I could see his eyes welling up, and I knew that this hurt so badly because I loved him so much. It felt impossible. I was pretty sure I could never trust him again. But I also knew that I wanted to be with him—although being with him would be forever, unalterably changed. There was no good answer here. It made me feel sick.
“When I figured out what I had really done,” James said, “when I realized that the entire world was going to know that I had destroyed my family, it was like I was running headfirst into a moving train and I couldn’t jump off the tracks to get away. I had to convince myself that I was in love with her, that love had made me do this horrible thing.” He sighed. “Otherwise I had thrown my whole life away for absolutely nothing.”
It was something. But I wasn’t sure it was enough. I knew I could find someone else, probably pretty quickly. On paper, he would probably be as good as James. But in my heart, I knew that no one else would ever measure up. I would spend my life comparing every man with the one I had fallen so hard for. Young love is only for the young. Nothing else compares.
James took my hand across the table and said, “I know you have no reason to trust me, Caroline. But if this horrible couple of months has done anything, it has reaffirmed that you are the one and only love of my life. We were made for each other, and I’ve known since the day I met you that I don’t deserve you. But I promise you that I will never hurt you again.”
I closed my eyes, took a sip of champagne, and tried to let his words sink in, tried to let them fill up some of the emptiness that I felt. But I knew already that it would take more than words to fill up the holes.
We skipped dessert after a peerless meal, and James said, “So we have an hour and a half until we pick up Vivi from the movie.”
He looked at me questioningly.
I took my last sip of champagne, and I knew it was probably too soon. I knew it was something I might regret. But it might be exactly what I needed.
Because as much as I loved James for his heart and his head, the physical had always been a big part of our relationship.
“You are,” he said, kissing my neck as my dress fell to the floor, “even more beautiful today than you were when I met you. Even more than before the babies, even more than the night I first laid eyes on you.”
I finally kissed him. It felt like something opened up inside me, something that had been closed for a long time. As he whispered “I love you,” I felt like one day, someday, I might be able to say it back.
TWENTY-NINE
the zookeeper
ansley
The St. Timothy’s youth group has for the last twenty-six years earned all of the money it needed to take its annual ski trip by “flocking.” Flocking is a tradition that makes the decorator in me cringe and makes the rest of me laugh. The youth group puts dozens of plastic pink flamingos in someone’s yard. In order to get the flamingos out, said person has to make a donation and then has the option of paying an additional amount to have the flamingos put in someone else’s yard.
My house has been flocked every year that I’ve lived in Peachtree. And for good reason. I don’t pay to have one person’s yard flocked. I pay to have ten. I have to. Because if my yard was flocked and then the flamingos showed up in Mr. Solomon’s yard immediately afterward, he would know I did it to him. Our deal is that the youth group randomly flocks Mr. Solomon’s somewhere in there. Sometimes it’s the tenth yard, sometimes the seventh, sometimes the fourth. It irks him to no end, which brings me an endless amount of joy. I get to be a fly on the wall when he is out there shaking his cane at those kids and his little dog is barking at the plastic pink birds.
Now I wished I could be a fly on the wall at the Beaumont family vacation to the Cloister. Caroline had just called for the nine-hundredth time to check on Preston, and she sounded happy. But that could have been because she was going to go play tennis for the first time since the baby. Or it could have been because, although Emerson is the professional, Caroline is a fabulous actress. Sometimes, in fact, I thought she pushed Emerson so hard because, deep down, she wanted to be a star—she just didn’t want to work for it. Some people would have seen that as a flaw, but I never did. She never wanted to work, and she found a way not to do so. It was perfect, if you asked me.
Well, you know, perfect until the man left her.
I had Mom propped up on the couch in the living room, a pillow under her leg, and was carrying a glass of water for her, a sippy cup for Adam, and a bottle for Taylor. Taylor was too old for a bottle, but Sloane couldn’t quite gear herself up to wean him, and I thought it was probably OK for her to take a break on this one thing. I could see the weariness of being away from her husband starting to take its toll on her. And she had a long, long way to go.
