Chapter 24

The next evening, Emma made herself a tuna salad sandwich with everything she liked, for once: chopped apples, a handful of dried cranberries, and a few chopped walnuts. “Mmm,” she breathed as she took the first bite. But she soon forgot the sandwich as she read Rachel’s next entry.

Monday 10/4/99

While Ana was cleaning the chalkboard in detention today, I sat down in Javier’s desk on the front row. I cleared my throat and said, “Ana, I’m going to ask you something, and I hope you’ll feel comfortable enough to answer me. But I’ll understand if you don’t.”

She stopped scrubbing and asked warily, “What is it, Miss?”

She didn’t turn to face me, but I plowed on, breathing a silent prayer. “I talked to your teachers from last year, Ana. They all said you were quiet and that you seemed happy. And Mrs. Freemont said you were one of her best students.”

Ana shrugged, still facing the chalkboard.

“So what happened? I know eighth grade can be a tough year, but… Did something happen, maybe something at home?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, spraying the section she’d just finished and jerking the cloth across the clean surface.

“I’m sorry if… I guess it’s none of my business,” I said. When she didn’t answer, I went back to my desk and tried to work on my lesson plans.

She didn’t speak again until she’d finished both boards. Then she sat in a desk in the back row, just in front of me. “It was trouble with my sister,” she mumbled. “I don’t think you’d understand.” She gestured to the picture of me and Emma arm in arm at the prom. “That your sister?”

“Yes, it is. That’s Emma,” I said. Suddenly I had an overwhelming urge to tell her about our rift. I doubted she’d have any interest, but I just couldn’t keep quiet.

“I know a lot about sister trouble,” I began.

When I told her what happened at the prom, she raised her eyebrows in disbelief. Picking up the prom picture, she studied it theatrically. “You mean you stole her boyfriend? No way.”

I laughed. “Come on. What are you saying?”

“She looks like a model, even in that awful dress. Not that you aren’t pretty too, Miss.”

I felt myself blushing. “It’s okay. I know what you mean. I couldn’t believe it myself when Evan noticed me. Even though I knew she would be devastated, there was a part of me that was so flattered. For the record, though, he wasn’t her boyfriend.”

A twinge of guilt hit me. “Still, I knew how much she liked him. She probably thought she loved him, even.”

“I bet she was really pissed, huh?”

“I think she still is,” I said. I told her how I’d been thrown together with Evan at Martin’s, and how we ended up married (omitting a few details).

I told her about Emma’s refusal to forgive me, and about her stiff, proper thank-you notes when I gave her the wedding quilt and the baby blanket. I cried when I told her about the baby blanket even though I knew she’d probably use it against me. I wasn’t prepared for her reaction.

Two tears coursed down her cheeks. “You have to keep trying, Miss. You have to make her understand.”
 So how do I keep on trying? Every time I call Emma, she’s too busy to talk. When I try to arrange time together, she always has an excuse.
Why does this hurt so much? I thought I’d moved past it, or at least gotten used to it.
                 Tuesday 10/12/99I can’t stop thinking about Emma. Even though things are so much better with Ana, I don’t feel happy. There’s a constant, dull ache underneath everything I do, and when I stop to think about it, it swells into a crushing pain that almost strangles me.

I’ve been thinking about the betrayal Emma must have felt—maybe still feels when she sees us together. All this time, I’ve told myself she was being unfair, immature. Maybe she was, but I’m sure I would have felt the same way. The fact that Evan wasn’t her boyfriend probably didn’t make it hurt any less. It might have even made it worse; she couldn’t really be mad, at least not at him. And she must have wondered why he picked me instead of her.

I surely realized all this at the time, but why didn’t I feel much sympathy? Maybe it was because she was always the one guys looked at. I guess I wanted her to know what it felt like to be the invisible one.

Oh, God! What can I do to make this right?
 Sunday 10/17/99I tried to call Emma yesterday, though I had no idea what to say. Joe answered the phone, and he was painfully polite. “It’s good of you to call,” he said. “I’ll be sure to give her your message.”

But she didn’t call back. I knew she wouldn’t, so why does it hurt so much? Help me let go of her, God. No, I don’t want to let go of her. Just help me let go of the hurt.

Emma closed the journal and tried to take another bite of her rather stale sandwich. It formed a hard, dry lump that was nearly impossible to swallow. She pushed her plate away.

Why hadn’t she returned Rachel’s call? She remembered telling Joe over and over that she just hadn’t gotten around to calling, until he gave up asking. Shame flooded her face, just as it had then.

***

“What’s bothering you, Emma?”

Emma kept her eyes on the rusty hues of the autumn leaves that flanked the park trail. “I’m okay. I mean, my life’s about as good as it usually is.”

Aubrey touched her arm, and they stopped in the middle of the trail. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem… I don’t know… anxious, or at least distracted.”

Emma started walking again, and Aubrey fell into step with her. Emma turned over the words in her mind and finally replied, “I’m not sure what I feel. It’s been an exhausting week, like being stuck on a roller coaster, constantly up and down.”

“So what was the up part? Did you hear from Joe?”

Emma smiled, remembering Rachel’s habit of asking questions and then trying to guess the answers. “I did talk to Joe, but that wasn’t the good part. We were talking about Andrew’s attitude and his struggles with school.”

“Oh. So what was the good part?”

