Public Secrets

brow, and rubbed her hand between both of his. “Just take it slow.”
“Darren was crying. I heard him crying. I know it. It wasn’t a dream. I heard him crying. I got up. Alice had told me not to take Charlie in, but Darren liked to sleep with Charlie, and he was crying. I was going to take Charlie into Darren and talk to him for a while until he slept again. But the hall was dark.”
She looked around now, with the sunlight creeping into it from the bedroom windows. “It was dark, but it wasn’t supposed to be. They always left a light on for me. I’m so afraid of the dark. There are things in the dark.”
“Things?” he repeated, his brows drawing together.
“I didn’t want to go out in the hall, in the dark. But he kept crying. I could hear the music now, as I stepped into the hall, into the dark. It was loud, and I was frightened.”
She started to walk then, dreamlike, toward the door. “I could hear them, hissing in the corners, scraping along the walls, swishing on the rugs.”
“Hear what?” he said quietly. “What did you hear?”

“The monsters.” She turned and looked at him. “I heard the monsters. And … I don’t remember. I don’t remember if I went to the door. It was closed, I know it was closed, but I don’t know if I opened it.”
She stood on the threshold. For an instant she saw the room as she remembered it—cluttered with Darren’s toys, painted in bright, primary colors. His crib, his rocker, his shiny new tricycle. Then the picture dissolved into what was there.
An oak desk and leather chair. Framed pictures, glass shelves crowded with bric-a-brac.
An office. They had turned her brother’s room into an office.
“I ran,” she said at length. “I don’t remember anything except running, and falling.”
“You said you’d gone to the door. You told my father, when he saw you in the hospital right after it happened, that you’d opened the door.”
“It was like a dream. And now, I don’t really remember at all. It all faded away.”
“Maybe it was supposed to.”
“He was beautiful.” It hurt too much to face the room. “He was absolutely beautiful. I loved him more than anything or anyone. Everyone did.” Tears were blurring her vision. “I need to get out of here.”
“Come on.” He led her down the hall, down the stairs where she had tumbled that night years before. He sent a quick, apologetic glance to Gloria Steinbrenner as she hurried in from the kitchen. “I’m sorry, my wife’s not feeling well.”
“Oh.” Annoyance and disappointment came first. Then hope. “Make sure she gets some rest. As you can see, this house was just made for children. You wouldn’t want to raise a baby in the Valley.”
“No.” He didn’t bother to correct her, and steered Emma out. “We’ll be in touch,” he called, and took the driver’s seat himself. If he hadn’t been concerned with Emma’s pale face, and the prospect of driving a thirty-thousand-dollar car, he would have noticed the dark blue sedan that trailed after them.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured after they started down the winding roads.
“Don’t be stupid.”
“No, I am. I didn’t handle that well.”

“You did fine.” He reached over to give her hand an awkward pat. “Look, I’ve never lost anybody close to me, but you only have to be human to imagine what it would be like. Don’t beat yourself up, Emma.”
“Put it behind me?” She drummed up a weak smile. “I hope I can. I thought if I could stand there, right there, and think about what had happened, it would all come back to me. Since it didn’t …” She shrugged, then pushed her sunglasses back on. “You’ve been a good friend.”
“That’s me,” he muttered. “Always a pal. Hungry?”
She started to shake her head, then stopped. “Yes,” she realized. “I’m starved.”
“I can spring for a burger. I think,” he added, struggling to remember just what was in his wallet.
“I’d love a burger. And since you’ve been a pal, my treat.”
He pulled into a McDonald’s, and since he discovered the contents of his wallet included three singles and the phone number of a redhead he barely remembered, he put aside what he told himself was dumb macho pride. Emma didn’t argue with his suggestion that they make it to go, or with his casual assumption that he would continue in the driver’s seat.
“Thought we’d take it to the beach.”
“I’d like that.” She shut her eyes again and leaned back. She was glad