The One I Trust (3 page)

Emily had a small canvas bag on her lap and Molly noticed it right away.

“What’s in there?” she asked.

“It’s something for you,” Emily said with a mischievous smile, and Molly clapped her hands and squealed, like a typical little girl.

Molly was not, however, a typical little girl.

I had discovered this immediately at the hospital on the day of her birth. Molly was born in the morning, but I hadn’t been able to get off work until well after dinner. When I entered their room, I hugged Hale and congratulated Anneka, and then Hale placed his new daughter gently in my arms.

“Molly,” he’d said as he handed her to me. “I’d like you to meet my best friend. His name is Reid. Reid, this is Molly.”

I looked down at her, swaddled in a soft, striped blanket with a tiny pink knit cap pulled down over her head so that only her face was showing.

And as soon as I saw her, I knew.

Panic gripped my stomach. I glanced up at Hale only to find him smiling proudly at me as if his wife had just given birth to the most perfect baby in the world. I looked down at her again. Her tilted eyes. Her tiny nose. Her flat face. There was absolutely no doubt. My panic grew.

How did Hale not know? How had nobody told him? How had he not noticed?
And how was I ever going to tell him?

But then Hale took a step forward, firmly gripping the back of my neck and pulling me close. He pressed the side of his head against mine and I heard him whisper, “It’s okay.”

I closed my eyes.

“It’s okay,” he whispered again. I swallowed hard as he went on. “She just has Down Syndrome . . . that’s all. She’s fine.”

I opened my eyes and met Molly’s.

She just has Down Syndrome . . . that’s all.

“She’s just the way she’s supposed to be,” Hale said quietly. “She’s absolutely perfect.”

I glanced up. He was smiling at me again. I looked down at Molly once more.

She’s just the way she’s supposed to be. She’s absolutely perfect.

“Don’t you think?” he asked.

Molly blinked at me and I felt myself nod.

Now I watched as Emily proceeded to pull a set of four tiny finger puppets and a small book from her canvas bag. She showed each one to Molly before fitting them on the fingers of Molly’s right hand. Then, together, they read the book.

Each of the puppets represented a character in the story and each was covered in a different material—one smooth, one bumpy, one scaly, and one furry. As the story progressed, Emily guided the appropriate puppet on the finger of Molly’s right hand across the back of her left hand so that she could feel them against her skin.

No wonder Hale thought Emily was so great.

Before he’d even taken Molly home from the hospital, Hale had started obsessively researching everything he could find about Down syndrome, determined to give Molly every advantage possible. One of the things he’d come across that he thought might be helpful was something called sensory integration therapy, so he had studied up on it and started implementing it (along with a multitude of other things). I can’t honestly say that I was up on every single thing he used to help Molly, but it’s safe to say that Emily’s little finger puppets fit in very nicely.

I continued to watch as they read the story together and I had to admit that the way Emily interacted with Molly was impressive. But just because Emily was good for Molly didn’t mean that she was good for me . . .

She
isn’t
good for me
, I reminded myself.

Hadn’t I already thought of a bunch of reasons why I didn’t need to be dating her?

I looked at Emily with her blonde ponytail and her deep brown eyes. She had taken her sweatshirt off to reveal a thin white sweater with a blue tank top underneath. The sweater was lacy and see-through and the tank top was silky and shimmery, and both of them were doing a good job of showing off her smooth, tan skin. She glanced up, noticed me looking at her, and smiled. I turned around without returning it, but—just as I had the night of our second date—I couldn’t help but notice how pretty her smile was.

What were all those reasons that I shouldn’t be dating her?

I stared out the window at the road in front of me, trying to remember why I didn’t need to be dating Emily and trying to stop thinking about her lacy sweater and silky blue tank top and exactly how long it had been since I’d—

Why exactly don’t the two of us need to date?

Wait. I remember now. Money. Money was one of the reasons.

I didn’t have a job. I didn’t have any money. How could I pursue a relationship with someone when I couldn’t even take them out on a date without pawning off one of my few remaining possessions? But, of course, the solution to this problem was fairly simple: Get a job.

