The Book of Someday Part 13

"I'm glad you're okay," Grace says. "Because I think you're nice."

Livvi is slipping into a chair, across the table from Grace.

And just as Livvi sits down, Grace gets up.

She goes to the kitchen counter and begins bringing things to the table. A napkin. A second plate. And an empty gla.s.s. After she arranges them, with great care, on a placemat in front of Livvi, she says: "If Daddy doesn't come, can we go before it gets dark? I don't like it here when it's night."

Grace seems to be deciding whether or not to reveal something more, something very personal. Then with her head slightly bowed she tells Livvi: "When it's night, this house is scary. You can see the trees through the walls because they're gla.s.s. The trees make scary shadows and I have bad dreams." She raises her head, searching out Livvi's gaze, asking in a voice full of curiosity: "Did you ever have bad dreams?"

Livvi's thoughts go to the haunting image of the woman in the pearl-b.u.t.ton shoes and she tells Grace: "Sometimes I still do."

After considering this, Grace gives a pensive nod. "I like it," she says. "That you have bad dreams."

Livvi is surprised. "Why?"

With a shy smile, Grace tells her: "Because it makes us the same." And without segue or another word on the subject of bad dreams, Grace returns to her chair, bows her head, folds her hands, and whispers: "Bless us, O Lord, for these thy gifts we are about to receive. Amen."

Then Grace, with her stomach grumbling loudly, pushes the plate containing the m.u.f.fin and the strawberries into the center of the table, along with the bottle of water.

"If you're hungry too," she murmurs to Livvi, "we can share."

Livvi reaches across the table and runs her fingers through the silk of Grace's hair.

There's nothing more to say. There are no words.

It is the beginning of a love affair.

In the early evening Livvi and Grace are being driven away from Andrew's house in a gleaming, gray Audi R8. A sports car so refined that its interior contains only a driver's seat, a pa.s.senger's seat, and behind them, a boxlike s.p.a.ce designed to hold nothing much larger than a medium-size suitcase.

Grace has just popped up from the interior of the boxlike s.p.a.ce.

And Sierra, who is at the wheel of the car, is saying: "Get back down! The last thing I need is a ticket for hauling a kid around without a seat belt."

"Or a seat," Livvi chuckles.

"Beggars can't be choosers, honey, and this car's full of nothing but beggars. Your ride has a weather vane through its roof and my Jag's still in the d.a.m.n shop. We're lucky I could get hold of this platinum-plated joy ride. It wasn't easy. The rightful owner and I were halfway out the door heading for an X-rated sleepover in Malibu when you called." Sierra pauses. "Wait a minute. You said your phone's dead, how the h.e.l.l were you able to call me?"

"A FedEx guy rang the doorbell-making a delivery. He let me use his phone," Livvi says.

"And in your hour of need, your landlady was the first person you tapped to get you off the desert island? Interesting. I didn't know you and I were that close."

Sierra has said this jokingly. But Livvi knows Sierra is aware that Livvi must have tried to contact other people and is asking for details. Livvi's reluctant to give them, worried about the impact they might have on Grace. Livvi wants to protect Grace-the calls to both her nanny and her father went unanswered, directly to voice mail. Livvi doesn't want Grace to hear that Sierra, a stranger, was the first person available to come to her rescue.

So Livvi tells Sierra: "I promise I'll fill you in later. But right now I have another favor to ask. Grace hasn't had very much to eat today. We need to stop and pick up some dinner."

Grace, who is still peeking over the back of Livvi's seat, whispers: "Can we have McDonald's?"

"I've met your dad-" Sierra stops and shoots a quick look in Livvi's direction that says "he's a s.h.i.+t," before glancing over her shoulder at Grace and telling her: "Your old man is a pricey-organic, high-end restaurant type. You're sure he lets you eat at McDonald's?"

Grace slowly, solemnly, shakes her head from side to side. Then, after a brief hesitation, as she's sliding down out of sight, there's the hint of an irresistibly hopeful smile.

Whatever lightness was in Grace during the drive to Livvi's guesthouse, and the stop at McDonald's, has given way to a fidgeting, sleepy fretfulness.

Livvi is taking off Grace's shoes and socks, helping Grace to get ready for a bath. They are in Livvi's bedroom, sitting on Livvi's high, white bed. Sierra is in the bathroom, filling the tub with water. And Grace, so tired that her eyes are half-closed, is, for the third time in as many minutes, asking: "Is my daddy coming soon?"

It's close to seven and Livvi still has no idea where Andrew is. Ever since leaving the house in Flintridge, she has been consumed by anxiety about what the explanation could be for Andrew's continuing absence. Now she's trying to deflect Grace's worry by saying: "You know what? I bet if we go see what Sierra's doing, we'll find out she's making a big, giant bubble bath for you."

Grace is restless, yawning. Looking around the room-noticing the brightly painted thrift-shop table Livvi uses as a desk, and the laptop that's there. "While we wait for Daddy, can we play a game on your computer?"

"I'm sorry, baby. I don't have any games on my computer."

