had drifted from the movie to her own matters.

Dr. LaRoy was preparing to start her on a new protocol for the experimental treatment. It would mean that he soon would commence giving her a series of injections coordinated with her cycle. She could expect an impact on her hormones, he said, but assured her it would not be as severe as what she’d experienced in the past.

In her struggle to have a baby, Claire had undergone various treatments for IUI and IVF involving the rigors of self-injection and the PMS-like hell ride that came with it.

Bring it on, she thought. She’d do whatever it took to have a family.

Except give up.

She set her plate aside and picked up the maternity magazine she’d bought while downtown with Julie. The features about nurseries and clothes and glowing moms and dads pulled Claire back to happy but achingly brief memories of her childhood.

She’s a little girl in a park running into her mother’s open arms, seeing her smile, breathing in her soapy fragrance and feeling the warm love of her embrace. Another flash and she is in a huge hospital chair holding her brand-new baby brother, who felt like an angel. Then the whole family, even her father, happy at the beach in the sun.

Now Claire imagined herself pregnant and having a healthy baby. But when she tried to envision herself and Robert as parents, Claire’s dream stalled over her nagging anxiety about the way he’d been acting lately.

Does he still have feelings for his ex-wife? Am I being unreasonable or silly?

She chided herself. Again she returned to the same excuses: Robert was still rattled by the crash, enduring some post-traumatic stress, all mixed with lay-off rumors and possible fatherhood.

If that’s the case, then why won’t my misgivings go away?

Because in her heart she knew something was just not right. Julie had made a good argument. After Claire had asked Robert about the phone call and his brooding, she was not convinced his answers explained everything.

Claire felt frustrated and needed to talk to someone.

A little therapy for the therapist, she thought, reaching for her phone and dialing the Nevada number for her longtime mentor, Martha Berman. They’d stayed in touch and Martha was up to speed with much of Claire’s life. Maybe the esteemed Dr. Berman could give her some advice, Claire hoped as the line was answered.

“Hello, Martha, it’s Claire in California.”

“Well, hello, Claire.”

“Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Not at all, dear.”

After pleasantries and small talk, Claire related her worries to the senior psychologist.

“Maybe Robert’s just not ready to be a dad, Claire, or he’s anxious about it.”

“What about the possibility that he may still be in love with his first wife?”

“Always a possibility, but from what you’ve told me you don’t have any proof of that, do you?”

“No, it could be a result of my own anxiety.”

“That’s right. One thing you should consider, given that you are about to bring a baby into your marriage, now is not the time to let any doubts about your relationship fester.”

“Yes, I know. Thank you, Martha.”

“Call me anytime you want to talk.”

After hanging up, Claire went into her home office, turned on her laptop and logged in to their account for their landline and cell phones.

Their phone company’s new online billing service showed charges only for outgoing long-distance calls on the landline, but for their cell phones, it displayed all outgoing and incoming calls, downloads and texts.

Claire studied the information history on charges for calls made after the crash, when she’d overheard Robert’s early morning call. From what she saw, nothing showed that would be a New York call on his cell phone.

Maybe he’d used the landline?

If he did, she wouldn’t see it until the bill arrived.

She continued studying Robert’s call and text history. Plenty of calls and texts to her, a lot from media following the crash, a lot from all over L.A., from his trips made in the San Francisco Bay Area, Seattle and Vancouver, Canada.

As she scrolled through his calls to his office, auto dealer, sports tickets, guy things, she was uncertain what she was looking for. There were toll-free numbers, online banking and credit card calls; and a sprinkling of numbers she didn’t recognize.

This is nuts. I don’t know what I’m doing. I should forget it.

No, she had to resolve this.

Claire picked up her cordless phone and called Julie’s cell phone.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hey there, Claire.”

“I want to do it. I want you to look into the phone numbers. He’ll never know, right?”

“He’ll never know.”

“Okay, you’ve already got our numbers, what else do you need?”

“Your carrier, your phone company.”

Claire gave it to Julie.

“Also, what is his ex-wife’s last name?”

Claire thought.

“I don’t know.”

“Where does she live?”

Again, Claire didn’t have any idea.

“Never mind,” Julie said. “It’s okay. Give me some time. I’ve got some urgent stuff I need to take care of, so I’ll get back to you.”

After Claire hung up, she found herself in Robert’s office, thinking. A hint of his cologne mixed with the leathery smell of his office chair. He was neat and orderly. Nothing was out of place. She glanced at the spot on the floor where she’d found the photo of Robert and Cynthia.

He’d obviously put it back.

As she traced her fingers over his mahogany desk it dawned on Claire how little she knew about Robert’s first wife and his marriage.