by Susan Fox
“Seven. He’s been offered a promotion, to a job in commercial lending that he’d really love to do.” She gazed steadily across the table at him. “It’s in Winnipeg.”
“Winnipeg?” Manitoba was one hell of a long way away. What would he do without them? Rose, Henry, even teenaged Andie who was always happy to baby-sit Jessie.
“He says he’ll turn it down. But if he does, he won’t likely be offered another opportunity. Not at his age. We just don’t know what to do, Wade.”
He scrubbed his face with his fingers, trying to think. It was his job to look after his family, not Rose and Henry’s. They had their own lives, their own needs. Trying to work this through, he asked, “Is it just Miriam that’d keep you here?”
“You three. Yes. Caribou Crossing is a nice town and we stayed here because it’s a good place to raise kids. But we don’t love it the way Miriam does. Henry and I like city life, and we’re getting older. Our son’s in college in Vancouver, our second daughter’s married and settled, and as for Andie, I’m pretty sure she’d love to move someplace with shopping malls and more activities for teens.”
“You’ve been here how long?”
“Seventeen years.”
“That’s a long time to be in a place you don’t really love.” He tried to imagine living without the wide-open land and ever-changing skies that nourished his soul, the community where everyone knew everyone.
“It is,” she said firmly. “But Caribou Crossing is your home. It’s where Miriam and Jessica belong.” She raised a hand and scraped silvered brown hair back from her face. “If Miriam was healthy, I think we would move. We’d plan to visit often. Very often. But she’s not well and the thought of leaving her . . .”
She was saying that he couldn’t look after his wife. That he couldn’t honor the vows he’d made on his wedding day. And she was so damned close to the truth that it shredded his pride as painfully as if he’d run into barbed wire. “When would you go, if Henry took the promotion?”
“The job starts at the beginning of June. That’s not much more than a month off. He’d go out first, and I’d pack up the house, finish out the teaching year. Andie would finish grade nine.”
His in-laws had thought this through. Well, of course they had. It was the promotion his father-in-law had long wanted, and the kind of life that would make both of them happy.
“Have you mentioned this to Miriam?” he asked.
“No. We haven’t told any of our kids. I wanted to discuss it with you; then Henry and I will talk again. If we stay, there’s no need to tell our children about the job offer.”
Wade blew out air on a long exhale. What would Miriam say? If they asked her today, she’d burst into tears and cling to her mom. But later, when she was back on her feet . . . “If Miriam was healthy,” he said slowly, “she wouldn’t let you make such a big sacrifice for her.”
“She’s our daughter. You’d do the same for Jessica.”
He nodded. He’d do anything for Jessie. And for Miriam. But his wife was strong and capable. She would heal, and once she did, she’d find out what her parents had done. She’d feel guilty; she’d be mad. Mad at her mom and dad, and mad at Wade for letting them do it.
“I think you should go.” The words came out heavily. How would he manage? How could he take on anything more? But he had to do the right thing.
“Really?” Something lit in Rose’s eyes, like a spark of hope she hadn’t before allowed herself.
“Really.” This could work out. It had to. “You’ll still be here for two months. We’ll be able to manage then.” They’d have no other choice.
“Miriam will be feeling better. Her body’s healed now, and she’ll get over her depression. And if you still need help, I could always stay another few weeks.”
He’d hate to ask it of her, but it was nice to know there was a fallback.
“I’d feel like I’m abandoning her,” Rose said softly.
Wade knew that feeling. It hung on his shoulders every morning when he drove Jessie to school, leaving Miriam curled up in bed. It crept under the covers with him at night when he slid in beside his wife and realized that, for yet another day, he hadn’t seen her smile. But then, he felt abandoned, too. When Miriam looked at him, her gaze was distant, like she didn’t see him; when he hugged her, he held her body but her spirit was missing. Things had to change, though. As everyone said, time healed wounds, even if scars remained.
He sighed and reached over to touch Rose’s hand. “Think how she’d feel once she gets better if she found out what you’d given up. Think how upset she’d be.”
