During the remainder of the evening, she watched him toss conversation lines out about her cla.s.ses or volunteering. She wasn't biting, not even a nibble, further reducing her responses to a sulky "fine."

"Remember earlier when you thought I was having an affair?" Adam asked. "And I'm not. Do you remember that? I'm just going to Beijing."

Adam's attempt at civility or bad humor crashed and burned.

"For six months." She hadn't pouted for a while. It didn't necessarily feel good, only familiar.

Once home Grace changed into her pajamas and washed her face. She stared in the mirror and finally spoke. "So, when do you leave?"

Adam finished brushing his teeth and wiped across his mouth with a towel. "The end of the month."

Grace crawled into bed and purposely positioned her back to Adam's side, willing herself to the undemanding state of sleep. She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the calendar in her mind's eye. She had a little over three weeks before he left.

She felt him ease over to her side of the bed, but he didn't touch her. d.a.m.n, why couldn't she go to sleep? Her world was crumbling down around her. Not as much as she thought earlier in the evening, but her "drama queen" mentality still worked overtime. She finally turned over and found Adam facing her.

"I love you, Grace."

Without hesitation she moved into his arms and snuggled against his warm body. "I love you too." She added, "I'm just-"

"I know."

Minutes before Grace dosed off, #2 whispered, "By the way, that was all you tonight. Not me. Thought I'd let you know."

More emotional information to process, Grace thought. She needed a new mental file cabinet.

CHAPTER 37.

GRACE.

Sat.u.r.day Grace and Adam discussed how to approach the children about the Beijing trip. With Hannah having her birthday slumber party the next weekend, they decided the sooner the better. Adam called a family meeting.

As in all past family meetings, Grace's position had been on the sidelines. Today, when she took the seat next to Adam she could almost feel gentle supportive hands on her back. #2? Not unless she'd had a serious manicure. This touch? Definitely gentle. Very un-#2-ish.

Sitting next to Adam to address the kids felt unfamiliar, but not uncomfortable. Adam started the conversation. Grace added appropriate comments when necessary.

"Mom's in charge?" Josh signed, after hearing about his dad's trip.

Hannah's hands remained in her lap. Her eyes moved from her brother to her parents. Josh seemed to have voiced her concern.

"Yes. Mom will be in charge," Adam signed. "You'll both have to help, though. Remember, Mom's in school now, too."

"Wow. Mom's in charge." Josh's voice and expression registered something between awe and fear.

Unsure which and not wanting to ask, Grace added, "Not yet, in three weeks. Then I'll be first in command." She tried a grown-up smile.

The meeting went better than Grace expected. But then again, her kids handled change much better than she did. Six months was a long time. She doubted Hannah or Josh fully comprehended the impact their dad's absence would have on their lives. How could they? She didn't know if she even did. One thing she did understand, though. It would be up to her to minimize the blow.

Hannah's slumber party the following weekend, as expected, turned out to be exhausting and fun. Six of Hannah's friends arrived Friday evening for pizza, girl talk-signing, and little, if any sleep; funny name for a party with so little slumber.

Cla.s.ses, studying, volunteer days, volleyball games, meals, life in general ate up the days until the end of the month. September plowed forward against all of Grace's attempts to push pause.

An alarm system had been installed and a lawn service hired. Her SUV got a new set of tires, an oil change and she got a Triple A road safety membership. After a Sunday afternoon training session Grace not only learned, but mastered (to her surprise), the mechanics of on-line bill pay and managing the household budget. She'd even figured out the world clock feature on her phone to compute Beijing time.

Whether she was ready or not, the end of September arrived. The last Sunday of the month Grace sat at the wheel of her SUV. Adam rode shotgun while two silent kids took up s.p.a.ce in the back seat. The destination? Intercontinental Airport. The forty-five minute drive felt more like a slow barge down the Nile. Adam tried and failed at conversation. Grace's grip on the steering wheel numbed her fingers. Josh and Hannah concentrated on the pa.s.sing scenery outside their windows.

Grace had moved beyond her quest to guilt Adam, thanks to #2's support, yet she couldn't force herself to act like this was a normal trip to the airport.

