by Nan Rossiter
Lizzy put her hands on my shoulders and looked in my eyes. “Sal, you and I both know that’s a load of crap, but thanks for trying.”
I smiled and hugged her. “It’s not easy being you.”
“It’s not easy being us,” she said, laughing.
“Did you ever hear from your dad?”
“Not a word.”
“Maybe the address you have is old,” I offered as I helped her put on her veil. “I’m sure he’d be here if he knew.”
“No, he wouldn’t. He’s never cared. Why should he start now?”
“Okay, you’re probably right,” I said, laughing and giving up—there was no pulling the wool over her eyes! “But if he’d ever taken the time to get to know you, he’d be here.”
“Maybe,” she said, smiling.
We stood side by side, looking in the full-length mirror. “Oh my, Lizzy! You’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen!” I said, putting my arm around her.
“You clean up pretty good too,” she teased.
“Thanks,” I said, laughing. “Ready?”
She nodded confidently and then searched my eyes. “I wish you’d brought someone to dance with, Sal—it’d be so much more fun for you.”
“Don’t you worry about me—I’m going to have plenty of fun.”
“You should’ve brought your friend . . . what’s his name? You know—the boat builder.”
“Coop?” I asked. “Nah, that wouldn’t be good,” I said, shaking my head, “especially if your mom came.”
Lizzy eyed me. “Is there really nothing going on between you two?”
I jokingly feigned indignance as I walked the fine line between not lying and not telling the truth. “What?! I’m a married woman!”
“A married woman with a streak of mischief,” she said, laughing.
“You forget—I’m the one who’s going to heaven.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Lizzy said. “You are going to heaven, and your beautiful mom and dad are going to give you a big hug when you get there.”
I smiled. “Maybe. Now, let’s get out there so you can knock ’em dead.”
“Okay,” she said.
As she opened the door, I looked at my reflection one last time. Who had I become that I would purposely deceive my best friend? Who was I kidding? I wasn’t a candidate for heaven. My life was a lie and I didn’t know which sin was worse—my affair with Coop or not being honest with my friends. I hated deceiving the people I loved. Even though I had a feeling they all knew what was going on, it bothered me that I couldn’t be open and honest. And that was just the beginning of my charade. Whenever one of us was invited to a special event—like Lizzy and Simon’s wedding—we couldn’t go as a couple. Even if we were both invited to the same social gathering, we had to attend separately, or not at all. And if we did go separately, Coop would give me a mischievous, knowing smile from across the room and I’d blush and feel a wave of heat rush through me—he knew exactly what he was doing!
“Coming?” Lizzy asked, holding the door.
“I’m right behind you,” I said, shaking off my dismay.
Lizzy stepped out into the room where all the women in Simon’s family were waiting, and they oohed and aahed when they saw her. Lizzy smiled, nodding politely, but her eyes seemed to search for someone in particular. Finally, they settled on a well-dressed elderly woman sitting near the window, and I immediately knew who she was.
“Oh my! Elizabeth, you look stunning,” she said, taking Lizzy’s hands.
I smiled—I’d never heard anyone call Lizzy Elizabeth before.
“Thank you,” Lizzy said, politely kissing her cheek. “You look lovely, too, Bubbe.”
Bubbe?
“Thank you,” the older woman said graciously. Then she turned to me, her eyes sparkling. “You must be Sally.”
I nodded, politely extending my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Cohen.”
“The pleasure is all mine, my dear,” she said, taking both my hands in hers. I felt her soft, paper-thin skin and her gnarled, arthritic fingers, and looked down; when I did, I noticed a long number tattooed on the inside of her wrist and caught my breath, but she didn’t seem to notice. “I’ve heard so many nice things about you,” she continued.
“And I, you,” I said, regaining my composure.
“How’s my little house?”
“It’s wonderful,” I said. “I love it!”
“I’m glad,” she said, nodding. “I’m glad someone is enjoying it as much as I did. I hope you have a lifetime of blessings and happiness there.”
“Thank you,” I said. “And thank you for all the books . . . and your Crock-Pot too.”
“You’re very welcome, I’m sure. I’ve always loved to read—I think it’s the best way to expand one’s mind.”
I nodded. “I agree and I love to read too.”
Mrs. Cohen nodded and turned back to Lizzy. “So, my dear, are you ready to marry my handsome grandson?”
“I am,” Lizzy said, smiling, and there wasn’t a trace of doubt in her eyes.
Jewish weddings are steeped in traditions that honor Biblical figures—figures with which I was very familiar—from Abraham and Sarah to Isaac and Rebekah. In fact, I was very surprised to learn that the Torah is filled with the same stories in the Old Testament.
Simon wore a kippah on his head and a tailored white robe—or kittel—over his suit—the traditional dress of Yom Kippur, and Lizzy wore an elegant, yet modest, brocade white gown. Her veil was lovely, too, and in keeping with tradition, Simon carefully lowered it over her face after he was certain she was the bride he planned to marry—there would be no tricking the groom into marrying the wrong girl, as happened in the Old Testament when Laban tricked Jacob into marrying his older daughter, Leah, instead of his beloved beautiful Rachel!
The wedding ceremony took place on a beautiful August Sunday under a chuppah. Lizzy and Simon—the chatan and kallah—were absolved of all past sins as their souls were made spiritually pure. And as they became one with each other, Simon gently slipped the simple gold band his grandmother had given him onto the first finger of Lizzy’s right hand. Afterward, there was drinking of wine, signing of the Ketubah (marriage contract), stomping of a glass, and lots of Jewish blessings. And in the end, although the traditions of the Jewish and Catholic faiths differ, the result is the same—a couple is married!
