“Are you really gonna be okay?” Phillip asked.
“Sure,” I said, to reassure him … and myself.
But an hour later, as I heard the front door close behind Phillip, I felt unsure. Was I endangering Sophie by insisting I could care for her adequately?
I could only take the day one step at a time. If worse came to worst, I could call someone. The problem was, most of my friends had babies or toddlers and would not want to be in the same room with me. I could understand that.
I kept Sophie on the bed with me, carefully centered as far from the edge of the king bed as possible. Easing slowly to my feet, I staggered into the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. I was scared to shower; I might not be able to hear her cry over the sound of the water.
Blessedly, Sophie slept for two hours. I didn’t have the attention span to read, so I simply watched her for a while. She slept with such deep abandon, so relaxed and still, her arms thrown out. I actually laid my (gloved) hand on her chest to feel it rising and falling as she breathed. Robin had confessed he did this, too, so it didn’t make me feel too creepy.
I turned on the television, again with closed captioning. I found a daytime channel that carried old movies. The women were all wearing hose and heels and hats. I really disliked wearing the three h’s myself, but I had to admit they all looked terrific.
Toward the end of the movie, I began to shiver again, and I pulled the blanket up. I was running a fever again.
I’d turned down the ring volume on my cell so it wouldn’t wake Sophie, and when I looked at my phone log, I found I’d missed a call from Robin. He’d also sent a few text messages I hadn’t read. I discovered that Robin was worried about me, missed me and Sophie, and looked forward to coming home. (That was all reassuring, and I can’t say I didn’t enjoy the reassurance.)
I texted back to tell him Virginia had stayed the previous night and been a great help, and she was coming back tonight. Phillip was helping, too. I didn’t mention the fever, or Phillip’s absence. I wasn’t trying to be a martyr; but I did want Robin to enjoy his big day. If I complained, he wouldn’t. V. pointed out flowers hand-delivered, I added. Can’t think who by? By whom?
If I got any worse, I’d have to call someone. I ran through names in my head, but I hesitated. It seemed very needy, calling someone on a Saturday. And exposing them to the flu. And asking them to change my baby’s diapers.
While I was debating, I felt my phone vibrate. Robin was calling. “Hi, honey,” I said, keeping my voice low.
“Is anyone there with you? I got worried when I didn’t hear from you until now. How are you feeling? Running any fever?”
“Phillip’s not here right now,” I said. “Sophie’s asleep.”
“You didn’t say how you’re feeling.”
“I’m definitely on the sick list,” I said, trying to sound hearty. “But I’ll be better soon.” I hoped.
“How’s the baby?”
“She’s good. Not sick.” Of course, he was afraid Sophie would catch a cold from me. I knew I had the flu, but I didn’t bring up the “f” word to Robin. It would scare him. After all, I was being as careful as I could to prevent Sophie from catching it.
I remembered to ask him how his panel had gone, and he told me the moderator had run a tight ship. Robin approved of moderators who were on the ball. He’d had a good signing line, he said. His publisher was sponsoring a table at the banquet, and Robin would be sitting there with his editor and his agent. I closed my eyes while he talked, glad to hear his voice, but unable to work up much animation. I’m sick as a dog, I thought, and somehow it made me feel better to confess that, if only to myself.
“About the flowers,” he said.
I was surprised he’d returned to that topic. “Yeah?”
“If anyone else leaves a present without you knowing … let me hear about it,” he said. “I just don’t like that.”
Sophie wiggled and made a little noise. “Honey, I have to go,” I said. “The baby’s waking up.” I glanced at the clock. I realized with dismay that I still had hours until Phillip got back. I heard a distant sound that I realized was someone knocking at the front door.
“And someone’s at the door,” I told Robin, trying to sound bright.
He said a hasty good-bye.
I was relieved to have gotten through the conversation.
I heard the front door open and close. I had not remembered to ask Phillip to lock it behind him. Oh my God. I tried to summon the energy to be frightened.
“Roe? Roe? It’s Emily.”
