The Escape Artist by Diane Chamberlain
Moving mechanically, she packed her duffel bag and filled a couple of garbage bags with other things she didn't want to leave behind. She would wait until the middle of the night to carry her computer out to the car. The thought of leaving was suddenly appealing. She'd gotten herself in too deep here in Annapolis. She knew terrible, incriminating information she did not want to know. She'd gotten involved with a man she seemed destined to hurt. It would be so easy to simply pile up her car with her belongings and drive away. She could leave before sunrise.
In her bedroom, she leaned over the side of the crib to look at her sleeping son. He'd adjusted so beautifully to the move from Boulder to Annapolis, and he seemed to love his little world: the apartment, the park, the wonderful long walks around a town filled with charm. How could she uproot him again so soon?
She stroked her hand over Cody's hair, breathing in his scent. She'd wanted more for her child than she'd ever had for herself, and she was well on her way to giving him less.
"You always run away from your problems," Linc had told her, more than once. "You're always looking for an easy way out."
She hadn't wanted Kim to be that way. She turned the garbage bags upside down on the bed and shook out their contents. Susanna Miller had been the escape artist; Kim Stratton would have to be stronger than that.
–19–
Kim awakened to the sound of Cody crying. It was dark in her bedroom, and for a moment she couldn't remember where she was or even who she was. She guessed she was at Linc's house, until she reached over to the other side of the bed and felt the empty space next to her.
She could hear the dripping of the leaky faucet in her bathroom and began to get her bearings. Leaning toward the window, she raised the shade. The sky was black above the roof line of the darkened houses across the street, and the clock on her radio read 5:14. Far too early for Cody to be awake. In an instant she was out of bed, maternal alarm bells clanging in her head.
She felt the heat of Cody's fever beneath her hands even before she'd lifted him out of the crib, and her heartbeat accelerated. Fever terrified her. Ever since Cody's surgery, after which he'd had to be monitored carefully for symptoms of infection, fever had become an enemy, the harbinger of dire news.
She carried Cody to her own bed and turned on the night table lamp. The baby rolled away from the intrusion of light, irritably rubbing the side of his head and neck with his fist. An ear infection? That was probably all it was. She took his temperature—103 degrees—then gave him some water and rocked him in her arms, waiting for eight o'clock to roll around. It was Sunday morning. She didn't dare call Dr. Sweeney before eight.
Cody was quiet as he lay in her arms, but he wore a small frown she had never seen on his face before. She pressed her lips to his warm forehead, thankful she had not tried to flee in the middle of the night. She'd be stuck on the road with a sick baby. Right now, she could not even remember the reason for her urge to run.
It came to her slowly. She recalled the police officer's visit to Lucy the night before as if she'd dreamt it. If only she had. Soon, though, the memory was sharp and clear. She recalled with a shiver every footfall on the stairs, the knock on Lucy's door. What had Lucy said to him in the privacy of her apartment?
She called Dr. Sweeney at eight o'clock, and the answering service told her he was out of town for the weekend and was being covered by another doctor. This other doctor called her back at eight-thirty. He must have picked up the worry in her voice when she told him about Cody's heart problem, because he suggested she take him to the nearest emergency room to be checked out. Obviously, the doctor himself had no intention of working that day.
Kim hung up and returned Cody to his crib, then pulled her checkbook from her purse to study the sad reality of her account balance. She had to admit that a lack of health insurance was one problem she had not thought through before leaving Boulder. Insurance was one of those things you tended to take for granted when you were living a normal life.
She was certain there was not enough money in her checking account to cover whatever the emergency room might cost, so she dipped into her beneath-the-mattress fund. She took two hundred dollars, hoping it would be no more than that. Kitty Russo was supposed to have more work for her this week, and she was counting on it.
She had Cody dressed and was heading for the door when Adam called.
"Cody's sick," she said. "I have to take him to the emergency room, since it's Sunday and his doctor's not in."
"I'll go with you," Adam offered.
"That's not necessary," she said, although she was hoping he'd insist. She wanted him there.
"I know it's not necessary," he said. "But I'd like to go."
"All right," she said. "We'll wait for you on the porch."
He arrived within minutes. They took her car to the hospital, since it had the car seat, and she described Cody's symptoms to him on the drive.
"Ear infection, definitely," Adam said. "Liam used to get them all the time. You'll need antibiotics. And drops."
"I wish you could prescribe as well as diagnose," she said. "It would save me a bundle."
"Won't your insurance cover it?"
"I don't have any," she admitted.
He looked at her sharply.
"That's crazy, Kim. You've got to have insurance for him, not to mention for yourself. What about through Cody's father?"
"I don't want anything to do with his father."
"But for Cody's sake. He needs to be covered."
Her eyes stung. She knew he was right, and if she'd turned Cody over to Peggy and Jim, there would be no worry over insurance, over money, over medical care. At a stoplight, she turned to look at her miserable baby, his face red from crying, and pressed her palm against his warm cheek.
She felt Adam's hand on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry," he said. "It's none of my business."
