I remembered one of my friends in college talking about the Rapture, a time when people would suddenly start resurrecting to the heavens. I couldn’t understand why people would want that to happen.
Until now.
I hadn’t been quite sure how playing cards resulted in a successful fundraiser. But counting the cost of the tickets, the cost of the cocktails, and the payoff of the cocktails in loosening wallets as the night went on, it made more sense.
The young crowd was young even by my standards. Most of them were in their midtwenties, so it was a relief that, with the exception of my parents’ friends, no one would know me.
My father decided we needed to start with gin rummy because it didn’t require a great deal of serious attention. Something else I didn’t understand until the room filled with the sounds of backslapping, welcome-hugging, laughter of every variety, and a few cheers. While it made concentrating difficult, the noise meant people were actually talking to one another and having fun without television screens or even their cell phones.
I also appreciated that the cacophony limited the frequency and topics of conversation at our table. We’d about exhausted our supply of mundane, trivial, and nonexplosive topics when Dad mentioned again about Laura working for him. “Olivia, in a few weeks you can decide if you want to go back to Houston, live here, or”—he paused as if he’d just heard the celestial choir singing in his ear—“my gosh, you’re free to do whatever you want. Travel to all those places you’ve always wanted to visit.”
“Sure,” I said, breaking the deck in two to shuffle the cards. “I could join Ruthie and her buddies as they see the world.”
Ruthie shook her empty beer bottle in our waiter’s line of vision. He nodded and disappeared. “I don’t know about that. I might have to get permission, because I’m not sure all the ladies want a beautiful young woman around their male friends. Could you imagine? Between the two of us, we’d about have the market cornered on those cruises.” She took the new bottle from the waiter. “But I do agree with your dad. You need to take this time for yourself.”
I started dealing the cards when my mom said, “You’re going to be sad for a while, but think about all the possibilities you have. Maybe this happened for a reason.”
“Somebody please tell me she didn’t just say that,” I snapped.
Their silence was deafening.
CHAPTER 51
Before the tables next to us could experience Act One of our family drama, I stood and asked Ruthie if she was ready to leave. “It’s close enough that I can walk, if you’d rather stay.”
“I’m sure what your mother meant was . . .” My father looked at her as if waiting for her cue to provide an explanation.
“Dad, don’t. It doesn’t require interpretation.”
“Scarlett,” my grandmother said softly, patting her daughter’s hand, “sometimes the reason is just because we’re human, and our bodies aren’t perfect. Do we really want Olivia to believe that God caused her miscarriage? And, really, this isn’t the time or place for a life or a Scripture lesson.” She reached in her purse, gave my father a check, and said, “Here’s my donation. I’m going to drive Livvy home. I’m not sure yet if I’ll be back.”
“Let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay?” my dad said, looking between my mother and me.
“I’m sorry if I hurt her feelings, but—”
“Maybe you could try saying that to me. I’m still standing here. But don’t bother, because I’m leaving.” I’d worn the bracelet from Ruthie, the one with Be still engraved inside it. I wrapped my hand around it to settle myself.
Ruthie and I walked to her car, neither one of us saying anything then or on the ride home. I thought of the trip Lily and I took to the Butterfly Museum when she wanted to know if coming out of a cocoon was painful for a moth. Sitting in the quiet, I imagined how peaceful being in a cocoon must feel. Sheltered. Protected. I could hibernate for months, and when I was ready to emerge, I could fly. Wherever I wanted to go.
“Do you want me to come inside with you?”
“Thanks, but I’ll probably treat myself to a pint of ice cream, a good book, and an early bedtime. Sorry our date turned out to be such a bust.” I leaned over and kissed Ruthie on the cheek. “I love you.”
“And I love you.” She reached over and hugged me. “Call me tomorrow. Maybe we do need to talk about taking a trip together. While I’m still young enough to look like I could be your sister.”
I smiled. “You know, that’s the best idea I’ve heard in a long time. I’ll talk to you later.”
I changed into scrub pants and a T-shirt, and on the way to the kitchen, a text from Evan popped up on my phone. I’ll be back one day next week. Would like to see you. Will call.
Was I ready to see him? I didn’t know. As long as I was pregnant, the idea of falling back into a relationship with Evan seemed improbable, if not impossible. At least from my perspective. But now? I was barely in a relationship with myself. Would the dynamics of our being together change? I was afraid of a “yes” answer as much as I feared a “no” answer.
Clearly, Olivia, if you can’t choose between Cake My Day and Cherry Garcia, you’re not ready for any kind of commitment.
But who said I had to choose? Instead of eating right out of the pint carton, I put half of each flavor in a bowl. Score one for Team Olivia.
I hadn’t checked the mail for weeks, because I couldn’t face another envelope addressed to me. But, of course, there one was. Postmarked two days ago.
Tonight I didn’t have to silence my anger and frustration. I shook the letter at the ceiling and, with all the energy I had left, I shouted, “Stop. Whoever you are. Stop sending me these letters. Why are you doing this to me? I hate these letters, and I hate you.”
This time, I didn’t bother going to my bedroom. I opened it while I sat at the kitchen table.