Seriously, how hard had I really been trying to find a job? I’d filled out enough applications to stay qualified for unemployment, but had I
really
tried to get a job? No. Ever since I’d lost Noah, I’d been depressed. I hadn’t really wanted to work. I hadn’t really wanted to do anything. But the reality was that if I wanted to find a job, I probably could, so I shouldn’t count “no money” as a reason why Emily and I shouldn’t date.

What else?

Oh, right. Another reason had been that I was never going to be able to trust anybody ever again.

Seriously?

I was
never
going to be able to trust anybody
ever
again? So apparently I was going to spend the rest of my life alone?

Wow. Talk about depressing . . .

And for the first time, I realized how much I did not want to be alone. I wanted to be able to trust somebody again. Somebody besides Hale . . .

A female somebody.

Could I trust Emily?
Maybe.
But how would I know if Emily was someone I could trust?

I thought back to Tori—someone I certainly should
not
have trusted. Had there been any warning signs when I’d first met her? Were there any red flags?

Tori and I had met at a narcotics abuse seminar that we’d both been required to attend—me for a psychology class I was enrolled in, and her for some pharmacology course she was taking. I was only a junior, but Tori had just started working on her masters in the Physician Assistant Program at nearby Duke University. A full two years my senior, Tori seemed like the proverbial older woman.

I caught a glimpse of her as soon as I walked into the auditorium where the seminar was being held. She had short, black hair pulled into two tiny, tight pigtails at the nape of her neck, piercing blue eyes, and ruby-colored lips that glistened under the fluorescent lights.

I stopped at the front of the room to sign in, then I looked her way again and was not unhappy to discover that she was looking back. She gave me a pretty smile and I headed her way.

Being highly observant and a master of the witty pick-up line, I asked, “Is anyone sitting here?” and pointed to one of the many empty seats that surrounded her.

She flashed that pretty smile again, shook her head, and replied, “No.”

We introduced ourselves and chatted for a few minutes before the seminar started. Once it began, we spent the entire time whispering to one another. Tori made me laugh with her snide remarks on everything from the presenter’s tedious delivery of his boring material to the very real possibility that he was wearing a toupee.

After the seminar we stopped at Krispy Kreme for doughnuts and coffee. We stayed for three hours. When Tori found out that I wanted to be a cop, she didn’t hesitate to point out that it was a good thing I liked doughnuts. I laughed . . . just like I had laughed when she’d made the toupee remarks. At the time, I thought her demeaning comments were funny, and I found them entertaining.

I didn’t kiss her when we said good-bye that evening, but I did ask if she would go out with me on Friday. She said she would and at the end of that evening, we did kiss, and after that we were together all the time.

Hale and Drew got engaged the following summer and by the next Christmas—when Tori and I had known each other for over a year and were both only a few months from graduation—it seemed like the thing to do. I gave her a battery-operated toy dog that she’d admired during a recent trip to the flea market at the fairgrounds. She had remarked that it was just like one she’d had when she was a little girl and she thought about buying it, but I managed to talk her out of it. I went back the next day and purchased it, binding it up with candy cane wrapping paper and a shiny red bow before giving it to her two weeks later when we exchanged gifts.

“Oh!” she cried as she opened it, obviously thrilled. She gave me a big hug and that pretty smile of hers, and then she looked back to the toy dog.

“Here,” I said, handing her a brand-new package of batteries. “See if it works.” She opened the battery compartment and a diamond ring fell out onto her lap. I got another hug . . . and then some.

When we announced our engagement, Hale smiled, hugged Tori, pounded me on the back, and said all the right things . . . but he had seemed a little less enthusiastic than I’d imagined he would be.

Why?

Did he know even then that I couldn’t trust Tori? Had he somehow sensed something about her that I’d been unable or unwilling to see at the time? And if so, should I take into consideration the fact that Hale clearly did
not
see those same things in Emily now? Hale—who I trusted more than any other person in my life—had been pushing me toward Emily since day one. Surely that had to count for something.

