by Jamie Beck
“You look a little pale, babe. Can I get you some water, or should we go outside for some fresh air?” Drawn brows framed her husband’s piercing eyes, which searched her face.
Sara beat back the image of Sondra’s gleeful smile. A smile that—unintentionally or not—had resembled Cersei Lannister’s arrogant gloat. Closing her eyes, she chided herself for the ugly thought, having never been one to belittle others to make herself feel better. Her mom had raised her better. Boy, could she use a dose of her mom’s comfort today. She should’ve pushed harder to visit with her family in Sacramento instead of coming to this reunion.
“No. I just need a second.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the ballroom doors, thinking about how her sisters would all pat her on the shoulder and then send her back in there. “I don’t want to be someone who lets another person’s happy news ruin my mood. We’re here. Let’s go back and enjoy the party.”
“There’s my Sara.” Hunter’s face, a study in patience, grinned. She knew he’d been looking forward to this weekend. He’d even taken the day off work—something he hadn’t done in almost a year.
More often than not, they’d make plans only to have him cancel because he was too busy or too tired to follow through. Rather than letting her overly hormonal body and emotions govern her mood this weekend, she’d take advantage of time together when he wasn’t glued to his phone.
“Yes. Here and ready to roll.” She stepped toward the doors, determined to withstand kid talk in order to laugh with her husband. She could do it. For their sake, she’d walk down memory lane with him this weekend, even if her head pounded and her needle-bruised butt hurt when seated on a folding chair for too long. “Let’s go. Maybe we’ll bump into Missy and Don.”
“They’re supposed to be here.” Hunter smiled and held the door for her, but then his phone rang. He peeked at the screen and grimaced. “Bethany.” He held up his hand, fingers outstretched. “I’ll meet you in five minutes, I promise.”
The last time Hunter kept a call with Cabot Tea Company’s comptroller to five minutes was never.
Life with the Cabots had been very different from her childhood. Sara’s parents, both schoolteachers, had been home for dinner every night. They’d spent their summers with their five kids on camping trips and coaching soccer leagues. She’d grown up in a modest home in Rocklin, outside Sacramento. They hadn’t had fancy cars or clothes, and had been more than satisfied by modest dreams and ambition. If the Daly family had had an obsession, it was learning . . . and laughing.
She missed that slower pace and abundant warmth, especially since she’d quit her job months ago. There were lonesome afternoons, now, when she’d fantasize about what life would be like if she and Hunter lived in Sacramento instead of outside Portland. Sometimes, when she spoke with her family during their weekly calls, learning about this recital or that birthday celebration, envy would sneak up on her like a cat burglar.
When she’d moved to Portland to be with Hunter, she’d assumed they would replicate the big family she’d grown up with, but things weren’t turning out that way.
Instead of two or three children, she had none. Also, she and Hunter didn’t spend nearly as much time together as her parents spent with each other. And the Cabot family was a bit dysfunctional—thanks, in large part, to Hunter’s hatred for his stepmother. Sara loved the Cabots, but they weren’t exactly a substitute for the kind of family bond she missed.
Lately she wished Hunter didn’t take so much after his dad, who’d been 1,000 percent committed to his work. Those two thought expensive gifts and surprise trips made up for the lack of day-to-day involvement. But that tired complaint wouldn’t accomplish anything here in this atrium.
Sara waved Hunter off, forcing herself to smile and reenter the fray. Luckily, she ran into one of her favorite professors, Linda Wickham, a tough but fair woman with an amazing talent for distilling complex ideas into simple concepts. She’d been a young, enthusiastic educator who’d impressed and inspired Sara.
“Ms. Wickham!” Sara waved and offered a handshake. “It’s me, Sara Cab—Daly. Sara Daly Cabot.”
“Sara, how are you?” Ms. Wickham smiled warmly, transporting Sara back to that young college self whose future still brimmed with possibility and tantalizing unknowns.
“Great. And you? Are you still teaching?”
