2. Chapter 2
Home, sweet home is the first thought I have as Adam parks in our driveway.
“I’ll help you with your luggage,” Adam says.
I open the passenger door and find Holly fast asleep in the back seat. I carefully take her out of the car while Adam pulls our luggage out of the trunk.
I start searching for the keys in my pocket before remembering that Adam still has them.
“Looking for these?” he says, jiggling the keys in front of me. I open the door and gently lay my sleeping beauty on the couch. I hug Adam goodbye, and off he goes to be with his pregnant wife and daughter.
“Call me if you need anything,” he says, walking towards his car.
As soon as I shut the door behind him, I look over at Holly, who’s now wide awake and looking up at me with her mother’s beautiful blue eyes. “Are you hungry?” I ask. “Yes, Daddy,” she responds groggily.
I let my parents know we’d be arriving today and asked them to go grocery shopping for us.
I walk into the kitchen and pull out sandwich fixings from the refrigerator. “What will it be, young lady? Turkey or ham?”
“Can I have peanut butter and jelly?” she asks.
“Of course you can, my pretty girl.”
Half an hour later, I finish washing our two plates and two cups.
I start preparing a bath for Holly and let her play in the tub while I sit close by, respond to e-mails, leave voicemails, and do some research online. I also order some flowers for Katherine, adding a simple note that reads, “Dear Katherine, thank you. Aaron and Holly.” This is my apology for keeping her husband away all day. I’m sure spending the entire day at the airport waiting for us was not what he had in mind when he offered to pick us up.
When Holly is done with her bath, I pull the plug from the drain and hand her a towel. I pull her out of the tub, let her dry off by herself, and put on the pajamas I’ve laid out for her on the bathroom counter.
Four months ago, she told me she was old enough to take baths alone. I told her I wasn’t comfortable leaving her alone in a tub filled with water just yet but that I would give her her space, and she could do everything else on her own. It was a compromise that worked for both of us.
Once her hair is dry, I tuck her into her new bed and kiss her good night.
I unpack our bags and put everything away. I start working with Adam on Monday, taking over Katherine’s position while she’s on maternity leave. When Adam called and offered me a permanent position at Linder and Morgan, I thought about what it would be like to move back home after all these years.
I was eighteen when I left Cold Spring and only returned periodically to see my parents on holidays and special occasions like weddings. When Adam got married, I served as his best man. Julie and I were happily married and living in Cortland at the time. Holly was only a few weeks old.
Julie was a year behind me in college when we met. A mutual friend introduced us at a party. Julie was beautiful. She had delicate features, a strong athletic body, long blond hair, and big blue eyes that sometimes said a lot more than her words did. We dated for a couple of years before I asked her to marry me.
After I graduated from college, I got my first job as an insurance broker, and a year later, she graduated and started teaching. We got married six months later. We wanted to start a family right away. I was an only child, so I wanted to have at least two children so they could keep each other company. We tried to get pregnant for years. We had two miscarriages and one stillbirth before we gave up on ever having a family. She went on birth control to prevent pregnancy because we didn’t want to face another loss.
We were in our mid-thirties and had been married for twelve years when, one morning, Julie woke up sick. After selling the big house we would never need, we had just moved into Adam’s condo in Cortland. She stayed home that day, and when I walked in after work, I could hear her vomiting in the bathroom. I insisted she go to the doctor. She made an appointment for the next day. I went to work, but we agreed to meet for dinner that evening. When I walked into the restaurant, she was already there. She looked up at me and smiled, but her eyes told me something was wrong. I sat beside her, took her by the hand, and asked her what was wrong.
“I’m pregnant.” She said.
“You’re on the pill,” I said.
“I guess it failed.”
I wanted to jump for joy and give a loud hooray before it dawned on me that we could lose another baby. She was in her thirties, and the chances of her being able to carry this baby to full term were slim. I looked at her and, squeezing her hand, said, “Whatever happens, we will deal with it together.”
She looked at me and said, “Okay.”
We didn’t buy any baby items. We didn’t decorate a nursery. We didn’t tell our parents or our friends. We were so afraid of another loss that we couldn’t bring ourselves to believe that this time, we would become parents. We went through the entire pregnancy alone. The night Julie went into labor, she woke me up at two in the morning.
“I’ve been having contractions since ten o’clock last night. I’m scared.”
I quickly sat up in bed, fully awake. I kissed her and said, “It’ll be okay, Honey. Remember, we’re in this together.”
