Rose pressed END, happy to hear his voice, then pressed her way to her address book, thumbed to her B-list babysitters, and got busy. Almost half an hour later, she hadn’t been able to beg, borrow, or steal a sitter. She checked the clock, and it was almost ten o’clock. She felt terrible, but she had to call Melly with the bad news. “Honey?” she said, when Melly picked up.
“Mom! When are you coming?”
“I’m so sorry, sweetie, but I can’t. I tried, but I can’t get a sitter. I’ll keep trying, and if I get lucky, I can—”
“Mom, please? I don’t like it here.”
“Did the nurse come back?” Rose could hear the TV, blaring in the background.
“She did but she had to go. Mom, please. Please come.”
“Did you tell her about the TV?”
“No, I felt funny.”
“Mel, see the button on the side of the bed? It’s a white plastic thing and it’s attached to a white cord. Can you press it?”
“Yes. I’m pressing it, but the nurse isn’t coming.”
“Keep pressing it, and she will.”
“She’s not, Mom.” Melly started to cry, softly.
“Honey, don’t cry, everything’s all right. Don’t be upset. When the nurse comes, put her on the phone. I’ll tell her to tell the lady to lower the TV.” Rose heard Melly sniffling, then some noise and talking, and it sounded like the nurse was in the room. “Melly, put the nurse on. Melly? Hello?”
“Yes,” replied a cool voice, clearly not nurse Rosie.
“Hi, this is Rose. Who is this?”
“It’s Annabelle. Are you the mother?”
“Yes, please, help her. She was in that school fire yesterday, and the woman in her room is blaring the TV. The news is upsetting her.”
“Relax. I have it under control. Hang on, please.” The nurse sounded calm, and in the next minute the background noise stopped and the TV silenced, but Melly was still crying softly, which broke Rose’s heart.
“Hello, Annabelle?” she said. “Are you there?”
“Pardon?”
“Can you just comfort my daughter? She’s a good kid, she’s just scared, and she’s been through a lot in the past few—”
“I’m sorry, but we have to hang up. There are no calls permitted this late.”
“No, wait. Don’t hang up. I want to talk to my daughter.”
“There’s an automatic cut-off for phone calls after ten. I’ll take good care of her.”
Rose felt her temper flare. “Let me say good night to her, for God’s sake.”
“Please, hold on.”
“Melly? Melly?” Rose said, but the line went dead. She tried to call back, but there was no answer. She tried the switchboard and asked again for the nurses’ station, but the phone rang and rang, all over again. She hung up, noticing the red light was blinking on her phone, which meant incoming email.
She pressed the button to see the list of senders, but they were all messages sent from Facebook. She scanned the names in the messages: Kim Barnett, Jane Llewellyn, Annelyn Baxter, moms from the class and school committees. When she’d moved to Reesburgh, she’d friended everyone in the class. She clicked the first name, and the email came on the screen:
Kim Barnett has sent you a message on Facebook. “I KNOW THE GIGOT FAMILY AND THEY ARE HEARTBROKEN! HOW DO YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELF?”
Rose set down the BlackBerry. Reesburgh was a small town, and the Internet made it even smaller. She didn’t need to read any more.
She got the gist.
Chapter Nineteen
Rose stood at the kitchen counter, drinking Diet Coke and waiting for the TV news. She didn’t relish seeing the story of the school fire, but she wanted to know what Melly might have seen or heard. She scratched the sleeping dog with her foot while the turbocharged theme of Philly News started. A handsome anchorman came on the screen, with a photo of the burning elementary school behind him, above a banner, FATAL SCHOOL FIRE.
“Good evening, Tim Dodson here. In our top story, life in Reesburgh is getting back to the new normal, after a cafeteria fire in an elementary school that left three dead, a beloved teacher and two female cafeteria workers. Tanya Robertson is on the scene at Reesburgh Memorial Hospital, where young Amanda Gigot remains in Intensive Care, fighting for her young life…”
The screen changed to Tanya, holding a bubble microphone to her lipsticked lips, standing in a pool of manufactured light. “Tonight, the two students injured in Friday’s school fire remain in this hospital. They’re little girls from the same third-grade class, but that’s where the similarity ends. The lucky one, Melinda Cadiz, age eight, will be going home tomorrow after being treated for smoke inhalation. Melinda, called Melly, was rescued from the flames by her mother, our reluctant hero Rose McKenna. We were the first to show you that viewer video yesterday, of Rose running out of the smoky school, with her daughter in her arms.”
