I stare on in curiosity, not for a second breaking eye contact. “And?” My voice is a whisper. “What are you going to do?”
“I’ve decided—no, Bobby and I have decided together—he’s supportive of my idea—that we’ll meet with Brandon.” She swallows deeply and removes her glasses. “I’m going to let Brandon meet Rose.”
I’m silent, but not because I’m stunned, necessarily. I am pretty levelheaded, and I do think there’s something to sage and well-thought-out advice and plans of action. Just because a guy screws you over, however royally, doesn’t automatically mean there’s one hand to play. You could even be dealt the same hand over and over again, but you don’t have to play the game the same way each time, you know? To every wrong there’s a right; every dark side a light one; every mistake, a righted act; every action, a reaction. There’s Brandon and there’s Rose, and here’s an opportunity for Robin to do whatever she thinks is best.
“Emily?” Robin’s voice is meek. She’s batting away her tears with the backs of her hands, eyes entreating. “What do you think?”
“You know it doesn’t matter what I think,” I say softly.
She rolls her eyes and cracks a smile. “Well, I know that. But your thoughts. What are your thoughts?”
I rub her knee and say, “We all have to make our own choices and follow our own life’s path, wherever it may lead us.” I pause and look off to the side as I contemplate my next words. “Ultimately,” I say, “you have to do what you feel you need to do, Robin. In your heart of hearts.” I lightly pound a fist to my chest. “What you feel to be the right thing for you. For Rose and Bobby. For the new little one.” I gently touch her stomach.
Robin sniffles through a smile, nodding. “So you don’t think I’m completely off my rocker for giving Brandon this chance?”
“No,” I say, returning my hand to her knee. “Of course you’ll hear all us girls bitching about him and maybe even telling you you’re daft to give him this chance.”
She shrugs in understanding.
“But you know you’ll always have our love and our support. Some of us might not completely understand this choice; some of us might not make the same decision if it were ours to make. But that’s the point of this being your life and your path…your decisions. Your fate!”
“Oh no,” she breathes. “Here comes the Buddha lesson.”
“Psh,” I say, gently slapping her thigh. “I won’t tell you what the Buddha might say, but I will tell you that if you want me there with you when you meet Brandon—or make the call—just ask.”
She nods swiftly, putting her glasses back on after another quick swipe to the tears.
“The Balinese tribesmen, though, would probably say—”
Robin breaks out in laughter and tosses to me the homemade yellow pillow Claire had made for her years ago. “Here we go,” she sings.
“Hey.” I toss the pillow back. “You want sage advice? The sageness comes from somewhere.”
“Your ring-swinging trick didn’t work; I doubt the Balinese tribal chants or whatever, will help me face Brandon.”
“I’ll help,” I say, standing up. “The rest of the girls will, too. You know it. This isn’t the worst we’ve all been through.”
“True,” Robin says, following me to the door. “Thanks, Em.” She pulls me in for a hug. “It’s really nice to have you around like this. Beats Skype calls and emails.”
“No problem.” I rest my hand on the door’s handle. “So, out of curiosity, when are you planning on talking to Brandon?”
She rubs one hand over her small belly and places the other on her hip. “I don’t know. The sooner the better, probably. So I don’t lose my nerve. Or my mind.” She chuckles. “Probably tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. Sunday? Sunday? The day?
“True,” I say slowly. “But maybe this is middle-of-the-week kind of news to bring up.” I have to think on my feet so I don’t give away tomorrow’s plans that Bobby has up his sleeve. Could you imagine the disaster that would be if Robin started the day off by calling up Brandon?
“Maybe,” Robin says, jutting out her bottom lip in consideration.
“Definitely not a Sunday kind of thing to do,” I say reassuringly.
“‘Spose you’re right.” She pulls the door open and adds, “Thanks for everything, Em. You have a good night.”
“You, too, Robin.” I trot down the steps of the quaint Craftsman home, crossing my fingers in front of me and praying that Robin let tomorrow be a drama-free day. Tomorrow is not the day to deal with Brandon.
