Chapter 14

“Go on, Trixie. Into your carrier,” Emma coaxed, as the dog scrambled all over the backseat.

“Come on, girl. It’s nice in here,” Andrew said, pulling her by the collar while Emma shoved from behind. Trixie dug her paws into the worn cloth seat and refused to budge.

Ellen crowded in next to Andrew and waved a dog biscuit a few inches from Trixie’s nose. Trixie edged forward, and when Ellen set the biscuit at the back of the carrier, she climbed right in.

Andrew yanked the zipper around its track. “Pretty tricky, Grandma!”

Trixie wasn’t so appreciative. She threw herself against the mesh covering, jostling herself halfway off the seat. Andrew and Ellen muscled her back up, but she immediately lurched over the edge again. They had to lift her back up two more times before she lay down and lowered her snout onto her front paws, whining piteously.

Emma sighed. “It’s going to be a long trip.”

“Yes, it is. You guys better get going. It’s after ten already.”

“Good thing Joe isn’t with us,” Emma said. “He’d be beside himself with impatience.”

“No, if Dad was here we would have been gone four hours ago,” Andrew said.

Emma laughed. “You’re right. And so is Grandma. We need to get on the road. Give her a hug and get in the car.”

Andrew stood still, body rigid, while Ellen hugged him so tightly that he teetered on his feet. “You look after your mama, okay?”

“I will, Grandma.” He pulled free of her arms and jumped into the backseat next to Trixie, who was still whining.

Blinking back tears, Emma threw her arms around her mother. “You’re sure you feel good about driving Rachel’s car home?”

“Yes. It’s my car now.”

“Be careful.”

“You be careful too. You’ve got your sandwiches?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Did you charge your phone?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“And Uncle Robert helped you mark out the route?”

“Yes, Mom! We’re going to be fine.” She kissed Ellen’s cheek and climbed into her seat. She started the car and rolled slowly across Rachel's driveway, in sharp contrast to yesterday’s frantic getaway.

As she turned onto the road, she and Andrew leaned out their windows and waved. Her mother stood next to her new car, waving and calling “Goodbye!” But the crunch of the gravel drowned out her voice. Emma watched her in the rear view mirror until she could no longer make out her tiny, waving figure through the cloud of dust.

After nearly two hours of silence, aside from Trixie’s occasional whimpers, Andrew surprised Emma with a question. “Is Aunt Rachel in heaven? That’s what Aunt Karen said.”

She glanced over her shoulder but could barely see him. She weighed her words before answering. “I’d like to think so. She and Evan were good people.”

“But don’t you know?” The disappointment in Andrew’s tone made her wonder if he expected her to know everything.

“No, Andrew. There are some things we just can’t know for sure. I wish I had a better answer for you, but…”

“Aunt Karen seemed pretty sure about it.”

“Yes, she has a strong faith. But she doesn’t really know what happens when we die.”

“I hope I go to heaven when I die.”

Emma wished she could give Andrew the assurance he sought, but all she could honestly say was, “I hope so too, Andrew.” But I’m afraid this life is all I have, and now I’ve ruined it.

He was quiet for several miles, perhaps pondering the afterlife. Emma wondered again how Rachel had come to her faith.

***

Despite her mother’s warnings about rest stops, Emma pulled into one in Hammond. She figured Trixie needed a break by now, and none of the gas stations they’d passed had enough grass to walk a dog.

She held Trixie through the carrier’s cloth walls while Andrew struggled to hook on the leash. When he unzipped the opening the rest of the way, Trixie leaped out and nearly knocked him down.

They ambled around for several minutes as Trixie investigated all the enticing smells, leaving drops of urine every few feet.

“Come on!” Emma urged, her eyes darting back and forth as she surveyed the lot for menacing thugs. Trixie stopped short, snatching something off the pavement.

“It’s a cigarette butt,” Andrew said. “Get it, Mom!”

Emma dropped to her knees and tried to squeeze open Trixie’s jaws, but Trixie twisted out of her grasp and swallowed noisily, and then licked her chops.

“Gross!” Andrew shrieked, but Emma could see he was pretty impressed.

“Dumb dog,” she muttered. “If you puke in the car, I’ll… leave you by the side of the road.”

