Unsung Lullaby

by Josi S. Kilpack

  © 2006 Josi S. Kilpack.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, Deseret Book Company, P.O. Box 30178, Salt Lake City Utah 30178. This work is not an official publication of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The views expressed herein are the responsibility of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of the Church or of Deseret Book. Deseret Book is a registered trademark of Deseret Book Company.

  All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  To my husband, Lee, and my children—for the purpose they give me, the hugs they share, and the love they bring into my life

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Kilpack, Josi S.

  Unsung lullaby / Josi S. Kilpack.

  p. cm.

  ISBN-10 1-59038-611-6 (pbk.) ISBN-13 978-1-59038-611-8 (pbk.)

  1. Mormons—Fiction. 2. Adultery—Fiction. 3. Domestic fiction. I. Title.

  PS3611.I412U57 2006

  813'.6—dc22 2006009061

  Printed in the United States of America R. R. Donnelley, Harrisonburg, VA

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Author’s Notes

  Acknowledgments

  I love this part of the book, the place where I get to acknowledge publicly all those people who made this book happen. First off, thank you to my dear husband, Lee, for being my best friend, my biggest fan, and the kind of person a girl like me marvels to spend her life with. Thanks to my kids for their patience with my writing, their excitement for my accomplishments, and the sweet purpose they bring to my life. I’m lucky to come from a family that lifts and supports me as well as to have a family of my own that carries on that legacy. I only hope I give back as much as I receive.

  Thanks to LDStorymakers for the unfailing support you have given to me over the years. I have grown so much because of each of you. Special thanks to my friend Carole Thayne and my sister Cindy Ellsworth for reading and commenting on the manuscript; Becca Birkin for her help on the legal issues; Olivia Ben for assistance with the Navajo elements; Dr. Darrin Housel, OB-GYN, of South Ogden for his help with both the professional and personal aspects of infertility; BJ Rowley, who did a great job with the editing before I submitted the manuscript to the publisher; Rachel Ann Nunes for encouraging me to submit to Deseret Book; and Julie Wright for being a tireless cheerleader and friend. Thank you also to the many fans who continually ask when the next book is coming—you have no idea how much that helps me.

  I so appreciate Deseret Book for loving this story and breathing life into its pages, specifically Jana Erickson, for seeing the book through the production process, and Emily Watts and Lisa Mangum, for their excellent editing. Working with Deseret Book has been an absolute joy and pleasure for me.

  And, most of all, thanks to my Father in Heaven for so much more than I can possibly say.

  Chapter 1

  Maddie took a sip of lemonade while looking at the circle of women surrounding her. They talked and laughed, enjoying the chance to get out of their homes, away from their families, and to bask in the company of women for the evening—even if it was just a baby shower.

  Maddie was not one of them.

  Upon her arrival, she’d chatted with her aunts and cousins—the customary small talk. But conversations had evolved to—what else?—pregnancy and babies. Within moments she had become all but invisible, disappearing into the background while words like Lamaze, epidural, and pitocin echoed around her. She tried to ignore the pageantry—who had sacrificed the most to bring her child into the world—but found it impossible to disconnect completely. Maddie returned the lemonade cup to her lap, gripping tightly, as if letting go would somehow release all the feelings she was holding back.

  If only Kim had been able to make it tonight. Her best friend turned sister-in-law would have made this bearable. They had been friends before Maddie had married Kim’s brother Matt. A few months later, Kim had married Maddie’s brother Allen. Marrying one another’s brothers had only strengthened their friendship, and with their lives so interconnected, they were like true sisters. If Kim had been here, she would have known something was wrong and pressed until Maddie told her. Then she would have taken Maddie outside and let Maddie cry. But Kim wasn’t here. Maddie had to face her aloneness all by herself.

  Maddie had been tired and a little sick to her stomach for a few weeks, since before New Year’s, but hadn’t dared hope she could be pregnant. When her period hadn’t come on time, she’d started to get excited—but not excited enough to buy a pregnancy test or tell Matt. Not again. Through almost four years of trying, and two in-vitro fertilizations, they had never once seen that plus sign show up on the little white stick. Why would this time be any different?

  But she had told Matt a few days ago, and his enthusiasm was contagious. They had sacrificed so much, prayed so often, and wanted a baby for so long—maybe it had finally paid off. She was by then two weeks late, and their desperation clouded their objectivity. Saturday night they bought a pregnancy test and lost their minds when the test showed a positive result. They were ecstatic. Their prayers had been answered.

