Between Octobers Bk 1, Savor The Days Series (37 page)

Maybe four. But I wouldn’t know for sure
until Dr. Grainger called.

It went without saying that I was more than
a little worried about Evan’s reaction. He’d said it outright. He
was not interested in having his own children. Mine were enough and
he loved them like they were his won.

I had yet to find an appropriate time to
bring up my potential dilemma and I didn’t know if I should, being
that I had no news to deliver beyond suspicion. And Evan already
had so much on his mind. Why upset him without cause?

He’d been getting back to the hotel later
and later—sometimes, not until two or three in the morning. They
had one week to finish filming and the rigorous schedule was why
I’d stayed home. I was getting in the way, distracting him, Sheri
said. She said Evan would kill her for saying anything to me, but
she was still calling because it really was that important. And
when I told Evan I wasn’t coming, he didn’t even sound upset.

Over the past few days, we’d been having
short, unusually open conversations. I spent most of the calls
listening to him talk to other people. He was multitasking, trying
to fit in our conversation while he worked. Something he usually
tried to avoid, but I couldn’t exactly complain since he was
sincerely trying.

During our last conversation, there was an
overtone that hinted at a general lack of interest. He was much
less animated, not at all enthused when I picked up. In the
beginning he couldn’t wait to talk, overly eager for the time to
pass and counting the days until I got to him.

Then, he stopped asking—assuming I’d be
coming and he worked rigorously throughout the visit. That didn’t
bother me so much—I understood he was very busy and his job was
important to a lot of people, but it hurt when he stopped making
the time.

I attributed the change to his lack of sleep
and all the stress, but couldn’t shake the feeling that something
was really wrong.

Every day was the same routine—run, walk the
dog, shower, cook, take care of kids, go to work, cook some more,
and clean—except now I was waiting, too. Waiting for the test
results. And thinking of Noah, hoping he was making wise choices.
Apparently, between the two of us, I was the only one who cared
about his virtue.

I didn’t feel like cooking dinner. There was
too much on my mind. I was sitting at the table over a half-eaten
PBJ while Lily dug through the fridge, looking for leftovers.

When the phone rang, I snatched it.
“Hello?”

“Grace, it’s Dr. Grainger.”

Gulp
.
“Hi.”

“I have your test results.”

Gulp.

“Your blood work shows elevated levels
of hCG. I wanted to give my most heartfelt congratulations to you
and your husband. Going by the dates you gave, you should be due
around November
19
^th
.”

“Dear, sweet Jesus—” My throat closed.

“And don’t worry. I’ll keep it quiet,” she
assured, though she didn’t need to.

It was against privacy policies to share
medical information. The fact that I knew her and the team in the
lab personally was a good thing. If they sold me out, I knew where
to find them.

“Uh, thanks.” I said, and said a quick
goodbye.

“Who was that?” Lily asked.

I’d kept the situation to myself because
when I told anyone, it was supposed to be Evan first, then Lily.
But I wasn’t planning on her being there when I found out or him
being so distant. Ever the master of avoidance, I wasn’t planning
at all.

“Are you alright?” She touched my arm.
“Grace?”

“I’m pregnant.” It was a battle to
hold back the flood of emotion. She belted a shocking laugh. “I’m
due November 19
^th
.”

“Evan’s going to flip.” She squealed,
laughing when I jumped, deliriously happy despite the trepidation.
“I have to call Marcus!” She checked her watch, “I don’t care if I
wake him up.” She grabbed the phone and started to dial, then
paused. “What are you waiting for? Marcus can’t find out before
Evan does.”

I giggled, infected with enthusiasm, and
grabbed the cell from my back pocket. Once inside my room, I sat on
the bed and dialed.

“Hey baby,” Evan answered graciously. “I
can’t talk. We’re about to start rolling.” He laughed, “Good thing
you called now instead of a few moments from now. It would’ve
ruined the take. I’m literally standing on my mark waiting to hear
‘action.’”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Alright then, we’ll talk when I’m done for
the day. I’ll call as soon as I get back to the hotel.”