"No, you're right. I've got to find a way to get insurance for him." Her voice was thick and she brushed the back of her hand across her eyes.
Adam squeezed her shoulder. "Is it the money that's got you upset, or are you worried about Cody's heart?"
"Both," she said, although the real answer was neither. Right now, she was simply weighed down by guilt. She couldn't protect her son the way she wanted to. The way a good mother would. Certainly not the way Peggy would.
"I get my insurance through an organization for self-employed people," Adam said. "I'll give you the information and you can apply."
She knew all about those applications. They would want detailed medical information, doctors' names. Things she couldn't tell them. But she nodded as though Adam had come up with a way to solve her problem.
They waited in the emergency room for nearly two hours. Half the children in Annapolis seemed to have taken ill that morning, and she held Cody protectively on her lap.
Adam entertained Cody with the stuffed monkey, while Kim nursed her guilt and her fear. Here was yet another doctor she would have to inform about Cody's heart surgery. And wasn't it more likely that a doctor in a hospital would have been alerted to be on the lookout for a baby with his heart condition? She thought of the police officer thumping up the stairs to her apartment the night before, and the thought of escape tempted her again. Maybe she should leave Annapolis once she had medication for Cody. But then what? Where would she go? She'd heard of parents who ran off with their children and then moved from place to place, staying one small step ahead of being caught. She didn't think she could live that way, although she would if she had to.
Across the room from her sat a blond woman and her two lethargic-looking toddlers, and Kim was suddenly reminded of the receptionist at Sellers, Sellers, and Wittaker and her ill-fated children. Maybe there was no way she could have predicted that explosion, but she could predict the next one, most likely with perfect accuracy. Even if she ran away from her new life in Annapolis, she would not be able to run away from what she knew.
"Hey." Adam looked at her w
"It'll be all right," Adam said. "It's only an ear infection."
The doctor was a young woman who seemed intrigued but not alarmed by the scar on Cody's chest and the explanation behind it. "What a lucky little boy," she said simply, and proceeded to check his ears and throat and listen to his lungs, only to verify Adam's diagnosis of an ear infection and prescribe antibiotics and ear drops.
Adam winked at Kim, as if to say 'I told you so' and she smiled at him in relief.
Back in the reception area, she counted out one hundred and twenty dollars, adamantly refusing the fifty Adam tried to press into her hand.
Adam offered to drive home so she could sit in the back with Cody. She was quiet in the car, and she felt herself stiffen as they turned onto her street. She half expected to see the police car, or maybe two or three, waiting for her out front. But only Adam's car was parked at the curb.
Adam pulled her car behind his and looked at his watch. "Two o'clock," he said. "Let me make you guys lunch."
She bit her lip, uncertain how to respond. It was Sunday. In six hours she would be able to hear Linc on the radio, and all she really wanted to do between now and then was take care of her son and wait. She would have liked to have Adam wait with her. She would have liked to have him lie in her bed with her, holding her, while Cody slept—but only until eight, when she'd want him gone. That was hardly fair.
She shook her head. "I'm so tired," she said. "Cody had me up before the sun this morning. I'd really like to spend the rest of the day sleeping and puttering."
For a minute she thought he was going to suggest sleeping and puttering with her, but he seemed to think better of it and she was relieved.
"All right." He looked worried. "Promise you'll call if you need anything?"
She nodded. "Thank you so much, Adam."
They got out of the car and Adam handed her the keys.
"I'll bring that insurance information over tomorrow," he said, as she lifted Cody into her arms.
"Okay." She kissed him on the cheek. "I'll see you then."
Except for one, too-brief nap, Cody was fussy much of the afternoon, and she was glad she'd elected to be alone with him. She divided her time between cuddling him, touching up the pale roots of her hair, and talking to Ellen about the leaky faucet in the bathroom. When the apartment was perfectly quiet, the dripping sounded like a sledgehammer.
She'd just gotten Cody to bed that evening when she heard Simon and Garfunkel's "Song for the Asking" on the radio. She turned off her bedroom light and got under the covers to listen.
"Welcome to Songs for the Asking," Linc said. "Tonight we'll be listening to Van Morrison, the old and the new."
As usual, his voice brought tears to her eyes.
I miss you, Linc.
She listened to the music, willing the songs to go quickly so she could hear his voice in between them. She could picture him sitting in his studio this past Wednesday, taping this particular show. She saw him shuffling the CDs, leaning back in his chair, drinking coffee from the mug she'd given him for his last birthday.
There was a knock on her door as Linc began playing "Moondance." She jumped from the bed, startled, and looked out the window, expecting to see the police car again. But except for her own car and Lucy's, the street was empty.
"Kim?" She heard Lucy's voice through the front door. "It's Lucy, honey."
She walked into the living room and opened the door, blinking against the sudden intrusion of light from the hallway. In its glow, her neighbor no longer looked like the benevolent, grandmotherly woman who shared coffee with her on the porch in the mornings.
"Why are you sitting here in the dark?" Lucy asked.
