Unconditional

by Linda Rettstatt

  “I saw Francisco the other night at a restaurant. He was with someone.”

  “He does have friends besides me. Just like you did.”

  “No. This guy wasn’t acting like a friend. They looked like… Shit, they looked like a couple.”

  Thomas stared at me hard and then took a swallow of coffee. He set the mug down and played with the fork in front of him. “You’d love to prove I made a mistake, wouldn’t you?”

  “You did make a mistake. But, no, Thomas. I don’t want to see you get hurt. I know how it feels to be blindsided.”

  “Bull. I’ve been as honest with you as I know how to be under the circumstances. And now you want to wedge doubt in between me and Francisco so I can’t be happy.”

  I felt as though he’d slapped me. I swallowed hard before I murmured, “Well, you have me all figured out, don’t you? I guess there’s no reason to continue this discussion, then.”

  He stood and carried his coffee mug to the sink. He turned and leaned back against the sink. “I don’t know that there’s a future for me with Francisco. And I don’t know that there isn’t. This is all new for me. I’m learning as I go. It’s best if you and I keep our personal lives, or at least our relationships, off the field of discussion.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “I know you mean well, Meg, but you have to let go.”

  “I have let go. In case you haven’t noticed, I moved out. I agreed to a divorce. I can’t help it if I care.”

  His volume rose. “Well care a little less.”

  “I can’t do that. I love you.” My words echoed off the pots hanging from the overhead rack above the stove. “I hate what you’ve done to us, but I love you.”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared down at his shoes, then said, “If you love me, accept me for who I am.”

  I can’t. The truth echoed in my head, but I couldn’t say the words. I hated that I even thought them. I tried to keep the words from showing in my face. I doubt I succeeded.

  Thomas straightened. “I should get home.”

  The door clicked shut and an unbearable silence closed in on me.

  ~ * ~

  “I’m through with trying to be helpful.”

  Audrey peered across her table at me over her glasses. “But isn’t that your work? Helping people?”

  “Let me clarify. I’m finished trying to help the people I love the most find their happiness. From now on, my own happiness is my only priority. Everyone else can look out for themselves.”

  “Hallelujah!” Audrey grinned. “Does that mean you won’t try to fix me up with any more of your clients?”

  “Speaking of which…” I began, then bit my tongue. Shut up, shut up, shut up, Meg.

  She stared at me and waited.

  “Never mind. I’m staying out of it.”

  “It?”

  “Yes, your business.”

  She laughed. “Oh, now it’s my business.”

  “Okay, okay. Do you have plans for the weekend?”

  “Yes.” She focused on the newspaper that lay spread on the table before her.

  I waited as long as I could. “Well? What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to a movie tomorrow afternoon.” She stared back at the newspaper.

  After a moment’s silence, I said, “Well…good, then. I hope you enjoy…whatever the movie is you’re seeing…with whomever you’re seeing it.”

  “It’s killing you, isn’t it?” She folded up the newspaper. “I’m going to a movie with my friend, Julian. My friend. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  Audrey asked, “Do you see yourself getting married again sometime?”

  “Now who’s snooping?”

  “I’m not snooping. I just wonder if you’ve thought about remarriage? You’re young.”

  “I don’t know. I wouldn’t rule out marriage again, but my first priority is the baby. I liked being married.” I paused. “Do you think it was my fault Thomas turned to Francisco?”

  “Your fault?”

  “You know, it would have been different if he’d left me for a woman. I mean, at least the playing field would have been even. I’d be able to see what she had that I didn’t. But…a man? How can I compete with that?”

  “Why do you have to compete?”

  I averted my gaze. “I’ll always love him. I don’t know how not to. He’s…He was my best friend.”

  Audrey reached over and squeezed my hand. “Meg, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how this makes you feel.”

  “He prefers a man over me! Am I that unattractive? Am I that awful to be with?” I swiped at a tear that escaped. “Shit, I’m sick of crying.”

  “Then stop,” Audrey murmured.

  “Huh?”

  “Stop crying over Thomas. Stop taking responsibility for his choice. Come here.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me up from my chair. I trailed after her down the hallway to where a full-length mirror hung in the spare room.

  Audrey stood behind me, hands on my shoulders, and faced me toward the mirror. “Look. What do you see?”

  “I see a pregnant woman with a recurrence of acne, swollen ankles, and bad hair.”

  “Know what I see? I see a beautiful woman filled with new life. I see one of the kindest, most caring women I know.” She wrapped her arms around me and rested her chin on top of my head. “I see a sometimes irritating, wisecracking, often abrasive, but always caring sister who is going to be one fantastic mom.”

  I met her gaze in the mirror. “Wow. Want to take over my practice while I’m on maternity leave?”

  “Yeah, right. I’ll stick to my job where two plus two always adds up.”

  That’s when I understood what she’d been saying. I had been trying to make my friendship with Thomas, our former marriage, and Thomas’s leaving me for Francisco add up. It couldn’t. It never would.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The early November chill sent a shiver along my spine as I stepped onto the porch and stretched my neck to stare down at the Sunday newspaper. My feet had disappeared from view three days earlier. I struggled to reach down and snag the plastic sleeve holding the Post Gazette, sure my efforts provided entertainment to the neighbors. Finally, I just kicked the paper through the open door and went back inside.