Her lips opened in surprise. “Oh! I hadn’t thought of that. Thank you, Wade, you’re right. That’ll make Henry feel so much better.”
She rose, came over, and leaned down to hug him from behind. That maternal embrace was affectionate and comforting. He pressed his arms over hers, where they circled her neck. He wasn’t a boy and she wasn’t his mom, but for the moment his mother-in-law’s hug felt pretty darn good.
“You’ll look after Miriam,” she said. “Ever since you first started dating, I’ve known you would look after my daughter.”
Yeah, like he’d done such a great job of it so far. “I will, Rose,” he assured her. “I always will.” Even if it meant working twenty-four/seven to keep the ranch afloat, put food on the table, get Jessie to and from school.
Quick footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Rose straightened. “That’s Jessica.”
“How do you want to tell Miriam about the transfer?”
“Let’s wait a while. Until she’s stronger. She won’t find out from anyone in town because she’s not returning her friends’ calls.”
Used to be, Miriam loved getting together with her girlfriends for lunch or an occasional girls’ night out, and she’d come home bubbling with stories. Now, she wouldn’t even talk to them on the phone.
Jessie trotted into the kitchen. “Is it dinnertime? Mommy says she’s not hungry.”
Rose stood. “When I cook dinner, people eat. I’ll go get her. Then I need to get home to Henry and Andie.” She hurried out of the kitchen.
Jessie pulled the milk container out of the fridge and poured three glasses. “Daddy, when can Ev come out again? I miss playing with him.”
To his surprise, Wade missed the boy, too. The kid might be odd, but he grew on you. “I know, but right now your mommy’s not up to company.”
“We’d be quiet.” Jessie put on her best wheedling tone. “We’d even do homework.”
He smiled for the first time that day. She was so normal. She really didn’t understand the loss they’d suffered and she was so wrapped up in her own life. He tugged affectionately on her ponytail. “Sure you would.” Who knew, maybe Evan would be good for Miriam, too. He certainly wouldn’t create more work. He always more than pulled his weight when he was around. Maybe the kid would set up a jigsaw puzzle. Miriam used to enjoy doing those with him.
Besides, Jessie was entitled to be happy even if her parents were going through a rough patch.
“We’ll get him out here again just as soon as your mommy’s up to it,” he promised.
Life would get back to normal.
Soon.
Chapter 10
July 1995
Miriam rested her forearms on the handle of the grocery cart and studied the shopping list again. Last year, she’d have had a mental list of what they needed and remembered everything. Now, even a written list was confusing.
She’d bought milk, now she was way over in the produce aisle, and the next thing on the list was butter, which was back near the milk. Oh well, she’d get it later. The next item read “desserts.” Like a dim memory, Miriam recalled bustling about the kitchen, kneading pastry dough, blending cream and sugar, spreading chocolate frosting. Sneaking a taste, imagining the pleasure on her husband’s and daughter’s faces as they ate the treats she baked.
The idea of making a pie or cake seemed as impossible as . . .
She refocused on the list. Dessert. She’d buy ice cream and cookies.
“Miriam!” A female voice made her turn to see Connie Bradshaw, bright and pretty in denim shorts and a pink tank top, holding a bag of peaches. A kindergarten teacher, this was summer holiday for her.
“Hi, Connie.” Belatedly, she remembered to smile at her old friend.
“I haven’t seen you in ages.” The petite brunette cast a quick up-and-down gaze over Miriam, making her realize that she hadn’t changed out of the sweats she often wore at home.
“No, it’s been a while.”
“I called, but . . .”
Connie’d left messages. Other friends had, too. “Sorry, I’ve been busy,” Miriam said.
“It’s okay.” There was concern, a question, in Connie’s eyes.
Now that Miriam was coming into town again to shop, she of course ran into people she knew. Some mentioned the miscarriage, but others didn’t, probably figuring it best they didn’t remind her of it.
