by Claire Adams
“Everything just seems surreal today,” I commented. The idea that I would never see Mom again, the idea that Eric was being so nice to me, that he had stayed with me; they were both things that I wouldn't have expected. Of course, there was also the fact that I was pregnant, the fact that I lived there in Tamlin, the fact that someone as handsome and personable as Eric had slept with me in the first place, and especially that I had developed feelings for him. Come to think of it, the whole year seemed pretty surreal.
I didn't elaborate on it, but Eric chewed slowly, looking as though he was considering that. “I remember that feeling,” he finally said. He grimaced. “I wish I could tell you that that feeling goes away, but to be honest, there are still mornings when I wake up and think that the past two years have been a dream,” he admitted.
I frowned at him. “We studied the process of grief in a psychology class that I took in college,” I told him. “I know that that happens.” I didn't mean to sound so snappish about it. I knew he was only trying to help, and I had to appreciate that he hadn't told me any of the standard clichés about how everything was going to be okay and that I would get through this. But I also didn't need him to sound so patronizing about it, just because he had been through all of this before.
I felt bad for even thinking that, though. I should just be happy that he was here.
Eric stared at me for a long moment. “Knowing that that's the way it works and experiencing it are two very different things,” he finally reminded me. He held up his hands. “I know I sound patronizing, but I am just trying to help.”
I nodded, feeling almost chastened at his words even though I knew he didn't mean it that way. “Thank you for staying with me,” I finally told him. “And feeding me.” I looked down at my still-full plate, giving him a guilty look. “I'm sorry I don't have more of an appetite.”
“That's all right. You just shouldn't be alone right now,” Eric said simply. He paused. “You're going to have to start figuring out the arrangements,” he said. “Get in touch with your mom's lawyer regarding the will. Memorial Gardens, over in Redfield, is an honest and reliable funeral parlor. They should be able to help you out.”
I pushed away my breakfast, my appetite suddenly gone. I didn't want to think about making the arrangements. What I wanted was to go back to bed and pretend that this wasn't happening.
But then again, I supposed 'pretending that this wasn't happening' was exactly what had brought us to this point in the first place.
Eric stood up, carrying our plates over to the counter. He started putting my uneaten meal into a Tupperware container so that I could save it for later. He rinsed his plate and put it in the dishwasher, discretely giving me time to compose myself.
After a couple of minutes, he turned back to me, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I have to head home and relieve the babysitter,” he said. “I want you to take it easy today, all right? And if you start to feel overwhelmed, call your friend.” He looked away as he said that, and I suddenly realized that the 'friend' he was talking about was Buck.
I swallowed hard, wanting to say something, to tell him yet again that it wasn't like that, that Buck and I weren't anything to one another and that he wasn't my lover. But I knew that he wasn't going to listen to me, and anyway, I didn't have the energy to have that conversation now.
So instead, I just nodded, sitting stiffly as he came to give me one last hug.
He had been so kind through the whole thing, but I suddenly realized that he was being almost clinical about how he was comforting me. He was only doing this because he felt obligated to, as a doctor. He felt like he had to take care of me.
I blinked back tears, choking out a quick goodbye. Fortunately, Eric left quickly. As soon as the front door closed behind him, I started sobbing, gut-wrenching sobs that felt as though they were turning me inside out. I wasn't sure which I was more upset about: the fact that Mom had died or the fact that for a moment there, it had felt as though Eric truly cared about this and wanted to make things work between us.
But of course, that wasn't the case. Just because Mom had died didn't mean that my string of bad luck was over. I could hardly fathom having a child now and raising it all on my own. But I didn't know what choice I had. Mom might not be around, but I still knew that she would have wanted me to raise that child. It was what we'd been talking about when she had died, and I had to respect that as being her final wishes.
It hurt too much to even consider it.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Eric
Jeannie's funeral was that following Tuesday, at the Memorial Gardens like I had suggested. It seemed as though the entire town was there. Of course, in such a small town, everyone had known Jeannie.
I'd left Emma with Jenna, knowing that it would be impossible to get the girl to sit still for the ceremony on a good day. As it was, the weather was supposed to be hot that day, and humid. I dressed respectfully in a suit anyway.
I hadn't spoken to Olivia since Saturday morning, but when I'd gone over to her house on Sunday afternoon to check on her, she hadn't been there. I assumed that she'd probably been doing exactly what I had told her to do: spending time with a friend, to get her mind off things. Still, it sent a pang through my heart to think that she had turned to Buck to help her get through her grief.
I couldn't blame her, if I was honest with myself. I knew that I had probably shown her too little care, too late. Besides that, I was the one who had suggested that she turn to someone else. And I knew that I had been way too patronizing during our breakfast. I just hadn't been able to stop thinking about Emily's death and how I'd felt afterward. I knew everyone dealt with grief in different ways, but I'd wanted Olivia to know that what she was going through was entirely normal.
Instead, I'd probably made it sound like I didn't need to hear her whining or something like that.
I swallowed hard, feeling back about that all over again.