Chapter Thirteen
I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I’m not the one who’s about to propose. I’m not the one who’s about to become engaged. But butterflies are flitting all around my stomach, and I can hardly sit still.
I’ve already smoked two whole cigarettes since I arrived at Woodland Park only a half-hour ago. For a social smoker, that’s a lot. I’ve read two chapters of The Great Railway Bazaar for the book club homework, but had to stop because my nerves were taking over, and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking, which was making it hard to read. I’ve already downed the largest sized coffee Peet’s offers, and I know that isn’t helping any. I’m a total wreck!
I look at my bright yellow sports watch. It reads ten past two, and that means Bobby is already ten minutes late. He’s supposed to bring Robin and Rose by, right here at this picturesque spot in front of a manicured patch of colorful flowers, right at the wooden bench. I’m hiding behind a thick hedge that’s just tall enough to keep me covered from view, so long as I stay in a squatting position.
“Where are you?” I whisper, looking at my watch once more.
Bobby texted me before I left to make sure everything was a go for the surprise proposal photos, saying that I would need to bear with him in case they got held up or something. Who knows what could be happening? Rose could be throwing a tantrum. Robin might not feel like going for a walk in the park. Or, dear God, I hope not, but what if Robin did contact Brandon? I really doubt it, because she said she and Bobby were discussing the matter together, and I know he’d protest her calling him today. But what if?
“Mommy!” I hear a high-pitched, baby’s voice. It’s Rose. It has to be.
“Mommyyyyy,” the voice cries.
Yup, it’s definitely Rose.
“Up, up!” I can hear Rose beg. I peek as best I can through the hedge, but it’s too thick for me to see much beyond the bench nearby—the bench where it’s all going to go down!
“I waan up! Up!” Rose continues to squeal.
I quietly adjust my camera around my neck, checking to make sure it’s on and the settings are still properly set. Once I get the cue from Bobby, I’ll focus the camera and—
“Is this not the most beautiful day? Look at that sky,” Bobby says rather loudly.
That’s my cue!
I bring the camera up to my face, look through the viewfinder, and rotate the lens to the ideal amount of zoom in the direction of the bench. In sight I’ve got Bobby to the far right, and Robin with Rose’s small hand in hers, nearly centered. I zoom in a fraction more and focus the lens. Click.
I can hear them talking, but they’re a tad too far for me to make all of their words out clearly. I’ve gotten the cue, so all I can do is sit here on tenterhooks and wait.
Zooming in on Rose, who’s got one hand in her mouth and the other pointing in the direction of the flower bed, I snap a photo. I peek above the camera to get a wider view. When is he going to do it? I think anxiously.
Two more candid photos of Rose, and one of Robin smiling down at her daughter, then I see Bobby point across the way, opposite him. Robin follows his direction, back turning towards him, and immediately I can see Bobby withdraw a small, black box from his pant’s pocket.
Omigod! This is it!
My grip on my camera is tight and I’m holding my breath. I make sure I’m focused on Robin’s face, and wait eagerly for her to turn around. Bobby is on bended
knee, the black box is brought up, he opens it, and curious Rose immediately wobbles over and leans her head over to look at it.
Click. Robin still hasn’t turned around.
Oh! Turn around. Come on, girl, I think, grip still firm.
Click.
“Momma!” I hear Rose cry, and Bobby immediately says, “Robin.”
Butterflies are really flitting about, my camera’s focus is locked on Robin’s face, and then she turns around.
Click.
Her hands fly to her mouth.
Click.
“Robin,” Bobby says.
Click.
“Momma!” Rose touches the ring box.
Click.
“Omigod!” Robin starts to fan her rapidly flushing face.
Click. Click.
I shuffle closer so I can sneakily hear some of the romantic exchange, practically becoming one with the hedge.
“Robin Elaine, will you do me the honor of making me the luckiest and happiest man, and father, and marry me?” I hear Bobby say.
I snap a rapid succession of photos, smiling broadly.
“Momma!” Rose touches the box again.
Bobby smiles and shakily pulls the ring from the box. He hands the box to Rose, and she instantly begins to gnaw on it. Bobby and Robin share a laugh, and I can feel tears spring to my eyes, but I hold them back.