That was the last voice I expected to hear. I was relieved … and flabbergasted.
“Emily? I’m back here, last door on the left,” I called back, alarmed at how weak and croaky my voice came out. I pulled on my mask because I could tell from the tickle in my throat I was going to have a coughing spell. And I was right; it racked me.
Emily Scott, our priest’s wife, was in my bedroom doorway before I could finish the paroxysm. I was as amazed as if Mother Teresa had popped in … or I would have been, if I hadn’t felt like death warmed over.
On her warmest days, Emily had never been more than polite to me, so I couldn’t imagine why she was risking infection to visit this plague house.
“Oh, Roe,” Emily said, when she got a good look at me. “I talked to Phillip when I dropped Liza off at the park. He says you’re sick. I see he wasn’t kidding. The flu is going around.”
I nodded, since I was still coughing. After a moment, I was able to pull off the mask.
Emily was immaculate in a good pants-and-blouse outfit. Her hair and makeup were smooth and tasteful.
I felt even more disheveled and smelly.
Emily’s gaze was caught by Sophie’s hand waving. Thank God, the baby had woken up right on cue. She was adorable as she kicked her little legs and waved her little arms. She hadn’t started fussing yet.
“Oh,” Emily breathed. “She’s so cute!”
My heart expanded to include Emily Scott. “Yes,” I said modestly. “She’s great.”
“Can I pick her up?” Emily saw the diapers and wipes on the bed beside me. “Oh, Roe, you’ve been taking care of her yourself? While you’re ill? Where is … oh, wait, this is the weekend for Robin’s award thing, right?”
“I didn’t want him to miss his big moment. At least, I hope it’s his big moment,” I said. “Virginia Mitchell is coming in at night.”
“I heard she’s pretty good. But you’re on your own now? I’m glad I came by,” Emily said. “I’ll take care of Sophie for a while, okay? So you can shower and take care of yourself without worrying.”
“Oh, Emily,” I said, feeling a bloom of gratitude unfolding. I didn’t bother to hide my relief. “That would be wonderful.”
Sophie seemed to be content at the moment, so Emily carried her off to give her a bath and a wardrobe change. “Is the sink in the hall bathroom okay for a quick wash-off?” Emily called.
“Yes,” I called back. I would have agreed to anything Emily proposed at that point. She was a baby-charmer; there wasn’t a peep from Sophie.
Though I was reluctant to leave the warmth of the covers, this was a golden opportunity. I dragged myself out of the bed, and in so doing I discovered the sheets were wet with sweat. I laboriously stripped it. No matter how sick I felt (and that was pretty damn sick), I couldn’t stand the idea of getting back between those sheets. Moving very slowly, I remade the bed and tossed the soiled ones into the hamper. My nightgown followed the sheets.
By the time I stepped into the shower, I was exhausted. But all my effort was worth the consequence. It was a wonderful shower, close to the top of the list of my all-time best. The hot water felt unbelievably good. Turning it off reluctantly, delighted to feel clean, I dried off as quickly as I could and used another towel on my hair.
I was freezing by then, my teeth chattering. I pulled on some pajamas Robin had given me, lightweight and cheerful and decorated with stars. No matter h
ow debilitated I’d become, a clean body and clean sheets were real morale boosters.
By that time Emily was bringing the baby back, and Sophie too looked refreshed. She was wearing her pink sleeper with the bunnies all over it, my particular favorite. And now, she was hungry, as she made abundantly clear.
I didn’t know how Emily would react to my breast-feeding, so I tried to be as discreet as I’d been when Phillip had been in the room. But (again to my surprise) Emily sat on the slipper chair and seemed prepared to chat.
“Is it really safe for you to breast-feed?” she asked. “Shouldn’t I try to fix her a bottle?”
“I’d say yes in a heartbeat, but Sophie won’t take a bottle. She just won’t. Believe me, we tried, so we’d have an alternative, in case something came up … like me getting the flu,” I said ruefully. “It’s me, or nothing.” I recounted my talk with Dr. Garrison. “That’s why I look like a spacewoman.”