Rose shuddered, but wasn’t completely surprised. So many people had phones and BlackBerrys. She’d carried a flip camera around since the day John was born.
Tanya’s expression darkened, and a school photo of Amanda popped onto the screen. “Not so lucky is Amanda Gigot, also age eight, who remains in a coma, after a head injury and significant smoke inhalation. Amanda’s the only daughter after two sons, and the Gigot family is headed by hard-working single mom Eileen Gigot, whose husband was killed in a forklift accident seven years ago. The entire extended Gigot clan is now by Amanda’s side, hoping and praying for her recovery.”
Tanya changed her tone, to investigative mode. “Authorities say that the school is set to reopen on Monday, but a spokesman for the Gigot family tells me they’re considering legal action against the school, the school district, and the school’s general contractor for negligence. The Gigot family has already filed for an emergency injunction, trying to stop the school from demolishing the damaged cafeteria until the cause of the fire can be independently determined. They’ve also called for the county District Attorney to investigate the matter for possible criminal charges.”
Rose shook her head. So the Gigots really were going to sue, and she hadn’t known about the injunction. She thought back to her talk with Mr. Rodriguez. No wonder he’d been angry at Kristen for talking about the cause of the fire. Things were about to go from bad to worse, and she hoped that didn’t include suing her and Leo.
“We’ll keep you posted on developments in this heartbreaking story, and I’ll have my exclusive interview tomorrow, my one-on-one exclusive with Eileen Gigot. Back to you, Tim.”
Rose took a final slug of soda. The story was getting bigger, spreading like the fire itself, and she didn’t know how long it would burn. She switched off the TV, troubled. Her gaze fell on her black laptop, which she kept on the kitchen table, off to the side. She pulled up a stool, sat down, and hit a key. A screensaver came on of Leo, Melly, John, and her, grinning in a cottony mass of matching sweatshirts on the beach. She went online, plugged in the website of the TV station, and its website popped onto the screen. PHILADELPHIA’S BIGGEST NEWS, read the top of the page, and underneath were headlines, among them, SCHOOL FIRE IGNITES CONTROVERSY, above the banner, Share, Print Email, Buzz up, Twitter, Facebook.
She skimmed the story, which said nothing that hadn’t been reported on TV, but at the bottom was a bright red banner, SEND US YOUR VIEWER VIDEOS! There were a bunch of thumbnails: scenes of the burning school, frozen in time, with the title on top. The Most Watched was Hero Mom. Rose clicked Hero Mom and watched. The video showed kids and teachers milling around the teachers’ parking lot, with the sound of head counts and other snippets caught on audio—“it’s only in the cafeteria,” “the fourth grade got out first,” “because it’s a new school, so they didn’t have the drill down yet.”
Suddenly the camera turned, jittery, to the building, where students streamed from the double doors by the library, and Rose recognized the older kids she had seen in the stairwell. Their flow stopped abruptly, and she
saw herself running out of the building, her expression stricken, with Melly limp in her arms, her legs swinging. “Help!” she heard herself scream, on the video. Her cry was barely picked up by the audio, but Princess Google woke up, blinking and cocking her head.
Rose watched herself run and lay Melly down on the grass, then the view was obstructed by heads and feet as the crowds surged forward, until there was the ambulance siren and the tape ended. The video left her heart pounding. The sights, the sounds, the very picture took her back to the fire. She sat there a moment, staring at the titles of the other clips: Hero Mom Carries Daughter to Ambulance. Mom Gives CPR to Daughter. Cafeteria Fire. She moved the cursor over Cafeteria Fire, and hit PLAY, and the first frame of the video wasn’t a sunny parking lot, but a nightmare.
