by Robin Wells
“She is, isn’t she?”
“You and her mother must have been really close.”
She nods. “I can’t believe how much I miss her.”
“How is Lily doing with the whole grief thing?”
“Most of the time, amazingly well.”
“You’re really good with her,” I say as we reach the top of the stairs. I can’t believe I’m complimenting her. I’ve thought of her as my nemesis ever since I first found out about her, and learning she’s pregnant with Zack’s child raised my rancor to a whole new level. It’s bewildering to discover that the woman who’s wrecking my life is so warm and likable.
Quinn lifts her shoulders. “I was there when Lily was born. I’ve always loved her.”
It shows, I think. I’m about to say it when Lily turns toward us.
“Auntie Quinn! Miss Jess’ca! Come see these silly penguins!” Lily calls. She’s maybe four feet away from us, standing in front of the glass wall with Zack.
We walk over, and everyone laughs at the penguins frolicking on the rocks.
“I can walk like one,” Lily says, waddling with her arms held down straight like wings.
“Me, too,” Quinn says, doing the same.
To my surprise, Zack joins in. I’ve never seen him act silly in public before. This is how he’d be with our children, I think. I always knew he’d be a good father, but I never knew he’d be so free and easy and fun-loving. He marches around with his legs stiff, his head jutted out, his eyes wide and unblinking, his mouth puckered like a beak.
He’s hysterical.
He’s adorable.
He’s breaking my heart into little bleeding pieces.
I watch him cavort with Lily and this lovely woman who’s carrying his child, and I think, He belongs with them.
The thought makes it hard to draw a breath.
No, I think. He’s my husband. Mine. He belongs with me, and I should be having his baby.
I swallow around a painful lump in my throat and again dig my fingernails into my palm. Anxiety is swirling in my chest and starting to roar in my head. I have to do something; I can’t just stand here and watch this, or I’ll fly apart.
“Look at the funny family, Mommy!” a boy about Lily’s age says, pointing at Quinn, Zack, and Lily.
He sees them as a family. The whole world probably does, because . . .
Hell. They are.
This is too much to take, I think, my heart rate spiking. I need to get out of here.
And then I see a man taking pictures of his wife and children with the penguins in the background, and all of a sudden, I’m inspired. That’s what I need to do—focus on a task. I pull out my phone, turn on the camera setting, and start clicking photos.
There—that’s better. I now have a role: I’m the group photographer. When viewed through the little window on my phone camera, the situation is cut down to size. I can choose what to shoot and how to shoot it. I can save or delete the photos. I can make choices instead of just being dragged along.
Taking pictures gives me the one thing I’ve never been able to do without: control.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Quinn
I WAS ANXIOUS about spending the day at the aquarium with Zack’s wife, but things are going a lot better than I feared. Jessica is friendly and sweet to Lily, and although I wouldn’t call her manner toward me exactly warm, she’s cordial and polite. Most importantly, she and Zack aren’t holding hands or nuzzling or exhibiting a lot of PDA. This, I realize, had been my biggest worry. I don’t want to examine why.
At the penguin exhibit, Jessica starts taking photos of Lily, and that role seems to put her more at ease. It occurs to me that Jessica is what Brooke used to call a task-oriented person.
After the penguins, we go to Parakeet Pointe, an enclosed outdoor area filled with trees, perches, and parakeets. We buy Lily little wooden sticks covered with peanut butter and birdseed, and she shrieks with delight as birds land on her hands and arms and head. Jessica takes lots of photos, and I’m grateful that she forwards some of them to my phone.
After a bathroom stop and thorough hand washing, we head to the aquarium food court. We’ve just placed an order of salads and sandwiches at the Aqua Grill when a woman stops beside us with a baby carriage. I can’t help but peer in. A baby dressed in a baseball onesie gazes up with somber blue-gray eyes. He’s mostly bald, with a little tuft of brown hair.
“Oh, he’s adorable!” I exclaim. “How old is he?”
“Nearly three months.”
I see a toddler hiding behind the woman’s legs. He looks maybe two and a half. I want to make sure he gets an equal amount of attention, so I smile at him. “And you’re the older brother?”
He shyly bobs his head up and down.
“I bet you’re a really good one.”
Again, he nods.
“I’m going to be a big sister!” Lily proclaims with a proud smile.
“Is that right?” The woman grins at Lily, then at me.
I touch my belly, feeling self-conscious. “It’s still early days.”
“Well, congratulations!” She turns back to Lily. “I’m sure you’ll be a big help to your mommy.”
“She’s my auntie Quinn. My mommy’s dead.”
The woman’s smile dissolves. “Oh! Oh, honey—I’m so, so sorry!”
“Auntie Quinn is like my mommy now.” She turns to me. “Can I call you Mommy?”
“I, um . . .” My heart swells, but my brain is flummoxed. I would love that, but it’s too soon. I wouldn’t feel right, and Miss Margaret would be crushed.
“Y’all have a great day,” the woman says, obviously eager to flee.
“You, too.” I tell her. I look at Lily. “Let’s go sit down, okay?” I lead her to a table by the window. Zack and Jessica follow.
