Chapter 38
Emily called her mother and asked if she could visit with Connor and Stella. If not, she would stay at a hotel, but the closest one was forty-five minutes from Washford. “I’m not sure how long I’ll need to stay.”
Her mother was silent. Emily thought that she might have stepped away from the phone. Maybe she had set it down on the kitchen countertop and walked into another room. “Mom?”
“What about Jack? Is he coming?”
“We’re getting a divorce.”
“Uh-huh. Makes sense.”
“Why?”
“No, thanks. I’m not in the mood to get hung up on. You’re welcome here anytime. For as long as you need. You know that.”
Emily hadn’t known that.
“I’d like to meet my grandkids. When would you get here?”
“Tonight. I just booked our flights.”
There was a pause. “Okay. What made you decide to come?”
“Nella Hall is dying. She has brain cancer.”
“I wondered. I’d see her sometimes, at the old movie theater, where they sell Amazon stuff.
She’d buy anything for anyone who wanted it.
Did that at the Kroger, too, buying groceries for folks.
Last time I saw her, it looked like she was ailing.
She had that face I’d see on patients. Haven’t seen her for some time.
But what’s Nella Hall got to do with you? ”
“I want to be there for Gen.”
“Yes, the granddaughter. The runner. Your friend from high school. Awful lot of trouble, for you to fly out here with two kids to stay for who knows how long. Even for a friend.”
“I love her.”
“Well, you always did.”
“You knew?”
“What am I, stupid?”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“None of my business.”
Emily’s voice was small: “Do you still want me to stay with you?”
“You’re my daughter. This is your home.”
“Mom.” Her throat was sore and swollen. “Mom.”
“I retired last year. Gave me time to think. I’m not good at saying things. Never have been. Never will. Things always go wrong when I talk to you. Just come home.”
“What did you mean, when you said that it made sense that Jack and I are divorcing? Because you knew about Gen and me?”
“I didn’t mean anything. Forget it.”
“Please.”
Her mother sighed. “It’s not any one thing.”
“Then what?”
“All right. When he looked at you, he didn’t see you.
I’m not saying that we don’t have our issues, you and me.
But I know you. You’ve always been different.
Not difficult, I’m not saying that. Just different.
I knew you were going to leave Washford.
Knew it when you were little. What kind of kid wants to learn Greek?
You weren’t common. Talked different, thought different.
Did different. I don’t know the details of your marriage and I don’t need to.
You asked me to say what I meant and I’m trying.
Here’s what I mean. Jack looked at you like you hung the moon, but I knew you hung the sun. ”
When Emily had learned that her second baby had no heartbeat, she didn’t believe it.
There had been a mistake. Then she placed a hand on her rounded belly.
It was so still. He was still. It had been nice, before, to guess what part of the baby pushed against her skin—the head, a foot?
Now nothing moved beneath her hand. She imagined him.
His eyes sealed shut. So quiet. She didn’t want to deliver him.
It was impossible to pretend that he was alive, but he remained part of her.
He was still hers. When she delivered him, he wouldn’t be hers anymore.
No, he would —how could he not?—but he would be forever out of reach.
She didn’t want to compare her lost child with anything. He wasn’t a metaphor. He was her baby. But she understood, as she looked at Jack’s name on her phone, that she had taken so long to file for divorce because it is terrible to confront loss, even when what has died is a marriage.
Jack picked up the phone. She told him that she was taking the children to Ohio to visit her mother.
“Nice of you to inform me,” he said. “They’re my children, too.”
“We leave for the airport in an hour.”
“How long is this visit?”
“I’m not sure.” It was mortifying to hear her voice shake.
“A week?”
“I don’t know.”
“My parents have Labor Day plans with the kids.”
“You might have to cancel those plans.”
“That’s in a month . Are you telling me that you’re going to be there for a month?”
“Maybe.”
“School starts right after Labor Day!”
“I’ll wait to cross that bridge when I come to it.”
“What the fuck is going on?”
“Gen’s grandmother is dying.”
“Gen? Who’s Gen?”
“You met her at my apartment the day we went out for pizza with the kids.”
“The runner?”
Emily took a breath so deep that it made her ribs ache. “She was my girlfriend when I was eighteen. I told you about her a long time ago.” Although Emily’s lawyer had warned her not to do this, she said, “On the day you came over, she had spent the night. We were together all winter and spring.”
“You cheated on me?”
“That’s not how I see it.”
“I bet you don’t. You have an amazing gift for blaming other people for imagined crimes and then pretending like you do nothing wrong.”
“I need to help her if I can.”
“You are unreal.” Jack let out a furious yet determined sigh.
“Listen. I know how you were with me when things were good. You had a one-time thing when you were a teenager, but you and I have a whole life together. We can get past this. We can cancel the court date. I am asking you one last time to come home. Say you’re sorry and come home to me. Say you made a mistake.”
“No.”
“What the fuck .” Emily thought he would say more but he went quiet.
She heard the clicking of a keyboard. He gave a short, dry laugh.
“So that’s who she is. Wow. Okay. Have you looked her up on the internet?
She runs through women like water. I hope you don’t think you matter to her.
I’m sending this link to my lawyer. He’s going to love it.
Em, what are you thinking? You want to expose our kids to a woman who gets splashed all over trashy magazines?
Not on my watch.” His voice was clear and cold.
“You can’t take them to Ohio without my permission. If you do, that’s kidnapping.”
“Please let me.”
“No.”
“If you let us go,” Emily said, “I won’t contest the prenup.”
He was silent, then said, “That’s family money. It never had anything to do with you. I’ve never even touched the trust. I work hard for everything we have.”
“Keep it. All of it. I don’t want any money from you. Just let us go.”
After another, longer silence, he said, “Fine, take the kids to Ohio. Put your promise in writing. But you’re going to regret this when I see you in court.”
Emily left a message on Gen’s voice mail saying that she was on her way to Washford: “It’s okay if you can’t see me or don’t want to, but I’ll be there if you do.
” Her plane landed in Columbus after nightfall and she buckled her sleepy children into the back seat of the rental car.
Somewhere along Route 33, she stopped so that Stella could use the bathroom.
There was a text from Gen: I’ve moved gran home. Please come as soon as you can.