“No she won’t. We wouldn’t leave you,” Andrew assured Trixie as he ruffled the fur on her head. 

Trixie finally finished her business, and they wrestled her back into the carrier.

“Can we eat our sandwiches here?” Andrew asked as soon as they’d caught their breath.

Emma eyed a rusty white V.W. van just pulling into the lot. “No, we’ll eat them on the road. Get in.”

***

Emma didn’t think of Darren until they stopped for gas at 2:00. Had he gone to Rachel’s house to look for her? She knew she'd made the right decision about going back home, but surely she owed him some explanation.

She hung the gas nozzle on its hook and locked Trixie in the car, and then went inside the station where Andrew was filling a basket with junk food.

Admonishing him not to go anywhere, she latched the heavy door of the filthy bathroom and fished Darren’s business card from the bottom of her purse. Leaning against a grimy wall, she clenched her sweaty palms to stop their trembling. But then her hand shook so violently that she had to dial the number twice.

She heard his voice after the second ring. “You’ve reached Darren Funkhauser, your source for every real estate need. Your call is valuable to me…”

Emma’s initial relief gave way to panic. She hadn’t prepared a speech, but it was too late to hang up now; he’d see that she had called. The voicemail message beeped in her ear.

“Hi, this is Emma.” She cleared her throat. “I was just calling to tell you… I’m sorry about what happened yesterday. I didn’t mean to… give you the impression that… What I’m trying to say is that now is not the time for… complications. I enjoyed spending time with you, but I can’t see you again.”

A knock on the door made her gasp. “Mom?”

“Just a second, honey.” She backed away from the door and cupped her hand around the phone. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. I’m headed to Texas with my son. So… ’bye.”

She dropped the cell phone into her purse and sank onto the toilet seat. Burying her head in her hands, she breathed deeply until her heart rate slowed. Why do I feel guilty for doing the right thing? Do I owe Darren anything?

When Andrew knocked again, she pulled herself to her feet, wiping her eyes with her knuckles. “I’ll be right out.”

***

The shouts of laughing children bounced off the low ceiling of the hotel’s pool room. The voices and the splashing were oddly muted, and Emma felt far removed from this cheerful scene.

Andrew stood over her plastic lounge chair, dripping onto Rachel’s journal. “Are you sure you won’t get in with me? Please?”

“No, the water’s too cold. And I don’t want to get my hair wet before bed. You go on and play with the other kids.”

Andrew hesitated. “Sure you’re okay, Mom?”

“I’m fine, honey.” She half stood, kissing his cheek with a theatrical smack. He wiped the kiss off, glancing around furtively to check for witnesses.

After scanning the room for suspicious characters, Emma sat back in the rigid chair and found her place in the journal.

                Wednesday 9/15/93 PMI told Evan about the baby today on our lunch break. Poor guy, he was so excited that I finally wanted to talk to him, but then I laid that on him. We sat on a crate next to the loading dock, and it’s a good thing we were sitting because I think he almost passed out; all the color drained from his face.

“Are you sure?” he whispered. I described the plus sign on the test. At least he didn’t ask me if it was his.

“Well?” I said. He said he needed to think….                 Thursday 9/16/93 PMAfter I wrote last night’s entry, around 11:30, I heard a tapping on the window over my bed. I opened it, and there was Evan about to toss another stone. I tiptoed down the stairs and sneaked out the front door, where he was now waiting (looking like he’d been summoned to the principal’s office).

I sat down beside him on the steps, our shoulders touching. I could feel him trembling, and my heart went out to him.

“I just had to come talk to you,” he began. “I haven’t stopped thinking about what you told me, and I know what I want.”

He turned to face me, and touched my cheek. “I want to marry you. I’m sorry I waited so long to tell you, but I do love you, Rachel. I know we haven’t been dating very… well, at all. But I don’t need any more time to know you’re the one I want to spend my life with. I’ll do whatever it takes to take care of you… and the baby.”

Once he paused for a breath, he seemed to notice my silence. “Well?” he said.

I told him I needed to think. I gave him a hug and tiptoed back to my room.