She looked stunning in her grief. The black dress that she was wearing was elegant and understated, and the little veil that she had clipped over her face brought her features into sharp relief. Her eyes were bright, and she was pale, but she looked strong, standing there.
I was proud of her, I realized, and I flushed just thinking that. As though I had any right to feel proud of her.
Her eyes found mine, and for a moment, it looked as though she wanted to convey something with that look, or possibly as though she might find her way over to my side. But just then, the funeral procession began, and her eyes snapped back to the officiant.
I was surprised to see that she wasn't standing next to Buck, but maybe she didn't want the whole town to know about them, especially given the pregnancy. Today wasn't the day for that. Still, I figured it was only a matter of time before everyone found out about the two of them, especially with the way that Buck had talked to Gary.
I suppressed the wave of jealousy that went through me and concentrated on the ceremony.
The officiant said some words, and then Olivia gave a tearful, well-written eulogy. Afterwards, she invited other people to get up and tell their own stories about Jeannie. The happy stories lightened the mood, but Olivia herself became noticeably sadder and sadder until I was surprised that she hadn't crumpled already. She continued to stand strong, though.
After the ceremony, I watched Olivia mill around, greeting people, thanking them for coming, and accepting their hugs. She seemed so terribly sad, and I wanted to go to her, to comfort her. But I wasn't sure that she would appreciate that, especially not in front of the whole town. I stayed off to the side, letting her come to me if she was willing to.
Buck stepped forward and had a quiet word with Olivia, giving her a quick hug. I turned away, not wanting to see the two of them together. Even though I knew it was over between Olivia and me, that she had made her choice, I couldn't help feeling bitter about it, but it wasn't the time to feel bitter about something so petty. Olivia deserved good thoughts and feelings from
all of us, especially on this day, when she had just had to bury her mother.
But I hated seeing her touch another man like that. I felt another surge of love for her, mixed with a desire that she not touch any other man in her life. It wasn't fair for me to ask that, though. If she wanted to be with someone else, that was her prerogative.
To my surprise, shortly after Buck left Olivia's side, he made his way over to me. There was sadness in his eyes, and he nodded toward the doorway. “I was hoping I could have a quiet word with you, in private,” he said in an undertone.
I looked around incredulously. “Do you think that now is a good time for that?” I asked. I assumed he wanted to talk about his relationship with Olivia, or maybe he wanted to gloat about the pregnancy. I didn't want to hear any of that, not now.
“Trust me,” the man said quietly. “I need to talk to you.”
I rolled my eyes but followed him outside, sparing a glance for Olivia as we went. Fortunately, she seemed focused on whatever Christina, one of Jeannie's oldest friends, was saying.
“What do you want?” I asked sharply when it was just the two of us.
“I'm sorry about what happened to Miss Jeannie; I always respected her,” he said.
I felt confused, but my confusion just made me feel more frustrated. “I'm not the person that you should be saying that to,” I said, looking pointedly back toward the doorway. But he had already said his condolences to Olivia, so I wondered why he felt the need to echo them to me. Maybe he was trying to rub my face into it, along with the pregnancy? Maybe he was trying to tell me that he had Jeannie's blessing and that was why Olivia had chosen him?
I forced myself to tune back into what Buck was saying.
“I feel horrible for what I've been doing to Jeannie's daughter. I don't think I've ever felt more ashamed in my life.”
I snorted at the dramatic way that he said it, although I found the words far from funny. “What, you feel bad for fucking her? Think that you should make an honest woman out of her? That that's what Jeannie would have wanted?” If this was his way of telling me that he was planning to propose to her, his timing could have been better.
But Buck shook his head, his expression earnest. “That's just it,” he said. “I haven't been fucking her.”
“Bullshit,” I said. “I heard you, talking to Greg at the gas station. In sordid detail.” I tried to keep my voice quiet and my tone level, but I was having a difficult time of it, even thinking of the encounter. “If you're looking for congratulations, you can go to hell.”
Again, Buck shook his head. “Georgia paid me $100 to say those things,” he blurted out.
I stared at him for a long moment, unable to believe what he had just said. “She what?” I finally asked.
“She's been paying me to pretend that I'm Olivia's lover, wherever you might overhear,” Buck said. “I didn't do any of those things that I said.”
I frowned suspiciously at him. This I really didn't see any reason for him to lie about. But at this point, I wasn't sure who to believe. “How did you know about Olivia's tattoo?” I asked him.
“There's a picture of Olivia and Jeannie on the table in Jeannie's hallway,” Buck quickly told me. “I saw it every time I went inside to get paid. Jeannie was adamant that I not track dirt into the house, and there wasn't much else to look at while I was waiting for her to come back with her purse.” He paused. “It's the two of them at the beach, wearing swimsuits. You could see Olivia's tattoo in that, but she was facing away from the camera.”
It just might be the truth, at last, I realized. But if it was the truth, I felt horrible for accusing Olivia of lying to me. “So you never slept with her?” I asked, needing to confirm it.
“I never slept with her,” Buck insisted. He gave a short laugh. “Are you kidding? She wouldn't have slept with me. She's only had eyes for you, ever since she moved to Tamlin. Everyone in town knows it.”
