The Mistaken

by Nancy S Thompson

  It was uncomfortable having Jill be the one to talk straight, to calm me down, and spell out the repercussions of ill-made decisions. I was usually the one to do that while she bristled under my logic. And it was hard to admit there was nothing I could do. Being attacked drove home the seriousness of my situation and the consequences of getting involved on Nick’s behalf. I didn’t want any more of his indiscretions to affect Jill, so I caved in to her request. We had so much to look forward to that it would be foolish to pursue the matter any further.

  Two days after my second attack, I wheeled my brother out of the hospital. Alexi and his ever-present army of thugs were there to greet us outside the front entrance. Nick stood from his wheelchair, looked me in the eye, and shook my hand.

  “Thanks for everything, brother,” he said with his lopsided grin and a gentle fist-bump to my shoulder. “You don’t need to worry about me. Really. It’ll all work out. You’ll see.”

  He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and patted me roughly on the back. Then he turned away without a second look and jumped into Alexi’s Mercedes. I took a step toward the car. I wanted to reach in and pull Nick out by his collar, slap him upside the head or shake some sense into him, anything to get him away from these monsters, but Alexi slid in behind him and rolled the tinted window up halfway. With his typical wry smile, he turned and offered me another two-fingered salute, his eyes twinkling in victory. As I narrowed my eyes and pressed my lips together, he leaned back, and the car drove away.

  I rarely saw Nick after that, though we spoke occasionally over the phone. He said he would try his best to attend the wedding, but he was noncommittal about being my best man, explaining he was busy with new responsibilities. I guess I knew now what “few things” he’d been referring to back in the hospital when I first asked him to stand up for me, though there was nothing I could do about it at this point. Nick had made his choice. And it obviously wasn’t me.

  The wedding plans took shape quickly over the next few months. I gave my opinion only when it was requested, which thankfully wasn’t often since there were moments when Jill exhibited signs of a frenzied bridezilla. In between our jobs and working our way through the list of last minute things to do, we were still looking for a home to buy. It proved more difficult than I had imagined. We looked at everything in the Sunset District within our price range, but had yet to find the perfect home. So we put our search on hold until after the wedding.

  Guests began arriving a week before the big day. Jill, her sister, Megan, and the rest of her bridesmaids drove up north to the wine country in Napa for a bachelorette party weekend at a fancy spa and golf resort. Jillian called twice a day with a detailed report of their adventures. They enjoyed lounging by the pool, tasting wine, and getting facials and massages. Jill returned, relaxed and glowing. While she was gone, I spent a bit of time getting drunk with all my old mates, something I was not altogether accustomed to. Nick showed up on the last night and joined the festivities. He pulled me aside and promised to stand up for me.

  From there, everything fell into place, though there was a tense moment at the rehearsal dinner between Nick and Jillian’s Uncle Joey, who knew precisely where Nick’s ambitions and loyalties now lay. The wedding itself was picture perfect. Jillian was stunning in her dress, of course, but it was her face, glowing with pure joy, that made everyone stare, especially me. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, from her first step down the aisle to the moment we finally fell asleep in our suite at the Four Seasons, exhausted and still a little drunk.

  For our honeymoon, I took Jill to Florence, Italy then to Bologna, Venice, and Rome. Our trip ended on the Amalfi Coast and Naples, where her father’s family emigrated from over one hundred years ago. We spent two glorious weeks together and had the time of our lives, but it was time to get back to our jobs and settle into reality. When we arrived back home, hundreds of gift-wrapped boxes filled the living room, and we spent several evenings opening them together. As I waded around on the floor unwrapping all the gifts, Jillian sat at the dining table writing down the names so thank you cards could be mailed out. It was a painstakingly long process, and I wondered aloud what we were to do with all the items we had received. Jill was unconcerned as she sorted through the parcels.

  “Well, some of these are things we already have,” she said, glancing around the room. “We can return those and exchange them for something else we might need.”

