Chapter Twenty-Two
I felt antsy, in need of something, so I went to the kitchen for a glass of milk.
Luna waited at the sliding door for me. She didn’t paw frantically, as she had when we first met. She seemed to know by now that I would come for her. I let her in. But I still couldn’t settle. Instead, I paced and she walked figure eights around my legs, her fur soft against my skin, her purr calling to me to relax. Sit down. Rest.
But how could I rest? Not then. I needed to know what Henry was planning, why he needed that doctor’s number, what he must really think of me.
So I made a plan. I’d be the housewife he expected me to be. I’d start sleeping in rollers, wearing my pearls, keeping the house. I’d put on my face each day, every day, so that my rouged cheeks would beam when he walked in the door every evening after work. I’d take those damn pills and I’d forget about how they made me feel, because no one was going to do to me what Gary had done to Bitsy. He had made her a different person, but I would choose to change myself.
I told Luna my plan. She seemed to approve. She also insisted that she come with me when Esther stirred. Luna followed me down the hall to the nursery, where she nuzzled onto my lap, burrowing beneath the baby blanket.
Determined and depleted, apparently I dozed off, resting longer than I realized. My consciousness elsewhere, I didn’t hear Henry open the door the next morning as the sun began to infiltrate the gap in the curtains.
I don’t know what woke me first, if it was Henry calling my name or Luna extending her claws into my thigh as if anchoring herself to hold on. This wasn’t the way to start my new plan. I should’ve been up and dressed, with medicine digesting, eggs frying, and the cat released back into the wild.
Shoot! The cat.
At first I thought Henry hadn’t noticed. I thought the baby blanket covered her enough that perhaps Henry hadn’t caught sight of her. Maybe I could convince him to leave, and then I could sneak Luna out without him ever noticing.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I lost track of time. I’ll start the coffee in—”
“What’s going on?” His voice rose so that Luna jolted, pushing her back against the swaddle and her claws deeper into my legs.
“Shhh—” I told him, hoping to call his attention away from the cat. “Don’t wake the baby.”
Henry walked toward me. “Lulu,” was all he could say. His voice sounded different. It caught in his throat, not on his tongue like the moments when the stutter tried to reassert itself. He had gotten good at maneuvering it, hiding it, pausing to collect himself before forcing a repetitive sound from his mouth.
“Oh God. Lulu.”
Luna jumped from my lap. There was no hiding her. With what Gary had said to him, surely Henry would know who she was. Surely I’d have to walk her across the street and return her to Bitsy. And then I’d be alone in the middle of the night once more. I expected him to reach for her, but instead he let the cat run out the door.
The swaddle had loosened with Luna’s movement. I brought Esther to my chest, hoping Henry wouldn’t wake her. I couldn’t believe we had slept so long, so fully.
But why was Henry still saying my name? Why had tears begun to pool in his eyes?
He reached for the baby. How long had it been since he had held her? Not that he held Wesley much at all, but now that I thought of it, I didn’t know when I had seen him hold his daughter.
“Shhh…” I warned. “She’s sleeping.”
“No, Lulu.”
He took the bundle from my arms.
“Gentle!” I warned. How had he forgotten?
I watched him unwrap the blanket, hold it in the air, and drop it to the floor.
“Henry! The baby!” I called. I tried to reach for her. I expected to hear a thud as she hit the floor along with the blanket.
But there was silence.
Always the silence.
So much silence since…
Henry knelt on the floor in front of me. I tried to push him away. I tried to find her. Why wasn’t she crying? Why didn’t I hear her? See her? Where was she?
“Lulu,” Henry whispered. The morning light peeked through the curtains and lit the tears that streamed down his cheeks. I had never seen him cry before. He didn’t cry quietly, not like me, but I suppose he hadn’t had to.
I tried to stand, to push him away, to find our daughter, but Henry held me in the chair. He pressed his body against mine, his face so close that I could feel his breath across my cheeks. His tongue tied, but he forced out the syllables, his voice rising with urgency, “L-L-L-Lulu, don’t you remember?
She’s gone.”
