Ex’s and Oh’s Read online

  Unlocking the door, Tori said, “This cottage has been well maintained, but traffic comes to a standstill whenever the bridge is raised to let the big boats in and out of Oval Lake.”

  Since Caroline planned to walk everywhere, she wasn’t worried about traffic. She had no place she had to be all summer. She hadn’t taken more than a week or two off at one time in fifteen years. The thought of spending the rest of the summer idle was foreign and a little disconcerting. It wasn’t as if she planned to do nothing, she reminded herself. Now that she’d met Karl, she would continue to visit him. She was going to begin looking for a reputable obstetrician. And she needed to take care of herself, to be as healthy as she could be for her child.

  She told herself everything was fine, that she was fine. She’d been telling herself that for a few months now. And yet something was missing. What? The idea of a traditional family? She almost wished that was it, but she feared that whatever was missing was more vital than that. What was missing was joy and excitement. What was missing was life. And she wasn’t at all certain how or where to find it.

  Holding the door for Caroline, Tori said, “I can see why you like this one. It’s charming, isn’t it? Those ceilings are open-beamed, and the glass in the windows is original. The stone exterior keeps the house cool even in the heat of summer.”

  “Hmm.” The heels of Caroline’s Emilio Pucci’s clicked quietly over floors made of hickory planks, wide and worn.

  Tori said, “An artist from New York rented it last year. The year before that an out-of-work soap-opera actor stayed here. Movie stars summer up here, you know. Don’t expect to see them. At least don’t expect to recognize them. Without their makeup, they look worse than you and me.”

  Tori’s left eyebrow rose a fraction, her glance opaque and slightly sheepish. “I didn’t mean that quite the way it sounded.”

  Caroline had come into contact with hundreds of women over the years. Most in her profession were focused and highly competitive. Tori Young was beautiful and bright, yet beneath the acrylics and enhancements was a thread of authentic self-deprecation Caroline couldn’t help responding to.

  “Do I have lipstick on my teeth or what?”

  It wasn’t like Caroline to be caught staring. “Of course not,” she said. “I was just thinking how rare it is to find such honesty and friendliness. You probably have a dozen friends.”

  “Don’t you?”

  It required effort on Caroline’s part to let down her guard enough to say, “Recently I took a long, hard look at my life and found it sadly lacking.”

  “Yeah?” Tori asked. “I take a long, hard look at my life once a day and find it sadly lacking. I’m having a girls’ night at my house in Charlevoix tonight. Why don’t you come and meet a few of my friends?”

  Caroline fumbled for a reply. “I didn’t mean to—I’m really not that—what I’m trying to say is—”

  “You don’t want pity. That’s good, because you won’t get any from the girls. What you will get is the third degree. If you pass muster, they might even invite you back next week. So, will you join us?”

  “The third degree from women I’ve never met. How could I refuse?”

  The gathering at Tori’s house in Charlevoix—a town just a few miles away—was a noisy, messy, informal affair. Tori had promised Caroline the third degree, and the third degree was what she’d been getting all evening. Two of the three women had missed their calling and would have made excellent prosecuting attorneys.

  Elaine Lawrence, the no-nonsense group organizer, was a tall woman with straight brown hair, too-long bangs and two teenaged daughters. Nell Downing, who’d been friends with Tori since grade school, was a plump kindergarten teacher with a marvelous sense of humor and a son about the same age as Tori’s son. Pattie Barber was the only happily married woman in the group. Her two children were still small. Caroline wasn’t sure how she knew Tori, but as far as she could tell, Tori Young was the common denominator among all of them.

  The friends had been getting together every week for years, and conversation ran as freely as the wine. Caroline lost track of how many times they’d finished each other’s sentences.

  “We tried taking turns having these gatherings at each of our houses,” Pattie said.

  “But we all agreed we enjoyed ourselves most at Tori’s place,” Elaine said.

  “It’s one of the few things we’ve all agreed on,” Pattie added.

