Please contact this office regarding an account in your name.

She called at once and stood at the window, watching the river of traffic, as the lawyer gave her the news: David Henry was dead. He'd been dead, in fact, for three months. They were contacting her to tell her about a bank account he'd left in her name. Caroline had pressed the phone to her ear, something sinking deeply and darkly through her at this news, studying the spa.r.s.e remaining leaves of the sycamore trees as they fluttered in the cold morning light. The lawyer, miles away, went on talking. It was a beneficiary account: David had established it jointly in both their names, and therefore it stood outside the will and probate. They wouldn't tell her how much was in the account, not over the phone. Caroline would have to come in to the office.

After she hung up she went back out onto the porch, where she sat for a long time in the swing, trying to take in the news. It shocked her that David had remembered her this way. It shocked her more that he'd actually died. What had she imagined? That she and David would both somehow go on forever, living their separate lives yet still connected to that moment in his office when he stood up and put Phoebe in her arms? That somehow, someday, whenever it suited her, she would seek him out and let him meet his daughter? Cars rushed down the hill in a steady stream. She couldn't figure out what to do, and in the end she'd simply gone back inside and gotten ready for work, sliding the letter into the top desk drawer with the detritus of rubber bands and paper clips, waiting for Al to get home and help her gain perspective. She hadn't mentioned it yet-he'd been so tired-but the news, unspoken, still hung in the air between them, along with Linda's concern about Phoebe.

Light spilled from the center onto the sidewalk, the brown stems of gra.s.s. They pushed through the double gla.s.s doors into the hallway. A dance floor had been set up at the end of the hall and a dis...o...b..ll turned, scattering bright shards of light over the ceiling and the walls and upturned faces. The music played, but no one was dancing. Phoebe and Robert stood on the edge of the crowd, watching the light shifting on the empty floor.

Al hung up their coats and then, to Caroline's surprise, he took her hand. "You remember that day in the garden, the day we decided to get hitched? Let's teach them how to rock and roll, what do you say?"

Caroline felt quick tears, thinking of the leaves fluttering like coins on that long-ago day, the brightness of the sun and the humming of distant bees. They had danced across the gra.s.s, and she had taken Al's hand in the hospital, hours later, and said, Yes, I will marry you, yes. Yes, I will marry you, yes.

Al slid his hand around her waist and they stepped onto the floor. Caroline had forgotten-it had been a long time-how easily and fluidly their bodies moved together, how free it made her feel to dance. She let her head rest against his shoulder, inhaling his spicy aftershave, the clean scent of machine oil lingering beneath. Al's hand was pressed firmly against her back, his cheek to hers. They turned, and slowly other people drifted onto the dance floor, smiling in their direction. Caroline knew almost everyone in the room, the staff of the day center, the other parents from Upside Down, the residents from the facility next door. Phoebe was on a waiting list for a room there, a place where she could live with several other adults and a house parent. It seemed ideal in some ways-more independence and autonomy for Phoebe, at least a partial answer to her future-but the truth was that Caroline could not imagine Phoebe living apart from her. The waiting list for the residence had seemed very long when they applied, but in the last year Phoebe's name had moved up steadily. Soon Caroline would have to make a decision. She glimpsed Phoebe now, smiling such a happy smile, her thin hair held back by the bright red barrettes, stepping shyly onto the dance floor with Robert.

She danced with Al for three more numbers, eyes closed, letting herself drift, following his steps. He was a good dancer, smooth and sure, and the music seemed to run straight through her. Phoebe's voice could do this to her too, the pure tones of her singing drifting through the rooms, making Caroline pause in whatever she was doing and stand still, the world pouring through her like light. Nice, Nice, Al murmured, pulling her closer, pressing his cheek to hers. When the music shifted to a fast rock number, he kept his arm around her as they left the floor. Al murmured, pulling her closer, pressing his cheek to hers. When the music shifted to a fast rock number, he kept his arm around her as they left the floor.

Caroline, a little giddy, scanned the room for Phoebe by long habit, and felt the first filaments of worry when she didn't see her.

"I sent her down for more punch," Linda called from behind the table. She gestured to the dwindling refreshments on the table. "Can you believe this turnout, Caroline? We're running out of cookies too."

"I'll get some," Caroline offered, glad for an excuse to go after Phoebe.

"She'll be okay," Al said, catching her hand and gesturing to the chair beside him.

"I'll just check," Caroline said. "I won't be a minute."

She walked through the empty halls, so bright and quiet, Al's touch still present on her skin. She went down the stairs and into the kitchen, pushing open the swinging metal doors with one hand and reaching for the light switch with the other. The sudden fluorescence caught them like a photograph: Phoebe, in her flowered dress, her back against the counter, Robert standing close, his arms around her, one hand sliding up her leg. In the instant before they turned, Caroline saw that he was going to kiss her and Phoebe wanted to be kissed and was ready to kiss him back: this Robert, her first true love. Her eyes were closed, her face awash with pleasure.

