Chapter 15

Over a breakfast of gummy oatmeal and a tasteless boiled egg, Emma paged through Rachel’s journal, looking for the end of her pregnancy. She found it just four days past the wedding entry. The ink was heavy and dark, and the pressure of Rachel’s ballpoint had cut through the paper in some spots.

Wednesday 10/27/93 AMWell, God must REALLY have a sense of humor. I lost the baby yesterday, while I was still on our honeymoon! It started with some spotting, and then cramping that got worse and worse. I didn’t tell Evan at first because I didn’t want to spoil our day at the museum. But when the blood started gushing, we had to rush to the hospital there in Chicago.

So I lost my baby on a stretcher in an E.R. hallway, with Evan clutching my hand so tightly that I thought my fingers would bruise each other. When a doctor finally saw us, she said, “You were only at 12 weeks. Sometimes these things just happen.”

These things just HAPPEN? You marry someone when you’re not ready and then you lose the baby on your honeymoon?

I don’t even know what to feel. I wasn’t ready to be a mom, and there’s this tiny part of me that feels… okay, relieved. Relieved that I can just focus on getting my degree. Relieved that no one else has to know.

But at the same time, I feel like my heart’s been torn out. I didn’t even realize until yesterday how much I loved my baby.

Evan looks devastated, but I can tell he’s trying to hold himself together for me. He seems afraid to touch me, but I can feel him watching me constantly out of the corner of his eye. He’s waiting for me to cry, to show some sign of being a normal human being.

I haven’t shed a tear. It’s not like me at all, but I just can’t. It’s like I’m stuck in a dream, the kind of nightmare where you’re frozen in horror and can’t make a sound.

I’m furious. Livid. I just don’t know who to be mad at.
 Tuesday 11/2/93 PMThis is not the life I planned for myself. I still can’t talk to Evan. The other night I asked if he’d had any thoughts of getting a divorce and going back to med school—didn’t this whole thing feel like a huge mistake?

When I saw his face, I wished I could take it back. He looked stricken, as if I’d actually slapped him. He held my eyes, peering deep inside my ugliness. After a long pause, he said, “No.”

I tried to apologize, but he said it was better to know how I felt. And then he rolled over in bed, his back forming a wall between us.
Since then, I guess I should have said more, somehow mended the wound, but I have enough pain of my own right now. I don’t have the energy to carry his, too.
                 Friday 11/5/93 PMWe’ve been avoiding each other. He watches TV for hours and hours until he falls asleep, and he stays on the couch until morning. And I lie awake in our bed, wondering how I can find my way out of this mess, or how I can make myself love him.

“Mom?”

Emma jumped so hard that she knocked over her empty orange juice glass. She looked around the now empty lobby and shook her head to clear her shock. How could she have thought that Rachel had the perfect life, everything she’d ever wanted?

“Mom!” Andrew repeated, waving a hand in front of her eyes. “Are we gonna stay here all day? My Gameboy just died.”

“I’m sorry, honey. I was just… Come on. We’d better get back on the road. I don’t even want to think about what Trixie may be up to out in the car.”

***

The steady rain matched Emma’s mood, which only grew darker as they struggled to load their wet dog back into the carrier at each stop. Muddy paw prints decorated her sweatshirt, and the stink of sodden dog hair permeated her nostrils. Andrew had moved to the front seat to keep her company, but he’d drifted off 70 miles ago, and now she wanted to join him.

She mulled over the latest journal entries, trying to reconcile Rachel’s miserable marriage with her statement in the first entry Emma had read: that she was married to her “sexy best friend.” So far, there was no clue as to how Rachel and Evan had turned their marriage around. According to her journal, Rachel had thrown herself into college after the miscarriage, and her pain had evidently subsided, but her feelings toward Evan hadn’t changed.

If they had found happiness, maybe there was hope for her own marriage. As the miles rolled past her dirty windshield, she let her mind wander back to the time she’d met Joe.

About three months after Rachel’s wedding, Emma was working as many hours at the bank as she could squeeze in around her full-time course load. When she wasn’t working, she was studying; when she wasn’t studying, she was sleeping.

She had a few acquaintances in her classes, but there was no time for a social life, and that was fine with her. But then Joe walked into her spring tax accounting class and took the seat next to hers. What she noticed first about him was that he was always laughing, and seemed to consider it his mission to make others laugh with him. She was a tough case, but he was determined to overcome her soberness.

When he joined her study group, Emma gradually started to enjoy his company. Who knew you could have so much fun studying tax laws?