“I really need a mommy,” Lily says, her eyes glistening with tears.
“I know, honey. Come here and get a huddle.” It’s a term Brooke used, a cross between a hug and a cuddle. I hold out my arms and she climbs into my lap. “I’m here for you in every way your mommy was. I love you and I’ll take care of you and always be there for you.”
“So can I call you Mommy?”
“I would love that. But don’t you want to wait a little while?”
“Why?”
“Well, your mother hasn’t been gone all that long.”
“I thought she was dead.”
“She is, honey.”
“But you just said ‘gone.’”
“I meant dead. People sometimes say ‘gone’ instead of ‘dead’ because the word ‘dead’ is so sad.”
“Oh.” Her little body deflates. “She’s dead gone.”
“Yes, sweetie.”
“An’ she can’t come back, ’cause she’s in heaven.”
“That’s right.”
“But I need a mommy here. And you’re it now, right?”
I feel a sting at the back of my eyes. “Absolutely.”
“So why can’t I call you that?”
I hesitate. “I don’t want your grams to feel like we’ve forgotten your mom. How about you call me Mommy Quinn for a little while, and later we can shorten it?”
“Yes!” She pumps her fist in the air. “So now we’re a fam’ly! Me an’ Mommy Quinn an’ Daddy an’ Grams an’ the new baby!”
“Don’t forget Miss Jessica,” I say, painfully aware of her across the table, watching us. “She’s your stepmother.”
“My what?”
“She’s your daddy’s wife, so that means she’s your stepmom.”
“What did she step on?”
My heart, I think. I hate that Zack’s married. I’m so dismayed by the thought that I can’t come up with an answer. Fortunately, Zack and Jessica both laugh.
“She didn’t step on anything, sweetie,” I finally manage. “It’s just what you call a lady who’s married to your father but isn’t your mother. She steps in and acts like a mom when you visit her.”
“But I don’ know her.”
“You’ll get to know her. And maybe she’ll give you a little brother or sister, too,” I add.
“An’ they’ll live with us?”
“No, they’ll live in Washington, but they’ll come visit us and maybe we’ll go there to see them,” I explain.
The man at the grill calls our number. “There’s our food,” Zack says.
I’m relieved that the conversation is interrupted, but my stomach is a tangle of emotions, and my appetite has fled.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Zack
LILY FALLS ASLEEP in her safety seat on the way home, her head listing to the side. In the rearview mirror, I see Quinn brush a strand of hair from Lily’s mouth. The tender little gesture makes me smile. “It was a busy day,” I say.
“Yes, it was,” Quinn replies.
“I think Lily had fun,” Jessica remarks.
“She had a ball. I did, too.” Quinn smiles at me in the rearview mirror. “It was nice spending the day with you two.”
“Likewise,” Zack says.
Jessica bobs her head.
Quinn covers her mouth and yawns. “Excuse me,” she says, giving a sheepish grin. “Lily’s not the only one who needs an afternoon nap these days.”
“I remember pregnancy fatigue,” Jessica says, her expression wistful. “But then, I was only pregnant for a week.”
“Zack told me,” Quinn says softly. “I’m so, so sorry for your loss.”
An awkward pause dangles between the two women. I feel like I should fill it, but I don’t know what to say.
“Have you heard your baby’s heartbeat?” Jessica asks Quinn.
“Yes. I had an ultrasound, and the doctor gave me a DVD of it. Zack watched it.”
“Really?” I can feel her gaze on me. “He didn’t tell me.”
I glance over at her. Her eyes are sad and full of reproach. Aw, jeez—I just can’t win. I didn’t tell her because I knew it would hurt her, but not telling her is just as bad.
Quinn leans toward the front seat. “Listen, Jessica—I can only imagine how hard this situation is on you. I mean, it’s been hard on all of us—I wanted to have an anonymous donor, obviously, and so did Brooke, so having Zack show up was, well, extremely jarring, but . . .”
“I don’t think you can compare your situation to mine,” Jessica says, a little sharply.
“No, of course not. And that’s where I was headed. I know this must be extremely difficult for you, and I just want to say that I appreciate the way you’ve been so gracious and generous with Zack’s time. It means the world to Lily.”
“Lily is a wonderful child.”
“Yes, she is.”
The sound of her name or maybe the turning of the car makes Lily stir. “Are we home yet?”
“Nearly,” I say. “I just pulled onto your street.”
“Will you stay the night again, Daddy?”
“‘Again’?” Jessica fixes me with a laser-like stare.
“That only happened because you were sick,” I tell Lily.
“Well, can we have a sleepover?”
“No, honey,” I say. “I need to sleep at my place.”
“With me,” Jessica adds. Unnecessarily, I think.
“Well, maybe you can get in bed with Mommy Quinn and me again, and read me a bedtime story. You’ve done that lots of times.”
In the rearview mirror, I see Quinn’s face flame. I avoid looking at Jess, even though I can feel her glare burning a hole through me. “Not tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Well, Jessica’s in town, so I’ll spend the evening with her.”