Just before the line clicked, several
frustrated voices murmured over how unprofessional it was that his
ringer hadn’t been turned off.

Lily was in the doorway when I looked up.
She had the receiver on her ear, apologizing to Marcus for waking
him, pretending she forgot the time difference. After hanging up,
she asked what happened.

“He was busy,” I worked up a smile. “I can
wait a few hours to deliver the news.”

“So can I,” she agreed, setting the phone
down.

By eight o’clock, Lily had gone home. The
house was clean again. So were the kids and Arnold.

By 12:30, I was dead tired and still
waiting. I assumed they’d quit for the day and called him. The
phone went straight to voicemail. I left a message and decided to
get some sleep. I could not let myself worry about anything.

Twisting to my side in the massive bed, I
placed a line of pillows behind me. The dried rose Evan gave me on
our first date sat in a slender vase on the nightstand.

Soon, he would come home and sleep beside me
the way he used to. I couldn’t wait to have him back again. I’d
make his favorite foods and kiss him whenever I wanted. I giggled,
remembering the look on his face that day in the bathroom at the
museum. Then the night we broke in the new swimming pool, and fell
asleep together on the couch. I woke up, freezing my butt off,
while he was snuggled up in the blanket. He was always hanging
around then. I couldn’t have gotten rid of him even if I wanted
to.

I didn’t want to consider it, but couldn’t
help wondering. What if he really didn’t want a baby?

Anxious, I dialed his number again. Again,
it went straight to voicemail. I listened as the recording played,
“Leave a message at the tone and someone will get back to you.
Eventually.”

“Evan, it’s me. Again. I know you’re busy,
but could you please call? I need to talk to you. It’s important.
It’ll only take a second and I don’t want to say it to a machine.”
I barely got the last word out before the beep sounded.

Defeated, I flung myself onto the pile of
pillows surrounding me and closed my eyes. Time would pass faster
if I slept. It took time to shut my mind off, but eventually I
drifted.

The feeling was like being trapped at the
edge of a precipice. My life was haunted by the frailty and hope of
a future that could not begin until he knew. I couldn’t move until
he knew.

The kids were sound asleep as I stuffed my
feet into my shoes and drove down to the beach to think. The briny
air usually helped get my head together.

Barefoot in the cold sand, I stared out at
the dark sea, where the clouds loomed, low and gray. So low, I
swear I could have stood and touched them. The salty moisture of
the Pacific filled my lungs. I drank in the sight of the first
morning light dragging across the shadowy western blue. A misty
horizon hung over the waves, fading in and out. There was no
separation between sky and sea; they moved together as one.

The light changed while I stared at a
growing array of color that sang its’ glorious melodies of newness.
I imagined the air was a divine peace and inhaled. My anxiety was
met with the calming swish of the mystic waters and calls of
gulls.

After a time, serenity came and I realized
the problem. It revealed itself as I asked a question: What would I
have done if it were Sol leaving for an extended period of time? My
answer was immediate. Automatic. And I could not believe the
contrast.

Because I jumped into our marriage, my mind
never made the transition from person-I-am-sort-of-dating to
husband, and because of that disconnect I hadn’t given myself over
as completely as Evan needed me to.

I had to go to him and I had to stay. I had
to tell him. The uncertainty of his reaction scared the crap out of
me but I had to face him and say the life-changing words.

I thanked God for the insight and ran back
to the car.

I called Lily on the way home. She agreed to
stay with the boys until I got a place to bring them to. She
assured me that her and Noah could handle Caleb, even though it
would be a couple of weeks. Evan was almost done with the current
picture and the next started immediately. Round table readings and
rehearsals in New York.

After assuring Noah that I would be back on
the weekend, I kissed him goodbye and dropped Caleb off at school,
then headed for the airport.