She said yes the third time he asked her for coffee, and after that they had coffee after nearly every study session. From the beginning, she saw the way Joe looked at her, but she pretended not to notice, and she was careful not to give him any hope that she might share his feelings.

After a year, he abruptly left the study group. One of the other students told her he was dating a freshman and was probably too busy to study with them. Emma was surprised how much she missed their weekly chats, and even more surprised at the stab of jealousy when she saw him with his girlfriend.

When he walked into the coffee shop they both frequented a few days later, she ducked her head and rushed out the door. Although she was on the verge of tears, she slowed down when she heard his footsteps on the sidewalk behind her, and she stopped when he laid a hand on her arm.

She turned to face him, but her eyes never left her boots.

“Hey,” he said. “I’ve missed you.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“Okay, you’re right. But I’ve still missed you.”

At his kindness, anger overwhelmed her. She brought her eyes up to his face, glaring. “I guess you’ve been too busy with your… freshman… to miss me.”

“You’re jealous!”

Emma wanted to slap the triumphant grin off his face. “No, Joe. I’m angry. Why did you just blow off our study group without a word to me? I thought we were friends.” The tears that had been pooling spilled over, and she dashed them away. “Well, it was good seeing you.”

He grabbed her hand before she could get away. “I wanted to be more than friends, Emma. I think you know that. I got tired of waiting for you to notice me.”

“So you decided to make me jealous?” She tugged against his hand, but he didn’t let go.

“No, I was trying to forget you. But it didn’t work. She doesn’t hold a candle to you.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, she’s cute, but you… you’re beautiful and smart and strong and….” He stepped closer and touched her cheek with his free hand. With his lips just brushing hers, he whispered, “…everything I ever wanted.”

His kiss was soft and warm, and his arms around her made her feel as if she belonged. She felt safe, sheltered from hurt and rejection.

Bitterness contorted her features now. She’d been wrong about Joe. His betrayal had ripped away her security, leaving her cold and utterly alone.

Her cell phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. She glanced at the screen and then back to the road. It was an Indiana area code, but not her mother; it had to be Darren. She flipped the switch to vibrate and set the phone in the cup holder.

I guess I’m not perfect either. She drew in a deep breath and blew it out forcefully. She’d start over with Joe. She’d leave the past behind like all these miles slipping under her wheels. And maybe she would let herself love him. 

***

When they pulled into the drive, Joe rushed out to the car to meet them. Emma leaned into him and squeezed with all her strength, inhaling his familiar scent. This had been a short separation compared to his usual business trips, yet it felt so much longer.

“Mmm, glad you’re home” he said, breaking away when Trixie pressed her paws between them. He knelt in front of her and rubbed both of her ears. “You must be Trixie. I’ve heard so much about you—some of it good.”

“Isn’t she cute, Dad?” When Andrew crouched next to Joe, Trixie put her paws on his shoulders and covered his chin in kisses.

“She needs a bath,” Joe answered.

“Can we give her one tonight?”

“Maybe later. First come inside for supper.”

“You made dinner?” Emma asked. “Thank you!”

Joe shrugged and grinned. “Don’t get too excited. It’s only macaroni and tuna.”

She kissed his cheek. “As long as I don’t have to cook it.”

***

Emma dug through stacks of linens at the back of her closet while Joe looked on. “What are you looking for?”

“This!” She tossed a cream-colored quilt onto the floor. “It’s the quilt Rachel made for our wedding.”

“I thought you said it didn’t match our décor.”

“It doesn’t. But I don’t care anymore. It reminds me of her.” She shoved her custom-made comforter off the bed and smoothed the quilt over the king-size mattress. Her finger traced an area of irregular stitching. This had obviously been one of Rachel’s earliest attempts.

She sprawled out on her stomach atop the quilt, resting her cheek against a swatch of blue cotton that she recognized from a favorite childhood dress. How many hours did it take for Rachel to sew this quilt that I hid away in the back of my closet?

“Oh, Joe! Why was I so stubborn? I didn’t even go to her wedding. And all I gave her was a toaster.”

Joe said nothing, but he sat down beside her and patted her back awkwardly. She laid her head in his lap, and he rubbed her temples. “I wish I could go back,” she whispered.

“I know. I wish I could, too.”

She knew he was thinking of his affair, but for the first time, she felt no anger over it. When he pulled her into his arms, she didn’t resist. But his hands on her body reminded her of Darren. She squeezed her eyes shut and shuddered as revulsion coursed through her. It wasn’t Joe who disgusted her, but herself.

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