right by the giant evergreen. Dressed in a trench coat, the young woman was tall and willowy with long, wavy hair. She had a cell phone in her hand and was too busy flipping open the mouthpiece and pulling out the short antenna to watch where she was going. She passed under an old-fashioned streetlight that illuminated only that section of the trail. Soon the young woman would be in the shadows of the big evergreen.
“Miss?” Pamela tried to call to her, but her throat closed up. Her warning was barely a whisper. Her hand came up to her throat as she watched helplessly. The young woman got closer and closer to the towering tree.
“Miss?” Pamela said, louder this time. Her voice cracked. “Excuse me…”
All of a sudden, the dark figure leapt out from behind the evergreen.
Pamela screamed.
So did the young woman. And then she burst out laughing. “You idiot! You almost made me drop my phone.” The man put his arm around her, and they kissed. “I was just about to call and ask what was keeping you….”
Pamela caught her breath and then pushed Andy onward. Her heart was still racing. She’d almost made a fool out of herself.
Arm in arm, the young couple strolled up the path toward Andy and her. As she passed them, Pamela noticed the girl glancing down at Andy in his stroller—and then at her. “That’s me in a year and a half,” the girl whispered to her companion. “I’ll be pushing around little Justin Junior. I’m going to be her….”
For your sake, I hope not, Pamela thought. Did that young woman—eighteen months from now—really want to discover that Justin Senior, the father of her child, was a cheating slime bucket?
Okay, so maybe Steve hadn’t actually cheated yet, but he’d been working up to it.
Pamela had taken Andy out of Rainbow Junction Day Care early and gone for a long drive. The phone was ringing when she came through the front door with Andy in her arms at 4:30. It was Steve. He’d left several messages for her at the office—and then at home. “Jill phoned me, and said you e-mailed her,” he admitted. “Listen, you’re freaking out over nothing. This e-mail thing with her is all very innocent—and—and harmless. It’s so dumb. It started when they sent the notice about the reunion. I was going to tell you about it, only I…well, listen, just do me a favor and stay put. I’m leaving work right now. I should be there in a half hour….”
Pamela waited. She put Andy in his crib for a late nap, poured herself a glass of merlot, and plopped down at the kitchen table. She kept busy painting her nails—a honey-brown color called Cinnamon Sin. Ninety minutes later, she was still sitting there, impatiently clicking her newly painted nails on the kitchen table. She sat there and glared at Steve as he paced in front of her, apologizing, explaining, and groveling.
Apparently, poor Jill had just been through a messy divorce and was very fragile. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings by telling her that her e-mails were inappropriate. Yeah, sure, maybe he kind of liked the attention, but it was all very innocent.
“I was going to tell you about it,” he claimed. “Only I knew you’d go ballistic. This is just the sort of reaction I’ve been afraid of. Can you really blame me for not saying anything?
Yes, indeed, I blame you, you son of a bitch.
She took Andy and left. She just needed to cool off for a while.
That had been nearly an hour ago. Steve was probably going out of his mind with worry. Maybe he thought he’d never see her and their baby again. Well, good, let him think that a little while longer.
Up ahead, past the dahlia garden, Pamela thought she saw him, walking along another intersecting trail. Then she realized—although he had Steve’s loping gait and wore a navy blue windbreaker very much like Steve’s—the man wasn’t her husband. For a few moments, a streetlight behind him cast a shadow over his face. But as he came closer, Pamela saw he was extremely good looking and he was smiling at Andy in his stroller. “Well, well, well, what a handsome little rascal you are!” he said.
Pamela stopped for him. The stranger crouched down to grin at Andy. He wasn’t a toucher. He kept his hands in his pockets. “What’s your name, fella?” he asked.