“Part-time. Between publishing demands and the little ones, it’s been tough to juggle everything. I’m focusing on editing my upcoming book about brand building.”
The professor’s energy hadn’t ebbed with age. Most people here would be mainly impressed by, and interested in, her publishing journey. Sara wasn’t most people and would rather hear more about her personal life. “You married, then?”
“Several years ago.” She glanced at Sara’s left hand. “I see you did, too. It’s difficult to balance work and home life, isn’t it? And more than a little frustrating that it’s still mostly a female problem.”
Sara let the assumption pass without comment. “Of course, although currently I’m between things. I used to work for a major retailer in brand management, thanks, in part, to how much I enjoyed your class.”
“You’re sweet.” Ms. Wickham lightly touched Sara’s arm. “I’m sorry you’re the victim of this tough retail economy.”
Sara recoiled, horrified that her favorite professor thought she’d been let go. “Oh no. I chose to step back . . . for personal reasons.”
“I hope you’re not sick.” A look of concern crossed the professor’s pleasant face.
“Nothing like that,” Sara assured her, now wishing she hadn’t said anything. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d had a conversation with another woman in her thirties or forties that didn’t, in one way or another, lead to the topic of children.
“Well, enjoy your time off. The pressure to ‘keep pace’ with your peers can be high, but there’s a lot more to life than one’s career.”
Sara knew that much. Hunter, on the other hand, didn’t appear to agree. A problem he wouldn’t even acknowledge. She glanced over her shoulder for some sign that he’d returned to the party. “It’s so great to see you. Best of luck with your book. I’ll keep an eye out for it.”
“Thank you. Enjoy the weekend, Sara.” Ms. Wickham nodded before strolling deeper into the crowd. The popular professor didn’t get very far before another former student stopped her.
Part-time work. Perhaps that’s what Sara ought to have done rather than quit. She’d been convinced that work stress had been affecting her ability to get pregnant. Six months later, she could no longer blame her former job for her childless status. Now she was bored and stressed.
Without thinking, her hand settled on her abdomen. Please respond! She pleaded with her follicles on an hourly basis. Last time she’d gone through this process, the doctor had transferred three embryos, but none had taken root in her womb. This time she prayed for a better result.
Sondra’s return jarred her from her foggy thoughts. Beside Sondra stood a tall, reedy man who must have been Fred. Neither good- nor bad-looking, Fred had a kindness that shone in his warm brown eyes.
“Sara, this is Fred,” Sondra gushed. “Fred, Sara is one of my favorite Pi Phi sisters.”
“Fred, lovely to meet you. Hunter and I are sorry we weren’t able to make the wedding.” Sara shook his hand, smiling. She hoped her grin didn’t look as sickly as she felt at that moment, as a sharp cramp wrenched her belly.
“Where’s Hunter?” Sondra glanced over Sara’s shoulder.
Sara had always thought Sondra had a little crush on Hunter back in school. Of course, lots of girls had. He was singularly handsome, intense, and full of energy. His confidence had made him larger-than-life and very exciting. These days his current priorities overshadowed those other traits. “Business call. He should be back soon.”
“What’s his business?” Fred asked.
“Cabot Tea Company. His father founded it. He’s the CFO.”
&
nbsp; Fred shuddered jokingly, grimacing. “Finance.”
“Fred’s a tech geek, what can I say?” Sondra possessively looped her arm through his.
“And you?” Fred asked. “What’s your passion?”
Passion. Something she hadn’t thought about in a long time. Not with respect to a career or her marriage. For the past couple of years, she’d been on a mission, ticking off a series of boxes that included exercise, nutrition, medication, acupuncture, regulated sex, and prayers. Before she realized what had happened, all that planning and agonizing had crowded passion right out the door. She hardly recognized herself these days. Unrealized dreams left only a weak, smoky trail where there used to be fire.
She wanted it back in the worst way, but maybe it was like toothpaste that had been squeezed out of the tube. No way to get that stuff back in there.
“I worked in marketing.” The wine she couldn’t drink might have made this tedious party more palatable. Another uncharitable thought. She blamed the hormone shots. One more thing standing between her and “normal.”