  “What else could we possibly need, Jillian? I mean, come on. Look at all this stuff.”

  “Well, we could use a few things like...um...a crib, for one, and a changing table, a rocking chair, some baby clothes, and maybe a stroller, you know, like the jogging kind...and a car seat and maybe one of those diaper thingies and—”

  “Whoa, wait a minute! What are you talking about? We don’t need that stuff yet. You’re jumping the gun a bit, aren’t you?”

  “Actually, no. I’m not,” she said, staring boldly. I must have been staring back with a stupid look on my face because Jill shook her head and arched her eyebrows upward as if to say, “Duh!”

  “What?” I asked. Besides Jill, a family was the only other thing I ever wanted for myself. There was no greater gift she could ever give me. “You’re pregnant?” I asked again, and she nodded once. “Are you sure? How long have you known? How far along are you? Does anyone else know? When were you going to tell me? Are you sure...I mean…really, really sure?” I stopped, my mouth suddenly dry.

  She laughed. “Okay, well...um...yes, I am pregnant. Yes, I am sure…really, really sure. I think I’m about seven weeks along. No one else knows except for you, and my doctor, of course. And lastly, I’ve wanted to tell you since Rome, but I wasn’t sure, so I thought I should wait until I could see my doctor. And now that I have, I’m telling you.” She beamed a radiant smile. “I’m pregnant, Ty.”

  I stopped breathing for a long moment and grew light-headed. My arms and legs started to shake, and my belly tingled. The walls seemed to spin then expand outward. With a shake of my head, I crawled over to Jillian. I knelt at her feet and grabbed her wrists, pulling her down onto the floor and into my arms. My tears left dark stains along the fabric over her shoulder. Jillian tried to pull back, but I refused to let her go.

  She sighed. “Are you happy, Tyler, or do you think it’s too soon?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, my voice tight.

  She laughed again. “Yes? Yes what?”

  “Yes, Jillian, I’m very happy!”

  Chapter Six

  Jillian

  The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and bacon wafted down the hall and into our bedroom, pulling me inch by inch toward consciousness. Before I even gave it much thought, I breathed in deep and filled my nose with the delicious scents. My eyes fluttered open, worry overwhelming me as the strong odors permeated my brain. I peered over at the saltine crackers I always kept on my nightstand, ready to cram them in my mouth as soon as the nausea hit. But for once, it did not. Relieved, I smiled and allowed myself the simple pleasure of enjoying the decadent fragrance.

  I’d always loved Sunday mornings. They were lazy and relaxed, and, after making love, Tyler would pamper me with a big plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, with toast and jam and a steaming mug of coffee on the side. But the last few weeks had conspired against me as morning sickness flooded through me the moment I woke up each day. I was worried when the malady struck more than halfway into my first trimester, concerned that the change might signal some problem, but my doctor assured me that I was fine, that the baby was doing well—right on target, she said. I ran both palms over my gently rounded belly and sighed in relief.

  I rose slowly and padded into the warm kitchen, my eyes settling on Ty as he threw a dishtowel over his shoulder. He whistled tunelessly and pushed a mound of scrambled eggs around a well-greased cast-iron pan. I approached him from behind and wrapped my arms around his waist. He stiffened in surprise then raised his arm, twisting around to greet me.

  “Morning
, love,” he said with a smile and a kiss to my forehead. “How do you feel? Do you have an appetite?”

  “Mm, yes, surprisingly, I do. It smells so good. Seems like forever since I enjoyed the smell of food in the morning.” I snatched a crispy piece of applewood-smoked bacon and stuffed half of it into my mouth. “Not to mention the food itself,” I mumbled.

  Tyler chuckled. “Well, you go sit down, and I’ll serve you a plate. I made you some decaf, unless you want to join me for some tea instead.”

  I gave my head a firm shake, my mouth too full to speak as I savored the thick slice of heaven.

  “All right then, coffee it is. And the paper is right there. See what you can dig up.”