I was thrilled that one of her summer friends, Natalie, had called to say she was in town. Sloane didn’t want to go out to dinner, but if I had to see her in those sweatpants and that T-shirt one more time, I was going to scream. Caroline had said not to worry. She would schedule an intervention. I had held her off for a couple of weeks, but this was Caroline. She would intervene on the sweats situation sooner rather than later.
I had followed Sloane up to her room and said, “Please go to dinner with Natalie, sweetie. You need to get out of the house and have some fun.”
“But the boys . . .”
I gave her an offended look. “The boys are with their grandmother—and their great-grandmother.”
Sloane laughed. “Yeah. That’s great. So you can take care of Grammy and the kids. Sounds like a blast.” She paused. “OK. I guess I could go. I’ll call her back.”
I was a hypocrite. I knew that feeling of not wanting to go out and make the effort. I knew firsthand that it was easier to sit at home and eat Lean Cuisines. But I also knew that when you did go, you almost always felt better when you got back.
I had thought in the back of my mind that Emerson might help me. But she’d said, “Please, Mom. I’m going out.”
Oh, that helpful, helpful girl. I was fairly certain that I would never get a grandchild out of that one; however, I was pleased to say that although she was still on the concerning side of thin, Emerson had gained some weight. I bet she could actually conceive a child if she wanted to—maybe.
So here I was. Friday night. Mom. Adam. Taylor. This wasn’t necessarily difficult, except for the fact that Taylor was absolutely everywhere. The boy was in constant motion, as they always are at that age. There was no way to contain him, so I had to chase him around the house while also attempting to entertain Adam.
I had made Adam these colored tongue depressors with magnetic strips on them and given him a big bowl of paper clips. “You put the paper clips with the same color as the tongue depressor on the magnetic strip. See?” I placed a blue on the blue, a red on the red, and so on.
There was no end to what you could do with a glue gun.
“Okay, Gransley!” he said excitedly.
I turned to run after Taylor and said, “Mom, call me if he needs me.”
Thirty seconds later, she called, “Ansley!”
I grabbed Taylor, who wiggled and squirmed the entire time, and ran back into the living room. “Everything OK?”
“I sure would love a spot of ice cream with a bit of chocolate syrup.”
Wow. Really? I glared at her as Adam said, “I want ice cream! I want ice cream!”
“Oh, no!” I said. “The ice cream has gone night-night already. And we are getting ready to go night-night, too!”
Mom said, “What do you mean it has gone night-night? I just saw it in the freezer. Are you feeling all right?”
This was the thing about my mother. One moment she seemed sharp as a tack, and the next she wasn’t sure of her own name. I didn’t know what was going on with her, but I was quite certain that the doctor Scott took her to had missed something. She fought me on it every day, but I would wear her down eventually. She was going to that neurologist.
I shook my head. “Later,
Mom.”
Adam let out a low scream. “I want ice cream!” he said, banging his fists on the floor. “I want ice cream right now!”
Great.
“Adam,” I soothed. “How about we go get into the bath, and Gransley will let you eat one of your special Popsicles in the tub? Wouldn’t that be funny to eat it in the tub?”
I laughed delightedly, holding my breath. The Popsicles were really some concoction that Caroline had made since she was on this disgusting diet. They were made of spinach and berries and green powder mixed in the blender and frozen. I think they were supposed to be dessert. She was probably going to kill me for giving them to the kids, but I was dealing with one tantrum at a time right now.
Taylor squirmed out of my arms and promptly ran over to the bowl of paper clips, dumped them onto the floor, and started kicking them all over the living room with his feet. It was actually shocking how far they were spreading. What was not shocking was that Adam started wailing again and pushed his brother onto the floor, and then they were both wailing.
