“We love you, Tess,” I said. “Just be careful with that beautiful heart of yours.”
“I am. I will.” Tess leaned back and put up the footrest on the lounger. “Can we talk about something else now?”
“Wait.” Emily looked around before asking a final question. “So, what are you going to do?”
“What do you mean?” Tess asked.
“Do you think you’ll see him again?”
“Probably. Like I said, we go to the same church. We have a few mutual friends. I don’t know. I’m still processing everything.” Tess left it there. “Thank you for listening. And telling me what I needed to hear.”
“And a few things you didn’t want to hear?” I asked.
She nodded, but I thought her expression looked lighter.
At that moment, my hostess instincts kicked in. I eased us on to the next subject, which was an update on the new chef and how it looked like Joel would finally have some time off. Christy brought up the marriage retreat and added how Todd wanted to go and was working side jobs to make it happen.
That rolled into Emily talking about how Trevor, her Realtor husband, had a major real estate deal fall apart right after Christmas. It affected him more than she had expected, and their plan to move out of their apartment into a home of their own was now going to be delayed.
Sierra told us that she and Jordan were talking about moving too. They had been living with his parents in Irvine for several years. Their daughter, Ella Mae, was fifteen months old, and they felt they had overstayed their welcome.
“You know what?” Tess said. “This is great. I like hearing about your problems.”
“What could you possibly like about hearing everyone’s problems?” I asked with a laugh.
“Sometimes I think my life would be so much easier if I found someone and got married and had a couple of babies,” Tess said. “You guys keep it real for me. Married or single, life is just messy, isn’t it?”
We all laughed. It felt good to have vented around the circle and now to be reaching for the last of the peanut butter cookies. We talked for another hour, being honest about our messy lives.
Before everyone left, Christy asked if she could pray for us. Her prayer was sweet and comforting. Her sincere words fell on us like a benediction. She asked God to give Tess wisdom. For me, she asked God to restore my soul. Her prayer for Sierra was that God would lead them to a perfect haven, and for Emily she asked God to bless Trevor’s work.
“Let’s do that every time we meet,” Emily suggested. “I love being prayed for.”
“Me too.” I smiled at Christy. “Thank you. I needed that.”
“We all did,” Tess said.
Our hugs at the door felt soul deep that night as the DOEs were leaving. Christy pointed out that none of us had shared our word for the year. We agreed on the spot to have another gathering in a few weeks.
My friends had barely made it to their cars before I decided we would make it a Valentine’s Day theme. I couldn’t wait to hand-make the invitations the way I used to. I envisioned the decorations and refreshments: red hearts strung across the kitchen window and sugar cookies with pink frosting. I decided it would be fun to make valentines for each other. It would be nurturing and affirming. I loved the idea.
The replies to my group text the next morning were unanimous. We set the date for the first Saturday in February. Instead of meeting again at my house, Tess persuaded us to come to her place. We were excited because none of us had been there before. She lived in La Habra Heights, a suburb of Los Angeles. She had told us that her duplex was a hillside haven and that we would feel right at home.
I was still determined to make valentines for all the DOEs; so I made a list of the art supplies I needed to pick up. I hadn’t painted anything for a long time and felt eager to create something beautiful. I wondered if my lack of artistic expression for so many months had contributed to the dips in my mood.
My plan was to pick up the supplies before Eden’s ballet class. I was glad Joel came home in time to watch Alex; this way I would be able to do the quick shopping trip without lugging Alex along in his heavy carrier.
Right before I left, Joel said, “Hey, let’s talk about our vacation plans when you get back.”
“Okay.” A few days earlier I had told him I had thought a lot about the cruise or condo possibilities but decided those would be fun to do as a family once the kids were older. We hadn’t finalized any plans for the retreat, though.
“Did you and Christy talk about the retreat yet?”
“A little. She said they’re going to make their decision by the end of March.”
Joel’s phone buzzed. He rested his arms on the kitchen counter, stretched them out, and started tapping a reply on his phone.
I leaned across the other side of the counter, wanting him to look me in the eyes. “Joel?”
He looked up at me.
“Even if the Spencers can’t make it, I still would like to go. To the retreat. Just the two of us.”
“Good.” He gave me one of his great smiles. “Because I registered us and booked the flight.”
I pulled back, feeling my face warming. “I thought you just said we were going to talk about it. Tonight. I’m sure that you just said, ‘Let’s talk about it tonight.’ ”
“I was going to wait till the kids were in bed and tell you I grabbed two spots for us before it was all booked. I wanted to surprise you.”
“Joel.”
“What? Didn’t you just say that you wanted to go?”
“I did. I do. It’s just that…” I lowered my voice when I realized that Eden had come closer, as if sensing that her mommy and daddy were about to have another one of their “you’re not listening to me” arguments.
“We hadn’t discussed it yet. That’s all.” I tried to speak as calmly as I could. “It seems like you made a decision for both of us.”
