The Fourth Child Read online

  Port Carling was home to several of Claire's closest friends. Mallory Driscoll, who ran a trendy boutique on Steamboat Bay; her husband, Drew, who owned, published and edited the Hub of the Lakes Gazette; and their two-year-old daughter, Angel, named for Drew's mother, Angela, who'd passed away several years ago.

  Then there was Grady Hogan. Newly divorced, the father of twin adolescent boys, Grady was

  Claire's teenage sweetheart, the first love of her life.

  Muskoka. To Claire the name conjured happy memories of her oldest and dearest friends. A place of simple pleasures and long, lazy days that seemed to last forever. A place of startling contrasts like the shock of her body slicing through cold, bracing water, after hours spent baking in the hot, humid air. Or the daylight sounds of laughter traveling over water and the thrumming of motor-boat engines, compared with the early-morning song of the loons and the plaintive call of an owl at midnight.

  From the time she was a baby, her family had spent their summers at their cottage on Lake Rosseau. Claire had grown up on the smell of woodlands and lake water. Her favorite foods were summertime foods—corn fresh off the husk, blueberries sprinkled with sugar, spicy smokies barbecued on an open bonfire.

  When her parents retired and moved to Florida, they'd deeded the place to Claire, and the tradition of summer at the cottage continued with the next generation. Usually, her mom and dad came up for a couple of weeks in the summer, but this year they'd opted to visit Claire's aunt on Vancouver Island, instead.

  Just as well. Claire didn't want them to know about the problems between her and Kirk until they'd been settled. One way or another.

  "I'm going to learn to water-ski this year," Daisy announced.

  Last year Andie had mastered the technique, much to her younger sisters' chagrin.

  "Well, I'm going to learn to drop a ski," Andie said.

  "Provided Grady has time to take us out on his boat," Claire cautioned. Their own motorboat didn't have the horsepower for skiing.

  "Well, why wouldn't he?" Andie asked. "He's taken us every other year."

  "Yes, I know. He probably will. I just don't think we should assume anything before we've asked."

  Grady's divorce from his high-school sweetheart, Bess, had just become finalized a few months ago, and over the phone he'd sounded so depressed. And worried about the twins. Initially, Warren and Taylor had felt as if their mother had abandoned them, too, when she left to start a new life for herself in Barrie.

  Claire didn't blame them. She'd never liked Bess much; now she liked her even less. How could she leave behind her own boys? She'd said they didn't need her anymore, but Warren and Taylor had only been fifteen at the time. And what about Grady? Claire couldn't imagine any woman in her right mind leaving a husband like Grady. He was a real honey, a great guy. He hadn't deserved to be treated so badly.

  And neither do I.

  It was hard to believe she was now in the same category as her stalwart friend. Only, she hadn't lost her husband because he wanted to find himself. She'd lost him because of another woman.

  Claire blinked behind her sunglasses, thinking of Kirk standing in the driveway, waving goodbye to them. He'd looked sad at the time, but what had he done once they were gone? Phoned Janice? Was he with her right now?

  She couldn't stand to think about it.

  "Can we stop for a burger?" Andie asked.

  Claire glanced in the rearview mirror, seeking out her daughter's eyes. "We just had breakfast"

  "But we always stop at Weber's…"

  "Yeah, Mom," added Daisy.

  "Well, maybe we could get milkshakes."

  "And fries?" Jenna pressed.

  It was a good idea, Claire convinced herself, pulling off the highway fifteen minutes later. She needed to eat for her unborn child, and a milkshake would go down easily. She still had so little appetite. And this morning, with Kirk at the breakfast table—well, she hadn't been able to swallow a bite.

  She'd noticed him watching her, and caught his surprise when she'd refused even coffee. He'd had three cups.

  "I've been living on the stuff," he'd admitted when the girls were brushing their teeth.

  She'd been perversely glad to see that his eyes looked as tired as hers, despite the extra jolts of caffeine.