I kept looking over at her as we got dressed. I grabbed the hospital bag I had filled with baby items and a couple of changes of clothes for Julie. I had kept it on the top shelf in the closet. She looked at the bag and then at me. “We had to be prepared,” I said.
She nodded and pursed her lips, taking quick, short breaths. She was in the middle of a contraction. She was almost nine months pregnant, and all her checkups had been normal, so I also put an infant car seat in the trunk of the car.
I thought of the son we lost. He had dark hair like me. He had ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. He weighed six pounds. He was perfect but had been born sleeping and would never wake up. We named him Angel. We held him and mourned him together before we had to kiss him goodbye forever.
“Aaron,” I heard Julie grunting in the middle of another contraction.
“Sorry, Honey. Let’s go,” I said, reaching for the mother of my children.
This time, her labor was longer and more difficult. They strapped the heart monitor on her belly, and the baby’s heartbeat was strong throughout.
Hours later, I heard the doctor say, “One big push.” I looked down and saw my baby slide out of her mother’s womb. I waited for a loud cry but heard nothing. I looked over at Julie, who had sweat on her brow and fear in her eyes. A second later, the baby cried.
“It’s a girl!” said the doctor.
Julie and I looked at each other. I could feel the tears in my eyes and see the tears in hers. “It’s a girl!” We both said in unison. “It’s a girl!”
The doctor asked me if I wanted to cut the cord, which I did, realizing that was something I never got to do with Angel. “Do you have a name?” the doctor asked.
I looked at Julie, who was now actively crying. “We don’t have a name.” We both said in unison again. “We don’t have a name!”
The doctor placed the crying baby on Julie’s chest, and all she and I could do was cry. There we were, the three of us bawling like babies.
An hour later, Julie was resting with the baby hungrily nursing at her breast. “I can’t believe we have a baby,” Julie said.
“I can’t believe we don’t have a crib,” I said.
The next day, I went shopping and hired one of Adam’s guys to paint the nursery. I called Adam and informed him that he was an uncle and that a room in his condo was now painted a pale pink.
“Wait. What? Wait. You were pregnant and didn’t tell me?”
“It’s a long story.” I told him, “For another time. I’m sending pictures now.”
I called Mom and Dad and gave them the same news, promising them an explanation and a visit really soon. They got pictures, too.
When Julie and the baby came home a couple of days later, the baby’s room looked like it had been ready for months.
There was a dresser filled with baby clothes. The changing table next to it was stocked with diapers in three different sizes, baby wipes, lotion, baby powder, and rash cream. The closet was filled with clothes of all sizes, blankets, sheets, cloth diapers, and burp rags. The white crib was beautiful, with a pink sheet on the mattress and a couple of plush toys next to a beautiful, soft, thick, pink blanket with the name Holly Grace embroidered on it. A breast pump was sitting next to a rocking chair in the corner of the room.
“You thought of everything,” Julie said, tears welling up in her eyes and Holly sleeping soundly in her arms.
Tonight, I quietly go in to check on Holly. She doesn’t remember her mom, but I always talk about Julie to make sure Holly knows she loved her and is still with us even if we can’t see her. My little girl is sleeping soundly in her new bedroom. The walls are pale pink. The canopy bed is white, with pink bedding and plush toys lying next to her. Her embroidered baby blanket is tightly gripped in her little hand.
The following day, I get up early, thinking about making a special breakfast for Holly—pancakes, sausage, and eggs. I open the cupboard—no pancake mix. I open the fridge. No eggs. Okay, Mom and Dad didn’t think of everything. I smile and try to come up with plan B.
I sit down with a cup of coffee and wait for Holly to wake up so we can go out for breakfast. My phone rings, and I answer it before the second ring, not wanting to wake her. It’s still early. “Hi, Adam,” I say.
“Do you and Holly want to come over for breakfast?” he asks.
“You don’t have to invite me twice. We’ll be right over.” I hang up the phone just as Holly walks into the kitchen, her blond hair in a tangled, curly mess. She’s rubbing her eyes with one hand and holding her blanket with the other. My beautiful daughter is getting so big but is still very much a baby.
“Come on, Holly, let’s go put some clothes on. Uncle Adam just invited us over for breakfast.”
Half an hour later, we’re pulling up to their house. That’s what’s so convenient about living in a small town. You can drive anywhere in town and be there in five minutes.