Emily nodded and dropped the subject. “How is Phillip liking public school?” she asked.
Emily’s daughter, Liza, had had a crush on Phillip, which he had good-naturedly tolerated. That’s a pretty normal occurrence. But my brother and Liza had gone through a crisis together. Now they were friends, despite the difference in their ages. Not that the two hung out—teen society would hardly stand for that, and probably that was their own inclination, too. But when they saw each other, they had a conversation: not the norm between a sixteen-year-old boy and a twelve-year-old girl.
“Phillip really seems happy,” I said. “And he says classes are not too easy, but not too hard.”
“I remember he was in some kind of home-schooled network?”
“Yes. I didn’t know those existed until Phillip came here. I had to learn a lot in a hurry.” He’d landed in Lawrenceton right before his mid-semester exams. Many phone calls and e-mails had ensued.
“Do you think he’ll stay here? Or go back to California?”
“We’re happy to have him. He’s happy to be here. My stepmother is off e-mail and the telephone in a commune in California, and my dad has so many financial problems that he isn’t exactly anxious for Phillip to come home.”
Emily shook her head. “They don’t know what they’ve given up.”
I was pleased that she shared my good opinion of my brother.
I switched Sophie to the other side. “How is Liza doing, in her new school?” I asked. After Liza had endured a year of bullying, the Scotts had withdrawn Liza from the local middle school and enrolled her in a Christian academy in the next town.
Emily smiled, and it made her whole face light up. “Her grades are great! She comes home from school with a smile on her face. She has new friends. I worried after the kidnapping.…”
Last year, Phillip and Liza had been abducted. I’d found them none too soon. “Does she have nightmares?” I asked. I looked down to see Sophie’s eyes closed in concentration. She was so beautiful!
“She hasn’t said so. But she can’t forgive them.”
“The kidnappers? Or the girls who were tormenting her?”
“All of them. That’s quite a few people to hate.”
I would not have thought of suggesting Liza forgive them, myself, but I was not as good a Christian as Emily. I hesitated before I spoke. “I think forgiveness doesn’t happen overnight. I think it comes in increments. When someone has made your life hell, maybe you have to recover from the fear and anger first? Before you start working on the other thing.”
Emily considered this idea. “Maybe that’s true. Has Phillip talked about it?”
“Not a lot. But he’s actually looking forward to the trial.”
Emily looked surprised. “Really?”
I shrugged. “He wants them to pay for what they did.”
“Hmmm. When she sees justice done, maybe that’ll give Liza some kind of…”
Don’t say it, I thought. Don’t say it, don’t say it …
“… closure,” Emily finished.
I sighed, I hoped not audibly. I realized closure was a necessary event, mentally and emotionally, but it seemed to me closure might gain traction as gradually as forgiveness did. These were not clear-cut stages with a beginning and a definite end. “We’ll all feel better when it’s over and done with,” I said gently. Sophie had let go of my breast, and her eyelids were fluttering. “She’s almost asleep,” I said quietly.
“I’ll burp her.” Emily reached down for Sophie, and I handed her over along with a receiving blanket to drape Emily’s shoulder. With a smile on her face, Emily patted Sophie gently.
“You really have to be forceful when you’re burping her,” I said. “And I warn you, she burps like a sailor.”
Just then, a huge belch erupted from my little baby. Emily laughed out loud. She continued patting Sophie, regularly, softly. Sophie’s eyelids fluttered once, fluttered twice, and she was out.
Emily raised her eyebrows in query. Her crib? she mouthed.
I nodded. “Please.”
When Emily returned, she seemed to have something on her mind. Maybe she’d had a goal all along.
“Thanks so much for dropping by in my hour of need,” I said, to prime the pump.
“Need me to do anything else while I’m here? Start some laundry? Get out something for your lunch?”
“You’ve done so much already. I’m incredibly glad I got to take a shower without worrying about Sophie, and without carrying her.”