Click.
“Will you, Robin, and will you, Rose?” Bobby says, looking at the both of them.
“Of course I’ll marry you!” Robin screams, dropping down to Bobby’s level and holding out her shaking left hand.
Click. Click.
Bobby slips the ring onto her finger, and the two immediately embrace and close in for a long and romantic kiss. I zoom in and capture it on camera.
Rose plops to the lawn and crawls her way in between the small gap between her mom and dad. The ring box still clutched tightly in one hand, Rose is rapidly crawling towards me, all smiles. I don’t know if she sees me or not, although I doubt it.
I take as many photos as I can, but when Rose is just a yard off, I bring my camera down, hoping Bobby will reveal the next surprise. The brambles are starting to annoy, my quads are on fire, and I’m way past due to give my friend congratulations. Either Bobby outs me soon…or Rose just might.
Robin’s staring at her new ring, wiggling her finger and looking completely beside herself. I snap a photo of her in her euphoric moment, then I hear Bobby say, “And I’ve got another surprise.”
“Another surprise?” Robin gasps, pressing her newly bejeweled hand to her chest.
“Emily?” Bobby calls.
“Surprise!” I sing, standing up. I brush the dust from my jean-clad knees and make my way over to them, snatching up a crawling Rose along the way. “Congratulations!” I embrace Robin with Rose sandwiched between.
“What?” Robin claps her hand to her mouth. “What are you doing here?”
I brandish my camera with a clever grin.
“Surprise!” Bobby says, taking Rose from me as she wiggles about. He bounces her on his arm.
“Prize!” Rose squeals. She throws her small hands up in the air.
“What is going on?” Robin looks from Bobby to me, then back to Bobby. “You knew about this?”
“Prize, Mama! Prize!” Rose rocks back and forth on Bobby’s thick arm.
“Bobby had the brilliant idea to have the proposal photographed.” I adjust the camera on its strap. “Awesome, hah? Surprised?”
“Surprised!” Robin’s eyes grow wider. “I thought we were just taking a walk in the park. A casual Sunday walk like we usually do. Never imagined this!” She looks to Bobby, glowing radiantly, and gives him a kiss.
“Muaw!” Rose says giddily. She puckers her lips.
“And what a surprise it was!” Robin says in a baby-like tone, giving her daughter a kiss.
“And…” Bobby says.
“There’s more?” Robin looks from Bobby to me, eyes still wide.
“Maternity photos,” he tells her. “Emily’ll take your maternity photos for you when you’re ready later on.”
“Oh how fun!”
“And then now, here in the park, we can do a few of the three of us. Engagement photos…” Bobby looks proud—proud that the love of his life has agreed to marry him and proud that his surprise proposal and photo ideas worked out.
“Oh, how fantastic!” Robin gushes. “Emily, thank you.” She wraps me into a tight hug.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get these engagement photos on! I got some amazing shots of the proposal and now that I’m not stuck behind a hedge I can move around and get creative and take even more fun and amazing shots.” I pat my camera and turn towards the flower garden. “Come on, there are some gorgeous backdrops here for engagement photos.”
“Can you believe this, Em?” Robin says, drying her moist eyes with the hem of her fuchsia maxi dress. “Engagement. Proposal.” She lets out a cry of joy and fans her face. “My God! I’m engaged! Engaged!”
Bobby laughs and looks on at his fiancée with joy, with love. If this is what finding “the One” is like, if this is what finding your forever love is all about, then I definitely want in.
“Oh, hold it,” I say, brushing at my tingling nose. I bring up my camera, focus on Bobby and Robin with their hands entwined, and snap the first of many photos of the engaged couple.
***
“You’re so lucky,” Sophie says, setting down the heavy ceramic bowl filled with chilled sugar cookie dough. “I cannot believe you got to be there! Oh that must have been so exciting!”
“It was, girl. It was.” I erase Blueberry Cheesecake Cupcakes from the top of the board and reach for a piece of chalk.
Chad, seemingly from nowhere, hands me the chalk. “The engagement story? Again?”