  “Ever,” one of the others reiterated.

  “Normally, we meet on Thursdays,” Elaine added. “Tonight we’re celebrating the anniversary of Nell’s divorce. No matter what we’re celebrating, what’s said here, stays here.”

  Caroline met Elaine’s gaze.

  Eyeing the bottled water Caroline was sipping, Elaine said, “For future reference, do we need to keep you away from booze?”

  “For heaven’s sakes, Elaine!” Pattie admonished.

  But Caroline shook her head. “It’s okay. I’m not an alcoholic. I’m pregnant.”

  Four pairs of eyes stared at her. Four mouths formed four separate ohs.

  Out of the silence, Pattie said, “Congratulations?”

  Caroline smiled.

  Someone else asked, “Your first?”

  “Yes.”

  And Tori said, “I give you fifteen years and you’ll agree that kicking a drinking problem would be easier than what your kid will be putting you through then.”

  “Amen to that,” Elaine declared.

  “Hear, hear,” Nell said.

  Digging a business card from the bottom of her purse, Pattie said, “This is the name of the midwife I used when I had Peter and Molly. She’s fantastic.” Leaning closer, she whispered, “Ignore them. Parents of teenagers are so depressing.”

  “What about the father?”

  “For heaven’s sakes, Elaine!” Nell said.

  “How are we going to find out if we don’t ask?”

  Responding to Pattie’s humor and Elaine’s frankness and Nell and Tori’s lively conversation, Caroline said, “It’s all right. I haven’t had anyone to confide in in a long time. There is no father.”

  “Sperm donor?” Elaine quipped.

  Wine nearly sprayed out of Tori’s mouth.

  “I’m just saying that if she went that route, she made a good choice. A sperm donor will never cheat on her,” Elaine said.

  Caroline didn’t know how to reply.

  As if she couldn’t help herself, Pattie asked, “Immaculate conception?”

  “That explanation has only worked once,” Elaine said.

  “Besides,” Caroline pointed out, “what fun would that be?”

  All eyes were on her suddenly. One by one, four wineglasses clinked.

  “She’s in,” Elaine declared.

  “Ditto,” Nell piped.

  “I agree,” Pattie added.

  “I told you so.” Tori gave Caroline a wink then finished off her wine, as if that was how friendships were decided.

  That was it? Caroline thought. She hadn’t expected that it would be so easy. She was accustomed to having to work for everything she accomplished. Learning came easy, but everything else had to be earned. She hadn’t even realized how lonely she’d been, or how tired of trying so hard to achieve.

  Everything she kept tamped down pressed upward to the surface. Her first instinct was to bury her emotions. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she began to talk, instead. At first she spoke tentatively about her childhood and her grandfather, but before long, her insecurities about motherhood were pouring out.

  “What am I doing? I’ve never been around children. I’ve never so much as held a baby, let alone fed one or changed a diaper.”

  “That part’s not difficult,” Elaine said. “You feed one end and diaper the other.”

  “But when? How much? How often?” Caroline asked.

  “The baby will let you know,” Pattie assured her.

  “Babies are a lot like puppies,” Nell added. “Surely
you’ve had pets.”

  Caroline must have looked bewildered. “I held a rabbit at a petting zoo once.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  Her misgivings grew.

  “You’re bright,” Nell insisted.

  “You’ll get the hang of it when the time comes,” Elaine agreed.

  Either Tori took pity on her or she realized how vague and unconvincing their advice sounded, because she said, “Caroline has a point.”

  “I do?”

  “There are books on the subject,” Elaine said. “Hundreds of them.”

  “But Caroline’s right,” Tori insisted. “There’s nothing like hands-on experience.”

  Looking from one woman to the next, Caroline said, “I’ve faced thieves and divorcing couples who’d like to kill each other, and the most intimidating judges in Chicago. The thought of being solely responsible for this baby terrifies me.”

  “You could sign up for a parenting class,” Elaine said feebly.

