“No. No, I am not going to listen to you.” She wasn’tsaying this. She couldn’t be. She couldn’t seem to stop herself. “I’m having nothing to do with you.”
As long as her babies were all right...
Well, they weren’t all right anymore.
“Mom, you’re not listening.”
She stalked toward him, furious, seething, tears burningher eyes. “Get out. Get out of my house.”
Johnny backed up, his young face devastated. “Mom,please!”
She slapped him across the face. “I said get out!”
He ran. Stumbling like a child who’d lost his way. Slamming the door into the yard. Claire heard the engine startand gravel spit as the wheels spun and headed back down thedriveway. She heard her son run from her, when he’d neverrun from her in his life.
She heard him escaping, because she’d told him to getout.
She heard the emptiness in her house, in her quiet, carefully ordered living room, and suddenly she realized whatshe’d done.
She’d hit him. Forced him away.
She’d promised to protect him, and then she’d hurt himherself.
Her hands at her mouth, she sank to her knees. Shewatched out the window with eyes blinded by tears. She diedthere in the quiet of her living room, and no one heard her,because she’d sent her son away.
“Claire?”
Tony’s voice. She heard it through the agony, through theheart-pounding grief that gripped her. Tony’s voice, like abalm in a wasteland.
“Claire, talk to me. What happened?”
He was on his knees next to her, on his knees, with hisarms around her, with his head against hers, as if he couldprotect her.
Protect her from what? There was nothing out there anymore. The monsters were inside, set loose and tearing herapart. The monsters were feeding on her, and she couldn’tstop it.
“I hit him....” She sobbed. “Oh, God, I hit him. Ican’t...I can’t do it anymore….”
“You don’t have to,” he said, and she heard him. “I’mhere. We’re all here for you.”
“I have to find Johnny,” she pleaded, turning to him when she’d promised she wouldn’t. “I have to find him, Tony. Please.”
“What happened, honey?”
His eyes. Those sweet, seawater eyes, magical eyes that could soak up pain. His hands. Strong hands. Hands thatcould hold her up when she didn’t have the strength anymore.
“I forgot his birthday,” she sobbed. “How could I forget his birthday and... Oh, God, I sent him away. I sent mybaby away....”
He wrapped himself around her like a blanket, and Claireturned to him. She clung to him. She inhaled the scent ofhim and soaked in the sound of his heart, his generous, giving heart.
“Help me,” she begged. “I can’t do it alone anymore.”
He lifted her face and smiled for her, and she knew it wasgoing to be all right. For the first time in twenty years, Claireknew it could be all right. “You’ll never have to again aslong as you live, Claire. I promise you. Now, let’s go findJohnny and wish him a happy birthday.”