Again, Emma mulled over her words, afraid of sounding crazy. “I think I may have… found God. In Psalm 139.”

Aubrey stopped and grabbed her arm. A cyclist swerved around her, but Aubrey didn’t flinch. “What do you mean? What happened?”

Emma told her about her compulsion to find the Bible from Aunt Karen and about the comfort she had felt. She’d now read the chapter so many times that she could practically quote it.

“It said God knows me, that He knows where I am and what I’m doing. And that he knit me together in my mother’s womb. I felt so loved that night, and I had the best sleep I’ve had since Joe left.”

“Emma, I’m so excited for you! It’s what I’ve been praying–”

She broke off when she saw the tears gathering in Emma’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Emma sank onto a rusted bench, heedless of the bird poop. “I’m so confused, Aubrey. That night I felt so sure that God was near me, but now I feel more alone than ever.”

“Why do you feel so alone? What’s changed?”

“I just don’t see how God could love me. I don’t deserve it.”

Aubrey opened her mouth but then squeezed it shut. She waited silently, her eyes never leaving Emma’s face.

“I feel so guilty,” Emma said, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“Why?”

“I’ve hurt too many people: Joe, Andrew, Rachel. I keep hoping I’ll have the chance to make it right with Joe and Andrew, but Rachel…. There’s nothing I can do to…”

Emma shuddered, no longer able to hold back the tears. She buried her head in her hands and let the tears wash over her cheeks. Aubrey rubbed her back, warmth emanating from her hands.

Emma dragged her sleeve across her nose and stared bleakly at the houses across the greenbelt. When she spoke again, her voice was dull. “She tried and tried to apologize, but I wouldn’t even let her say the words. I withheld my forgiveness for all these years, and now that I want to be forgiven, it’s too late.”

Aubrey took Emma’s hand. “You can be forgiven. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done. God knows that we are dust, all of us. If you ask him, He’ll remove your sins from you, as far as the east is from the west.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Hey, that was Erin’s chapter.”

“Who’s Erin?”

“Erin was Rachel’s friend. She said those same verses to her when Rachel had a miscarriage and thought God was punishing her.”

“That forgiveness wasn’t only for Rachel. All you have to do is ask.”

Emma turned away from Aubrey’s gaze. “What good does it do for God to forgive me when I can’t forgive myself?”

She pushed herself off the bench. “We’d better get back, I guess.”

Aubrey’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and she didn’t speak again until they’d climbed into her car. She latched her seatbelt and slid the key into the ignition, but instead of starting the car she turned to face Emma.

“I know what it feels like when you want to say you’re sorry but you can’t.”

Emma waited quietly while Aubrey looked down at her hands, which were shredding a napkin she’d pulled out of the cup holder.

“I’m going to tell you something I’ve never shared with anyone,” she said at last.

“Please, you don’t have to–”

“When I was 22 I had an affair with the music minister at my church.”

Emma looked away but then looked back again. She could think of nothing to say, but she didn’t want Aubrey to think she was judging her.

Aubrey went on with her story, speaking quickly as if determined to get the words out before she changed her mind. “What made it even worse was that he was married to a sweet girl who'd been my friend all through high school. I don’t know why I did it, except that he made me feel so beautiful, so special. I was starved for approval after years of rejection, and when he started flirting with me it felt like a drug.”

Emma remembered how attraction for Darren had overpowered her. “I can understand that,” she interjected.

“I knew what was coming, and at first I tried to pray about it. But gradually I felt more and more uncomfortable talking to God. One thing led to another, and I finally slept with him. I hated myself afterward, but I just couldn’t stay away.

“I don’t know how long we would’ve gone on that way, but after a couple of weeks he found out his wife was pregnant. He broke it off immediately, and I went to another church.”

Aubrey shuddered. “It was horrible. I missed him. I missed her. I couldn’t tell anyone, for fear they wouldn’t love me. All these years, that shame has been burning in my gut, threatening to consume me. Even now I’m afraid you’ll despise me, make some excuse not to see me again.” She smiled tremulously.

Emma chuckled. “Maybe go to another gym, you think? No way. Katie’s too good of a Pilates instructor…. Seriously, Aubrey, I wouldn’t judge you. How could I?”

Tears glistened in Aubrey’s eyes. “Thank you,” she sniffled. “While we were sitting on the bench, and I was telling you about God taking away your sins, I realized I needed to hear that too.

“See, I never got to apologize, either. Of course I had to stay away from him, and I was pretty sure she didn’t know, so I had to distance myself from her, too. I didn’t return her calls, just vanished from her life. It tore at me to think of hurting her that way, but I had no choice.”

Aubrey took several deep breaths. "But Emma, that wasn't the worst of it. I..." She stared out the car window. "I found out I was pregnant a few weeks after the affair ended. I had no idea what to do. I wanted so badly to tell my mother, but how could I? Who would I say the father was? So I did the only thing I..."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I had an abortion."  

When the silence grew too heavy to bear, Emma unfolded a tissue from a pouch in her purse and handed it to Aubrey. “Thank you for trusting me with this.” No one else but Rachel had ever confided in her this way, and it was reassuring to know she wasn’t really alone in her shame.

“I believe I’m going to find my peace now.” Aubrey turned the key in the ignition. “And I pray you’ll find yours, too…. Now how about some ice cream?”

Emma grinned. “I was hoping you might say that.”

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