  “I have a better idea,” Nell said, standing suddenly. “A friend of mine teaches a life-skills class at the high school. Each student takes a turn being assigned a computerized doll. This doll is programmed to cry as if it’s hungry or wet or needs to be burped or picked up. From what I’ve heard, the doll simulates a real newborn baby. I bet I could get her to loan me the doll for a day or two. What do you think, Caroline?”

  “A computerized doll?” she asked skeptically.

  “I think it’s a good idea,” Elaine said. “It’s just a doll. Unlike a puppy, it won’t piddle on your carpet.”

  “Or spit up on you like a baby. Or worse.”

  “And thirteen years from now she won’t throw a hairbrush, giving her sister a black eye,” Elaine said.

  “Or lie to you about why he was late for curfew,” Nell added.

  “A doll will never have to be coaxed to leave his room and bribed to go out with friends,” Tori said, finishing another glass of wine.

  Caroline and Pattie exchanged a long look. With a shake of her head, Pattie said, “Like I said. Parents of teenagers.”

  Once again, Caroline was tempted to smile.

  “Care to give the doll a try?” Nell asked.

  Eyeing these four women who’d cared for real newborns and each other, some of Caroline’s former bravery and self-confidence returned. “Why not?”

  How hard could it be?

  A baby was crying.

  Whose baby? Was she in a restaurant? Caroline must have been dreaming. The crying continued.

  She rolled over and tried to open her eyes. Surfacing enough to get her bearings, she remembered the doll. She wasn’t dreaming. If only she were.

  She must have been insane to think this would be easy. She must have been insane to agree to try it in the first place.

  A high-pitched waaa-waaa-waaaa was coming from the makeshift crib in the corner. Nell had been right. It sounded like a real newborn’s cry. Caring for it was much more difficult than Caroline had anticipated.

  She swung her feet over the side of her bed and sat up. It was pitch-black outside the windows. Inside, every light was on. It was only two in the morning. The night was never going to end.

  She padded to the makeshift crib. Being careful to support the doll’s head, she picked it up the way Nell had shown her.

  “Waaa,” said the doll.

  Nell and Tori had dropped the doll off that afternoon. It was Nell who’d demonstrated how the baby worked, pointing out the sensors located on the doll’s lips, neck, back, tummy and bottom and explaining how they responded to the sensors on the bottle, and two separate diapers. The doll also responded to rocking motions and sudden movements.

  Before leaving, Nell had said, “Wear comfortable clothes and don’t panic.”

  Caroline had managed quite well for the first five hours. When the doll cried, she inserted the key, which looked like a round magnet, into the slot on the doll’s abdomen. Once the data was recorded in the main sensor, it was up to Caroline to determine the doll’s “needs.”

  Tori had called earlier, and Caroline assured her it was going well. Just then, the doll had simulated a burp, followed by a gentle coo. “Did you hear that?” she’d asked.

  “I heard it.”

  “This isn’t as difficult as I thought it would be.”

  “It’s still early. Call me if you need me,” Tori had insisted.

  After the first two episodes had gone smoothly, Caroline had been confident she could handle one computerized doll in a simulated real-life setting for one night. But then midnight struck and things had gone downhill fast.

  Caroline had kept her head the first time the doll hadn’t quieted after she’d placed the bottle to its lips, after she’d changed the diaper, after she’d tried burping it and rocking it, after she’d tried everything and nothing worked. After fifteen minutes of solid crying, she’d almost called Tori. Suddenly and miraculously and for no apparent reason, the doll had quieted. Caroline had been afraid to move, fearing the sensors might pick up even the most insidious change in the atmosphere. Reminding herself it was just a doll, she’d tiptoed to the bathroom and got ready for bed. She’d barely closed her eyes when the crying started all over again.

  Since then, she’d lost count of how many times the alarm had sounded. Caroline had done everything, in every order, to try to appease the baby.

  “Do you want your two-o’clock feeding?” Feeling silly to be talking to a doll, she reached into her pocket for the key. Oh dear. Where was the key?