  Maddie had called her doctor first thing Monday morning and made an appointment to confirm the home test by ultrasound on Friday. But this morning she’d had to borrow a pad from a woman at work. The dream had been shattered . . . again.

  Since the brutal yank back to reality, Maddie had been numb. She hadn’t even told Matt yet. How would she find the words? She’d told herself not to go to her cousin Tracy’s baby shower tonight, but didn’t want to explain to her mother why she had canceled at the last minute. She and Matt had held off telling anyone they were expecting.

  “Maddie!” A voice called, pulling her away from her thoughts. Thirteen minutes, she thought as the woman she couldn’t quite place sat down next to her. In thirteen minutes I will have been here for forty-five minutes, and Mom will be satisfied.

  “I haven’t seen you in ages,” the woman said, and Maddie tried to weave the threads of remembrance together in order to come up with an actual identity for this person. Relative . . . cousin . . . Aunt Debbie’s youngest . . . oh, yes: Laura. Maddie was older, and Laura had grown up in California, while Maddie was born and bred in Salt Lake City, Utah.

  “Laura
,” she said just as her pause was becoming awkward. “How are you?”

  “I’m good,” Laura said with a laugh. “And how are you and your husband—what’s his name again?”

  “Matt,” Maddie said, glancing at the clock again.

  “That’s right, Matt and Maddie. That’s so cute.”

  Maddie forced her smile to get a little bit bigger and asked after Laura’s family. Laura began prattling on and on about their move to Salt Lake a few months earlier, her husband’s new job, and the apartment they were renting. She talked as if she and Maddie were old friends. Maddie smiled and made polite comments but had a hard time focusing. Her eyes were continually drawn to the front door, where she hoped to soon make her escape. At least Laura wasn’t talking about childbirth.

  “It’s pathetic that I haven’t found the time to connect with my own family,” Laura said when she finished her update. She smoothed her pink broomstick skirt over her thick thighs and continued, “I can’t believe how busy I am. I had my third kid six months ago, you know, and I just can’t seem to catch up.”

  “Your third?” Maddie said with a little too much surprise. This twenty-five-year-old girl had three kids! The loss and anger Maddie had been holding back began to boil up. Not yet, she commanded herself. You have to hold on a little longer. Six more minutes.

  “Can you believe it? And they’re all boys,” Laura said, oblivious to Maddie’s discomfort. “Let me tell you, if I’d known Jeffery was going to be a boy, I may have reconsidered, or maybe sent him back. They’re exhausting!” She laughed.

  Maddie forced another smile, but the wall was crumbling.

  “But how about you?” Laura said, touching Maddie’s arm. “When are you going to trade the boardroom for a bassinette?”

  Laura’s concern over Maddie’s career-committed lifestyle broke the bubble of cordiality. “Why?” Maddie asked with as much evenness as possible. “There’s little sense in giving up everything for something I’ll spend the rest of my life complaining about.”

  Laura was the one with the awkward pause this time. It lasted four interminable seconds. “Oh,” she finally said. Her eyes darted around, as if she were trying to find an escape.

  Maddie knew she should apologize, but she couldn’t. Whatever loyalty had made her come tonight had worn too thin. The buzz in the room had quieted, and she wondered how many people had overheard her comment. She didn’t really care. Let them feel uncomfortable for a few seconds. It was no match for the continual discomfort she lived in every day—in part because of them. So many women—these included—took their fertility for granted, daring to complain about the blessings she ached for so much. Right now she hated every one of them, her envy pulsing through her veins like liquid fire.

  “Will you excuse me?” Maddie said, standing and setting her lemonade on the coffee table. She picked up her purse and hurried away, not meeting any of the eyes that followed her, not waiting to see the mom-to-be open the gift she’d brought, and hoping she could move fast enough that her mother wouldn’t catch up.

  Stepping into the gray winter evening, she shivered but didn’t slow down, reaching her car in mere seconds. Every priesthood blessing she’d ever received for this issue had told her that someday she would understand. Well, she was tired of waiting, tired of playing nice. Having faith in the “plan” that seemed determined to keep her arms empty, and acting as if other people’s insensitive comments didn’t bother her, was getting harder and harder all the time.

  With her hand on the car door, she felt pressure on her arm. She didn’t have to look to see who it was.

  “I’m okay, Mom,” she said, fighting the tears and anger that were battling for first place on her emotional roster. “I need to go home. Matt’s waiting for me.” It was a lie. Matt was at a basketball game, but her mom didn’t know that.