Steering the SUV off the beltway and onto JFK Boulevard a wave of empathy swept over her like high tide at Port A. Empathy: the intellectual identification with or vicarious experiencing of the feelings, thoughts, or att.i.tudes of another. She'd memorized the definition for her last psychology exam. It helped explain the tightness in her chest...and made her realize how Adam must feel.

Right there on JFK Boulevard her mental kaleidoscope shifted. Until now she'd cared only about her own selfish fears. Now, with the filters lifted, she saw Adam's anguish. Although a loving husband and father, he was also a successful businessman, and a d.a.m.n good provider. He was doing his job.

She loosened her grip on the steering wheel and closed her hand around Adam's. Her sudden move of kindness must have caught him off guard. Pools of grat.i.tude filled his eyes. Grace felt her own eyes well.

Don't you dare cry, she mentally warned herself. Suck it up.

The message registered. She took a deep breath and felt her eyes clear. She was in unchartered territory. Never before had she offered support to someone she'd always depended on. Unfamiliar...but not bad. Life without Adam wasn't going to be easy, but she'd find a way. She had to. Determination and intention were new words in her mental and emotional vocabularies.

Is this what it's like? She wondered. Being a grownup? She was not yet comfortable in her new position, but for once the role felt doable.

Life was what it was. Had she read that somewhere? New responsibilities, new job t.i.tles. Head of the house, decision maker, bill payer, overseer of, well...everything. This in addition to being a single parent, chauffeur, cook, housekeeper, student, and volunteer.

She never knew she could wear so many hats. But day after day she continued to do what had to be done. Adam called twice a week and for the first time in her life she had something to say. He talked, she talked. He asked questions, she answered. Then the conversation reversed. She surprised herself. She was actually pulling the whole thing off...at least for now.

Thursdays were tiresome. Grace constantly watched Cherry for triggers that could ignite a volatile episode. She succeeded about half the time. Sometimes Cherry trudged off the school bus with dark circles under her eyes, looking like she'd slept in her clothes. Those days Grace could count on spending time in the counselor's office or isolation room, the routine now familiar. Through small flying fists and swift kicks Grace had learned to properly restrain Cherry, remove the lethal boots, and physically carry the child down the hall away from the cla.s.sroom.

Carla repeatedly expressed grat.i.tude for Grace's help once a week. However, it would take a lot more Thursdays before the wild-child learned alternative behaviors to the violent outbursts.

Josh and Hannah missed their dad, but life marched on in their world. No longer was Grace afforded the luxury of dodging important questions and decisions or, better yet, hiding in her closet. The broomstick was up for grabs and she needed to be the one flying. #2 had been quiet, which was strange, but not altogether unwelcome. In a way, #2's presence or absence became Grace's yardstick for measuring how she was doing. #2 agreed to appear only when needed to encourage, support or if Grace reverted to...what was it? Oh yeah, the pansy-a.s.s.

CHAPTER 38.

QUINLAN AND ANGELA.

Angela placed a call to Mary. "I think we're about to begin lesson one."

"Which will be?" Mary asked.

"Choosing to follow instructions." Angela laughed. "And trusting the process."

"That sounds like two," Mary said.

Angela smiled. "I had to double up. I'm running out of time."

"What is she doing now?"

"RR&P," Angela answered. "That's if she followed instructions. She almost blew a fuse on the blue computer. I had to shut it down and send her to her quarters."

"I support your decision, Angela," Mary said. "Her activities will be monitored from here in case the need arises to act quickly."

Angela snapped the cell phone shut. "Tomorrow should be interesting."

According to the little watch on her ID bracelet, Quinlan was dressed by seven o'clock. She purposely chose a lightweight blazer to wear over her slacks and blouse. The pockets were deep and could hold the iPod, her slew of blue items, laminated cards and a handful of Kleenex. She always carried Kleenex. She contemplated bringing the "In Case of Emergency" pamphlet, but decided to think positively.

She grabbed her cell phone and noticed the voice message light. She held the phone to her ear and nodded, her heart rate ramping up. Angela not only said she could bypa.s.s the computer lesson this morning, but gave her the information she needed to directly access Gracie's daily life.

Standing on the sidewalk outside her living quarters she pulled the blue media device from one of the deep pockets. Inserting the ear buds, she scrolled down the menu bar to "direct access." With the blink of an eye Quinlan found herself standing beside Gracie, who sat on a barstool in her kitchen.