“How is that a problem?” Joel still looked confused. His voice kept elevating. “You said we should do this. Isn’t that what you just said?”
“Why don’t we talk about it tonight, like you suggested?” I stayed composed and exited the kitchen, heading for the downstairs bathroom.
When I closed the door behind me and looked up, my reflection in the mirror startled me. My hair was a mess. I undid the day-old braid and pulled my hair up into a high ponytail, smoothing the sides as best as I could. I had intended to take a shower, but the afternoon had gotten away from me. If I was going to get to the art supply store, I needed to leave now.
I washed my face for the first time that day and patted it dry with a hand towel that smelled as if little peanut butter–laced fingers had used it last.
When I returned to the kitchen, Joel was holding Alex on his lap at the counter, and Eden was sliding back and forth on the kitchen floor in her ballet slippers, her arms over her head, entertaining the guys.
Joel’s gaze followed me as I went to the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of water with sliced lemons and cucumbers.
“Would you like some?” I offered, after I had poured myself a glass.
“No, thanks. Isn’t it about time for you to go?” he asked.
I glanced at the clock and nodded before taking a long drink. Possibly the first full glass of water I had drunk all day.
“All right then, little ballerina. Time for your lesson.” Joel stood and lowered Alex to the floor. “Have fun with your mom.”
Alex started to cry. Eden chimed in with, “I want you to take me, Daddy!” She ran to him and clutched his legs.
“I’ll be here when you get home.” Joel’s voice came across stern.
“I want you to take me, Daddy!”
Alex had pulled himself up and was still crying, clinging to Joel’s leg.
I secretly felt glad that Joel could se
e our children in one of their tandem meltdowns. He seldom saw this side of them.
“Come on, Eden.” I pulled a baggy sweater from the stack of folded clothes on the couch and pulled it over my head.
“Do you want me to take her?” Joel’s forceful voice called out over the squalling, which prompted Alex to wail louder.
I knew if we tried to change plans, the situation would just get more complicated. I didn’t try to yell back over the toddler chorus. Instead, I shook my head, put on my “nice mommy” face, and rushed Eden out the door.
She was still wailing as I buckled her into her car seat and started the engine. I put on her favorite sing-along music. Fortunately, it had the desired effect, calming her and stopping the tears before we were even out of our neighborhood.
Why does Joel get so tense about everything? He’s like his dad and the rest of the men in his big, hot-blooded family. I wish Joel could relax around the kids.
We were almost to the art supply store when I wondered if Joel’s ambitious goals and long work hours would ever really change the way he kept saying they would.
What if the rest of our lives are going to be like this?
Eden seemed to have forgotten all about her tears when we arrived at the store and I told her she could pick one new treat. In her pink tutu, she joyfully bobbed up and down the aisles with me, examining all the options. My basket was soon filled with the items on my list.
To my surprise, she wanted to go back to the aisle with the colorful pom-poms in one of the lower bins. She selected one pink pom-pom the size of a grape. It was sweet the way she took my “only one treat” so seriously.
“I’m glad you found these,” I told her. “Because I need twenty pom-poms. And you know what? We can share them.”
Her eyes lit up. “And Alex too?”
“As long as he doesn’t put them in his mouth, then yes. We’ll share them with Alex too.”
Life was all pom-poms and tutus for my innocent daughter as she skipped into her dance studio ten minutes later. We were a little early, and I was glad I didn’t see anyone I knew. If I ever did apply to teach a watercolor class here one day, I wanted the manager to see me as a professional and not as the harried mom I was this afternoon.
“Where’s By-let?” Eden looked around for her new friend.
“Maybe she’ll be here in a minute.” I pulled Eden’s sweater off and pointed to the row of chairs lining the bottom edge of the large window facing the parking area. “Let’s sit here. You can watch for her.”
Eden climbed onto a chair and turned around, balancing on her knees. She looked out the window and held the back of the chair, watching for Violet. Her waiting lasted only a few minutes before she squealed, “I see her! She’s coming.”
I turned and watched a darling little ballerina with short blond hair and fancy pink glasses make her way across the parking lot. She was holding the hand of a tall man with strawberry-blond hair.
He looked up, revealing the broad nose and tilted grin on a face I’d once known by memory. My unprepared heart clenched.
Garrett?
Chapter 6
It’s not possible. That can’t be Garrett.
My hand automatically went to my chest as if grasping for the emerald ring that once was hidden there.
Violet and her father entered the studio, and Eden bounded over to greet them. The voice that rumbled from the tall man was unmistakable. I couldn’t look away.
He glanced in my direction, and as soon as our eyes met, he froze. My heart gave an uneven thump.
Our daughters took off hand in hand to join the others in the dance floor area. I felt glued to my chair as he slowly made his way in my direction. He stood in front of me, still staring as if he couldn’t decide if I were real.
“Jennie?” His voice turned raspy; his eyes narrowed in disbelief.
I nodded, instantly affected by the way he said my name. My mother was the only other person in the world who had ever called me Jennie.