“Sara’s now a stay-at-home wife like me.” Sondra smiled. “She’s not pregnant. But maybe soon? Then we can go through it together!”
Fred smiled congenially. “Or maybe Sara is just happy rejuvenating the soul.”
Sondra giggled, then tipped her head, brows raised in question. “Do you get bored?”
Fred’s eyes widened above a grimace as he shook his head at his wife. Sara laughed aloud because that was just so, so Sondra.
“I’m working with my sister-in-law, Colby, at her nonprofit organization, the Maverick Foundation, while I consider my options.” Sara hoped that would end the conversation. Where the hell was Hunter? Five minutes had come and gone at least fifteen minutes ago. “We’re focused on issues like homelessness and battered women. It’s been an eye-opener, an endless effort to fund-raise. Missy Frazer actually made a generous donation just last week.”
“Fred and I would be happy to contribute,” Sondra announced, as Sara had hoped she might. She recalled Sondra’s competitiveness during sorority fund-raisers and suspected she wouldn’t like to be outdone by Missy.
“That’s wonderful, Sondra. You can donate directly through our website, if you’d like. The Maverick Foundation dot org.” Judging by the rock on Sondra’s finger and the way Fred seemed otherwise wrapped around it, Sara guessed Sondra would use the donation to make a statement. Hopefully, a five-figure statement.
“We’ll look it up tonight.” Sondra nodded and patted Fred’s arm.
“Excellent. Thank you, both. Colby will be thrilled.” Sara cast another glance toward the doors. “Hunter, too, whenever he returns.”
“I’m sorry I missed meeting your husband. Maybe at the game tomorrow.” Fred shook Sara’s hand again. “Sondra, we really need to get moving. We have dinner plans in an hour, and I’d like to swing by the hotel.”
“Okay.” She clutched Sara in an awkward hug. “So good to see you. Hope you can make the baby shower!”
“Maybe!” Sara replied brightly, waving. Doubtful. Honestly, if this IVF cycle failed, she couldn’t think of something she’d like to do less than attend a baby shower.
Sara had to escape before she was cornered by another person. No more questions. No more tap dancing around why she’d quit her job. No more feeling inadequate around all the other women who’d become mothers by her age.
Maybe Hunter would take her to Chez Panisse for dinner.
She strode back through the doors into the atrium and saw him in the corner, back turned, phone glued to his ear. As she drew nearer, she heard his peeved voice above the echo of her footsteps.
“I knew Jenna would pull something after I left. Thank God you’re there, Bethany.” As if sensing Sara’s approach, he turned. “Sara and I will be back Sunday, so I’ll probably stop in the office in the evening. I’ll review your notes, and we can meet first thing Monday morning.”
Sara cleared her throat.
“Listen, I’ve got to go. We’ll catch up later.” Hunter hit the “Off” button and stuffed his phone in his pocket. “Everything okay, babe?”
“No.” Sara shook her head. “You said you’d be back in five minutes, yet there I was dealing with uncomfortable questions and speculation for twenty minutes at a party you wanted to attend.”
“Sorry, it couldn’t be helped. Jenna’s pulling reports that she usually wouldn’t give a shit about. Bethany overheard that Pure Foods officially opened some kind of dialogue with my dad. I can’t believe this sale might really happen. It’s going to take everything I’ve got to stop it.”
Sara understood her husband’s frustration. Ever since he’d been a young kid, his dad had promised Hunter that he would run Cabot Tea Company someday. He’d forgone other job opportunities and planned his career around that promise, but now his stepmother was pushing to sell the business. Still, Hunter had made a lot of money over the years, and given his stake in the company, he’d also benefit from a sale.
“If the worst thing that happens is that you get several million dollars or more from a sale, is that so terrible? You could start your own company or buy an existing one. There are lots of options that would put you in control.” Unlike her, who didn’t even have control of her own body. A humbling reality.
“I wish you understood how important this is to me.” Disappointment edged his voice.