Rose swallowed hard at the sight. The view was from the playground, and the screen showed the front of the school, with the cafeteria front and center. Smoke billowed from the playground exit and from holes in the cafeteria walls and roof, where windows and skylights used to be. The air grew increasingly gray and hazy, and frantic children popped from the fog, being shepherded by teachers, janitors, and staff. The audio picked up a cacophony of screams, shouts, tears, yelling, and people shouting “oh my God,” “look at that,” “this way, this way,” and “help!”
Rose watched, galvanized, and suddenly she saw a terrified Danielle running out of the smoke, and after her, Emily, running in tears. Teachers surged forward to meet them, and the older students kept coming out of the smoke, hustled out in lines, until the video ended.
Rose remained motionless at the laptop, her hand still on the mouse. She wished she could play it again and have it end with Amanda fleeing the building, her blond hair flying behind her, her tanned legs churning, her arms open as she ran into the waiting embrace of Mrs. Nuru.
Mommy!
Rose didn’t move for the longest time. Princess Google fell back asleep on the floor, and the kitchen went completely silent. A light rain began to fall outside, and the leaves of the trees rustled with the drops, making the softest of sounds, an undercurrent of hush.
Tears came to Rose’s eyes. She’d been holding them back for so long, but this time, she let them flow.
Chapter Twenty
Rose woke up, hearing her name called softly, then feeling a gentle touch on her back and a soft kiss on her cheek. She had fallen asleep in front of the laptop, on her folded arms. She lifted her head, blinking. “Leo?” she said, muzzy from sleep.
“Hi, honey.” Leo knelt beside her, so that they were eye level, and he put his arm around her. “I was worried about my best girl, so I snuck out.”
“Aw.” Rose let herself be hugged, their heads touching. Princess Google pressed between them, pawing for attention with moppet feet, her tail flopping back and forth. “That’s so sweet of you.”
“I can sleep here if you want to go back to the hospital. I’ll work from home tomorrow morning, then come by the hospital at noon and pick up you and Melly. Sound like a plan?” Leo kissed her again, and Rose felt the delicious scratchiness of a late-day beard.
“Yes, thanks. I’m sorry I was a jerk.”
“I’m sorry you were, too.” Leo smiled, and Rose smiled back.
“I don’t like when we fight.”
“Me, neither.” Leo kissed her again, more deeply. His mouth was warm, soft, and familiar. A best friend, and a best lover.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, which brings up an option I didn’t mention. We forget the kids and go upstairs and make love like people who have orange crates for furniture and read the liner notes on CDs.”
Rose smiled, then felt it disappear. “Amanda’s doing better, but still in a coma. Melly heard about her on TV.”
“Oh no.” Leo frowned, and Princess Google jumped up on his leg again. He scratched behind the ear, burying his knuckles in her fluffy coat. “You’d better get to the hospital. Unless you want me to.”
“Thanks, but I will.” Rose stretched, feeling stiff. “The Gigots have a lawyer in the family, and they’re suing to stop the school from opening and cleaning up the site. Think they’ll sue us, too?”
“Here we go.” Leo stood up, then steadied her to her feet, his lips pursed. He looked tired, his tie gone and his shirt unbuttoned, showing the collar of his undershirt. “The state and the school district have deeper pockets than we do, but as I said, I’d name us, too.”
“So what can we do? What does it mean, exactly? Can we really lose the house? Do they just take it, and sell it?” Rose couldn’t wrap her mind around it. “What about the mortgage? Do we owe the bank then, too?”
“Relax.” Leo held up a hand. “I have to look at the insurance policy and see if we’re covered. I refuse to worry about it now. It’s late, and we’re both beat.”
“Would you represent us?”
“Not now. Please.” Leo held up his hand, his expression tense. “I can’t deal. One thing at a time.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I said for better or worse, and I meant it.”
“Then I’m a lucky woman.” Rose hugged him tight, and Leo held her close for a second.
“Is this sex?” he asked.
Rose laughed.
Leo gave her a final squeeze, with his trademark grunt, like a punctuation mark. “Want some coffee before you go?”