  Wondering if it might have fallen out while she’d slept, she started for the bed, only to stop and retrace her steps to the doll. Deciding to pick it up, she cradled the computerized cry-baby in her arm, then went in search of the key.

  The doll cried and cried.

  Caroline threw back the sheet and looked beneath her pillow. She discovered an earring and a bookmark, but not the key. It had to be here.

  “Waaaa,” said the doll.

  She tore the bed apart.

  “There, there.” Caroline checked the nightstand. She looked under the bed and behind the dresser. She searched the bathroom and kitchen counter and the dining-room table where her parenting books were all open. Where on earth was that blasted key?

  She’d rocked the doll the last time it had woken up. Or had that been the time before? She searched the rocking chair anyway. From there, she went down on her knees, and with one hand felt beneath the sofa cushions.

  “Waaaa.”

  Gently placing the doll in the little carrier she’d come in, Caroline tore the cushions off the sofa. The key was the circumference of a quarter and was three times as thick. It couldn’t have disappeared into thin air.

  She spied a tear in the slipcover. Delving in it with two fingers, she finally came up with the key.

  She jumped to her feet and quickly plugged the key into the doll. After that, she tried everything else, from feeding to burping to changing to walking the floors.

  The doll cried on.

  Should she call Tori or Nell or Pattie or Elaine?

  To help her with a doll? She couldn’t wake them for that. Could she?

  Fleetingly, she thought about putting the doll outside. Instead, she placed the tiny, lifelike object to her shoulder and began to walk, swaying gently.

  “Waaaa,” said the doll.

  She’d graduated from college magna cum laude, but she couldn’t even take care of a realistic-looking inanimate object made of plastic and stuffing and Velcro. As the minutes ticked slowly by and the crying changed but never truly stopped, Caroline’s eyes filled, too.

  Maybe she wasn’t cut out for motherhood at all.

  Tori Young knocked on Caroline’s door. The morning birds were singing and a man’s voice carried from a boat on the channel, but no sounds came from inside the cottage.

  “She must be in there,” Nell said, trying the doorbell for the fourth time.

  Cupping her hands next to her eyes, Tori peered through the window. “Oh, my
.” Sofa cushions were on the floor, drawers hung open, chairs were pulled out, and one end of the tablecloth hung to the floor.

  The two old friends exchanged a look. “What do you think happened?” Nell asked.

  “Nothing good.” If there had been signs of a forced entry, Tori would have been afraid the place had been ransacked.

  “Do you know her cell-phone number?” Nell asked.

  “No, but if she isn’t answering her doorbell, it isn’t likely she’d answer her phone.”

  “Maybe she’s in the shower,” Nell suggested. “What are you doing?”

  Tori lifted the welcome mat and moved a rock. “I thought she might have hidden a key out here. I’m going in.” Removing her credit card from her purse, she slid it along the edge of the door. It took a few tries, but the door finally opened. Together, the women slunk furtively inside.

  “Caroline?” Familiar with the house’s layout, Tori checked the kitchen. Backing out again, she bumped into Nell, jumped and swore.

  “Sorry,” Nell whispered.

  Shoulder to shoulder, they started down the hall. The bathroom door was open, the shower dry and empty. They tried Caroline’s bedroom last.

  They found her fast asleep on the bare mattress, one arm beneath her head, the other resting protectively over the doll. Being careful not to trip on the parenting books and bedding littering the floor, Tori approached the bed and very gently shook Caroline’s shoulder.

  “Caroline?”

  It took Caroline a few moments to pry her eyes open.

  “Good morning,” Nell called.

  “It’s really morning?”

  “I’ve had some wild Saturday nights, but from the looks of your place, you win the prize,” Tori said.

  Caroline sprang up and looked all around. “What time is it?”

  “Eight-thirty,” Nell said. “How long have you been asleep?”

  “Almost two hours this time.” She reached a hand to the doll. “She cried most of the night.”