“Then I’m glad I stopped by.” She hesitated, then said abruptly, “I never gave you a chance to be my friend. I was jealous of your history with Aubrey.”
“Aubrey and I had decided to call it quits before he even asked you out on a date,” I began, not sure where this was heading.
She raised a hand to let me know she had more to say. “I’m sure he told you he couldn’t be a father,” she said, with startling frankness. “I know that’s probably what sparked his interest in me, since I already had a child young enough to really bond with him. I like to think that I earned his love and trust for myself.”
“Of course you did!” I said. “I can’t imagine Aubrey with anyone else.” Emily wasn’t through, though.
“I hope your marriage is as happy as ours,” she continued.
“We have every intention of making it that happy.” I managed to smile at her.
This conversation was puzzling. And tiring.
“You’ve known Robin for a while, I think?” Emily said.
“We’d dated before he went to California to work on the script. After he left, I met Martin and got married. And Robin had other relationships. But once we saw each other again, it just felt right.”
“Do you ever think about Martin?” Emily said.
That seemed to come out of the blue. “Yes, of course. You really can’t not-think about your first husband. Don’t you? Gosh, I don’t even know the name of your first…?”
“Connor,” she said. She took a deep breath. “I do think about him, but not happily. He hit me.”
I flinched. How could this woman, collected and Christian, have been subjected to such abuse? Not only was I angry on her behalf, I was a little dismayed to be the recipient of such a confidence.
“Why?” was all I could think of to say. “How could that happen?”
“Connor drank. When he was drinking, he was a horrible man. When he was sober, he was so sorry, always. He kept promising to change, to go into therapy. Especially after Liza came. But it would happen all over again. When he had the car accident, and they told me he was dead? The first feeling I had was relief.”
“That’s a horrible way to remember someone. I didn’t say that well. I mean that he made himself so mean and weak that he lost all the respect you had for him.” Now I understood Emily’s reserve. If someone you loved treated you that way, it would be hard to open up again.
“I kind of wondered,” Emily said, “if you had had the same experience?”
“No,” I said thankfully. “Martin didn’t drink much, an
d when he did, he got really affectionate.” I had to smile, a little. “Martin really wanted to make me happy by giving me things I’d like. He was thoughtful that way. He never raised a hand to me. I always felt…” I struggled to express it. “I felt he was wrapping me in cotton batting so I wouldn’t get broken.”
Emily nodded in understanding. “So he took almost too much care of you? You wondered if he thought you couldn’t take care of yourself?”
“Exactly,” I said, relieved. “I realize that I had it incredibly easy. He wanted me to be happy, and he wanted to be the one who made me happy. That’s impossible to complain about, in view of your experience. He understood so much about me. But I never felt I knew everything about him.”
And I hadn’t, for sure. Gunrunning, shady semiofficial ops … I felt sad all over again, remembering my growing sense of unease as Martin’s past began to unroll in front of me.
I had been head over heels in love with Martin from the moment I saw him. It had been a feverish, beautiful, terrible experience. I had no doubt he’d loved me, too. But there had been cracks in our marriage, issues we hadn’t had time to settle before he’d died.
Emily shook herself. I watched her straighten and stiffen, become the Emily I recognized. “I hope I didn’t impose on you. Today’s the day Connor died. It makes me feel better to talk about it. I almost never speak his name. It’s time to pick up Liza. I’d better go.”
“I appreciate your sharing your story with me.” And that was all I would ever say about her first husband, unless Emily brought it up. “Thanks so much for checking on me, and for being so helpful. You were a lifesaver.”
“You sure you don’t want me to fix you some lunch?”
“No, thanks. Oh, my gosh, you missed yours!” It was after one o’clock.
“I’ll be on my way to the store before swinging by the park. If you need me again, give me a call.”
“I’m grateful,” I said with absolute sincerity.
I heard the front door shut behind her.
I lay back in bed and made an incredulous face, though there was no one to see it. Truly, you couldn’t anticipate what was around the next corner … ever. The day before, I could not have imagined the conversation I’d just had, much less that I’d had it with Emily Scott.
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