“Ansley!” Mom shouted. “Could you please get them out of here? This noise is giving me a horrible headache.”
I don’t know what happens to people when they get old, but I hope it never happens to me. It’s like you lose all sense of respect and decorum. You no longer care about anyone else’s feelings or what they’re going through. It’s all about you. At least, it was with my mom.
“I’m going to get Popsicles,” I called. “Who wants to come with me?”
I had to get them to stop crying, because there was no way I could carry two screaming children upstairs and get them into the bath. So I thought I would melt into a puddle of relief when I heard “I do!”
It wasn’t the children, though. Nope. They were still wailing. It was Jack.
“I thought you might be able to use some babysitting help!” he hollered over the din. “But I see you have it all under control, so I’ll be going now.”
We both laughed, me kind of pitifully. I was so relieved.
Jack reached into a paper bag he was carrying and pulled out a yellow case with a clear top. He opened it to reveal a bunch of pieces of thick rope, all cut short. “So he can’t strangle himself or the other kid,” Jack half joked.
Adam quit crying. “Wow! Ropes!” he said.
“What do you say?” I asked.
“Thank you,” he sang.
Taylor had paused his crying for long enough to figure out what was going on, but he resumed. Until Jack handed him a level, that is. “Look,” Jack said, moving the level back and forth. Taylor was mesmerized by the green bubble.
“The best part is,” he said, “these can both go in the bathtub! So let’s go on up.”
I slid the Popsicles back into the freezer, figuring that a double crisis had now been averted. I watched in amazement as Taylor let Jack pick him up and Adam followed the two of them up the stairs.
I made Mom a bowl of ice cream and drizzled chocolate syrup on top. I walked into the living room, where she appeared to be dozing, and said, “Here, Mom.”
She looked at me like I had three heads. “What is this?”
“The ice cream you asked me for.”
“I would never ask you for ice cream. I don’t care for ice cream, and especially not that sorry excuse for chocolate fudge.”
I felt like the last couple of weeks had been categorized into good days and bad days. Today was a bad day. The worst part about the bad days was that I missed my mom. I wanted her back. I wanted her to laugh with me and give me guidance about Jack. Maybe tomorrow. But definitely not today.
I wondered, briefly, what it would be like if Carter were still here. Would we be in Peachtree Bluff? Would we still be in New York?
I’ll admit, I took my time going up the stairs. I was wiped out. I didn’t know how Sloane did this. Youth helped, I supposed, but Adam was gone so much that she didn’t have help a lot of the time. I was thankful, not for the first time, that the girls were older when Carter died. That hadn’t made it perfect, but it had definitely helped.
I could hear the bath running, and I could only assume that Jack had drugged the children, because they were sitting cross-legged on their towels by the tub. I walked in, leaned against the wall, and smiled as he said, “Where should we go on our magic carpets next?”
I was glad Sloane wasn’t there to hear Adam say, “Iraq to see our daddy!”
I couldn’t imagine how difficult that must be for these children. But they likely wouldn’t remember this particular deployment. Sloane would, though. It was hard for me to imagine that every other year of her life would be spent without her husband. But this was the life she had chosen, she was always reminding me. She knew what she was getting into when she married Adam. But I wasn’t sure that made it any easier for him to be away.
Taylor tried to get up, and Jack said, “Taylor! You’re going to fall off your magic carpet!”
And he was suddenly still again.
“Let’s take a bath in the river,” I said enthusiastically.
“Do you think there are snakes in the river?” Jack asked.
We had managed to get them both into the tub with no tears before I relaxed back, sitting on my heels, and said, “Jack, you were a godsend tonight. I don’t know how you knew to come over here, but I am so glad you did.”
I realized that having him here, with my family, was nice. It wasn’t scary and it didn’t feel strange.
He squeezed my hand. “Truth be told, I wanted to see you.” He paused. “Getting to play with my grandkids was a happy coincidence.”