“And I wish you could look at the bigger picture. If I get pregnant, it’d be great to have you home more often.” Her parents would’ve been thrilled for a payday that let them spend more time together, and with their kids. She and Hunter were young. They could take time to travel first, then he could start his own company or consult and work from home. Flexibility would enable him to be part of the day-to-day parenting. Together they’d set a foundation of love and commitment for their children and build the happy family she’d always wanted. “Doesn’t the idea of spending more time with me and our child hold any appeal?”
He blinked, jaw slack, as if she’d spoken Farsi or some other language he didn’t understand.
“I love you, and I’m happy to start a family, but I’m not about to be a stay-at-home dad.” Without another word, he clasped her hand and tugged her out of the building.
“Where are we going?” She stumbled in an attempt to keep up with his long strides because he still had a tight grip on her wrist.
Hunter brought her back to the center of the glade, surrounded by the benches he’d purchased as some kind of memorial to them.
“Am I not exactly the same person I was the day we met?” Hunter’s handsome face could look quite fierce when he got defensive. His alpine cheekbones, square jaw, and aquiline nose intimidated. Those see-through hazel eyes flashed from soft to assessing at a moment’s notice. He was the only man she knew who could look that formidable while wearing glasses.
“Aside from being older?” She tugged her wrist free. On the grass, she noticed the shadows of the new benches forming a dark wall around them.
“Naturally, Sara.” His arms stretched out from his sides. “I don’t understand why you’re so impatient with me lately. I’m the same guy who chased you down here. Who took you for pizza at Zachary’s that first night and told you my dreams for the future—a plan that included growing my family’s business and legacy. The same guy whose dedication to that goal has never wavered.” His hands dropped. “If anyone in this relationship should be frustrated, it’s me. You’re the one who’s changed. You used to have lots of dreams, not just one. You used to smile and laugh and want sex for something other than getting pregnant.”
That last remark smarted the most. “Excuse me if I don’t think ambition is the only, or most important, goal in life. If I were you, I wouldn’t brag about the fact that you haven’t changed at all since we graduated. Most adults evolve, Hunter.”
Her husband stared at her. She’d hurt him, and she regretted it immediately. In his way, he loved her. She knew that. And yet she’d been so dazzl
ed by him early on she hadn’t seen that his first true love had been CTC. He had a connection to that company that went beyond normal ambition. Maybe because it had been where he’d bonded with his father after his parents’ divorce. Or maybe it was just in his blood.
It didn’t matter, really. She suspected Hunter felt most at home in his office, not with her.
He’d deny it, of course. But she couldn’t deny the fact that she’d been growing lonelier in this marriage as the years wore on.
They stood there, sunlight fading in the late afternoon, the bells of Sather Tower playing a song, stirring up old memories. Hunter lifted his face toward the sky. He closed his eyes, listening to the music until he lowered his chin and looked at her. “You think I came here because of some Peter Pan fantasy of being twenty again?”
“Honestly, Hunter, I don’t know why it was so important that we come to this homecoming.”
“I did this for you.” He gestured to the benches. “All of it, for you. I’d hoped being here would remind you of what we have together and get us back on track.”
“I don’t need grand gestures.” She stepped closer, wishing her intense, beautiful man would really hear and understand her needs. She set her hands on the hard muscles of his broad chest. “I just want you to be present.”
He stepped back and then scrubbed his hands through his hair. “I am present! I’m doing everything in my power to give you the baby you want.”
“The baby I want?” Sara looked at the ground. He didn’t even hear how that sounded, did he? He’d call it semantics, but if he wanted a family, he would’ve said the baby “we” want. Actually, he wouldn’t have said it at all. He’d feel the same desperation she felt. He’d hurt from seeing other couples starting families, too. “And you wonder why I feel like I’m in this alone.”
“I don’t want to argue.” Hunter closed his eyes again and breathed deeply through his nostrils. When he opened his eyes, he remained still and unsmiling. “When’s your next shot due?”
“An hour.”