Phillip called, “Sarah, the movie is ready,” from the living room. She gave me a little wave and vanished. I snuggled down in the bed, trying to persuade myself I felt better. But I felt hot again. It was good enough to simply lie there and feel no necessity to make a decision or make myself rally. I could hear the movie beginning, but the sound was distant enough not to bother me. Closer, I could hear Virginia talking to Sophie, who’d evidently decided to have a play period. Virginia began singing in a pretty soprano. I recognized the tune of a familiar hymn. Sophie must be enthralled; my own singing was pretty dreadful.
I lived my life at one remove that evening. I didn’t sleep, but I was in a waking trance. From time to time, I could hear Phillip or Sarah laugh. The movie was funny; their date was going well. I roused myself a little when Virginia brought in Sophie about ten o’clock. As I fed her, I heard Virginia’s voice again, but not raised in song. She was having a long conversation on her cell phone, and it was not a happy one. Again.
Obviously, something was wrong in Virginia’s life. Should I ask her about it? I decided not to. Because (a) it wasn’t any of my business, and (b) she’d shown no inclination to become my buddy, so she wouldn’t appreciate me trying to dig into her troubles.
I glanced at the clock as I switched Sophie to the other side, prodding my slow brain into calculating what Robin was doing now, in the central time zone. I had dimly noted when the banquet started. I figured the awards ceremony would begin maybe an hour and half later. There were at least eight awards to be handed out, if I remembered correctly. Best Novel was the last category, of course.
After Virginia had come in to get Sophie, maintaining a tight-lipped silence, I struggled to stay awake. My eyelids closed without my volition. I jumped when my cell phone rang. “Robin?” I said, full of hope.
“I won!” Robin yelled. “Roe, I won!”
Faintly, I could hear the sound of many voices.
“Oh, honey, I’m so happy for you. You really deserve it. Where are you?” I began crying from sheer relief and weakness as I tried to shake the cobwebs from my head.
“I’m in the men’s room,” Robin said.
That was unexpected. “Is this a trend?”
“It’s the quietest place I could find. I can’t believe it!” Suddenly he went quiet and reflective. “I never thought Panel of Experts would win. After all, Lee had a book. And Sara. And Tim Hallinan.” All three were writers Robin held in esteem.
“This is huge. I bet Harry was ecstatic.” Harry Holderman, who’d become Robin’s agent five years ago, had proved to be a powerhouse in Robin’s career.
“You should have seen his face!” Robin was back to exclamation points.
“Was Jill just as excited?” Jill had been Robin’s editor for his past three books.
“She called her boss as soon as we heard.”
“I could not be more thrilled,” I told him, trying very hard to sound it. “You earned that Anthony. But I’ll bet a lot of people are waiting for you, honey. You need to go do a victory lap around the bar. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.” Thank God.
“Are you all right? Your voice sounds kind of scratchy. How’s the cold?” Robin no longer sounded excited, but anxious.
“I’m fine, Sophie’s fine, Phillip’s fine,” I said, lightly, doing my best to sound hale and hearty. “Safe trip home! And congratulations again, from the bottom of my heart. It couldn’t have gone to anyone else.”
“I love you,” Robin said, suddenly and forcefully.
“I love you, too.” I was so happy for him. After I ended the call, I wondered if it was time to take some more Tylenol, but when I figured up the hours, it wasn’t. I slid down in the bed, the covers pulled up to my chin.
If Sarah came to tell me good-bye, I didn’t know it. If Virginia came in to check on me, I didn’t hear her. Now that I’d talked to Robin, and rejoiced for him, there was no reason for me to stay awake. I was so relieved to let go of the nagging worry that he might be disappointed. I got to relax in the knowledge Robin had gotten the reward he deserved.
I reached up to switch off my lamp. Descending immediately into crazy fever dreams, I woke just long enough to realize I was sweating. But the dreams pulled me under again.
Chapter Five
A baby was crying, but that must be another fiction of my fevered mind. When the crying continued, an alarm bell went off inside my head. I had to wake up.
I surfaced, gasping. Something was very wrong. Sophie was crying, for real, and she was very upset.
Why hadn’t Virginia brought her in to me, if Sophie was hungry? That was why Virginia was here. How could she sleep through Sophie’s piercing wails? I was really angry, almost as angry as Sophie. Weirdly, it sounded as though there were two Sophies.
Disoriented and upset, I managed to sit up. I was hearing Sophie cry in stereo. The baby monitor was on my bed table. That made no sense, either. Virginia should have it with her.
I didn’t hear Phillip stirring—but in his deepest sleep, a tornado could touch down in the front yard, and he wouldn’t know about it.
I struggled to throw off the covers and swing my legs out of the bed. A nasty clammy feeling overwhelmed me. My pajamas were wet with sweat. Ugh! But I couldn’t take the time to change. I put on my glasses, grabbed my robe, and stepped into my slippers. I staggered across the hall. The little turtle night-light showed me Sophie was thrashing with agitation. Her face was scrunched up and red with the force of her protests (Robin called that her demon face).
She seemed so heavy when I lifted her out of the crib. I was alarmingly weak. I managed to get Sophie to the changing table, pull up her nightgown, and change her soaked diaper. The harder I tried to do it quickly, the more I was fumbling and slow, especially with the gloves and the mask. By the time I’d gotten her changed, Sophie had worked herself into a fury.
“Come on, little missy, you and I are going to have a feeding session,” I whispered. As soon as I picked her up, her cries changed to hiccups. I went past the smooth fold-out bed—the covers hadn’t been turned down—to sit in the rocker in the corner. The minute I introduced Sophie to her favorite feature, she latched on like a remora.
The abrupt silence was a blessing. You would think she hadn’t eaten in a week, I thought, and I glanced at the nursery clock. It was after 2:00 A.M. She had slept for about five hours, God bless her.
It was the fourth time she’d stayed down five hours or more, which meant it was a welcome trend. I was the world expert on Sophie Crusoe.
As she calmed, the shuddering breaths flattened out into a regular pattern. I relaxed, too. It felt good to make Sophie happy, and I hummed to her as she fed.
But below that surface contentment (both mine and Sophie’s), I was wondering, Where the hell is Virginia? My eyes fell on the fold-out bed again. I couldn’t imagine why Virginia would have fallen asleep out in the living room, unless she remembered the fold-out to be really uncomfortable. Even if she hadn’t heard the baby crying with her ears, she should have had the monitor. I was surprised the Hermans and the Cohens on either side of us hadn’t heard Sophie. As if to comment on that idea, I heard a distant bark from one of the neighbor dogs.
Why had Virginia put the monitor in my room? Had she actually left the house? But why, when it was her job to take care of Sophie all night long? I was absolutely outraged. And I was scared.
What the hell was going on?