“But I’m your little girl!”
“Yes, and I enjoyed spending the day with you.” I pull into Quinn’s driveway.
“We’re home! Do you think Ruffles will be glad to see us?” Quinn asks Lily.
“Yes!” Mercifully, Lily goes along with the change of subject. “She’ll be so glad she’ll do her wiggle dance.”
“Is that like the penguin walk?” I ask.
Her dimple flashes. “No, silly!”
I laugh and climb out of the car to hug Lily good-bye. Jessica gets out, too.
“Would you like to come in?” Quinn asks.
“No, thanks. We’d better be going,” Jessica says.
The two women exchange a stiff hug. Jessica leans down and kisses Lily, and Quinn gives me an awkward embrace.
“Talk to you soon!” I call as I climb into the car. Jessica is already back in the passenger seat, her face like a summer squall.
I start the engine and back out of the driveway. “Before you say anything, let me explain.”
“Oh, please do.”
“I told you Lily had a stomach bug.”
“You neglected to mention you spent the night.”
I put the car into drive and head down the street. “About one in the morning, I told Quinn I’d stay up with Lily and she should go to bed. She was exhausted, and I was worried about her getting sick herself since she’s pregnant. I slept in the living room with Lily.”
Jessica huffs out a harsh breath, then sits silent for a moment, her arms crossed. “So what was all that about being in bed with Lily and Quinn?”
“The next evening, I dropped by after work to see how Lily was.”
“Hold it right there.” She raises her hands. “You ‘dropped by’?” She makes air quotes with her fingers. “You couldn’t have just called?”
“She’s a little girl, Jess! Phone calls aren’t the same as a visit. Besides, I wanted to see her.”
“Of course you did.”
I ignore her icy tone and turn the car onto Magazine. “Lily asked me to read her a bedtime story. She crawled into her bed—it’s big; double- or queen-sized or something—and I got on one side of her, and Quinn got on the other. We each read three little picture books, then we listened to her prayers. It was perfectly innocent.”
“And you’ve done this multiple times?”
“Well, yeah.”
“If it was so innocent, why didn’t you tell me about it?”
“Probably because I didn’t want to go through a scene like this.”
She blows out a disgruntled sigh. “And watching the DVD of Quinn’s ultrasound? When did you do that?”
“One evening after Lily was in bed.”
“So you stay and talk with Quinn after Lily’s asleep?”
“Sometimes. Not for very long.” Even to my ears, my voice sounds defensive.
Tears spring to her eyes. “I wanted to watch our baby’s ultrasound with you.” Her voice is jagged as broken glass. It cuts my heart to hear it.
“I know, Jess,” I say softly. “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
We drive in silence for a moment. “Was it amazing? Seeing the ultrasound, I mean.”
“You couldn’t really see anything.”
I feel her looking at me. “You’re not a very good liar.”
“Seriously, you couldn’t see much.”
“But you heard the heartbeat?”
I nod.
Her head sinks back against the headrest. “God.”
She knows I hate it when she uses the word like a curse. “It put me in mind of him, yes.”
“Oh, Zack!” She puts her elbow on the car door, then rests her head in her hand. I know she’s crying.
I don’t know how to console her. I can’t think of anything that will make this better for her, other than saying, Let’s try for a baby with a donor egg, and I won’t do that. I don’t want to have a donor child with her j
ust because she’s learned I already have one—not to mention another on the way. Insecurity, jealousy, and revenge are not good reasons to have a baby.
And then there’s another factor, one I hate to acknowledge, but it’s there all the same: every baby needs a loving home, and this marriage doesn’t feel like one.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Zack
Sunday, June 2
I DIDN’T CHEAT on my wife at church, but I come home feeling like I did.
I left her a note: Decided to go to church. It’s not something I do all that often, but I go every now and then, and I usually do it on my own because Jessica’s not big on organized religion.
Instead of going to my usual Presbyterian place of worship, I went to the Methodist church where Lily goes to Sunday school and Quinn volunteers in the nursery—the church where Lily was baptized, and where Quinn will no doubt have our baby christened.
I told myself I wanted to see the building, to be able to picture them going there when I was in Seattle. But the truth is, I wanted to see them, period.
When I arrived, I discovered the church is large, the Sunday school rooms are in a different section of the building than the sanctuary, and there are three separate worship times. I was keenly disappointed to realize I was unlikely to see them unless I set out on a deliberate search. I restrained myself. I attended the worship service and told myself it was for the best that I hadn’t encountered them.
But then, in the narthex, I spotted Quinn in a summery floral dress. Lily was beside her, wearing a white dress with yellow daisies appliquéd or embroidered or something around the neck. Lily saw me before Quinn did. “Daddy!” she exclaimed.
The amount of joy in that single word made it sound as if I were a veteran returning from a long war. People turned and grinned as Lily ran toward me.
I’m not much for scenes, and Lily was creating one. And yet—how wonderful to have someone so thrilled to see you! Quinn smiled widely, too.
I picked up Lily but kept my eyes on Quinn. The fact that she seemed happy at my unexpected appearance pleased me far more than it should have.