  With one foot tucked beneath me, I sat down at the kitchen table. “Ty, this would be so much easier on the computer, don’t you think?”

  He placed a plate of steaming food on the table before me. “Perhaps, but not nearly as much fun.” He kissed the top of my head and pressed a prescription bottle of pills into my hand. “Make sure you take these before you eat.” He gave me a stern look and moved back to the stove where he served himself a generous helping of food. “If you’re up to it, I’d like to hit as many as we can before dinner.”

  I looked over the bottle’s label and sighed. Wellbutrin. “Did you fish these out of the trash?” I asked.

  “That’s where you left them.”

  “And that’s exactly where they belong. I don’t want to take these anymore.”

  “You don’t have a choice, you know that. No more Paxil. It’s too risky for the baby. And Nardil is too dangerous for you.”

  I groaned. “But this stuff makes me even more nauseous than the morning sickness, and it keeps me up at night. Besides, I feel fine. I don’t need it. I haven’t had any problems for a long time now.”

  “That’s because you’re taking the Wellbutrin,” he insisted. “And it’s the only one that has no side effects for the baby.”

  “But I’ve been losing weight when I should be gaining. That can’t be good.”

  “Jillian,” he said firmly, “you have enough issues with your moods as it is. This pregnancy will only make it worse. You can’t afford not to take that stuff.”

  I pouted and pushed the steaming eggs around my plate. “I thought you said you loved my moods. Fire. Isn’t that what you called it?”

  “Yes, well, I can wait a few more months until the baby is born. Now eat up. It’s getting late. We need to get moving.”

  With a petulant sigh, I nodded and popped one small pill into my mouth. Like a patient in a mental ward, I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue, proving that I had swallowed. He gave me a bright smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. With a shake of my head, I dug into my food and opened the newspaper.

  Though it might seem archaic in the age of the Internet, it had become a weekly routine to spread the San Francisco Chronicle out on the kitchen table as we shared Sunday brunch. We would circle every open house ad we could find in the Sunset District, Twin Peaks, and even occasionally Russian Hill. Then we would tour as many as we could fit into the day.

  I loved Ty’s little house. It was charming with large bay windows that framed a spectacular view of The City, and original millwork that fascinated the master builder in Ty. It was also chock full of wonderful memories that spanned the last few years. But at well under a thousand square feet, and with two separate businesses run out of the den, it was far too small to raise a child. With all the new furniture, toys, and clothing we were accumulating, the space was quickly becoming cramped and disheveled—not very safe for a baby. And it was a rental. Tyler and I both wanted a home we could call our own. So after I shared the news of my pregnancy, we threw ourselves back into finding a larger home, one that could accommodate our expanding family.

  Feeling comfortably full, I showered and dressed for a busy day of house hunting. We ventured out into the chilly early winter weather armed with the well-marked newspaper and a map. We ran from one open house to another, dodging fat raindrops as they fell sporadically from the sky. If we didn’t find the home to our liking, we simply crossed it off our list. But if we thought it had potential, we spent time discussing what we could do to make the house fit our needs.

  After five hours of running around, searching for a parking spot, then touring each home, we had finally reached the end of our list, exhausted and rather discouraged. The last house was up on Russian Hill, a district normally out of our price range. But the homeowners had entered into a short sale agreement with their lender which could allow us the opportunity to enter the market in an otherwise unaffordable neighborhood.

  As I entered the foyer and walked through the well-appointed space, a charge of excitement coursed through me. I looked back over my shoulder and saw Tyler’s face light up as he ran his hands over a display of intricately carved moulding. The home was beautiful and well-designed. The kitchen and bathrooms were tastefully updated with the original millwork well-preserved. It had the right amount of bedrooms to allow us more children, as well as space for each of us to maintain a home office. And as I stood in the middle of my favorite room, I couldn’t help but think that the house was meant to be ours.