I could feel the blood draining from my face.
“I’m sorry,” he said, squeezing my hand again. “I didn’t mean my . . .”
He trailed off, and I heard a door slam followed by “Mooooommmmm!”
I had really had enough wailing for one night. The kids were plenty. I wasn’t sure I could deal with Emerson, too.
“We’re up here, honey,” I said.
She appeared at the bathroom doorway so quickly she must have sprinted up. “Mom!” It was then I realized this was an excited wail, not a devastated one. Whew!
I patted the floor beside me. “What’s the good news?”
This daughter of mine was so emotional. I wondered if I had babied her too much after Carter died, if I had overcompensated for his death by spoiling her, trying to make up for her lack of a father with too much of my own time and attention.
“Em!” I heard Sloane call.
“Up here!” She was still grinning.
“Have you told her yet?” Sloane asked, slightly out of breath.
I looked at my watch. “You’re back already?”
Sloane shrugged. “I said I’d go out for a drink. I had a drink. I got dressed, I wore shoes, I even wore lipstick. It was a big deal.”
I smiled and shook my head, secretly thankful that she was home. “So what is this news?”
“Mom, I’m up for a role. A big, huge, giant role. Biggest of my career in a real, big-screen movie.”
I gasped. “No!”
“It’s such a good opportunity for her, Mom,” Sloane chimed in.
“Well, great! Take it.” I was so excited. Emerson deserved this.
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” she said. “Because there’s a catch. I have to do Playboy.”
I could tell that Jack was trying not to laugh, while my mouth was hanging completely open. You’re supposed to try not to run your children’s lives, but sometimes you must intervene. “Emerson Murphy, under no circumstances are you going to be in Playboy.”
She put her hands on her hips and said, “Oh, no, Mom. It’s not what you think. It’s a promotion for the movie.”
I could feel the utter shock on my face. “I don’t care if it’s to end world hunger, you’re not posing for Playboy, and that’s final.”
I looked at Jack, who was now having trouble controlling his laughter.
“But Mom,” Emerson said. “It
will be a wonderful bonding opportunity for us.”
I cut my eyes at her. “What do you mean, ‘for us’?”
“The movie comes out next Mother’s Day, so they thought it would be cool to do a mother-daughter spread. We’ll be partially clothed, and you look so great, I figured it would be fun.”
I could feel now that my face was completely on fire, and I was having trouble taking breaths. Jack was laughing in earnest now.
No words. There were truly no words.
“Look,” Emerson said softly. “I know it’s kind of out of the box for you, but this is major for me. I mean, it’s a real, big-screen movie, for heaven’s sake. They are going to run layout ideas by us, and it will be totally tasteful.”
“Ansley!” Mom called from downstairs. “I’m ready to go to bed now. Can you come get my pajamas on and move me in there?”
I felt like I might faint. I don’t know how the words came out, but I heard myself call, “Just a minute, Mom!” Then I said, “You can’t be serious, Emerson. This is . . .” I didn’t finish, because I didn’t know what it was besides totally preposterous.
Jack helped Adam out of the bath as Sloane said, “Looks like this is all settled. I can’t wait to see the spread. I’ll go help Grammy.”
“This is going to be so good for my career,” Emerson was saying, following me as I followed Sloane.
I made my way to the landing, towel still in my hand, still too stunned to speak.
“I really appreciate your being so on board with this,” Emerson said, as she walked down the steps behind her sister.
My mouth hung open, “Emerson, I did not say—”
“I was totally wrong,” Sloane was saying. “I thought she’d have a fit.”
“But I . . .” I started, but I was having trouble finding the words. I couldn’t tell if all the blood was in my head or if all the blood had left it, but I couldn’t formulate thoughts. I was trying to say, But I am having a fit. Can’t you all hear me? It was like the bad dream where you’re opening your mouth to scream for help, but nothing comes out.
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