I swallowed hard, not even wanting to consider the truth of that last part of his statement. The more pressing matter was that I doubted she could ever forgive me for not believing her. Trust was such a key part of a relationship. But it went beyond my believing that she had slept with someone else; I hadn't supported her when she'd told me that she was pregnant, either. Instead, I'd accused her of being pregnant with another man's child.
I felt sick, just thinking about the emotional turmoil she had been going through.
“I have to go back inside,” I told Buck. Strangely enough, I didn't feel angry at him, as I might have expected that I would. I couldn't even find it in me to be mad at Georgia, even though, once again, she had been meddling in my private affairs.
I remembered how she had shown up to my office that day that I had had Emma there. How she had shown up there again right after Olivia had told me that she was pregnant. She must have been watching my office, just waiting for Olivia to show up there. I wondered wildly whether Georgia knew that Olivia was pregnant, but despite the somewhat stalkerish way that Georgia seemed to go about things, I doubted she could know that. I hadn't heard any whispering around the town about it, and I assumed I would, as soon as Georgia knew. She would want to make certain that we knew the baby was Buck's.
Only it wasn't Buck's baby. It had to be mine.
I shook my head. This time, she had gone too far. But as with Buck, I didn't feel angry. I would need to have words with the woman, to let her know that this wasn't okay, but instead, I mostly felt numb. My worry for Olivia seemed to have taken over everything. I gave Buck one last look and then headed back inside, already trying to figure out what I could say to Olivia. I knew that I couldn't confront her there, not in front of everyone else.
In fact, this probably wasn't the time to talk to her about Buck's revelation. She was already dealing with her grief; I shouldn't make her deal with this drama on top of that. But watching her move around the room, seeming like she might burst into tears at any moment, I didn't know if I could continue to leave her alone when she was so obviously in need of comfort.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Olivia
As the reception dragged on, I started to feel more and more exhausted. It didn't help that I hadn't been sleeping well these past few days. I couldn't help but remember how well I had slept in Eric's arms, how gentle he'd been with me. But he seemed intent on not letting that happen again. I knew it was just that he thought I was in love with someone else, but I didn't know how to communicate to him how badly I needed him to comfort me.
It also didn't help that my heels were digging into my feet. I only had one pair of black shoes, and they weren't the most practical ones for standing around in all day. I regretted wearing them, but everything had happened so fast, and there hadn't been time to go out and find another pair. It was difficult and taxing enough to try to find a dress that fit me. It sounded stupid, but the process of shopping for a black dress that I could wear to my mom's funeral had reduced me to tears more than once, and I had a feeling it was going to be a while before I could face another changing room.
I grimaced just thinking about it.
On top of all that, there was also the emotional wear of the day. The ceremony had been beautiful, but hearing all those stories about Mom during her better times had been taxing. She'd been such a wonderful mother, neighbor, colleague, teacher. It was hard to believe that a couple of her students who had been in her classes over a decade ago, and whom she'd kept in close contact with, had cared so deeply for her that they had shown up to her funeral. They'd all had kind words to say about her.
Now, having to thank everyone for coming was adding to my stress. It seemed as though the whole town had turned out, and rather than saying a blanket 'thank you' to all of them, I felt obligated to thank each and every one of them personally. Mom had always been a stickler for etiquette. Not that I knew what proper etiquette was when it came to a funeral.
Nor did I know how much longer I could hold it together. It seemed like they were all watching me carefu
lly, as though I were a fragile piece of glass. Everyone was expecting me to break down at any moment. I tried to hold it together, as best as I could, but I had a feeling I was going to need to excuse myself to the restroom soon, to have a moment to myself.
I had to get through the event. I'd give myself just a moment in the restroom, and then I'd come right back out.
Suddenly, just as I made that decision and started to move toward the door, Eric appeared beside me, his hand warm against my elbow as he steered me outside. “What's going on?” I asked him, shocked that he had come to speak to me at all. From the way he'd been looking at me in the reception hall, I had thought that he wasn't going to, especially not after he'd seen Buck come up and give his condolences.
“I'm taking you home,” Eric said gruffly, steering me toward his car.
“But I haven't finished thanking everyone,” I protested.
“I'm sure they'll all understand,” Eric said exasperatedly. Then, his tone softened as he gave me a searching look. “You look like you're about to collapse. When was the last time you had anything to eat?”
I winced, a guilty look stealing across my face, but he just smiled gently at me. “Come on,” he said. “I know Christina and Margaret, and some of your mom's other friends, arranged to have food sent directly to your place rather than to the reception. I'm sure you'll feel better once you get something warm into you. I noticed you didn't touch the buffet at the reception.”
He opened the car door for me, and I sighed and collapsed into the seat as though all my strings had been cut. I knew that I should eat, but I didn't really feel like it at the moment. Nor did I feel like fighting him on it, though. I was just grateful to him for getting me out of there, whatever the reason.
The first thing I did was bend down and take off those shoes. Eric smiled at me as he got in, watching what I was doing. But he didn't comment, instead driving silently back to my house. I concentrated on my breathing, trying my best to not go to pieces on him again.