“So let’s get serious for a minute.” Tara clicked her pen above the notepad on her lap. “November’s too cold for an outside wedding, and since you don’t want to go the church route, Noelle, how about having it at my house? We have the room. Everybody might not be able to sit down for the ceremony, but there’s tons of space.”

“And I can do some of the cooking,” Emerson added, “and—”

“I don’t want you two to go to any trouble,” Noelle said. Being married in Sam’s house after all that had passed between them made her feel squeamish. “You’ll both have new babies, and trust me, any spare minute you have, you’ll want to sleep.”

“Oh, let us do it.” Tara brushed away the protest. “You know we’ll love every second.”

Ian looked at Noelle. “I like the idea of having it at Tara and Sam’s,” he said. “We can pay to have someone move furniture around and clean up before and after. And you can wear whatever you want.”

“No, she can’t,” Tara said. “Em and I will take her shopping. If I see her walking down the aisle in one of her old skirts, I’ll—”

“There’ll be an aisle?” Noelle interrupted. “I don’t want an aisle.” She didn’t. She didn’t want all that attention focused on her.

“It’s a figure of speech,” Tara said. “You can be married in front of our fireplace.”

It was a nice image, Ian and herself in front of the fireplace, their hands joined, their friends surrounding them. She was surprised when her eyes misted over at the thought. “Well,” she said to Tara, “why don’t you check with Sam about having it at your house,” she said. “Make sure it’s cool with him.”

“Oh, it’ll be fine with Sam,” Tara said.

Noelle wasn’t so sure. Her relationship with Tara had deepened during the months of prenatal care, and she’d discovered that the intimacy she always experienced with her patients was even more intense when that patient was a close friend. But things still felt a little strained between her and Sam. They were improving as he became more and more involved in the pregnancy, but she knew he had reservations about her being their midwife. Not that he didn’t trust her skills—he did—but he seemed uncomfortable being around her in any sort of emotional situation. He never said as much, of course; they didn’t talk that openly to each other anymore. It was that “not talking” that told her of his discomfort. She missed him and she blamed herself for the distance between them.

She was reminded of that night on the beach in every small twisting motion she made with her back and in the sleepless nights when her muscles tightened up and wouldn’t let go. She needed more medication to get through the day and—as long as she had no possibility of a delivery—even more at night. Her mounting dependence on the drugs scared her. Right now, right as she was sitting in her living room planning the wedding, she had a welcome Percocet buzz going on and she didn’t know how she would be able to function without it. How much of her pain was physical and how much emotional, she wondered, borne of a guilt and a longing that wouldn’t go away?

It was time to make it go away.

“You know what?” she said now to Ian. “I don’t care how we do it. Whatever you want is fine with me. I just want to be your wife.”

“Yay!” Emerson clapped her hands together.

“That’s the spirit!” Tara said, and jotted something down on her notepad.

Ian smiled at her, pink coins of surprise on his cheeks. “Would you consider the church, then?” he asked, pushing.

“Yes.” She gave him an emphatic nod. “You want the church? We’ll do the church.”

What did it matter? She wanted to marry Ian. She loved him as much as she knew how and she would do everything she could to make him happy. With any luck, in a couple of years they’d start their own family. For now, though, as she sat there with a man who adored her, her two best friends and enough drugs in her system to ease the ache in her back, she felt something approaching contentment, and that was more than she could ask for.



36

Emerson


Wilmington, North Carolina

2010

What the hell was I going to do?

I’d wanted Suzanne’s party to be special, but I was so wrapped up in what I now knew about Tara and Grace that as people arrived and began eating and drinking and laughing and talking, I felt as though I was experiencing the whole thing underwater. I saw faces, but they were blurry. I heard words but couldn’t make them out. I wanted the night to be over, and more than anything, I didn’t want to be alone any longer with what I knew. I moved through the rooms torn between heartache and indecision. What was I going to do?

People seemed to be having a good time. Everyone was gathering around Suzanne, making toasts and cracking jokes and celebrating her fifty hard-earned years, but even if my mind hadn’t been full of Grace and Tara, I would have been miserable. The party, with so many of the babies-in-need volunteers present, reminded me too much of the gathering after Noelle’s memorial service only three weeks earlier. Three weeks that felt like a lifetime. Things were moving too fast for me. I had the feeling that everything was spinning out of control.