“Yes!” Sophie exclaims. She takes an ice cream scoop to the batter. “Some guys still know the meaning of romance.”
“Thanks,” I say to Chad, taking the chalk from him. I put two tick marks next to Peanut Butter Fudge Bars. “And some guys still know how to sweep a woman off her feet.”
“I’ll say,” Sophie says dreamily.
I pull out two clean baking sheets and set them on Sophie’s workstation.
“I’m happy for Robin,” Chad says. “Just think having you there, Emily, to take photos of the whole thing, is a bit cheesy, that’s all.” He pulls himself up onto the floured countertop across the way. “No offense at all to you and your work. I’m sure you did an awesome job.”
“I did,” I say with a bat of my lashes.
“A proposal’s just such an intimate moment, that’s all,” he carries on. “Doesn’t seem very intimate or romantic having someone hide out like a peeping Tom, taking pictures.”
“Whatever,” Sophie says. She gruffly stabs at the dough with the spoon. “What would you know about romance and proposing anyway?”
“I’ve got a few romantic moves of my own,” he says with a smirk.
“He does,” Gatz says as he enters the kitchen. “Wasn’t going to say anything, but Chad’s a regular Don Juan.”
I belt out a laugh and begin to grease the sheets. “Is that so, Gatz?”
“Sorry to out ya, buddy,” Gatz says, giving Chad a brotherly handshake, making claps and fist bumps and weird moves that I’m pretty sure you need to have a Y chromosome to even attempt, much less understand.
“What’s up?” Chad says, clapping Gatz roughly on the back as Gatz slips an apron on. “Relieving me from the hen-pecking.”
“Whatever,” Sophie huffs.
Chad leaps from his seat on the counter. “Well if you see Robin before I do, wish her congrats for me, please.” He runs a hand through his greasy hair. “Guess I owe Bobby a congrats round of golf.”
“Or a bachelor party,” Gatz throws in.
“Oh, God, no,” Sophie groans. “The last time Chad took care of bachelor duty, I had a weeping Claire to console for days. You just play your golf.”
>
Chad darts over to nab a freshly baked chocolatey treat from the sheet Gatz pulls from the oven. “See ya gossip queens later,” he says with a full mouth, chocolate dripping from one corner.
“You’ve got chocolate on your face,” Sophie calls out. She rubs a perfectly round ball of sugar cookie dough between her hands and places it on the sheet I’ve just finished greasing.
Chad makes an exaggerated licking motion to clean off the chocolate.
“Oh, gross,” she says with a twisted expression. She quickly rolls another cookie and drops it onto the sheet.
“Later!” Chad says, giving two knocks to the island table we’re working at.
As he turns his back to us, Sophie shouts, “And you’ve got flour on your ass.”
Chad gives a push back with his hips, mocking Sophie, and Gatz and I can’t help but laugh.
“Honestly,” Sophie says with a sigh. “That’s so unhygienic, too.” She motions at the spot where Chad was just sitting. “Sometimes…”
“So,” Gatz says loudly, changing the topic so he doesn’t have to listen to Sophie lodging a complaint, as often happens in these kinds of situations, “one of your friends got engaged? Is that what I heard?”
“Yup!” I say with a big smile. I wrap up the remaining greasing butter and walk to the fridge. “I photographed it, and it was nothing short of awesome.”
“Tight,” Gatz says through a crooked grin. He retrieves from the inside of his apron a small pink pad of paper used for jotting down customer orders. “I’m up front, right, Sophie?”
Sophie nods a “yes,” and I grab a second ice cream scoop to help with the sugar cookies.
“Congrats to your friend,” Gatz says, disappearing from view as he makes his way to the front, where, judging from the ting-a-ling of the door’s string of bells, a new customer has just arrived.
“So, dish!” Sophie says enthusiastically. “I want to hear every stinkin’ detail about that proposal.”
I laugh and dig deeply into the rock-hard dough. “Robin told the whole thing to all of us last night, Sophie.” With news like this, we just had to have a big get-together the very next night. Robin spilled the whole romantic story, but sometimes once just isn’t enough.
When Girlfriends Take Chances Page 12