"Phoebe," Caroline said, sharply. "Phoebe and Robert, that's enough."

They pulled away from each other, startled but not contrite.

"It's okay," Robert said. "Phoebe is my girlfriend."

"We're getting married," Phoebe added.

Caroline, trembling, tried to stay calm. Phoebe was, after all, a grown woman. "Robert," she said, "I need to talk to Phoebe for a minute. Alone, please."

Robert hesitated, then walked past Caroline, all his gregarious enthusiasm evaporated. "It's not bad," he said, pausing at the door. "Me and Phoebe-we love each other."

"I know," Caroline said, as the doors swung shut behind him.

Phoebe stood beneath the harsh lights, twisting her necklace. "You can kiss someone you love, Mom. You kiss Al."

Caroline nodded, remembering Al's hand on her waist. "That's right. But, honey, that looked like more than kissing."

"Mom!" Phoebe was exasperated. "Robert and me are getting married. married."

Caroline replied without thinking. "You can't get married, sweetie."

Phoebe looked up, her face set in a stubborn expression Caroline knew well. Fluorescent light fell through a colander and made a pattern on her cheeks.

"Why not?"

"Sweetheart, marriage..." Caroline paused, thinking of Al, his recent weariness, the distance he put between them every time he traveled. "Look, it's complicated, honey. You can love Robert without getting married."

"No. Me and Robert, we're getting married."

Caroline sighed. "All right. Say you do. Where are you going to live?"

"We'll buy a house," Phoebe said, her expression intent now, earnest. "We'll live there, Mom. We'll have some babies."

"Babies are an awful lot of work," Caroline said. "I wonder if you and Robert know how much work babies are? And they're expensive. How are you going to pay for this house? For food?"

"Robert has a job. So do I. We have a lot lot of money." of money."

"But you won't be able to work if you're watching the babies."

Phoebe considered this, frowning, and Caroline's heart filled. Such profound and simple dreams, and they couldn't come true, and where was the fairness in that?

"I love Robert," Phoebe insisted. "Robert loves me. Plus, Avery had a baby."

"Oh, honey," Caroline said. She remembered Avery Swan pushing a carriage down the sidewalk, pausing so Phoebe could lean over and touch the new baby gently on the cheek. "Oh, sweetheart." She crossed the s.p.a.ce between them and put her hands on Phoebe's shoulders. "Remember when you and Avery rescued Rain? And we love Rain, but he's a lot of work. You have to empty the litter box and comb his hair, you have to clean up the mess he makes and let him in and out, and you worry about him a lot when he doesn't come home. Having a baby is even more, Phoebe. Having a baby is like having twenty Rains."

Phoebe's face was falling, tears were slipping down her cheeks.

"It's not fair," she whispered.

"It's not fair," Caroline agreed.

The stood for a moment, quiet in the bright harsh lights.

"Look, Phoebe, can you help me?" she asked finally. "Linda needs some cookies, too."

Phoebe nodded, wiping her eyes. They walked back up the stairs and through the hallway, carrying boxes and bottles, not speaking.

Later that night, Caroline told Al what had happened. He was sitting beside her on the couch, arms folded, already half asleep. His neck was still tender, reddened from shaving earlier, and dark circles shadowed his eyes. In the morning he would rise at dawn and drive away.

"She wants so much to have her own life, Al. And it should be so simple."

"Mmm," he said, rousing. "Well, maybe it is is simple, Caroline. Other people live in the facility and they seem to manage okay. We'd be right here." simple, Caroline. Other people live in the facility and they seem to manage okay. We'd be right here."

Caroline shook her head. "I just can't imagine her out in the world. And she certainly can't get married, Al. What if she did get pregnant? I'm not ready to raise another child, and that's what it would mean."

"I don't want to raise another baby either," Al said.

"Maybe we should keep her from seeing Robert for a while."

Al turned to look at her, surprised. "You think that would be a good thing?"

"I don't know." Caroline sighed. "I just don't know."

"Look here," Al said gently. "From the minute I met you, Caroline, you've been demanding that the world not slam any doors on Phoebe. Do not underestimate her Do not underestimate her-How many times have I heard you say that? So why won't you let her move out? Why not let her try? She might like the place. You might like the freedom."

She stared at the crown molding, thinking it needed painting, while a difficult truth struggled to the surface.

"I can't imagine my life without her," she said softly.

"No one's asking you to do that. But she's grown up, Caroline. That's the thing. Why have you worked all your life, if not for some kind of independent life for Phoebe?"

"I suppose you'd like to be free," Caroline said. "You'd like to take off. To travel."

"And you wouldn't?"

"Of course I would," she cried, surprised at the intensity of her response. "But Al, even if Phoebe moves out, she'll never be completely independent. And I'm afraid you're unhappy because of it. I'm afraid you're going to leave us. Honey, you've been more and more distant these past years."