"Oh." Kim looked behind her at her unlit living room, as if she was as surprised by the darkness as Lucy was. "I was in the bedroom. Cody's had an earache today and I—"
"Oh, that poor little guy. How's he doing now?"
"Fine. I have some medicine for him." She should probably invite Lucy in, but she wanted to spend the evening with Linc, not the neighbor she no longer trusted.
"That's good," Lucy said, then added, "Listen dear, I'm having a heck of a time with that oven." She pointed behind her toward her own apartment. "It's the first time I've tried to bake in it, and I can't even get it turned on. Is yours the same? Have you figured it out?"
Ellen had shown her how to use the temperamental oven weeks earlier. You had to hold the on/off dial in with one hand the same time you set the temperature with the other. She knew she had no choice but to give Lucy a hands-on demonstration.
"I'll show you." She stepped into the hall, leaving her door open so she could listen for Cody.
She walked ahead of Lucy into the older woman's apartment, fighting the fantasy of being surrounded by police once she stepped over the threshold.
Lucy's apartment was smaller than hers, but filled with a similar collection of second-hand furniture supplied by Ellen. The dining room table had been taken over by a computer, much as Kim's had been, but there were stacks of papers and magazines and books piled over any blank space on the table, as well as on the chairs and kitchen counters. The walls were bare, and the general feeling in the apartment was stark and temporary.
Except for the refrigerator. Photographs nearly covered the surface of the freezer door. Babies. Children. Young adults. Kim thought she should ask Lucy about them, but that would have to wait. She could still vaguely hear Linc talking on the radio in her own apartment, although from this distance, she couldn't possibly make out his words.
She bent over to show Lucy how to work the finicky oven. She spoke little, afraid that her voice would be husky and her recent tears evident. Only when she stood up straight did she notice that Lucy's own eyes were red. Circles of pink stood out on her cheeks and throat.
"Are you all right?" Kim asked.
"Oh." Lucy waved her hand through the air and took in a long, jerky breath. "I just had a conversation with one of my sons on the phone."
"What's wrong?"
"I haven't seen any of my children in six months," Lucy said. She picked up the cookie tray that rested on the counter only to put it down again. "Not to mention my grandchildren. That's why I dote on your little boy so."
Kim had no idea why that police officer had paid his visit to Lucy, but she suddenly felt certain that Lucy had no malicious intentions toward her. "Why don't you see them?" she asked.
"Because I walked out of my marriage. After thirty years. If I'd had any self-respect, I would have left long before then, but I toughed it out as long as I could. My kids should have applauded me. But, no. I've wrecked their lives, they say." Lucy's lower lip trembled.
"Oh, I'm so sorry." Kim touched her arm. "I bet they'll see the light in time, though." She knew she should ask more questions. Why Lucy had left, what had been so awful about that marriage.
Lucy was inviting it. She wanted to talk. Probably she'd known full well how to get that oven working. But the clock on the oven read 9:47 and Kim could hear the soft hum of Linc's voice from across the hall. She had to get back to him. She would let Lucy talk on the porch the following morning. She'd listen for hours if need be.
"I have to get back, Lucy," she said. "I'm sorry, but I don't want to leave Cody alone. Can we visit on the porch in the morning?"
"Yes, please. I'd like that." Lucy brightened at the thought. "I'll bring the coffee."
Kim stepped into the dark living room again and closed her apartment door behind her. There was an instant of silence from the radio, and then Leonard Cohen's voice filled the air. Suzanne takes you down …
The end of the show. She wondered what she'd missed. Had he said anything, played anything he would have wanted her to hear?
When Linc's show was over, she sat on the sofa for a long time, writing a letter to him in her head. The letter was fill
She sat down at the computer and began to type.
Dear Linc Sebastian,
She looked out the window toward the dark river.
I'm writing from my place near the river, she began, a cryptic allusion to a line from the song "Suzanne."
I would appreciate it if you would play the following for me.
She listed several songs he would recognize as her favorites. Then she signed the letter, S.T.U. Downe, in reference to the first line from "Suzanne."
Read carefully, Linc, she thought to herself.
She slept well that night, content that in a few hours her words would find their way into Linc's hands.
In the morning, she met Lucy on the porch for coffee, as promised. Lucy cuddled Cody on her lap as they talked. Cody had recovered remarkably overnight, but he was still subdued enough to want to cuddle rather than play.
Kim listened guiltily as Lucy divulged the miserable workings of a long-failed marriage. Everyone was confiding in her, and she gave them dishonesty in return.
What she really wished Lucy would talk about was the visit from the policeman the other night. When Lucy finally seemed to run out of words, Kim mustered up her courage.
"I saw a police officer here a few nights ago," she said. "I was worried something was wrong."
Lucy instantly colored. "Oh, I'd just…I'd heard a noise. I've always been one of those jumpy people, you know. Imagining things. I'm not used to living alone. So…I'm sorry if he disturbed you. I felt ridiculous after I called him. It was nothing, of course."