  “I’m so sorry,” her mother whispered in a way that took Maddie back to all the times her mom had tried to make things better. Off-key solos in church, bad boyfriends, unfortunate job interviews. Her sympathy did nothing this time.

  “I just want to go home.”

  “Maddie,” her mother said, a silent “don’t be like that” echoing in her words.

  “Please don’t make me come to these things anymore.” Maddie got in the car and pulled the door shut without another word. It was rude, and she would apologize later, but she needed to get away before she lost control of her tightly reined emotions. Being rude and insensitive was one thing, but becoming emotional and seeing the pity reflected in her mother’s eyes was more than she could stand right now.

  She drove through the Salt Lake suburbs, heading toward the canyons that cut through the eastern mountain range. As it was mid-January, some homes still had Christmas decorations up, creating glittery reflections of multicolored light on the wet roads. The dancing lights and dusky evening seemed to denote a certain coziness within the homes, making her feel alone, encapsulated in her car and her own defeated feelings. For fifteen minutes she wound through neighborhood after neighborhood, the homes getting larger the farther east she drove. Soon she was curving up the side of the mountain, until she turned onto the dead-end street that ended in an empty cul-de-sac. The curb and gutter had been put in years earlier, but homes had yet to block the view. She often haunted this place when she needed solace. Lately, she had come here a lot.

  Maddie got out of the car and looked over the sparkling valley below, lights blinking through tree branches and peeking around corners. Wrapping her arms around herself to fend off the January chill, she scanned the scene before her, trying to talk herself out of her bitterness but not doing a very good job. Her breath clouded with every exhale, and her cheeks tingled.

  The city below her looked so perfect. She figured most things looked that way from a distance. She couldn’t count the times people had told her how lucky she was to have such a good job, such a great marriage—their perspective based on their distance from her life. Since she and Matt both had college degrees and careers that matched, people always assumed they didn’t have children yet by choice. She usually nodded and pretended to agree with them. It was awkward to bring up the truth. Most people didn’t know what to say when she admitted the real reason, and when they did say something, it often reeked with pity—something she’d come to despise.

  “I’ve done everything you asked,” she whispered to the only one she knew still listened to her—well, maybe He listened. A cyst had cost Maddie one ovary at the age of fifteen, and the doctors had warned that it might be difficult for her to get pregnant when the time came. Knowing that would be a trial she would face, she’d felt prepared. She and Matt had never employed any birth-control measures, not wanting to lessen their odds of success even though Matt was still finishing up his degree those first two years of their marriage. They were both sure that it would happen soon enough. During the third year, her faith began to wane. Matt had graduated with his master’s in business from BYU and landed a good job as an investment broker for Zions Bank. She wondered why God hadn’t opened those windows of heaven now that everything was perfect. Yet even with infertility counseling and tests, each month passed as another disappointment.

  The fourth year of facing infertility had been the most miserable so far. She only wanted what everyone else took for granted. Was that so wrong? But after all the doctors, all the money, and all the prayers, the only thing she had to show for it was a bitter soul, an empty bank account, a crumbling marriage, and a heart full of unsung lullabies.

  The last few days had been better for her and Matt, but that was because they thought they were having a baby. And they weren’t. Which meant Matt would lose himself in his work while she kept her heartache to herself. They would tolerate one another, not because of love and endearment, but because they were committed to having a family and hanging onto the tenacious hope that a child would heal what was wrong between them.

  The wind caught her long mahogany curls, sending them in a frenzy around her face. “Y
ou’ve abandoned me,” she whispered. The wind carried the words away, but they echoed in her head. It almost hurt to say those things.

  Almost. But not quite.

  The cold stuck to the tear streaks on her face, and she turned back to the car. She needed to tell Matt.

  Chapter 2

  Matt pulled the phone from his pocket and frowned. Why would Maddie call in the middle of a game?

  “Hello,” he said a split second later. He had to plug his other ear and lean down to hear her over the crowd.

  “Hi,” Maddie said, as if she didn’t have anything important to say.

  “Hi,” Matt repeated, looking up so he could follow the ball as it traveled from player to player down the court to the home basket. “What’s the matter?”

  She paused. “Does something have to be the matter for me to call?”

  “Usually,” he said with distraction. The Jazz pass was intercepted, and he grumbled under his breath. This game should have been an easy win. What is up with the team tonight? It was the third quarter and the L. A. Clippers were ahead by three. “So what’s up?” he asked after realizing she hadn’t spoken for several seconds.

  “Nothing,” she said. “I guess I just . . . wanted to talk.”

  “About what? You know I’m at the game, right?” He could barely hear her over the crowd.