A nagging voice in my head said I might be
making a huge mistake by surprising him, so I called ahead. Once
again, the phone went directly to voicemail. I sighed and left
another message, debating on whether or not to call Sheri. I wanted
to know what was keeping him so busy that he had no spare second to
return my calls. But there was something undignified about having
to check up on him. It felt degrading to our relationship. I would
not submit my inquiries through a third party. I decided I could
live with the mystery a little longer to spare myself the
indignity.

Inside his room,
the
air was heavy with his presence. He must’ve left
in a flurry this morning because there was a trail of
clutter—traces of Hurricane Evan—that led from the door, through
the entry and sitting area, all the way to the bed. A pile of
towels sat tossed near the door. I placed them outside for
housekeeping to pick up, since the cart was just down the hall.
When I turned on the light in the restroom to check my makeup, I
noticed the ring of grime in the sink matched the one in the tub. I
tried to use the last clean washcloth to wipe away the muck, but it
was dried on.

I sighed, knowing I was going to have to let
the room be cleaned.

I opened the door in time to see the maid
making off with her cart in the other direction. “Excuse me,” I
called. She turned. “Can I get some clean towels, please? And some
decaf coffee, if it’s not too much trouble?”

“Sure,” she walked to the opposite end of
the cart and started pushing in my direction. “Do you need linens?
He doesn’t let us in to clean.” She started counting out the towels
and washcloths.

“Hold on a second.”

I wedged the door open and trounced over to
the bed, which had been completely stripped. All the pillows were
on the floor, save one that had no case. In the corner rested a
mound of matted sheets and blankets. I scooped up the pillow and
removed the coverings, tossing them into the pile and called out to
the hall, asking for a complete set of bedding.

I’d need help if I was going to be done
before Evan arrived. He wouldn’t care so long as her tidying was
supervised. The housekeeper brought in the sparkling clean towels
and rags, neatly folded. While she got to work in the restroom, I
took up the sheets and placed them in the hall before coming back
for the blankets.

On my way back, I nearly kicked a large
silver circle on the floor. My hands automatically reached for my
ears. Both my hoops were accounted for, in my lobes exactly where
I’d left them.

“Did I forget something last time?” I
muttered aloud.

“Did you say something?”

“Hm?” I looked up to see the woman staring
from the bathroom door.

“Can I take that?” She pointed to the
remaining pile of bedding in the corner beside the bed.

“Um, sure,” I answered blankly, still trying
to recall.

The size of the jewelry was larger than
anything I owned. About the size of the earrings I borrowed from
Lily. The ones that flipped out to the side when I wore them.

The air around me felt very stuffy. The
woman from housekeeping maneuvered to the laundry behind me, trying
not to look uncomfortable as her arms brushed against mine. My
brain was floating, lost in fabricated projections and theories, as
I moved out of her way.

He wouldn’t, would he?

As she hauled away the mess of linens, my
answer fell beneath the wad of blankets. It landed between her feet
as she walked towards the door.

A force from outside my body knocked the
breath from me, followed by stomach-churning nausea. I dashed for
the toilet.

At first, it looked like a glove, but the
size wasn’t right. Then, I considered a balloon. But, what would a
small, clear balloon be doing tangled in his bed sheets?

I tried to disconnect and think logically.
He’d been rapidly losing interest for some time now. He’d barely
called. I was the one calling him and some days he never answered.
When he did, he was distant and brief, avoiding real conversation.
Pulling away. That was why I came last time. To see him and comfort
my timid heart. To look in his eyes and reassure myself that he
loved me.

My heart reminded me of another moment,
similar to this one. One I thought I’d forgotten. Sol’s late nights
at the office, a high volume of subdued phone conversations. It was
so cliché—sleeping with the secretary. He moved out for three
months. Noah was only four; he didn’t remember. Of course, Maria
was ecstatic. I’d let him come home after he promised it would
never happen again, and it didn’t.