Dear Olivia,
Remember the day I asked you to marry me?
We were having lunch under our favorite oak tree along the lakefront. I asked you to close your eyes and keep them closed until I told you it was time to open them. And you were full of questions. What’s going on? Why are you doing this? How long am I supposed to keep my eyes closed?
I kept saying that you just needed to trust me. I would never set you up to hurt you. And if I asked you to do this, you had to trust that I had a good reason. You wanted to put your hands over your eyes, but I said no because I knew you well enough to know that you would figure out a way to peek through your fingers.
When you opened your eyes, you saw rose petals scattered all around you, and I handed you one red rose that I’d tied your engagement ring to. And when I proposed, Colin walked up and snapped our picture.
I need you to remember that day, how you trusted me, and what I told you about never wanting to hurt you.
Too late now, Wyatt. Too late.
You should have asked for forgiveness.
I was sleeping when my parents came home and still sleeping when they left the next morning for church.
A text from Laura woke me up, asking if I’d gone to church with my parents. She wanted to come over with someone she wanted me to meet.
I messaged back that I wasn’t in the mood to meet a new man, so if that wasn’t the motive, she was welcome.
She said she would be there in twenty minutes, and she was punctual as always. At least it was enough time for me to throw on what I wore last night and brush my teeth.
Why was she ringing the doorbell when she had a key? That very question was about to pop out of my mouth when I opened the door and found Laura with a woman about our age. A petite blonde, her hair cut almost boyishly short, and she was holding the hand of a child. He looked like he could’ve been three or four. I immediately recognized his eyes. Those startling ocean-blue eyes.
They were Wyatt’s.
Everything in front of me rippled back and forth like waves blown by the wind. I steadied myself against the door and foug
ht to focus. I heard Laura ask if they could come in, but I wasn’t looking at her. I was breathing in this little life in front of me. His dark brown hair was wavy and his bangs skimmed his eyebrows. He wore a blue plaid button-down oxford that looked like it had been tucked into his jeans at some point, the shirttail hanging out on one side. His free hand was in his pocket, and he looked from his mom to me and back again.
I invited them in, but even as I led them to the den, I felt split in half. One half of me was hurtling back to a past before Wyatt met me, and the other half looked at the future Wyatt couldn’t have imagined.
Laura introduced us to one another, though it seemed obvious whom we were meeting. When she finished, I said, “What I don’t understand is how the two of you are here together.”
“Before I answer, would you mind if I settled Jake at your kitchen table and gave him something to do?” Jenny’s voice was calm; her eyes didn’t dart nervously back and forth between Laura and me, and she didn’t perch on the end of the sofa as if she could be ready to bolt at any minute. She was articulate, self-assured, and composed. Everything that I wasn’t at that moment.
She took an iPad and juice box out of her purse and held Jacob’s hand as they walked to the table. I appreciated that she didn’t engage in those mommy antics—the ones where moms, their voices dripping with syrup, speak loudly about how smart their children are to the kids themselves because they want the adults in the room to hear. Backhanded bragging.
“This is the most awkward situation I ever want to be in for the rest of my entire life,” said Jenny as she sat on the sofa. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions. I would, too. But before I start explaining, I promise you that everything I’m telling you is the truth.”
While Jenny was talking, Laura had been in the kitchen pouring three glasses of iced tea and setting out a bottle of wine and three glasses.
“I thought you had a rule about wine,” I said, watching her pour herself a glass.
“I do. I’m breaking it,” she said, and pulled a kitchen chair into the den and sat.
“I asked Laura to introduce me and Jacob. She mentioned you might be moving to Houston, and I didn’t know when or if there would be another chance for us to meet in person. Without Laura and Gary, I might not ever have known what happened to Wyatt,” Jenny explained. She glanced at the kitchen table where Jacob sat engrossed in whatever he was doing.
“I’m still confused. When and how did the two of you meet?” I asked Jenny. “And if Laura told you about Wyatt . . .” I turned to Laura. “You knew Wyatt?” It was an accusation, not a question.
“I knew about Wyatt, but I had never met him. He and Gary met a few months before your, um, wedding when they worked together at Sadie’s, that new restaurant that was opening on the edge of the French Quarter.”
Had it not been for Jacob and my not wanting to upset him, my controlled seething would have released itself in a loud angry voice. “You’ve been in my house, with my family, you and I have talked. I trusted you, and you’re just now telling me this? Who are you that you could betray me and manipulate my family? What kind of person is capable of this level of deception?”
“You have every right to be upset with me. And for whatever it’s worth, I promise to explain. I wanted you to hear the whole story from Jenny, not just from me. I’m here with her because I know she can’t answer all the questions, either.”
“Olivia, I’m not going to pretend I have any idea what you must feel like right now. I hope you can understand I wanted to tell you everything to help you feel better, not worse. Wyatt and I were never married; in fact, we were never a couple, for that matter. Until I talked to him about Jacob’s surgery, we hadn’t seen or been in touch with each other since that time years before when we were together one night. We met at a party, we ended up at my apartment, and by the time I realized I was pregnant, he had left for New Orleans weeks before.”