I’ve thought and thought, but I still don’t know what’s right. I don’t want to commit my whole life to someone I barely know, let alone love. Still, I want my baby to grow up with a mother and a father—like I had before Dad died.

I suppose adoption is an option, but I don’t know if Evan would agree to that, or if I could go through with it. I can’t even think about abortion, and I’m glad Evan didn’t suggest it.

But what about my college plans? And Evan’s? And what about Emma? I’ve been telling myself she’ll forgive me when this thing with Evan blows over, but if I marry him? That’s forever.

Emma’s face heated with shame at the idea of Rachel worrying over her reaction while grappling with the biggest decision of her life. She wished they could have talked through the options together. Even more, she wished Rachel’s prediction had been wrong, that their separation would not really last forever.

She glanced at her watch and the nearly empty pool and closed the journal. “Come on, Andrew. Time to go!”

Andrew pretended not to hear, which was ridiculous given the size of the room. “Andrew Montgomery!” she hollered. “Get out of this pool right now!”

He pulled himself onto the edge. “Aw, Mom! It’s still early.”

“It’s nearly ten. The pool closes in five minutes. We need to get back to the room anyway. I hope Trixie hasn’t chewed through her carrier.”

They found Trixie still inside her carrier, but at the other end of the room, and a lamp lay on the floor next to its nightstand.

“How did you get over here, girl?” Andrew asked, rivulets of water streaming down his legs onto the carpet. Trixie’s tail whipped against the fabric cage, and she tried to run to him, rolling the carrier like a hamster ball.

“So that’s how you did it,” Emma said, stopping to return the unharmed lamp to its place. “Why am I getting a bad feeling about you?”

When Andrew knelt and unzipped the carrier, Trixie jumped into his lap, covering his face in sloppy kisses. Why doesn’t he wipe off her kisses? Emma wondered.

Another hour had passed by the time they showered, took the dog out, and called Joe. Emma knew she should get in bed so they could get an earlier start tomorrow, but she couldn’t stop thinking about Rachel’s journal in her overnight bag.

                Wednesday 9/22/93 AMEvan and I are getting married in a month, just after my birthday. At least I’ll be 19 instead of 18.

I’m still not positive this is the right choice, but Evan has an answer for every objection. He dropped out of college and found a job at the trailer factory, and he found an efficiency apartment, all bills paid. He says we can afford it as long as I stay on at Martin’s. And he wants me to go ahead and start college next month.

“What about med school?” I asked.

He said that would have to wait for now. He assured me this is what he wants, that his life is not about his career.

I hate to see him make such a huge sacrifice, but it does make me feel loved. It’s just not the kind of gesture that used to come to mind when I thought of romance….                 Thursday 9/23/93 PMI had to tell Mom about the wedding today so she could help me make the arrangements. It’s going to be really small, just the family and a few friends at Evan’s parents’ house. They have a gorgeous backyard.

There was an awkward silence when I told her the date, and I expected her to say, “Why the rush?” But all she said was, “Well, we’d better get started on our plans, then.”

                 Sunday 9/26/93 PM

Emma says she can’t be my bridesmaid! She said she’s not even sure she can get off that Saturday because the schedule is already posted.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said, but she didn’t make any promises.Her voice was icy and polite. She’s not coming. I know it.

Why does it hurt so much even though I’m not surprised? From the time we were little girls, we’ve always dreamed of being each other’s maids of honor. But now I’ll have to share that moment with someone else.

Because Emma can’t be BOTHERED to ask off work. I hate her!!

No I don’t. I miss her so much.

The paper was warped in several spots, and the ink had bled out. Emma’s own tears dropped onto Rachel’s tearstains. She thought back to that phone call, when Rachel had so casually announced her engagement.

Even before she asked the question, she knew the truth by the cold stone in her gut. But hearing Evan’s name on Rachel’s lips was like a kick in the stomach. She pictured them running around behind her back all this time, probably laughing over her stupid crush.

The lie about her work schedule rolled off her tongue without a thought. There was no way she’d watch Rachel marry Evan. At that moment she hated Evan, hated them both.

She’d closed the door on Rachel that day, stuffing all her pain and humiliation into a dark corner deep inside. And then she walked away without a backward glance, resolving never to let Rachel close enough to hurt her again.

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