  How much time was he spending with Janice? Claire wouldn't allow herself to ask the question, though she burned with resentment. Sure, Kirk was upset; maybe he was even having trouble sleeping and eating, as she was. But there was someone else in his life, whereas she was alone. Did the two of them talk about her? she wondered.

  Claire opened her purse on the counter as she placed her order. "Two chocolate, one strawberry and one vanilla shake." She felt Jenna tug on her arm. "Plus an order of fries."

  "Three blondies and one redhead." The woman behind the till peered at Andie. "Where did you come from?"

  Andie flushed a deep red. She turned her back to the counter and muttered, "The planet Carrot-top."

  Claire put one hand on her daughter's shoulder and took her change with the other. "Sensitive topic," she said, knowing the woman hadn't meant to be unkind.

  The four of them sat outside at one of the numerous picnic tables. Claire passed out the shakes and put the fries in the center of the table for everyone to share. Three hands reached out simultaneously. A second later Daisy's forehead creased and she placed a hand over her mourn.

  "Oh, no," she mumbled from behind her hand.

  "What is it?"

  Daisy's eyes opened wide. Reaching inside her mourn, she plucked out something that looked like a misshapen pearl.

  "My tooth came out"

  "Is it bleeding?" Jenna leaned in close for a better view. "Can I see the hole? Did it hurt?"

  Watching Daisy field her sisters' questions and display her trophy carefully, Claire thought how rare it was for her middle daughter to be the center of attention. Quieter than Jenna, less truculent man Andie—especially lately—she rarely caused trouble.

  Claire reached across the table to stroke Daisy's cheek. "Another tooth gone. My baby is growing up."

  Jenna was affronted, "I'm your baby, Mom."

  "All three of you are my babies."

  "Andie's not a baby."

  "To me she is. That's just the way mothers feel about their children, Jenna." Claire looked back at Daisy, who was gliding her tongue in and out of the empty space in her mouth.

  "I wonder what that gem will fetch on the tooth-fairy market?"

  Daisy suddenly seemed worried. "Could I wait until next weekend to put my tooth under the pillow? I don't want the tooth fairy to take it away until Daddy gets to see it."

  The sweet moment she'd been sharing with her daughters suddenly turned sour. Daddy. Did Kirk have any idea how important he was to these girls?

  The fries were gone, and Claire pushed aside her unfinished milkshake. "It's time we hit the road. You can finish your drinks in the van."

  "How much farther?" Jenna asked as she climbed into the middle-row seat, next to the window. They'd bought the van when she was born, and the built-in car seats had been a lifesaver. Now Claire made sure all three girls were buckled in properly before she jumped into the driver's seat.

  "You know, Andie…" she began, once they were back on the highway. In the rearview mirror she saw her daughter spit out a strand of her hair, and had to choke back a reprimand. "Daddy and I were talking this morning and we decided it would be a good idea if you spent half an hour every day on that math workbook your teacher recommended."

  "What? But it's summer holidays, Mom. Why do I have to do math?"

  "I think you know why."

  "That's not fair. I've been waiting for summer for ages. When's Daddy coming to the cottage?"

  "Oh, probably next weekend," Claire said vaguely.

  Thinking about Kirk driving up for the weekend made the milkshake in Claire's stomach curdle. She'd avoided the issue when Kirk had brought up the subject, yet she didn't see how she could deny
nun the right to visit the girls. Of course she didn't want to do that. She just didn't want to see him.

  She scanned the horizon, noting the change in the scenery. Picturesque dairy farms and cornfields had given way to the hardy mixed forest of spruce, pine, maple and oak. They were well past Barrie, almost to Gravenhurst, but traffic was still steady on the four-lane highway. Obviously, they weren't the only family escaping pavement and pollution for the summer months.

  Claire tucked her hair behind her ear and sighed. She'd driven this route so many times, yet never with such mixed feelings. She was so eager to get to their destination, to see the familiar roofline of the cottage peeking out from the surrounding trees at the bottom of the short, winding lane.