The woman who never loved Wyatt, who spent one night with him, had his child. His son. I loved him, spent years with him. I had nothing. Whatever memories I did have of him now were tainted. Again, where was this merciful God I kept hearing about?
“When the pediatrician told me that Jacob needed his tonsils and adenoids removed because of his sleep apnea and infections, I started looking for Wyatt.”
Jacob wiggled out of the chair and walked over to his mother. He tapped her on her shoulder and, holding his hand alongside his mouth, he whispered in her ear. Jenny nodded.
“Jacob, I didn’t introduce you yet. This is Miss Olivia, and this is where her parents live. And I’m sure they do have a bathroom.” She smiled at him, and he rewarded her with a dimpled grin.
“Do you want to come with me, and I can show you where it is? That way your mommy and Miss Olivia can keep talking. You okay with that?” Laura asked.
He looked back at Jenny, who nodded, and then turned to Laura. “Yes. I go with you,” he said softly.
As they walked away, Jenny said, “His voice used to be so nasal, and he snored constantly. But both of those are much better since the surgery.”
“He looks”—I stopped to clear my throat—“so much like his father.”
I wondered if Jenny really remembered the shape of Wyatt’s face or knew about the tiny scar on his eyebrow or the way his eyes could magnetize you and draw you into his arms.
Would Jacob ever know anything about his father?
CHAPTER 52
Laura, Jacob, and his juice box went to the back deck and sat on the glider. Not being able to see him was almost as disconcerting as it had been watching him. But Jenny had much more to say, and I had much more to learn.
“It wasn’t so much that Jacob’s surgery was critical, the doctors also had questions about Wyatt’s medical information, which I knew nothing about. And, even though I was sure my insurance company would cover everything, I wanted to be honest with Wyatt about the possibility of needing some financial help. I own an event-planning business, but if I don’t work I don’t make money.”
“I can’t imagine that Wyatt was too happy to find out that you kept a secret from him for years,” I said. “Insensitive, don’t you think?”
Jenny’s eyes widened.
I waited, thinking she might fire back at me, but she just looked down for a moment, smoothing the imaginary wrinkles on her dress. I wanted to start a fight with her. To break her cool, confident composure as she sat there telling me things that destroyed my life. The conversation was surreal. I felt as if this were one of the events she had planned, and we were going over the details of Wyatt’s participation in his own death. But I couldn’t allow, for Jacob’s sake, the rage and resentment to surface.
I poured myself a glass of wine while she told me that Wyatt was angry at first when he found out about Jacob. “Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do, but it was the best right thing at the time,” she said. “It was Wyatt’s idea to come up that morning. It was important to him to see Jacob before he went to surgery, and he was confident he’d be back in time for the wedding.”
“That didn’t work out for any of us, did it?” I didn’t look at Jenny when I spoke. My eyes were fixed on Laura and Jacob in the glider. After a few sips of wine, I realized that Cabernet for breakfast wasn’t the direction I wanted to go in, and it was making my already queasy stomach worse.
Jenny didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. “If you have any questions—”
She might as well have asked me if I had a pound of flesh to share. “Are you kidding me?” I felt the heat moving up my neck, my eyes narrowed, and I heard my voice, gritty and loud. “My entire relationship with Wyatt is now a question. Not to mention that he’d probably still be here if it wasn’t for you.”
I poured my wine down the sink. Checked the time on my cell phone. I didn’t want my parents walking into this circus of tragedies. I closed the cover on the iPad that Jacob had been playing with and handed it to Jenny. “I’m entirely overwhelmed. I can’t talk anymore. I’m not su
re what you want from me. After all, you have more of Wyatt than I’ll ever have.”
Jenny slid the iPad into her purse, stood, and said, “I didn’t come here wanting anything except for you to know the truth. My business is successful. The only time I ever asked Wyatt for money was because of Jacob’s surgery, and even then, only if it was more than I could cover. I don’t expect or need money now. I thought you should know about Jacob so you could decide if you want to be a part of his life.” She pulled a business card out of her purse and handed it to me. “I could tell just by the excitement in Wyatt’s voice when he talked about you and your wedding how much you meant to him. If you decide you’d like to spend more time with Jacob, let me know. I think Wyatt would have wanted that.”
I watched her walk outside and talk briefly to Laura, who hoisted Jacob to her hips. They came inside, and I realized there was a question I needed her to answer. While Laura took Jacob to the car, I asked Jenny, “Are you the person responsible for sending me those letters from Wyatt?”
Jenny’s reaction was the only answer I needed. I could tell by the tilt of her head and the confusion in her eyes that she had no idea what I was talking about.
Laura.
Who else could it be?
Grateful my parents hadn’t returned yet, I grabbed my keys and started to head out of the house, when my stomach revolted. I dashed to the bathroom and leaned over the sink, my body shaking, my face drained of color, and I couldn’t stop the bitterness that forced its way out of my throat.
When my stomach emptied itself, I sat on the edge of the tub and waited for the nausea to pass. It was like my body didn’t know the difference between drinking too much the night before and the power of rage and betrayal. They were both equally toxic.
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