The Wreck (30 page)

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so very
sorry. I was so certain I’d done the right thing, but
you
were right
earlier when you said I should’ve let you decide for yourself.”

He reached for her hand. “You probably
did
do the right thing,” he conceded. “We were both such a mess after the
accident.”

“That night, on the Fourth of July, when
I lied to you about being on the pill?”

He nodded.

“That’s the only time I’ve ever lied to
you about anything. I swear.”

“I know, and I also know you could’ve
lied to me today, but you didn’t. You didn’t even hesitate.”

“I saw you watching her, when she was
pitching, and part of me wanted you to figure it out. I wanted you to know
she’d gotten her fastball from you.” Her voice caught. “I hated keeping her
from you, and I
did
think of your parents when she was born. I did,
Brian. That broke my heart, too.”

“You understand why I want them to know,
don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“I can’t get over her being born on Sam’s
birthday,” he said, still incredulous. “It’s just unbelievable.”

“That was such a gift in the midst of it
all. I can’t begin to tell you what it meant to me at a time when everything
else was so uncertain and painful. To think that maybe Sam was keeping an eye
on me…” After a long moment of silence, she said, “Are we going to be able to
get past this, Bri?”

He hesitated, only slightly, but he
hesitated nonetheless. Hurt radiated through Carly.

“I need some time to get my head around
it.”

“Our wedding is in two weeks.” She hated
the stammer in her voice, which conveyed just how afraid she was that she
might’ve lost him for good at some point during that long day. “We can postpone
it.”

“We don’t have to decide anything
tonight.”

That he even had to think about it… Carly
stood. “I’m, um, going to take a shower,” she mumbled, needing to get out of
there before she lost it completely in front of him. In the bathroom, she shed
her clothes and tossed them into the wicker hamper. Standing under the pulsing
water, Carly was racked by sobs. When her legs would no longer support her, she
sank to the floor of the tub and stayed there until the water turned cold. She
trembled violently as she fought her way into her robe and tied it tight around
her waist.

Her reflection in the mirror was nothing
short of frightening, so she didn’t linger. She brushed her long curls and
secured them in a ponytail. When she emerged from the bathroom, she found Brian
absorbed in the photo album, so she left him to it. Lying facedown on her bed, she
hugged a pillow tight against her chest and was surprised to discover there
could be more tears.

After a while, Brian came in and
stretched out so he faced her.

She wiped frantically at her face, not
wanting him to see the devastation.

He stopped her and finished the job
himself. “That night? The Fourth of July? I never forgot it,” he said as he
brushed the dampness from her cheek. “The way you took my hand and led me
inside. You floored me with that, Carly. My heart was beating so hard I was
afraid it would burst right through my chest.”

Carly hiccupped and fought a losing
battle to stop the tears.

“If I’d known you weren’t on the pill
anymore, I probably would’ve risked it, too. That’s how badly I wanted you. I’d
missed you so much since the accident. I guess what I’m saying is I don’t blame
you for taking that risk at a time in our lives when we had nothing else. I
relived that night, and the last time at the willow—the night of the
accident—probably a million times when we were apart. Those memories sustained
me. So even knowing what I know now, I don’t regret what we did that night,
Carly. I couldn’t.”

“But you regret I didn’t tell you about
Zoë. You’re angry.”

“I want to be angry, and I was earlier. I
won’t deny that. I want to be outraged over everything I missed with her. But
more than anything else, I’m sad. To think of you going through what you did,
having to make such big decisions, having to give up your baby after everything
you’d already lost.” He shook his head with regret.

“The pregnancy, waiting for her, knowing
your child was growing inside of me… She was the only reason I survived that
first year without you. And after she was born, I briefly entertained the
illusion I could keep her. But I couldn’t sing to her, I couldn’t comfort her
when she cried, I couldn’t even tell her how much I loved her. I couldn’t take
her for a walk or for a ride in the car when she was colicky.”

Brian’s eyes were bright with tears as he
listened to her.

“It was Cate’s idea, actually, that she
and Tom might be able to help. It seemed so good on paper—Zoë would have a
normal home and upbringing with two parents who would love her, and I’d get to
keep her in my life. But in reality…”

Brian held her hand tight against his
chest.

“I had trouble weaning her, and after she
was gone, I produced milk for days. It just kept coming, as if someone hadn’t
gotten the memo that there was no longer a baby to feed. I was hugely, darkly
depressed. I won’t deny I thought about how easy it would be to just end it
all. I hate to even admit that, but it’s true.”

“Carly,” he said, tears spilling down his
cheeks as he brought her into his arms.

“After a couple of weeks, my dad finally
laid down the law and gave me an ultimatum—either I got a job or went to school
or he would kick me out of the house. I’m still not sure if he actually
would’ve done it, but I suspect he would have. I spent that whole night working
up the nerve to leave the house. I got dressed for work at three o’clock in the
morning and then sat on the edge of my bed until it was time to go. At five
thirty, I got up, went downstairs, and walked out the door like I’d been doing
it every day. I think I was able to do it because I had nothing left to be
afraid of. Leaving the house was no big deal after losing you and Zoë.”

“You were so brave.”

“No, I was shattered, but over time,
amazingly enough, I began to feel better. The job helped, and getting this
place of my own did, too. In many ways, Zoë helped the most, though. As she got
older, we just had this thing. I don’t know. I can’t explain it. It didn’t
matter to her that I couldn’t talk. She loved me anyway, and in a lot of ways
that saved me, you know?”