  Over the next two weeks, I wrapped things up at work, referring patients who needed continued therapy during my leave. I needed to have the baby’s crib and changing table moved into my room and have a futon delivered for the nursery so my parents could stay. I had asked Thomas to come and move the things. I still refused to acknowledge Francisco, so Thomas dragged his brother-in-law along. His mother came with them, bearing a casserole dish that smelled heavenly.

  Elena was petite, with smooth bronze skin and round dark eyes like Thomas. Strands of silver glimmered in her black hair, and she looked much younger than her sixty-three years. Her eyes filled when she gazed at me. “You look beautiful.”

  “I look like a house.”

  She stared at my abdomen. “The baby has dropped, yes?”

  I looked down at my belly. “I don’t think he has. I still have almost six weeks to go.”

  Thomas’s face blanched with alarm. “Dropped? What do you mean he dropped?”

  I laughed. “He’s fine. It’s normal at this stage in the pregnancy. It means the baby’s heading in the right direction and preparing to make his grand entrance into the world.”

  Elena shook her head. “Thomas, have you paid one bit of attention at any of the doctor appointments?”

  “I usually tune that technical stuff out. It makes me a little queasy.”

  “Good to know.” I chuckled. “What’s going to happen in the delivery room? Good thing I have Audrey there, too. I swear, if you pass out on me, I’ll—”

  He raised a hand. “I promise I will not pass out on you. I may drop to the floor beside you, but not on you.” He turned to Manny, his brother-in-law. “Let’s go to the nursery and do s
ome manly work, talk about the Steelers.”

  Elena gave her son a ‘tsk’.

  I ushered Elena through the living room and toward the kitchen. “Please, come in and we can talk while the guys work.”

  She looked around. “I like your house.”

  “Thanks. I’m sorry I haven’t invited you over sooner.”

  When I picked up the teakettle, she set down the casserole and took the kettle from my hand. “You sit. I’ll do this.” She nodded toward the wrapped dish. “I made enchiladas. But if you’re like me, at this stage in the pregnancy, you have a little trouble with spices. I made them very mild.”

  “Thank you. They smell heavenly.”

  Elena moved with efficiency around my kitchen. “I’m glad your parents are coming to stay with you. Babies have a way of arriving on their time, not necessarily the doctor’s schedule. It’s good you won’t be alone. Where are your cups?”

  I pointed. “In the first cabinet to the right of the stove.”

  She removed two mugs and set them on the counter. “Tea bags?”

  “Above the coffee maker. I only have decaf.”

  “Good.” She unwrapped two bags and dropped one into each mug, then added the boiling water.

  “Elena, may I ask you something…personal?”

  She nodded.

  “How are you handling all of this with Thomas?”

  She turned and placed the mugs on the table, then sat. “I don’t understand it. But he’s my son. That man—Francisco. I don’t care for him. He’s…fake.”

  “Yes. I agree.”

  She reached over and covered my hand with hers. “I’m sorry my son hurt you. It means a lot to me that you’ll still let me be a part of my grandson’s life.”

  I clutched her hand. “Oh, Elena, why wouldn’t I? What’s happened between me and Thomas shouldn’t affect our baby’s relationship with you and the rest of his family. If I’ve learned anything in the past months, it’s the importance of family.”

  “Family is everything. And I consider you my third daughter.” She tilted her face and asked, “What will you do when you have to go back to work?”

  “You mean, with the baby? I plan to look for a nanny to come in every day.”

  “Could I be the nanny?”

  “You? You want to spend every day taking care of the baby?”

  “Of course. I retired last year. Maria’s children are all school-aged. What do I do with my time? I cook and give the food away to my neighbors and my kids. I go to mass. That’s my life now.”

  “I can pay you. That would be wonderful. I’ve been so worried about handing the baby over to some stranger. I was going to buy those hidden cameras, but I wouldn’t need them with you.”

  Her eyes shone with excitement. “I could come here in the morning right after mass and stay until you come home. But I will not accept money from you.”

  “We’ll discuss that later. But you’ll have to promise to let me know if you need a day off. I’ll find a babysitter for the day. Shay is right next door and has already offered. I don’t want you to sacrifice all of your time. You know, I could bring the baby to you.”

  She shook her head. “It’s no sacrifice to care for my own grandson. And it’s better for him to be in his own home. That is, if you don’t mind my being here all day.”

  “Mind? Are you kidding? Elena, you have no idea how relieved I would be to have you care for the baby.”

  A smile just like Thomas’s broadened her face. “Then it’s settled. Now, I hope you don’t mind, but Maria and I spoke with your sister. We want to give you a baby shower next weekend.”

  “So that’s why Audrey insisted I not make any plans for Sunday afternoon. Like I have big plans to go dancing or something.”

  “We’re having it at my house. Your sister said she will get you there. We were going to try to surprise you, but I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”

  I gazed at Thomas’s mother, so kind and caring. “Thank you. Of course, I’ll come. But on one condition.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Yes?”

