Part 14 (1/2)

I grab Nicholas and pull him close, holding on tight. I bury my face in his hair and close my eyes, a thousand words of grat.i.tude spilling through me like a rainbow.

Dean pushes the board over the opening behind him and gets to his feet, holding out his arms. I move closer so he can embrace Nicholas. Dean meets my gaze over the top of our son's head, the last remnants of panic fading from his expression. We walk back to the house and spend the next half hour getting Nicholas cleaned up and ensuring he isn't hurt.

When I return to the kitchen, I'm still shaking. The pot on the stove is boiling over, drops of water hitting the burner with a sizzle. I turn it off and push the pot aside.

”You okay?” Dean comes up behind me and settles his hands on my shoulders.

I nod, even though everything inside me is shouting, ”No! No, I'm not okay! I left my two-year-old son alone, for G.o.d's sake. Alone. I wasn't paying attention. Anything could have happened to him. Anything.”

I inhale a ragged breath and concentrate on the weight of my husband's hands on my shoulders, like he's securing me to the earth.

”Nothing happened,” Dean says gently. ”He's fine.”

This time.

The ominous warning blisters in my head. You hear stories all the time of children who escape their caregivers and end up hurt, or parents who get distracted by something for just a few minutes, and then- Guilt scorches my chest.

”Liv, it wasn't your fault.”

”Of course it was my fault.” The words break like gla.s.s in my mouth. ”It was my watch. Whose fault was it, if not mine?”

Dean doesn't respond, but pulls me toward him and kisses me. Then he goes to read a picture book Nicholas is holding out.

The black thought of what might have happened hovers over me like a cloud as I finish getting dinner ready. It makes no sense to blame myself for things that didn't happen to my son. But good sense has nothing to do with the guilt and fear that gnaw at me for the rest of the evening.

Long after Dean and Nicholas have gone to bed, I sit on the sofa and look out the picture window at the garden enshrouded in darkness. In addition to the self-blame, I'm upset by the fact that Nicholas found a hiding place in our own home I didn't even know existed. What if this had happened out in the park or playground, or a place that was totally unfamiliar to me? I wouldn't even know where to begin looking.

Slowly I make my way upstairs and crawl into bed beside my husband. I huddle up against Dean's warm, strong body, which moves in the steady rhythm of sleep. Everything about him has always made me feel so safe, but a feeling of safety is no guarantee of anything.

Our home aside, what if I'd lost track of Nicholas tomorrow night, when Dean is gone, rather than tonight? What if Dean hadn't been here? I might not have heard the noise from under the porch, and certainly I wouldn't have known to even look there. Or what if I hadn't noticed Nicholas was missing until...

I shove the oil-black thoughts aside. I'd once told Dean to stop thinking what if and to focus on what is. I only wish I could take my own advice.

I press my body closer to his and rest my hand over his heart, which beats ceaselessly against my palm. Despite our ups and downs, I know to my bones this man, at least, always is.

CHAPTER NINE.

OLIVIA.

I'm reluctant to be apart from Nicholas after Dean leaves again. It's irrational, I know, and my reluctance only seems to intensify Nicholas's clinginess, but it's also part of the overall unsteadiness I've experienced ever since Dean told me about the new job opportunity. Ever since I started thinking it would be perfect for him.

Not for us, but for him.

I have to disentangle myself from my crying son when I leave him at daycare-a process that brings a lump to my throat and elicits sympathetic murmurs from Christine as she gently separates Nicholas from me.

Just a phase, I tell myself as I drive to the cafe. Remember, there will come a time when he won't want you around. A time when he'll go off to college with a ”Bye Mom,” and a quick hug.

I exchange a few texts with Dean during my s.h.i.+ft, which makes me feel better, and Christine sends me a few pictures of Nicholas happily playing with some of the other kids.

Still, deciding more time together is a good thing, I pick Nicholas up early from daycare and take him to the children's museum for a couple of hours, then to the Boxcar Deli for dinner.

As we settle into a booth, I hear a woman say my name. I look up to see Jessica Burke approaching. We greet each other, and she ruffles Nicholas's hair.

”Can you join us?” I ask her, gesturing to the seat opposite me.

”I'm meeting a friend, but I'm early so I can sit for a few minutes,” she says, sliding into the booth.

”Any word on possible jobs in the area?” I ask.

”No.” She sighs and gives me a rueful smile. ”I applied for a visiting professors.h.i.+p in Indiana, so we'll see what happens. How is Dean's trip going?”

”Fine, from what he tells me.” I hesitate, then figure she can probably give me a good perspective on this whole a.s.sistant director position. ”What's your take on the WHC job opening?”

”It's fantastic, and a great opportunity for Dean,” she says, accepting a gla.s.s of water from a pa.s.sing server. ”He'd have a ton of influence if he were offered and accepted it. He might even be able to get the Youth Experts program started again.”

”What's the Youth Experts program?”

”It was started as a program for students around the world to get involved with conservation issues,” Jessica explains. ”Dozens of students have been interested, but the program hasn't had a leader so it's been something of a disorganized mess.”

”And Dean could fix that?”

The answer is obvious, of course. Dean can fix anything.

”Yeah, definitely,” Jessica says, shooting Nicholas a smile as he offers her a s...o...b..ry goldfish cracker. ”If he were a.s.sistant director, he could totally allocate funds and hire someone to organize the Youth Experts program. It would make a huge difference to so many young people, since they're the ones who will one day be in charge of the sites.”

I'm certain if Dean had the power to hire a leader of the Youth Experts program, that person would be Jessica Burke. And with her looking for a job right now...

She waves at a curly-haired young man who enters the deli.

”Sorry, Liv, I gotta go.” Jessica slides out of the booth. ”Let's have coffee soon, or let me know if you need a babysitter for the cutie over here.”

”I will, thanks.”

We say goodbye, and I turn back to the menu. Knowing that Dean taking the job could also lead to a prominent position for Jessica and opportunities for students around the world is an unexpected thorn in my side.

I shake my head to dislodge the dreaded sense that I could be the one preventing so many opportunities for others because I don't want anything to change.

I pull a few coloring books out of my bag and turn my attention to Nicholas. Most of the time, I love being alone with Nicholas, except this time I feel Dean's absence more acutely than I have before. With his new responsibilities over the past couple of years, I've gotten used to him being away, but only now do I realize I don't like being used to a separation from my husband.

Later that night, after Nicholas is asleep, I call Dean. His phone goes to voicemail.

”Hi, it's me,” I say. ”Just wanted to see how things are going. I'm about to go to bed, so I'll try you again tomorrow.”

As I end the call, I remember when he first went to Italy a few years ago. For the two months he was in Altopascio, we had a standing phone date every night at ten sharp. Not once did either of us miss our nightly calls.

I slide into bed, rolling over to press my face into Dean's pillow, which I still often do when he's not here. The faint scent of his shaving soap clings to the cotton.