  To her, the cottage felt more like home than any of the neighborhoods she'd lived in Toronto, including the brick bungalow in Leaside where she'd been raised, the basement apartment she'd shared with a girlfriend in College Park during university and the two-story house she and Kirk had bought nine years ago in the suburb of Richmond Hill.

  Of course, cottage was hardly the word for the spacious, well-finished bungalow that hugged the rock face along the lake's edge.

  The living and dining areas opened to a fully equipped modern kitchen. A short hallway off the kitchen led to three large bedrooms and a bath and a half. The view of the lake was spectacular and sliding doors permitted access to an expansive, multi tiered deck designed to connect the cottage to the water. A large dock and boathouse were the center points of most sunny afternoons.

  Claire could imagine sitting there right now, her feet dangling in the cool water, the hot sun on her shoulder blades, a cold beer—no, make that a lemonade—in her hand.

  She thought of her husband, as she did a hundred times every day, wondering what he was experiencing. Was he relieved that the truth was finally out in the open? Was he feeling guilt, sorrow, pain?

  She knew that he must be, but somehow she always imagined him with Janice, laughing and at ease.

  It was so damn unfair.

  Part of her was happy to put as many miles between Kirk and herself as she could. But that didn't stop her from missing him and wondering if she was wise to leave bun alone and free to focus all his time on Janice.

  What was the right thing to do?

  She wished she knew.

  Claire was opening windows to freshen up the bedrooms, when she heard a vehicle in the drive. A moment later, a voice called from the screen door.

  "Claire? Are you in there?"

  It was Mallory. Her heart lightening, Claire grabbed a tissue and rushed out to greet her, pausing when she saw Mallory's reaction to her appearance.

  "Claire." Mallory sounded shocked. "You've been crying."

  She couldn't deny it. She was just thankful the girls had been outside playing when she'd stepped into her and Kirk's bedroom and seen the book of poetry he'd bought her just last summer. She'd picked up the slim volume and opened it to his inscription: You are lovelier than any poem.

  The words had stung with their beauty, and tears had followed quickly. There in her hands was the evidence that he had loved her once. What had happened to change that?

  "Are you okay?" Mallory held out her arms, and Claire stepped into them for a hug.

  "No." She squeezed tightly, then sat back on the edge of the sofa, pulling Mallory with her. "I'm sorry. Usually, I manage to keep myself together, but today for some reason…"

  "What do you mean, keep yourself together? Oh, I knew something was wrong when you phoned to say you'd be here earlier than usual. You didn't sound like yourself." Mallory put her arm over Claire's shoulders.

  "It's Kirk."

  "Is he working too much again?"

  "Not this time."

  "Then what?"

  Mallory sounded anxious, and Claire's stomach churned like lake water caught up in a boat propeller. So far she hadn't told a soul about her and Kirk's problems. Now it was a relief to finally confide, "He's fallen in love with another woman."

  "No." Mallory's body went rigid. "Are you sure?"

  Claire felt the tears begin to gather again. "He told me himself."

  "The bastard." Mallory wrapped both arms around Claire."How could he do that? Why would he do something like that?"

  Quickly, Claire went through the whole story. The other woman's divorce, the innocent lunches that had led to not-so-innocent dinners, open meetings turning suddenly secret. "He says they haven't slept together."

  "Well, that's something."

  "If it's true. He loves her, Mallory. Do you know how long it's been since he told me he loved me? Months."

  Claire swung her bare feet, and noticed the chipped pink polish.

  "Oh, Claire. I can't stand that this is happening to you. Have you said anything to the girls?"

  "No. I just don't know how I'll ever find the strength. Mallory, they'll be devastated. Kirk isn't around as much as they'd like, but they adore him."

  "Of course they do." Mallory patted her arm.

  "Kirk says we need to talk, but I don't know what that will accomplish. I've asked him if he wants a d-divorce, but he seems almost as confused as I am."

  "Oh, Claire…"

  "How's Grady doing?" Claire asked, the topic of divorce making her think of their mutual friend.

  "Oh, he's finally out of that terrible depression. He's even started dating again. I think up until the day the divorce was official, he kept hoping Bess would change her mind."