We ring the doorbell, and as Adam opens the door, the aroma of hot coffee and bacon fills me with hunger and comfort. We walk in, and Tori runs over to us, asking Holly if she wants to play. I walk into the kitchen with Adam just as Katherine flips a pancake.
“Good morning, Katherine,” I say.
“Good morning. Do you want some coffee?” she asks.
“Yes, absolutely,” I say.
She grabs a mug from the cupboard and fills it with coffee. “Thank you,” I say as she hands me the cup. “When’s your due date?” I ask, looking down at her basketball-sized stomach.
“I have three weeks to go,” she says, smiling.
Adam starts cracking some eggs into a pan, and two minutes later, I have a plate in front of me with fried eggs, crispy bacon, and fluffy pancakes. The girls sit next to each other at the table, discussing a painted plate. Apparently, Tori wants to go check on the plate she painted yesterday.
Katherine fills me in on the events of the previous day, and just as I begin to apologize for keeping Adam away all day, the doorbell rings. I look down at my watch and realize it’s after nine. Adam walks over to the door, and I can see that the flowers I ordered for Katherine have been delivered. He brings them over to Katherine, who gives him a questioning look. “I have no idea,” Adam says, “They’re not from me.”
She reads the card aloud and looks at me with a knowing smile. “You’re welcome.”
After breakfast, Adam and I start doing the dishes. “Aaron,” Katherine begins, “is it okay if I take Holly to Loren’s studio this morning to pick up Tori’s art project? I promise to have her back in a couple of hours.”
“Yes, of course,” and before I have a chance to think about it, I ask, “How’s your sister doing?” I haven’t seen Loren since Adam and Katherine’s wedding. She was the maid of honor, and I was the best man, so we were coupled up for the event. I met her for the first time at the wedding rehearsal.
When it was our turn to practice walking down the aisle, she slipped her arm through mine, and I noticed her hand was freezing. I gently put my hand over hers for warmth and to provide some comfort. She looked up at me, her green eyes pleading to please remain silent. I didn’t listen. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said, squeezing her hand. I couldn’t imagine how difficult everything must have been for her losing her fiancé only a few months before.
She said nothing, but I noticed she stiffened under my touch. She was a pillar of strength during the ceremony two days later. Looking over at her for a brief moment, I saw a single tear roll down her face as she stood next to Katherine. She recovered quickly, though, and during the reception, she did great. She smiled, laughed, and chatted with the handful of guests and the happy couple. She danced with her father and with Adam. She gave a toast that was both funny and touching. Through it all, I could sense the sadness and pain she was experiencing.
I would have never thought that I’d be going through my own heartache not too long after that.
“She’s doing okay,” I hear Katherine say, returning me to the present. “She has good days and bad days.”
“I can relate,” I say.
It happened three years ago. We had just come home after visiting my parents for Labor Day weekend. We had also met Adam and Katherine’s daughter, Tori, who was a month old.
Julie started with a nagging cough that refused to clear up. She had been losing weight, but since she was still nursing Holly, we didn’t think anything of it. When she started having shortness of breath, we decided she should see a doctor. We sat in the doctor’s office, and I reached for Julie’s hand. It was cold and a little shaky. Everyone knows it’s never good when you’re asked to come in to hear the results of testing, but we weren’t prepared for the diagnosis.
I can hear the doctor’s voice to this day, “Stage four lung cancer,” he said.
“That can’t be right,” I told him, “Julie doesn’t smoke.”
We were told she had six months to a year left. We asked about options and treatment, but the prognosis wasn’t good either way. I looked at my beautiful wife of fourteen years and kissed her. Still holding her hand, I found myself once again saying,” Whatever happens, we will deal with it together.”
We made the decision to move our little family to California so she could be close to her parents and siblings. When I told Adam, he was very supportive and told me not to worry about the business. He’d take care of things until we returned, never realizing I’d come back without her.
Refusing to ruin the holidays, Julie hung on until a few days after Christmas and passed away at home, surrounded by her entire family. It’s been almost two years. I miss her. Especially when I look at our little girl, who looks more and more like her every day. Holly should have both parents here, watching her grow up.
Realizing I’m somewhere else, deep in thought again, Katherine reaches over and touches my hand. “Aaron?” she says, “Is it okay if I take Holly?”
“I’m so sorry, Katherine,” I say, “I was just thinking about Julie. Yes, of course, take her. Do you need some money so she can make her own art piece?”
“No, no need,” she responds, “One of the perks of being the owner’s sister is never having to pay for anything at the studio.”