  “Will there be chicken and rice tortillas?”

  “Absolutely.” She beamed.

  Thomas and Manny entered the kitchen. “What are you two up to?” Thomas asked.

  “Your mom, Maria and Audrey are giving me a baby shower next week.”

  Thomas glanced from me to his mother. “Great. What time should I be there?”

  She smacked his arm. “No men allowed. Until the very end. Then you can come and get the gifts and bring them here for Meg.”

  He rubbed his arm, feigning injury. “Mama! Don’t abuse me.” He turned to me. “You want to come and check out the room? Make sure we placed everything where you want it?”

  “Sure. Elena, I’ll be right back. Manny, I’m afraid I’m out of beer, but there’s soda in the fridge. Help yourself.” I rose and followed Thomas through the living room and down the hallway.

  He and Manny had completely rearranged my bedroom. All of the furniture for the baby was organized on one side of the room. “Wow, this is great. I can move around in here without disturbing the baby.”

  “It’s okay, then?”

  I put an arm around his waist and leaned into him. “Perfect. Thank you so much.”

  His hand cupped my shoulder, and he rested his chin on top of my head. “You’re welcome.”

  I took his hand and led him to the bed. “Sit down for a minute. Did you know your mom was going to offer to babysit Ryan while I work?”

  “No. She never mentioned it to me. Are you okay with that?”

  “Are you kidding? I’m ecstatic. But she won’t let me pay her.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “She’s a good woman. And she loves you very much. She reminds me of my granddad in that regard.”

  He frowned. “I’ve disappointed her, though.”

  “No, you haven’t. She may not understand your life choices, but she’s certainly not disappointed in the man you’ve become.” I cupped his cheek with my hand. He felt warm to the touch. I pressed my palm to his forehead. “Are you feeling okay? You feel like you have a fever.”

  He shoved my hand away. “Now you sound like my mother. I’m fine. I’m probably getting a cold. I always do this time of year.”

  That was true. Every single Halloween, Thomas had the sniffles. I dismissed this as his annual autumn head cold arriving a little late. “Take care of yourself. Come on, let’s go to the kitchen and I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute. You go ahead.”

  I looked around the room. “What do you have to do? Everything’s perfect.”

  “Just a minor adjustment. Now, go.” He guided me toward the hall.

  Thomas came into the kitchen a few minutes later. “Ready to go, Mama?”

  Elena stood and set her mug in the sink. “If you are.” She drew me into an embrace. “Meg, you call me if you need anything. Even if you just need to talk. It has to be difficult, going through this without your mother close by.”

  “Thank you. I’ll see you next Sunday.”

  “Enjoy the enchiladas.”

  “I will, Elena.”

  I walked with them to the front door.

  Thomas kissed my cheek. “I’ll talk to you. I get back from Atlanta next Friday evening.”

  “Have a safe trip.” I watched from the porch until Manny’s truck reached the stop sign on the corner.

  Later that evening, when I went to my room to prepare for bed, I found an envelope on my pillow and another in the crib, this one addressed to Ryan Thomas. Both were written in Thomas’s distinctive backward-slanted handwriting.

  I sat on the bed and opened the envelope bearing my name. A single page was folded inside. I settled back against the pillows and unfolded the paper.

  Dear Meg,

  We’ve had some year these past eight months. I know I’ve said these words, but I’m compelled to put them into writing, to make sure you always
know these things. First, I have to say again how very sorry I am for being unable to fulfill the promises I made on our wedding day. Well, not all of them. I promised to love you forever. And I will do that. It seems so strange to tell you that you are and always will be my best friend, but to also know that I can’t be with you as a husband. I think you’ve come to understand this, something I never expected to happen.

  Next, I want to thank you for your love and friendship. But, mostly, for your forgiveness. I don’t deserve that, but you’ve found it in your heart to give it. I’m learning from you what love really means. I know this thing with Francisco won’t last because I can’t give him my whole heart. And I’m not sure I would want to. But I have to know who—what—I am. I know I’m not the husband you need. I can’t be.

  I promise you this: I promise to be honest and open with you always. I promise to support you and love you and our son in the best way I can. I promise to be a good father. And I promise to step to the side when you find a man who can give you the life you deserve. Not that I will ever let go of your friendship or of my place as Ryan’s father. But I won’t stand in the way of your happiness, either.

  Love,

  Thomas

  P.S. I wrote a letter for our son. I know it will be a long time before he can read it himself. But it will be something he will always have from his father to know he was loved and wanted. Please keep it for him.

  I stared at the letter, my hands trembling. Why did he write this? Why did he leave a letter for his son, when he can tell him what he wants to say?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “I’ve never liked baby showers. Or wedding showers, for that matter,” I muttered as I buckled my seatbelt.

  “I know. But you can get through this one. Think of all the loot you’ll collect for the baby.”

  I stared out the window. “I wish Mom were here.”

  “Me, too.” Audrey checked traffic and pulled onto the parkway. “She’ll be there in spirit. I told her I’d call and put her on speaker.”

  My mother was there. Always. For all my firsts: first steps, first skinned knee, first day of school, first date, first broken heart, first wedding. “Shit.”