“Eden? She’s yours?”
I nodded again.
Other moms and dads had arrived and were settling into the chairs lined along the wall. The class was beginning, and the only place for him to sit was next to me. Garrett remained standing, looking at me as if he expected me to say something or do something that would transport us both out of this wincingly difficult moment.
“Could we…” He pointed to the parking lot.
I stayed where I was, looking at him and then turning to focus on the little dancers as they lined up. I didn’t know what to do.
Garrett shifted from one foot to the other, his large frame blocking my full view. “I’m going to just…” He retraced his steps and went outside.
Drawing in a slow breath, I tried to think. All that came to me was a rush of repressed memories. They were so vivid. Friday night dates to the movies, football games, homecoming dances, late-night talks, shared holidays, birthday parties, the crazy pranks Garrett loved to play. I closed my eyes, and all I could see were summer sunsets. All I could think of were our kisses. Hundreds of shared kisses. Brief, quick, slow, gentle, determined, lingering, convincing, rushed, romantic—we had created a vocabulary of kisses over the two years that we were inseparable.
My hand rose to cover my lips as if I thought that wiping my mouth would make the memories go away.
What is he thinking right now?
One of the moms who had been standing came over and sat in the empty chair next to me. My eyes were fixed on Eden, but my thoughts were focused on Garrett and how he was undoubtedly positioned just on the other side of the large windows behind me, staring inside at the back of my head. He used to love it when I wore my long hair in a ponytail.
I should say something. I can’t ignore him. I should go outside.
I reviewed all the options of what I could or should say and decided that I would approach him like any other old friend.
Hello, how are you? How’s your family? Your daughter is adorable. Nice to see you. Good-bye.
I ran through the script in my head until I felt confident enough to get up and slide past the other parents. Garrett must have observed my departure because he was standing by the door, holding it open for me.
“Jennie, I can’t believe you’re here. I didn’t know you still lived in this area.”
I looked at him and then looked away, forgetting my rehearsed, safe words. His face was too familiar. His voice, his inflections. It felt so strange.
“You look great,” he said, nervously filling the void as I tried to find my voice. “I mean, you look the same. I couldn’t believe that was you.”
I still couldn’t speak. Reality had bent like a paper puzzle, and my current life was tucked away in an origami fold for a moment. I was standing in front of him now as an equal in thoughts and emotions to the girl I was back then.
“So, I guess I met your husband here at the first class. Or at least, he said he was Eden’s dad. I don’t know if he’s your…”
“He is.” My voice cracked as I spoke for the first time. I cleared my throat. “Joel is my husband.”
The simple act of saying Joel’s name aloud unfolded the emotional paper trick. I was back to the present. I wasn’t a teenage girl in jeans standing in front of my high school boyfriend who could talk me into almost anything. I was a wife. A mother. A strong woman who now wore yoga pants and oversized sweaters and went out in public with her messy hair up in a ponytail.
“Joel told me about his restaurant.” Garrett seemed determined to start a conversation. “It sounds like a great place. I’m going to try it one of these days.”
I nodded. “Good.”
“So, how are you?” Garrett looked as if he were in pain.
“I’m good. You?”
“Yeah, good. I’m busy. We live in Irvine. Near the Spectrum. Left I
daho about four months ago. Tiffany started a new business with a friend. She travels a lot. I work at home. Web design. Some photography. And Violet, of course. She keeps me busy.”
His rush of details seemed to calm him a bit. He looked around as if to make sure we were the only ones who could hear our conversation. Rubbing the back of his neck, Garrett dipped his chin and in a low voice said, “Jennie, I have to say something to you.”
I glanced at the tiny dancers through the big window and then back at Garrett.
“Jennie, I’m sorry.”
I never would have expected to hear his sudden statement. His expression was sincere.
“I really messed up. I’ve wanted to tell you for years. I wanted to apologize and ask you to forgive me for treating you the way I did. I’m sorry. I don’t know if you can forgive me, but I hope you will. I was wrong.”
This show of humility was something new in this man-version of Garrett. I didn’t know what to make of his honesty and vulnerability.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he quickly added. “I just need you to know that I’m really sorry, and I apologize.” Garrett placed his large hand over his heart and gazed at me.
We stood in silence, both of us blinking, looking at each other. I nodded. That’s all I was able to manage in that unexpected moment. I nodded again.
“Okay.” He turned to look into the studio. I did the same. We remained standing three feet apart in front of the window as if we were complete strangers and it was only natural to ignore each other’s presence.
All I could think of right then was the way his car smelled that night when we had sat in the parking lot behind the two-story office building. A sickening sweetness came from a pineapple-shaped piña colada air freshener he had hung from his rearview mirror. When I had teased him about the unusual addition, he said “someone” had given it to him.
I was so naive.
Blinking, I focused on the sight of my daughter and his daughter, our daughters, twirling in their pink tutus. My thoughts cleared.
Being Known Page 5