  “Look, Ty, the wood floor is in perfect condition. I love that dark cherry color.” I walked over to the large bay window and pulled up on the built-in window seat. “Hey, there’s storage under here. All it needs is a cushion and some pillows on top.” Then I pointed high up at the wall near the ceiling. “It has beautiful crown moulding, too. And a chair rail. This would make a perfect nursery, don’t you think? I could put a wallpaper border up at the top and a painted striped wainscot below the rail.” My mind spun with a burst of energy at all the possibilities. I turned to Ty, anxious to hear his opinion.

  Much to my surprise, he didn’t even look at the details which had captivated me. He stood in the doorway, his well-muscled shoulder leaning against the carved wood trim and his arms crossed over his broad chest. He smiled at me with amusement dancing in his eyes as I twirled about the room.

  “I like it, too,” he said, his eyes pinned on me in my excitement. “You can see the spires of St. Peter and Paul’s from the living room.” Leave it to Ty to focus on the surrounding architecture.

  “I figured you’d like that. And what about the kitchen? Did you see that range? It’s one of those professional kinds. And, you know, my parents are only a few blocks away, plus there are a couple of parks within an easy walk. Oh, Ty, it’s perfect but…can we afford it?”

  While the house was a little above our limit, I didn’t think he would have agreed to see it if he didn’t think we could afford it. My photography studio was booked solid, and Ty had remodeling jobs lined up through the end of the year. We were in great shape.

  “I think we can swing it,” he replied. “We’ll never know until we put down an offer.”

  I jumped up and down, squealing in delight, then threw myself into his arms. High heels clopped down the hall in our direction, and a head popped in through the doorway. The seller’s agent whooped in embarrassment and recoiled with a polite apology back into the hall. Ty held me tight and spun me around once before lowering me to the floor and kissing me breathless.

  Everything moved pretty fast after that. Since we had already been pre-approved, we put an offer down, which was accepted after a month of tense negotiations. After all the inspections were completed, it was just a matter of time until escrow closed. We filled it with shopping, packing, and reading baby books. We tried numerous times to contact Nick and share our good news, but he was nowhere in sight, and rarely returned our calls. So we focused all of our attention on preparing for the move, my pregnancy, and our baby.

  “Guess what, Ty?” I asked one evening as we filled and labeled moving boxes.

  He looked up, his wrinkled brow easing as he threw me a brilliant smile. His eyes sparkled as blue as the South Pacific with enticing little creases that blossomed at the corners. I gazed at him and lost my train of
thought, as I often did. We’d been together for several years, but the sight of his smile and the lilt of his adorable accent continued to capture my attention, as they did most women.

  Tyler was oblivious to the women who ogled and stared after him, young and old alike, and even some men. And it wasn’t just his face that turned their heads either. His body was perfect, and in my mind, rivaled that of any Greek god ever carved out of marble. I was constantly catching women giving him the once over before settling on his backside. Some turned away in embarrassment as I caught their eye, but most slid me a look that seemed to say, “You lucky girl!”

  I admit, I was proud to have landed such a spectacular specimen of mankind. What woman wouldn’t be? But when it came right down to it, it was the pureness of his heart that captivated me most, and it didn’t hurt that he loved me, even with all my flaws.

  Ty waved his hand in the air. “Hello…Jill?” he called out.

  I snorted, embarrassed to have been caught daydreaming yet again, even after all this time together. “Sorry, I was just thinking. You know, I’m well into my second trimester now. I think it’s safe to tell everyone about the baby. My parents and sister. Maybe Nick. I don’t think they’ve noticed. I haven’t gained much weight, and I’ve been wearing a lot of loose clothing.”

  He dropped the load of books in his arms and walked up to me. “You must be relieved. I know you were worried, especially about your meds. And all for nothing. See? Told you so.” He spooned me from behind and nuzzled my neck. His arms snaked around my waist, his hands splaying over the bump in my belly. Then he rocked me from side to side as he whispered in my ear. “So how long will it be, until I can feel her moving inside you?”