Ted walked toward me where I stood between the living and dining rooms, a drink in his hand. He rubbed my shoulder. “Nice job, Em,” he said. “You holding up okay? I know you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“I’m fine.” I smiled at him. At least, I hoped I was smiling. I had no idea what I was doing. I felt drugged by exhaustion and anxiety. I hadn’t slept at all the night before, and when I’d told Tara that afternoon that I wanted a nap, it had been a lie. I’d only wanted to get away from her. I couldn’t look at her. It was like knowing your best friend was going to die very soon and you could do nothing to stop it and nothing to warn her.

I was kicking myself for digging into Noelle’s past. For not tossing out that carton of cards and letters like Ted had suggested. I could still do it. Throw away the letter, the articles, the record books. I could make this nightmare go away. All I had to do was keep my mouth shut. But I knew I could never live the rest of my life with this secret.

Grace and Tara had arrived early so that Tara could help me put the finishing touches on everything. There’d been a sheet of ice between the two of them and I sensed Tara’s frustration over not being able to break it. Obviously, Grace hadn’t forgiven her for… What had Tara done? Thrown away Sam’s mug? Oh, that felt like such a small thing. Such a tiny, inconsequential thing. Yet Grace was still angry. She’d barely said hi to me before running upstairs to Jenny’s room, while Tara met with the caterer and the bartender and I moved woodenly through the house, pretending to be busy.

Now the kids—Cleve, Jenny and Grace—were all upstairs. They’d put in just enough time with the adults to be polite before disappearing. Jenny was sniffling with the hint of a cold, but seemed otherwise fine, though I knew she was upset Devon wasn’t there. He was traveling with his family for the long weekend. Cleve had grown even more handsome in his month and a half away from home, if that was possible. But it was Grace I’d had my eye on, of course, as I examined her features, searching for a trace of Tara or Sam in them. She looked beautiful. I’d never thought of that word with regard to Grace before. Adorable, yes. But beautiful? Yet her strapless red dress hugged her body perfectly. It wasn’t provocative, but it exposed the gentle slope of her small breasts and Cleve’s gaze kept darting in that direction. Her hair was a thick, sleek curtain of silk down her back, and she was wearing smoky eye makeup. Not too much, but enough to alter her features. Her eyes had always been unusual. They were brown like Tara’s, but when you looked closely, you saw that they were filled with jewel-like splinters of jade. Whatever clever thing she’d done with her makeup tonight made her eyes seem greener than ever.

Suddenly, she didn’t look like Grace at all and I was upset as I tried to find the girl I loved in this new young woman. I used to think I could see Sam in her, more in her mannerisms than in her facial features. She had that same shy smile that had seemed affable and warm on Sam but made Grace look unsure of herself. Seeing her insecurity as she tried to talk to the adults at the party, the ones she didn’t know well, tore at my heart. This girl was part of us and we loved her. We’d raised her, all of us. There was no way we would let her go. No way I could allow Tara to lose her daughter right after losing her husband. She wouldn’t lose her, would she? Certainly not physically. Grace couldn’t be taken away from her mother at the age of sixteen. Although, what did I know about the legalities of such a bizarre situation? I didn’t know, and that scared me. On top of that, I thought of how Tara would feel when she realized that the baby she’d given birth to had died. What had Noelle done with that baby? I didn’t want to think about that baby girl, forgotten and unmourned.

I could keep it all to myself, I thought again. Reveal nothing. Grieve for Tara’s baby alone. Keep the truth about Grace to myself. Yet even as I considered making that choice, I was searching the rooms for Ian. I needed to share this burden with someone who cared about Tara—and I knew Ian did. Someone who’d understand the legal implications.

I spotted him chatting with Tara and a few other people in the dining room and I kept my eye on him until he moved toward the makeshift bar, where I was able to corner him alone.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about,” I said.

He raised his eyebrows. “About your conversation with Angela?” he asked.