“Good idea.”
“I’ll get it.” Leo made a beeline for the coffeemaker. He was a coffee fetishist, always on a quest for the perfect cup, trying out French Presses, Cuisinart brewers, and now a single-cup Keurig. He slid a mug under the spout and hit the blue button, and Rose leaned against the counter.
“How’s trial prep going?”
“Not bad. I have a ton to do, but I’m on it.”
“Melly gets discharged at noon. Can you really be there?”
“Yes, I planned on it. I don’t want you running that gauntlet of press alone.”
“Thanks.” Rose knew it wouldn’t be easy for him. His office was an hour’s drive away. “Also, I know you can’t swing it, but the wakes are tomorrow night for Marylou, Serena, and Ellen.”
“You’re not going, are you?” Leo turned, frowning. Behind him, coffee poured into the mug in a stream, releasing a rich aroma.
“Yes, I have to. I lined up a sitter.”
“You shouldn’t, babe.”
“What will it look like if I don’t?” Rose gestured at her computer. “You should see the email I’m getting. They think I’m heartless.”
“All the more reason you shouldn’t go. If we’re getting sued, we have to clam up and lay low.”
“But the whole town will be there. Everyone loved the teacher. You heard Mrs. Nuru.”
“My point exactly.”
“We’ll look disrespectful.”
“So send flowers, lots of flowers.” Leo handed her the coffee mug, and Rose set it down, letting it cool.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, I do. Don’t go. Please. As a favor to me.”
“Come on. Don’t be that way.”
“What way?” A wounded look crossed Leo’s tired eyes. “You don’t know what can happen, or what they’ll do, what you’ll do.”
“What would I do? I won’t do anything wrong.”
“You could say the wrong thing.” Leo started to take a sip of coffee, then stopped. “Like how guilty you feel, or how sad that you couldn’t get them both out of the school. All the things you say to me.”
Rose blinked. “I might say that, but only to you or a friend.”
“Like who?”
“I don’t know. I guess Kristen, maybe. She’ll be there.”
“The gifted teacher? Who works for the district that’s about to be sued, who would testify against you or lose her job?” Leo’s eyed flared. “Babe, we don’t have any friends. Nobody knows us, and what they know, they don’t like.”
“We can’t just accept that. It could be our chance to show them that we??
?re not what they think.”
“No way.” Leo’s tone flattened. “It ain’t gonna happen.”
“It has to, Leo. You can go to the office every day, but this is my world. I have to make it work, for my sake and for the kids.”
“Not now, not tomorrow night. Stay home, will you? Haven’t you done enough?”
Ouch. Rose stood, stunned.
“Oh, jeez.” Leo rubbed his forehead, irritably. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, really.”
Rose turned away, hurt, and headed for the living room. “I’m going to the hospital. See you tomorrow.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Rose walked down the quiet hall of the hospital, empty at this hour. There had been no press out front, and a janitor in baggy blue scrubs was shining the floor with a large rotating polisher. The nurses’ station held only the goateed intern, who was on the computer and barely nodded at Rose when she approached the counter.
“I’m Melly’s mother, back to stay the night.”
“No problem.” The intern glanced up from the computer, and Rose could see tiny playing cards reflected in his glasses.
“I understand there’s another child in the room.”
“Not anymore. A new bed opened up, and her parents wanted a private.”
“Great.” Rose looked around. “Is Rosie here, the nurse?”
“Saw her a while ago, but not sure where she is now.”
“Okay, thanks. See you.” Rose crossed the hall to Melly’s room and opened the door. It was still and dark, except for the vital-signs monitor, pulsing red, blue, and green digits.
“Mom?” Melly asked softly, and Rose felt a rush of tenderness, shedding her purse on the chair and coming over to the bed.
“How’d you know it was me?”
“You’re my mom.”
Rose smiled. “How you doin’, night owl?”
“You came back.”
“Leo’s with John. Why aren’t you asleep?”
“I’m not tired.”
“Well, I am.” Rose lowered the guardrail, kicked her loafers off, and eased onto the bed. “Roll over, Beethoven.”