The Glass Wives by Amy Sue Nathan Read Free Book Online

found the contained bedlam soothing.
    Nicole’s plate held one piece of white bread and a golf-ball-size blob of potato salad.
    “Aren’t you hungry?” Evie needed to temper the maternal inclinations but the words had already escaped.
    “I haven’t eaten much since…”
    “You have to eat,” Beth said. “You have to keep up your strength for Luca. Remember what I said earlier.”
    Nicole nodded, said nothing, and fumbled with plastic keys on the high-chair tray.
    “She’s right, you know,” Evie said. “Try the kugel.”
    *   *   *
    Evie couldn’t wait to slip under the covers and feel the warm flannel sheets. She shut off the living-room lights and double-checked the locks on the front door.
    Nicole’s scarf still hung on the bench.
    Evie whipped her head around. The suitcase was gone from the corner. Then she felt a niggling sensation and opened the front door.
    Women’s intuition was a bitch.
    Nicole’s car idled in the driveway, lights on. It wasn’t more than ten degrees outside. Nicole ran to the door. Evie opened the storm door but didn’t invite Nicole inside. She rubbed her arms and bounced, and Evie wondered if she’d had the heat on in the car.
    “Luca couldn’t sleep, so I was driving him around. I saw the light on and thought maybe you were awake and would know what to do.”
    “Why can’t he sleep?” Evie felt an unexpected stomach twist.
    “I don’t know, but he won’t stop crying. Driving him around usually settles him, but tonight it’s not working. I’ve been out with him for over an hour.”
    “You should probably keep driving, then, right?”
    Nicole shrugged, pulled her hood onto her head, and ran to her car without a word. Evie watched Nicole wiggle into the driver’s seat and buckle. Evie shut the door but didn’t move. She leaned back to make it extra tight. And she waited. She waited for the motor, the bump of the tires over the uneven driveway. She counted to twenty, then opened the door again. Nicole was still there.
    Evie grabbed her coat from the hall closet and slipped on shoes by the heating vent, a momentary source of warmth and comfort.
    Before Evie reached the car, Nicole’s window whizzed down. Luca was crying. Screaming. No, that particular sound was wailing. That was not a normal I-need-to-cruise-around-the-neighborhood fussiness.
    “Does he have a fever?” Evie asked.
    “No.”
    “Is he teething?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Bring him inside.”
    Swabbed gums and a bottle of water put Luca to sleep.
    “Take this,” Evie said, handing Nicole the tube of Baby Anbesol. Evie hoped it had not expired. “You should probably stock up.”
    “I can’t believe I forgot about teething. I could have avoided this whole thing. I’m so sorry. I’m not good at doing this alone.”
    “Mothers have been doing this alone for centuries.” Evie raised one eyebrow and smiled in a flash of maternal bonding. “I bet you won’t forget about teething again.” She put on her tight-lipped, no-nonsense face, tucked a blanket in around Luca, and pushed his blond wisps off his sweaty face as if it were baby-business as usual. Luca resembled Sam. Evie’s heart tugged—but for just a second.
    “Richard was always home to help me. And now the house is empty all day long too. If he wakes up again tonight … I don’t think I can do this.” Nicole touched Evie’s forearm as if trying to find a pulse.
    Thoughts of what Laney and her sister would say flipped through Evie’s head like an old-fashioned Rolodex. She slammed the imaginary lid.
    “It’ll wake Luca if you try to take him home, so, so … you should stay here.” Evie said it fast before she could suck back the words, but then she slowed her pace and said, “Just this once.”
    *   *   *
    “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Evie said as she piled blankets and pillows on the couch for Nicole to arrange herself, “where are your parents?”
    “My mom couldn’t make it. But I’ve talked to