Quinlan blinked hard. After all this time, here she stood back in Gracie's kitchen. She pressed her hand to her chest to quiet the tha-thump of her heart and fought the urge to throw her arms around her daughter. She reached to stroke Grace's wayward curls, but her hand pa.s.sed through air.

Grace scratched her head where Quinlan's hand had been and took a sip of coffee. She picked up a pen and made a to-do list.

Pay bills Store School 12-3 Josh - 3:45 Hannah's VB game Dinner Study "Pay bills?" Quinlan's hand flew to her forehead. "Now, don't you worry about that. I'll take care of it," Quinlan said, thankful she'd arrived in time. "You're horrible at math."

Grace paused and looked around the kitchen.

Quinlan froze. Did she hear me?

Grace shrugged and stood.

"Okay, let's see." Quinlan scanned the list and then walked the perimeter of the kitchen, tapping her chin. "What shall we do about dinner?"

After rinsing out her coffee cup, Grace pulled three chicken b.r.e.a.s.t.s from the freezer.

"What about Swiss mushroom burgers with some oven-baked fries?" Quinlan turned to see the chicken b.r.e.a.s.t.s and tilted her head. "Or chicken." She rubbed her chin. "We'll need a vegetable...and maybe a starch."

Grace placed the chicken in the refrigerator and pulled a box of mac and cheese from the pantry.

"No, no, Gracie. That's entirely too processed, don't you think?" Quinlan waved in dismissal. "Give me a minute. I'll think of something."

Grace ran her finger over the list, wrote broccoli next to store, crossed through dinner and left the kitchen.

Glancing at the notepad Quinlan shoved her hands into her pockets. "Since when do you eat broccoli?" She looked up and saw Grace leaving the room. "I could barely get you to take a chewable vitamin." Her lips pressed thin, she found Grace in the study sitting at the computer, a chart attached to a clipboard in her lap.

Quinlan stepped up behind Grace in time to see the heading. Her mouth dropped open and then slammed shut.

Bills 1st & 15th of the Month "Are you serious?" Quinlan said. "Tell me you're not going to-"

Grace glanced over her shoulder and then turned back to the chart.

"Does Adam know about this?" Quinlan, herself, glanced around the room. "Where is he, anyway?"

Using a finger to rattle the inside of her ear, Grace clicked an icon, opening a spreadsheet program. She found the file she needed, made a few quick adjustments, clicked save and closed the program.

Quinlan pointed stiff-armed at the monitor. "When did you learn to do that?"

Next, Grace clicked the bank icon.

"Now what?" Quinlan asked, a nervous tic twitching her left eye.

Grace clicked bill pay and referred to the clipboard chart.

"Hold on a minute, Gracie. Let's think about this a minute." Quinlan paced the floor behind Grace's chair. "Computers can be tricky. And I certainly don't think they're safe enough to pay bills. We'll need envelopes and stamps. Maybe a calculator."

Click, click. Click.

Quinlan wrung her hands. She needed to put a stop to this nonsense before Gracie wrecked Adam's entire accounting system.

Grace maneuvered the mouse across the screen. Click. Click. Click.

Cupping her hands around her mouth, Quinlan shouted, "You're going too fast. This isn't Monopoly, you know-not the kind that buys little green houses and red hotels!"

Grace stopped for a minute, took her hands off the keyboard, and then resumed clicking.

"Use one of the mediums." Angela's voice beamed through the earpieces.

"Mediums, right," Quinlan muttered. "Songs, television, commercials, b.u.mper stickers, billboards...." Quinlan needed to act quickly. Grace and math? A really bad mix. Right up there with laxatives and sleeping pills.

"The iPod, Quinlan. Use the iPod."

Quinlan scrambled through her pockets until she found the blue media device. Locating the menu bar, she scrolled and found mediums. Then the subt.i.tle, songs. She thumbed through the list on the tiny screen, found a possible fit and aimed the device at Grace's head.

Stop, in the name of love, Before you break my heart.

Think it o-o-over.

"Seriously, Diana Ross?" Grace knocked the side of her head with her hand and then grabbed the piece of paper from the printer tray. "What is this, Golden Oldies?"

Stunned, Quinlan stared. "You're finished?"

Grace checked off payees on the chart, filed her copy of the bills and left the study.