As he nodded, Carly noticed his face was
still damp with tears.

“You really think it’s wise not to tell
her the truth?” he asked.

“I really do.”

“So many people know, though. What if it
comes out years from now and she hates us all for keeping it from her?”

“It won’t come out. The only people who
know are my parents, Cate and Tom, Craig and Allison, Caren, and Dr. Walsh,
who’s retired now. Caren’s husband Neil doesn’t even know and neither do Tom’s
parents. We all understood at the very beginning how important it was that no
one know.”

“The lawyer in me wonders how you do
something like this and not create a paper trail.”

“We put Cate and Tom’s names on the birth
certificate.”

“So they never actually adopted her?”

“No.”

Brian groaned. “Shall I enlighten you as
to the potential legal ramifications of that?”

“Please don’t. The important thing is no
one who knows would ever in a million years tell her, Brian. Never. I know
you’re just finding this out, and I understand how horribly shocking it must be
for you—”

His eyes flashed, but with emotion, not
anger. “
Do you?
Do you really?”

“No, I guess I don’t. But what I was
going to say is she’s such a great kid. You’ll see that once you get to know
her.”

“I saw that in thirty seconds today.”

“Then you’ll not want to do anything to
change who she is, will you?”

“I hate that fearful look you keep giving
me, like I’m some unreasonable ogre who’s going to turn your whole life upside
down.”

“You already have,” she said with the
first smile she had mustered in hours. “But in all the best ways.”

He combed his fingers through her
still-damp curls. “I let you think, for a second earlier, that I’m having
doubts about marrying you, Carly. That was wrong of me. I’m upset and all
churned up inside over finding out about Zoë, but I’m not having doubts about
us. Not after hearing the whole story. So I don’t want you awake all night
worrying about that, okay?”

She tried to swallow the huge lump that
suddenly settled in her throat. “Okay.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead.
“Brian Westbury loves Carly Holbrook, forever and always.”

She dissolved into deep, racking sobs.

Brian held her tight against him until
the sobs became hiccups. After a long while, she slept.

C
arly awoke often during the night, and
each time her first thought was to see if he was still there. He slept on top
of the comforter, still dressed in shorts and a polo shirt. Her robe had
twisted around her, so she gently removed his hand from her hip, got up to shed
the robe, and slid under the covers. She laced her fingers through his and
watched him for a long time before exhaustion overtook her and she fell back to
sleep.

The next time she opened her eyes, it was
morning, and Brian’s back was to her as he stared out the bedroom window. His
hair was wet from the shower, and he had changed into a T-shirt and faded jeans
that hugged him in all the right places. He held a steaming mug of coffee as he
watched the action on Main Street.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked,
her voice hoarse from sleep.

“That we need to buy a house and cars.”

“I don’t have a license anymore.”

“You can renew it.”

“I don’t know about that. It’s one thing
to ride in a car. It’s another thing altogether to drive one.”

He turned away from the window and came over
to sit on the bed. Handing her the coffee, he said, “You’ll have to try it and
see how it feels.”

“One of these days, maybe.” She took a
sip from the mug and gave it back to him. “Did you sleep?”

“Off and on. How about you?”

“The same. I dreamed about the accident.
That hasn’t happened in a long time.”

He seemed startled. “You dream about it?”

“Not as much as I used to but
occasionally.”

“I do, too.”

“Really?”

He nodded.

“I never knew that. My dream has changed
a lot over the years, but some parts are the same. There’s always someone in
the car I can’t get to. Sometimes it’s Sam and the others. And then it’ll be
you and Zoë and other kids I know belong to us. The smell is the one thing that
doesn’t change. It’s the same god-awful smell as that night.”

He winced. “In my dream, I see it
happening over and over. Like yours, the dream comes and goes. It always knocks
me for a loop for a couple of days afterward.”

“Me, too. I feel sort of like I did in
the days just after it happened.”

He shook his head with regret. “I can’t
tell you how badly I wish I could go back in time to make it so you didn’t have
to see what you did. So neither of us had to. If you hadn’t seen that, you
never would’ve stopped talking or locked yourself away in your parents’ house.
The loss would’ve been unbearable, but we would’ve been able to go ahead with
our plans, despite it.”

“I hate that I wasn’t there for you the
way I should’ve been after you lost Sam. When you came to my house after his
funeral, I wanted to tell you how sorry I was to have missed it. I should’ve
been right by your side through the whole thing, and I’m sorry I wasn’t.”

He brought her hand to his lips. “We need
to be looking forward not backward.”

“Yes.” Her heart ached when she thought of
the question she needed to ask him. It had been on her mind all night during
the wakeful periods.

“What’s wrong? Something just upset you.”

She smiled despite the overwhelming
sadness. “I should be freaked out by the way you read me so easily. I’d forgotten
about that.”

“What’s going on inside that head of
yours?”

She studied his handsome face for a long
moment, wanting to memorize every detail. “Do you think it’s possible that too
much has happened to us? That we’re deluding ourselves by thinking we can ride
off into the sunset toward happily ever after? Maybe we just weren’t meant to
be, Bri.”

His eyes flashed with emotion. “Do you
really believe that?”

“I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

“Do you believe I love you?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “I do. I believe
that.”

“And since I have no doubt that you love
me, too, can you think of anyone who deserves happily ever after more than we
do?”

She thought about that for a moment. “I
can’t say I do.”