  "I bet the twins were hoping the same thing." Claire kept staring at her feet."Who's he dating?''

  "Remember the woman Drew and I found living in the MacDougals' cottage two winters ago?"

  Claire remembered. Drew had written an outstanding editorial on the subject of homelessness. The woman had just left an abusive relationship and had no money or source of income, so she and her young daughter had been reduced to taking shelter in various cottages that had been closed for the whiter.

  What was her name? "Terese Balfour?"

  "Yes. She's the guidance counselor at Warren and Taylor's school now, and believe me, Grady and she have been doing a lot of talking in the past few years."

  "Are the twins okay?"

  "They're a lot better. They're still covering high-school sports for Drew at the Gazette. And I think they've finally started seeing their mom on a regular basis again."

  "How old are they? Seventeen? I can hardly believe it."

  "I know. They both have driver's licenses. Next year they'll be off to college."

  "Incredible." Claire put her hands on her bare knees. A cool breeze was wafting through all the open windows and now she felt cold. She grabbed an old afghan and wrapped it around her. "Are Grady and Terese serious?"

  "I'm not sure. Grady really likes her, but Terese's experience with her ex-husband has left her cautious, to say the least She's pretty scared about getting involved in a serious relationship. And she's worried about her daughter. Lisa just dotes on Grady, and Terese's concerned she might get too attached."

  "Sounds complicated."

  "Nothing's as simple as it should be," Mallory said.

  "Except for you, Drew and Angel." Claire smiled, forcing her thoughts from her own troubled situation. "Does Drew ever regret quitting the rat race in Ottawa to run the Gazette!"

  "He claims he couldn't be happier. And I know I couldn't." Mallory smoothed a hand over the afghan, then raised anxious eyes to her friend.

  "Drew says I see the world through rose-colored glasses, but I can't help feeling shaken. Only two years ago I looked at you and Kirk and Grady and Bess and thought you all had the world in your hands. Now Grady and Bess are divorced. And you and Kirk—" Mallory covered her face with her hands. "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be." Claire put her arm around Mallory and hugged her close. "It is horrible. No one knows it more than me."

  Mallory's breath shuddered. "Oh, Claire. Does happily ever after even exist anymore?"

  CHAPTER SIX

  Kirk always c
alled whenever Claire took the girls up to the cottage by herself, to make sure they'd arrived safely. Would he this time? Maybe he was enjoying his new freedom too much to spare them a second thought.

  Claire struck a match and held it to the ball of scrunched-up newspaper she'd placed under a stack of kindling. Immediately, a small orange flame sprang to life against the edge of the paper and began traveling upward. Soon, the paper was engulfed in flames, and the small chips of cedar began to spark.

  "Are we ready for the logs?" Daisy asked. All the girls, even little two-year-old Angel, had carried armfuls of dried, split wood from the shed to the fire pit next to the boat dock.

  "We can start with a few of the smaller ones. Do you want to put them on? Be careful." Claire stood back as each girl added one of the thinner chunks of wood. Andie held Angel's hand as the little girl threw a small square of cedar at the fire.

  Andie was good with Angel. Claire sought out

  Mallory, who was watching the scene from the comfort of one of the four wooden outdoor chairs that sat in a semicircle around the pit. She was eyeing her daughter with a serene smile; it was obvious she trusted Andie to keep her safe.

  How would Andie feel about a new sister or brother? And what about Daisy and Jenna? So much change coming all at once. Claire didn't know how they were going to cope. She still hadn't told a soul about the baby, and thought longingly of confiding in Mallory. The girls had interrupted their earlier conversation before she'd had a chance to bring up this added complication in her life.

  Maybe later they could speak privately again, after the sun had begun to set, when the kids had had their fill of hot dogs and the fire had burned down to a mass of orange-blue coals.

  The wiener roast was a tradition for the first night of summer vacation, dating back when Claire had been a little girl. Now the familiar smell of burning wood brought back the secure feeling of sitting between her parents, her face warmed by the fire, two whole months of swimming, boating and playing with her friends ahead of her.