Grace seems bewildered. "Then why do you have one?"

"It's, um...not for fun...I use it for my job. I'm a writer." Livvi goes to the table, picks up a copy of her novel, and brings it back to the bed, showing it to Grace and explaining: "I write books. This is the first one I wrote. I started writing it a long time ago, but this is what it looks like now. It's called The Book of Someday-"

"-and so many people liked it," Sierra says, "that those who published it want her to write another book." Sierra is coming out of the bathroom, drying her hands on a washcloth.

Grace points to the computer. "Is your other book in there now?"

"Not yet," Livvi says.

"Will it be there soon?"

Sierra sits on the bed beside Livvi and laughs. "I think the kid has a future as a New York editor."

And Livvi tells Grace: "It will be there as soon as I know what the story is."

Grace, cuddling her little pink pig, leans sleepily against Livvi's side. "Can you make it be like Winnie the Pooh? That's a good story because Piglet's in it."

"I'll do my best." Livvi gathers Grace up, intending to carry her into the bathroom, and Grace immediately says: "I don't need help. I take baths by myself."

Livvi releases her hold on Grace; Grace quickly disappears through the bathroom door; and Sierra says: "That kid is what...? Five, maybe six? It's weird how calm she is. It's like she's totally used to being left on her own-with strangers. What sort of a twisted s.h.i.+t of a father could that guy be?"

The feeling Livvi experienced earlier, when she saw the lipstick-colored stains on the napkin in Andrew's kitchen-that feeling of being hit in the chest with a baseball-is. .h.i.tting her again. "I've been with him for seven months...and I honest to G.o.d didn't have any idea he had a child."

Sierra gives a cynical snort. "Bulls.h.i.+t. You knew there was something about him that wasn't kosher."

Livvi is riding out a wave of nausea. "I can't believe how stupid this sounds...I didn't think that whatever it was I didn't know about him could be something this big."

"Well, I did. Starting with Valentine's Day," Sierra says. "You guys were supposed to be all hot and heavy in love-and he's not around? And his story was that he's in Europe, on business? I didn't buy it for a minute."

Livvi goes to her desk, sits, and puts her head in her hands. She feels like a fool. Worse than a fool. Like an idiot.

"Hey. Don't beat yourself up. You had the love goggles on. There isn't a female in the world who hasn't been blinded by those things at least once. h.e.l.l, there's probably a woman somewhere right this minute hooked up with a guy sitting on death row for murdering a carload of preschoolers, and that goggle-eyed girl is saying, 'Gosh, I never saw it coming-he was always nothing but sweet to me.'"

Livvi's response is an embarra.s.sed laugh.

"Besides," Sierra says, "your goggles came equipped with those special green lenses."

"What do you mean...?"

"All the cash your boy likes to throw around," Sierra explains. "The hot-air balloons and the sailboats. The fancy restaurants. All that champagne and caviar-"

"Money had nothing to do with it," Livvi insists. "Money doesn't make any difference to me."

Sierra is leaving, going into the living room. Her tone has a take-no-prisoners honesty to it. "Money makes a difference to everybody, kiddo. All I'm saying is...he was able to turn life into such a thrill ride it didn't give you a chance, or the desire, to do a lot of thinking."

For the second time today, Livvi is experiencing the sensation that she's swallowing lead. As much as she doesn't want to admit it, there's an element of truth in what Sierra has just said. Not about the money. But about wearing the goggles, being willingly blind. Before Andrew, Livvi's life had been so closed in that, without giving it a second thought, she'd let the freedom and the excitement that Andrew gave her overshadow all the questions he brought with him.

It takes a while before the sickened feeling pa.s.ses. As soon as it does, Livvi's first thought is of Grace; Livvi quickly goes to the open bathroom door, to check on her. "Ready to come out?" she asks.

"Not yet," Grace says. She's scalloping the side of the tub with mounds of bath bubbles.

Livvi walks back into the bedroom-to the bedside table-where her phone is in its charger. In the less than ten minutes since she's been home, Livvi has been intentionally avoiding this moment. Knowing that the instant she reconnects with reality she'll open the door to staggering hurt. But she can't put it off any longer. She has to face the pain and somehow survive it. Livvi touches the phone. The screen instantly displays a text. From Andrew. Sent today, at 11:32 a.m. The message reads: Can't make lunch. Surprise visit from out of town clients. Stuck in meetings through dinner. Will call later. If too late, tomorrow.

Following Andrew's message is a second text. Also sent today. From David: I'm at the airport. Glad the weather vane crashed your car. Glad about Culver City. Glad I got to see you.

David's message barely registers. Livvi is preoccupied with Andrew and his monumental, unspoken lie-she's preoccupied with Grace.

Livvi's eyes s.h.i.+ft to a sc.r.a.p of paper lying on the bed. It contains the telephone number belonging to Grace's mother. Livvi asked Grace for the number as soon as they came in the door. But she has been unable to use it. Too afraid.

Livvi picks up the paper. Looks at the number. Then puts the phone on speaker and presses Andrew's number instead. No answer. Straight to voice mail. Livvi sends a text: Grace came to your house while I was there. She's with me. Call ASAP.