Maybe Emily could be trusted.

But hadn’t there been some other reason why I’d decided that I didn’t need to be dating Emily?

I thought for a moment and I glanced toward the back seat again, trying to remember.

By now, Emily had finished reading the book to Molly and the two of them were busy counting tires on a semi that we were passing. They agreed on nine, but then Emily went on to explain to Molly that there were nine more tires on the other side, for a grand total of eighteen.

“Don’t forget the spare,” Anneka said.

“What?”

“I said, ‘Don’t forget the spare.’”

“Where was that?” Emily asked, glancing back at the truck.

“I don’t know,” Anneka said, “but I’m sure it had one.”

Actually eighteen-wheelers more often than not
don’t
have a spare, but I hadn’t said one word since Emily had gotten into the van and I didn’t see any reason to start now.

“Okay, then,” Emily agreed, turning back around. She looked at Molly. “Eighteen plus the spare. That makes nineteen tires.”

“Nineteen,” Molly repeated.

Nineteen indeed . . .

I knew there’d been another reason.

Half an hour later we stopped at a gas station so that Molly could use the bathroom and I went inside to get a drink. Of water. From the faucet in the bathroom.

“You want something?” Hale asked when I came out.

“No, no,” I insisted, shaking my head. “I couldn’t be groovier.” He bought me a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips and a mammoth soft drink for which I didn’t bother thanking him. That had gotten old quite some time ago.

We headed back to the van and found that Emily was already in her seat. Anneka and Molly, however, were still inside the convenience store, and the three of us sat together quietly for a moment.

It was no secret that Hale was hoping I would change my mind about Emily and the two of us would get together, but it still surprised me when he suddenly exclaimed, “Oh! I forgot something. I’ll be right back,” and jumped out, slamming the door behind him before either of us could even comment. I watched after him, speechless, as he headed back into the store. I’d thought he’d at least wait until we were down at the beach before pulling something like this.

I sighed very quietly and then slowly turned around to look at Emily.

“Chip?” I asked as friendly as I possibly could, extending the bag toward her.

She ignored the chips and instead looked directly at me. She said, “You wish I wasn’t here.”

Maybe I hadn’t sighed as quietly as I’d thought.

“I never said—”

“This wasn’t my idea,” she interrupted, pointing toward the store. “They practically begged me to come.”

“I’m sure they did.” I lowered my chips.

“I was just going to stay home and order a pizza tomorrow night,” she continued. “I would have been perfectly fine all by myself.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why were you going to order a pizza?” I asked. “How come you’re not spending Thanksgiving with your family?”

She seemed taken aback by my question, but after a brief hesitation she answered, “It’s kind of a long story. I don’t really want to get into it right now.”

“Okay.”

She looked over my shoulder toward the store. I turned around and looked ahead too, not surprised that Hale, Anneka, and Molly were nowhere in sight yet.

“My point is,” she said as I turned back to her, “that this wasn’t my idea and I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to come along, but I didn’t know and—”

“I never said I didn’t want you to come along,” I interrupted.

“Well you’re acting like it,” she said quietly.

I looked at her for a moment and then said, “I’m sorry.” An admission and an apology all at once.

She stared at me, obviously waiting for more.

“You’re nineteen,” I finally said. “Honestly, I’m kind of having a hard time with that.”

She looked at me a moment longer before slowly smiling. (Have I mentioned that I’m a sucker for a pretty smile?)

“Did I tell you,” she asked, still smiling, “that Tuesday is my birthday?”

WE ARRIVED AT the beach house in the afternoon and Emily looked around, no doubt wondering how Hale (a mere microbiologist with the state health department) could possibly afford such a place.

The truth was that he couldn’t—he could barely afford the property taxes—but “every happy memory” from Hale’s childhood had taken place at this very house, and he was bound and determined that Molly was going to enjoy it every bit as much as he had. He might be forced to eat Beanie Weenies for lunch every day or wear threadbare khakis to work, but Hale would sooner give up a kidney than get rid of his beach house.