As if it wasn’t the single biggest thing in her life, the heavy dark blanket that weighed her down so that she could barely manage to get through each day.
“I’m meeting Jane and Frances for lunch,” Connie said. “Why don’t you come?”
Lunch. She used to do that when she was working at the vet’s office. Meet up with girlfriends for lunch. She was supposed to be doing the things she used to, supposed to be getting back to normal life. That was what the doctor said, and her mom, who called every day from Winnipeg, and Wade. They were always nagging her to do things, to try harder, to heal faster. Even Jessica, always at her to come see her foal, to read a story together at bedtime. So much pressure.
But she loved Wade, Jessica, her mom. She tried to do what they wanted, even though it felt like she was plodding through quicksand every day, trying to make it all the way to bedtime without sinking. Then she could take the pills the doctor had prescribed and sink into blissful oblivion.
“Miriam? Come on, join us for lunch.”
If she did, she could tell Wade and her mom. It would make them happy. “Okay.” She began to push her cart toward the checkout.
“Wait a sec.” Connie stopped her and took the milk out of the cart. “I’ll put this back. It’s so hot out, it’ll go sour in your car. You can come back to the store after lunch.”
“Right. Thanks.”
They both paid for their groceries and Connie helped Miriam load bags into her car. Then, swinging her bag of peaches,the other woman led her down the street. “Tourism picks up each year,” Connie commented.
Though Miriam had been coming into town for a couple of weeks now, she realized she’d never really looked around. Now she noted that there were indeed more strangers than usual on the street, many carrying cameras and wearing souvenir T-shirts with the “Caribou Crossing” road sign logo. She hunted for an appropriate comment. Making conversation had turned into an effort. It was hard to remember what she was supposed to say, and why it mattered. “That’s good for business.”
“Sure is. The town’s booming right now.”
Good. That should mean the ranch was doing well, too.
Miriam hadn’t gotten back to the bookkeeping. She’d been halfway through her course, partway through inputting figures into the computer system. No way could her brain cope with that kind of work right now. One day she’d get back to it, and in the meantime she had total confidence in Wade.
“This place opened a couple of months ago,” Connie said, stopping in front of a coffee shop called The Gold Pan. “Have you been here yet?”
“No.” It occupied the space where a rather old-fashioned gift shop had been.
“It has classy versions of miners’ food.”
As they went in, Miriam glanced at the huge sepia prints of old mining pictures that decorated the walls, and the rustic wooden tables and chairs.
Jane and Frances hadn’t arrived yet, and Miriam went into the ladies’ room to use the facilities. When she washed her hands, the reflection that stared back at her was a shock. When was the last time she’d actually looked in a mirror? And how long had it been since she’d had her sandy brown hair cut? Or washed it?
Frowning, she combed her hair vigorously and, finding an old scrunchie of Jessica’s in her purse, fashioned a ponytail. Pulled back, her hair didn’t look so lank. At least her face was tanned from working outside in the vegetable garden. She added lip gloss and thought she didn’t look too horrible.
But when she saw her three former classmates chatting around a table, she knew she didn’t measure up. They looked young and fresh in pretty summer clothes, their hair gleaming, their faces bright and animated. In comparison, Miriam, at twenty-seven, felt like a middle-aged hag.
Well, she’d lost a child. She’d lost her uterus, damn it. Let them go through that and still look young and vibrant.
Their conversation stopped when they saw her coming. They’d been talking about her. Of course they had.
She took a deep breath and tried to get a grip. It wasn’t healthy to resent other people’s happiness, or to get angry when they pitied her. Her focus was supposed to be on getting healthy. So she forced a smile. “Hey, girls, it’s great to see you.”
“You, too, Miriam,” Frances said. A striking blonde, she wore a lovely blue sundress, no doubt from the clothing shop where she worked.
Jane, tailored and professional with her short, stylish auburn hair, sleeveless white blouse, and tan linen pants, nodded in agreement and asked tentatively, “How are you?”