Al didn't speak for a long time. "Why are you so mad?" he asked at last. "What have I ever done to make you feel like I'm going to leave?"

"I'm not mad," she said quickly, because she heard in his voice that she'd hurt him. "Al, wait here a second." She walked across the room and took the letter from the drawer. "This is why I'm upset. I don't know what to do."

He took the letter and studied it for a long time, turning it over once as if its mystery might be answered by something written on the back, then reading it once more.

"How much is in this account?" he asked, looking up.

She shook her head. "I don't know yet. I have to go in person to find out."

Al nodded, studying the letter again. "It's strange, the way he did this: a secret account."

"I know. Maybe he was afraid I'd tell Norah. Maybe he wanted to make sure she had time to get used to his death. That's all I can imagine." She thought of Norah, moving through the world, never suspecting that her daughter was still alive. And Paul-what had become of him? Hard to imagine who he might be now, that dark-haired infant she'd seen only once.

"What do you think we should do?" she asked.

"Well, find out the details, first. We'll go down to see this lawyer fellow together when I get back. I can take off a day or two. After that, I don't know, Caroline. We sleep on it, I guess. We don't have to do anything right away."

"All right," she said, all her consternation of the last week falling away. Al made it sound so easy. "I'm so glad you're here," she said.

"Honestly, Caroline." He took her hand in his. "I'm not going anywhere. Except to Toledo, at six o'clock tomorrow morning. So I think I'll go up and hit the sack."

He kissed her then, full on the lips, and pulled her close. Caroline pressed her cheek against his, taking in his scent and warmth, thinking of meeting him that day in the parking lot outside of Louisville, the day that defined her life.

Al got up, his hand still in hers. "Come upstairs?" he invited.

She nodded and stood, her hand in his.

In the morning she rose early and made breakfast, decorating the plates of eggs, bacon, and hash browns with sprigs of parsley.

"That sure smells good," Al said, as he came in, kissing her cheek and tossing the paper on the table, along with yesterday's mail. The letters were cool, faintly damp, in her hands. There were two bills, plus a bright postcard of the Aegean Sea with a note from Doro on the back.

Caroline ran her fingers over the picture and read the brief message. "Trace sprained his ankle in Paris."

"That's too bad." Al snapped open the paper and shook his head at the election news.

"Hey, Caroline," he said after a moment, putting the paper down. "I was thinking last night. Why don't you come with me? Linda would take Phoebe for the weekend, I bet. We could get away, you and me. You'd get a chance to see how Phoebe might do with some time on her own. What do you say?"

"Right now? Just leave, you mean?"

"Yeah. Seize the day. Why not?"

"Oh," she said, fl.u.s.tered, pleased, though she didn't like the long hours on the road. "I don't know. There's so much to do this week. Maybe next time," she added quickly, not wanting to turn him away.

"We could take some side trips, this time," he coaxed. "Make it more interesting for you."

"It's a really good idea," she said, thinking with surprise that it was.

He smiled, disappointed, and leaned to kiss her, his lips brief and cool on hers.

After Al drove off, Caroline hung Doro's postcard on the refrigerator. It was a bleak November, the weather damp and gray and edging to snow, and she liked looking at that bright, alluring sea, the edge of warm sand. All that week, helping patients or making dinner or folding laundry, Caroline remembered Al's invitation. She thought about the pa.s.sionate kiss she'd interrupted between Robert and her daughter, and about the residence where Phoebe wanted to live. Al was right. Someday the two of them would no longer be here, and Phoebe had a right to a life of her own.

Yet the world was no less cruel than ever. On Tuesday, while they were in the dining room eating meat loaf and mashed potatoes and green beans, Phoebe reached into her pocket and took out a little plastic puzzle, the kind with numbers printed on movable squares. The trick was to put the numbers in order, and she pushed at them in between bites.

"That's nice," Caroline said idly, drinking her milk. "Where did you get that, honey?"

"From Mike."

"Does he work with you?" Caroline asked. "Is he new?"

"No," Phoebe said. "I met him on the bus."

"On the bus?"

"Uh-huh. Yesterday. He was nice."

"I see." Caroline felt time slowing down a bit, all her senses growing more alert. She had to force herself to speak calmly, naturally. "Mike gave you the puzzle?"

"Uh-huh. He was nice. And he has a new bird. He wants to show me."

"Does he?" Caroline said, a cool wind rushing through her. "Phoebe, honey, you can't even think about going off with strangers. We talked about that."

"I know. I told him," Phoebe said. She pushed the puzzle away and squirted more ketchup on her meat loaf. "He said, Come home with me, Phoebe. And I said, Okay, but I have to tell my mom first."

"What a good idea," Caroline managed to say.

"So can I? Can I go to Mike's house tomorrow?"

"Where does Mike live?"