Livvi's hand, the one she's holding the paper sc.r.a.p in, is damp with sweat. She has run out of options: she doesn't have a choice. Grace can't spend the night here without anyone knowing where she is. Livvi knows she has to call Grace's mother. But still, she's reluctant. Thinking about the grim-faced stick figure in Grace's drawing-and the torrent of black lightning raining down from the sky.

When Livvi finally enters the numbers from the paper sc.r.a.p into her phone, she leaves the phone on speaker-unwilling to hold it to her ear. Nervous about being in too close a proximity to the dangerous-looking creature in the drawing.

On the second ring, the call is answered by a melodious female voice that sounds like it was polished in a finis.h.i.+ng school.

"Is this Grace's mother?" Livvi asks.

"Yes, who's this?"

Livvi is tense; she can hardly breathe. "I'm a friend of Andrew's. I'm calling because-"

Instantaneously Livvi is cut off by a sarcastic snarl: "Just for the record, 'Friend of Andrew's,' you are speaking to Grace's mother...but more importantly, you're speaking to Andrew's wife!" The finis.h.i.+ng school purr has become a dockworker's roar. Livvi is backing away from the phone.

And the woman is screaming: "Don't ever dare call me again, you s.l.u.t. You b.i.t.c.h."

After that the phone at the other end of the call is abruptly switched off.

In the brief silence that follows, Livvi hears a small gasp. Grace is in the room. Dripping wet. Clutching a towel. Her eyes wide. Her face ghostly pale. And in a frightened whisper, she's asking: "Mommy's mad, isn't she?"

Livvi recognizes the look on Grace's face. It's the emotion that ruled Livvi's childhood-the terror of not knowing how to navigate the dangers, and madness, of the world into which you've been born.

Grace darts back into the bathroom. Livvi quickly crosses the bedroom, to follow her. When Livvi arrives in the bathroom, Grace is at the window, s.h.i.+vering, facing away from Livvi.

"I want my daddy." Grace's arms are wrapped around her chest, her hands visible on either side of her back. She's cradling herself in a sorrowfully lonely embrace.

Livvi kneels and wraps a dry towel around Grace, turning her so that they're facing each other. "Why are you holding yourself like this?"

"Bree taught me. So I always have a hug if I need it." Grace's eyes are filling with tears.

Livvi is again experiencing the sensation that came over her earlier while she and Grace were waiting for Andrew, that feeling of gentleness with its undercurrent of fierce determination. Livvi intuitively knows that whatever this is, it's important. Information that she once had, and somehow lost track of.

As she's looking at Grace, Livvi is slowly remembering the thing that she had forgotten-a key piece of knowledge about herself.

She's realizing that buried underneath her pain there has always been a wellspring of love. The kind of love she had glimpsed through a telescope. The love she had always wanted to receive. Love flowing between a mother and child. A pure, unshakable love she'd instinctively known she was born for-and would someday be able to give.

And that day has come.

Livvi is opening her arms to Grace-inviting her in. "Would you like me to rock you to sleep, baby?"

Grace nods, and folds into Livvi's embrace.

Livvi carries Grace into the bedroom. To the high, white bed. And dresses her in a fresh cotton T-s.h.i.+rt that Livvi hasn't worn yet. On Grace, it looks like the calf-length robes of a cherub.

Livvi holds Grace, rocking her gently. And wondering how, now that she has found her, she will ever be able to let her go.

When Grace has drifted into sleep, when Livvi is tucking her in, drawing the covers up around her shoulders, there is the sound of the doorbell in the living room-and Andrew's frantic voice asking, "Is Grace okay?"

Before Sierra has finished saying, "Of course she is," Livvi is already in the living room-pulling the bedroom door closed behind her.

Sierra is glaring at Andrew as she adds: "Livvi's been watching over that kid like Grace belongs to her-what a s.h.i.+tty deal that the same can't be said about Grace's parents."

Andrew appears to be in anguish.

Sierra, picking up her purse and keys, is murmuring to Livvi: "I made you some coffee. It's in the kitchen. Call me if you need anything." Sierra gives Andrew a disgusted stare. "When my G.o.dd.a.m.n phone rings, I answer it."

After Sierra has gone, Livvi and Andrew are riveted in place.

Livvi is burning with questions. Choking with disappointment, and anger.

Andrew is the one who speaks first. His voice is hoa.r.s.e, tense. "I was going to tell you about Grace. I was going to tell you everything."

"Everything?" Livvi is steeling herself-asking and at the same time not wanting to know: "How much more is there?"

Andrew, as if he hasn't heard her, is saying: "Things got out of hand. It took awhile before I knew I was in love with you and by then I'd let too much time go by and I-"

"How did you erase her so completely, Andrew?" Livvi is thinking of Grace, at the window, in the bathroom, holding herself in that lonely embrace. The sadness of it is making Livvi furious. "Do you ever spend any time at all with her?"

He seems shocked. Indignant. "Of course I do."