Page 39 of Winter Sun

Katrina had always been dutiful about her calendar. In her beautiful cursive, she kept it updated with her entire family’s activities—doctor’s appointments, dentist’s appointments, vacations, and meetings with tax advisers. She saved all her calendars in the upstairs office long after the year was through and was able to return to, say, 1991’sGone With The Wind-themed calendar and see that Ida had cheerleading practice on Thursday or Sophie had piano lessons. Time was always passing a little too quickly. This was her only way of catching it.

Today, Katrina’s calendar read: “Sophie - doctor. 2:30.” Katrina smiled and sipped her coffee, making a short to-do list in her mind. She wanted to throw a load of Grant’s jeans, socks, and underwear into the washer. She wanted to bake some zucchini bread—enough to share with Sophie and Jared. Now that Sophie was four months pregnant, every day was something to celebrate.

Katrina bustled around the house, delivering cups of coffee to Grant in his office, sliding zucchini bread into the oven, and scrubbing the kitchen counters. At eleven, she called Sophie and asked if she wanted to grab Mexican food after her appointment, and Sophie agreed, sounding grateful for the company.

More than a week ago, Sophie asked Katrina pointed questions about marriage and Jared, specifically. She’d insinuated Jared was “mean,” whatever that meant. Since then, Sophie’s questions and fears had haunted Katrina’s mind. But she had to believe it was all in Sophie’s head. She had to push her daughter to be strong. “Everyone has doubts,” she’d told her. “But your love for Jared and your baby is enough to pull you through this difficult time.”

Since then, Sophie hadn’t mentioned any other doubts. Maybe they were no more.

At two, Katrina knocked on Grant’s office door. “Come in!” Grant called. Katrina entered to find Grant stationed at his desk, his phone off the cradle as though he waited for someone on the other line, and numerous stacks of paper in front of him. It was impossible to understand the method of his madness. Like his father before him, Grant worked as a very successful day trader, which required a separate phone line and what seemed to be thousands of headaches. Still, Grant said he liked the “thrill of the chase.” That, and the chaos.

“How’s it going?” Katrina asked.

“Things are moving and shaking today,” Grant announced.

“As always,” Katrina joked, draping her head over the doorframe. Her heart swelled with love for him. “I’m about to head to Sophie’s. Any requests for tonight?”

“I don’t need anything at all, darling,” Grant said. “Just you, safe at home.”

Katrina giggled and hurried across the room to kiss him. A split second later, a voice came from the phone, calling Grant’sname. It was probably someone stationed on the thirty-second floor of some far-off New York tower, a self-important man in a suit.

“I have to get this!” Grant said. “Drive safe.”

Katrina drove over to Sophie’s and waited in the driveway for a few seconds, watching the front door for signs of Sophie. Ordinarily, she burst from the front door immediately after Katrina pulled in, ducking into the passenger seat. But today, the door was shut, and nothing moved behind the windows. Katrina shut off the engine and continued to wait, stretching the fabric of her blouse. Maybe Sophie forgot her gloves. Maybe she forgot something upstairs and was racing to get it.

When the door remained closed, sturdy as a tomb, Katrina stepped out of the car and hurried up the walkway, glancing at her wristwatch. They still had plenty of time before the doctor’s appointment—they were perpetually early. Even still, a strange voice had begun to bubble in the back of Katrina’s mind—a reminder that, ordinarily, Sophie always did this sort of thing. She always dallied. She always let people down.

Sophie used to be like that, Katrina reminded herself, trying to beat back against the voice in the back of her head. But Sophie’s different now. Everything has changed.

Katrina steeled herself at the front door and rang the doorbell. The sound blasted through the house, far louder than necessary. It practically made the windows rattle. A blast of cold wind cratered into Katrina, and she zipped her coat all the way to her chin. She hadn’t anticipated any time outside.

“Sophie?” Katrina said her name softly, as though it would somehow call her to the door. Again, she pressed the doorbell, then waited another thirty seconds and did it again. When nobody appeared, she smacked her hand on the door, and her elbow vibrated. “Where are you?” Katrina rasped. “What’s happened?”

Katrina was dizzy and fearful. Black spots appeared in her vision. She turned on her heel and limped back to her car, cranking the heat and watching her windows steam up. Maybe Sophie was at the grocery store or running errands. Maybe she hadn’t written down the doctor’s appointment in her calendar, as Katrina had recommended. She’d forgotten. That was it. That was simple.

Even as she considered this, Katrina’s stomach tightened into knots. This was Sophie she was thinking about. And when Sophie Coleman didn’t show up to something, that meant one thing, beyond a shadow of a doubt. She was up to no good.

It was best not to beat around the bush. It was best to stare the truth in the face—no matter how much it chilled her to the bone. Katrina fell forward, her forehead planted on the steering wheel, and her heartbeat filled her ears.

Katrina remembered how Sophie had asked her about Jared last week, how she’d hinted that maybe he wasn’t the one for her. That maybe she wanted something else.

Had Sophie let those thoughts overtake her? Had they driven her so insane that she’d started using again?

Katrina’s hands were in fists, and her nails nearly cut through the skin of her palm. She felt frantic. She needed to start the engine, drive back home, and tell Grant what was going on. But her instinct was to stay here in Sophie’s driveway and wait for her to return. When and if she did, maybe Katrina would catch her high or drunk. Maybe then, she could do what she needed to do—insist that she take care of herself. “You’re pregnant, for goodness’ sake,” she imagined herself screaming. “You can’t be so selfish anymore!”

How could Sophie do this? How could she throw everything she’d worked for away? When Sophie had first told Katrina about the pregnancy, she’d spoken of it as though it werea miracle, a blessing. How could she decide it didn’t matter anymore? Just like that?

Katrina’s thoughts raced. Twice, she smashed her fist on her thigh, aching for answers. She imagined Sophie in all sorts of horrible situations—clutching a fifth of vodka, laughing with her horrible friends. The friends Katrina had thought she’d left behind in her old life. The friends who’d dragged Sophie to the darkest of depths.

Katrina needed to get a hold of Jared. She needed to team up with him. They couldn’t let Sophie do this.

Suddenly, another car whisked down Sophie’s street and turned into the driveway. It all happened so quickly, a blur. For a horrible moment, Katrina thought the car might crash into her.

“Grant?” Katrina said incredulously, still seated alone in her car.

Through the windows, Grant looked stricken, his hair a wild mess. He looked as though he’d sped the entire way here, his foot pressed hard against the pedal. Katrina stumbled out of the car, gaping at him. Something was wrong. Something enormous. But she couldn’t begin to name it.

Katrina got into the passenger seat of Grant’s car and shut the door, enveloping herself in the warmth. Grant reached for her hand and held one of hers in two of his. His eyes were rimmed with red.

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