“Okay. Fine. Keeping busy.”
Looking relieved, Jane said, “That’s great. Just great.”
They were all silent for an awkward moment; then Frances grabbed a menu. “Have you been here before? They have some fun things.”
“I haven’t. What do you recommend?”
“The skillet sourdough bread’s terrific. So are the soups and the native greens salad. If you want hearty, the chili is amazing.”
“I’m starving,” Jane said. “Chili for me.”
Miriam used to know what hunger felt like. Now, she ate because she knew she had to. After listening to the others’ selections, she chose the same thing as Connie: the salad with a side of skillet sourdough.
Orders placed, there was another moment of silence. It was because she was there. No one knew what to say around her. Before anyone could ask her a question, she said brightly, “Tell me what you’ve all been up to.”
Then, rather than let herself drift off into a fog, as so often happened, she forced herself to concentrate and offer the occasional comment, as she also forced herself to eat every tasteless bite of food.
Jane, a lawyer with a firm in town, had just gotten engaged to another lawyer, and when they married in the spring, they would set up their own practice together. Connie and her husband of two years were planning a holiday in Hawaii at Christmas break, and trying to decide between Maui and Kauai. For the past few months, Frances had been dating a man who lived in Vancouver, traveling down for long weekends and holidays, and she was thinking about getting a job there.
Their lives seemed so fun, so exciting. They had dreams; they were so enthusiastic about everything; they had so much to look forward to. Miriam was the same age as them. Why didn’t she have any of that? Even before she lost the baby, all she’d done was work, ever since they’d moved out to Bly Ranch.
“You’re not back at the vet clinic, are you?” Jane asked. “I took Libris in last week and Mrs. Christian was at the desk.”
Dr. Christian was holding Miriam’s job for her. His mom was filling in, though she really didn’t want to work full-time.
“Not yet,” Miriam said. “Soon, though.” It was the same thing she told Wade when he asked. She’d enjoyed the job, used to come home full of stories about the pets and their humans. It felt like years ago. Like she’d been a different woman. Now it took all her e
nergy to make it through the day, what with meals to prepare, housework, the garden.
Her energy was coming back, though. Slowly. Her enthusiasm for life would surely come back, too.
Her love for Wade would—No, what was she thinking? Her heart raced and she put a hand to her chest, pressing against that wild flutter. Of course she hadn’t lost her love for her husband. She would never stop loving him. Just like she’d never stop loving Jessica, or her parents or siblings.
It was just that love, right now, was more of a knowledge than a feeling. She knew she loved her family. She knew she loved sunny mornings and wild strawberries and riding across open meadows. She just didn’t feel it. Not physically, not emotionally. Her mind recalled what it was like. How sometimes it was a warm glow that settled deep in her bones, and other times an overpowering rush that filled her heart and brought tears of joy to her eyes. Surely one day she’d experience that again.
And yes, sometimes she did resent Wade and Jessica. Not just for the demands they made on her, but for the way they carried on with life as if there’d never been a baby. As if she hadn’t lost her ability to have children. As if she weren’t a hollow shell.
That was why she couldn’t feel, couldn’t taste, couldn’t even focus on a task. She was a shell, a dry husk. Empty. Empty but for grief, resentment, anger, guilt.
Everyone said there was nothing she could have done to save her baby. But she knew differently. She should have known something was wrong. Should have gone to the doctor earlier. And even if her poor tiny boy was doomed, she wouldn’t have needed a hysterectomy. One day, there could have been other children. But she’d been stupid, irresponsible. She hadn’t paid attention to the signs her body was sending her. It was her fault.
All her fault.
Did Wade blame her? He was so careful with her, like he was tiptoeing on eggshells in his Roper boots. She was never sure what he was thinking. Of course, even when he did talk to her, she had trouble focusing on what he was saying.
Speaking of which . . . Damn. She’d completely tuned out her girlfriends. This was what always happened. She tried to concentrate, but then her mind turned inward and she lost the drift of the conversation.