“Mazel tov!” I whispered as I gave my childhood friend a long hug.
Chapter 28
“Mommy’s home!” Coop called as I came up the porch steps. Almost immediately, I heard soft paws on wood as Henry came sliding around the corner.
“Hey there, sweetie pie,” I said, kneeling down. Henry wasn’t a kitten anymore—he was a sleek, handsome cat. His every movement seemed effortless and graceful. He hopped up and lightly rested his snow-white paws on my knee, then leaned up to touch my nose with his—one of his many funny antics—as if he was nearsighted and needed to be nose-to-nose with me to be sure. “It’s really me,” I said, kissing the top of his head. Satisfied, he dropped down and swished through my legs, purring like a motorboat. “I missed you, too,” I said, laughing.
“What about me?” Coop asked, leaning against the kitchen doorway, wiping his hands on a dishtowel.
“Maybe a little,” I teased, giving him a hug.
“That’s all I get?”
“What else did you have in mind?”
He looped the dishtowel around my waist and pulled me against him, and as he kissed my cheek and made his way slowly down to my neck, I could feel how aroused he was. “I’ve really missed you,” he murmured, teasing my lips with his tongue.
“I’ve really missed you too,” I whispered. “Especially when I didn’t have anyone to dance with.”
“That’s no one’s fault but your own,” he whispered, pulling me toward the bedroom.
Twenty minutes later, I was lying naked and content in his arms when Henry leapt lightly onto the bed and ey
ed us curiously.
I laughed. “I guess he became acclimated to being here.”
“Yep, no problem. I actually think he likes it better here.”
Henry pressed his nose against Coop’s and then curled up next to him.
“See?” Coop said.
I laughed. “Just because he cuddles up next to you doesn’t mean he likes it better.”
“I think I’m going to keep him,” Coop teased, stroking Henry’s head. “What do you think, Hen, want to stay with me?” Henry opened one eye, pushed his head into Coop’s hand, and yawned contentedly.
Coop grinned. “I knew it.”
“Don’t even think about it,” I said, laughing.
“Of course, you could come live with us too.”
I snuggled closer to them. “I wish I could,” I said softly.
Life went on. Coop and I worked our days and spent our nights together. Although I had Sundays off, Coop worked every day. Abe told him he should slow down and take a day off to go fishing once in a while . . . and I repeatedly reminded him of the Bible’s cautionary Sabbath commandment: “Thou shall not sow thy field or prune thy vineyard!” But Coop just laughed and said if he didn’t prune his vineyard, he wouldn’t have any wine.
I honestly think he felt if he worked until he was bone tired and had a few drinks, he’d sleep through the night. It rarely worked, though, but I could certainly understand why he tried. I was haunted by events in my past, too, and even though it had been years, whenever Coop wasn’t beside me at night, I had trouble falling asleep, certain Drew was lingering in the shadows. On nights like that, my consolation was Henry—who hopped up on the bed and put his nose up against mine, making sure it was me.
Chapter 29
It was a couple of years before Coop and I found ourselves constrained by our secret again. It happened when Coop’s sister gave birth to a son and asked Coop to be little Liam’s godfather. Coop was thrilled, and although I really wanted to go to the christening, I knew my presence would only raise eyebrows—and questions. Needless to say, Coop went alone, and when he came home, he was completely in love with his little nephew.
“Let’s have a baby,” he said as we lay in bed that night.
“I think that might really give us away,” I teased.
“Who cares?” he said in a voice that sounded earnest. “We would make a beautiful baby. You’re so pretty and I’m so handsome, he’d be a lady-killer.”
“You’re so modest too,” I teased. “And how do you know it would be a he?”
“He . . . she . . . it wouldn’t matter.”
I felt tears in my eyes. “Coop, I’d love nothing more than to make a baby with you,” I said softly, “but all this time . . . all this time that we haven’t used birth control”—I bit my lip—“is a pretty good sign the doctor was right after I lost my baby—I can’t get pregnant.”
Coop grew quiet and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was having second thoughts about us—about me. As we lay side by side, it felt as if we were worlds apart. All I could think about was the moment my dad said I might not be able to have children, but what was Coop thinking? Was he recalling past loves—loves that could have made him a dad? Was he regretting his decision to be with me? Would he leave me? I lay still for a long time, and finally, I squeezed his hand. To my great relief, he squeezed back; then he pulled me closer and kissed the top of my head. “I love you, Sal,” he whispered.
“I love you, too,” I said softly, feeling thankful.
In late August, Lizzy called to say she was coming for a visit. I was elated! It had been two years since their wedding, two years since Simon had taken the new position at the hospital that kept him busy all the time, and two years since they’d been able to come to Nantucket.
“Is Si coming?” I asked.
“No, he has to work,” she said. “It’ll be a girls’ weekend,” she added, “just like old times!”
“That’ll be great—I can’t wait!”
On Friday afternoon, I walked down to the wharf and watched the ferry pull in. As it docked, I scanned the deck, looking for Lizzy, but there was no sign of her, and as the last passenger disembarked, I began to worry. Maybe something happened. Maybe she missed the ferry. Maybe she’d been in an accident on the way to Hyannis. I looked at my watch, wondering when the next ferry was scheduled to arrive. Then I looked back up and saw a very round woman making her way slowly toward the ramp. “Lizzy!” I shouted in surprise. She looked up and waved. Her face was beaming!
“Oh, my goodness!” I cried, hurrying over. “Look at you! How come you didn’t tell me?”
She smiled. “I wanted to surprise you.”
I laughed and hugged her awkwardly and then held her at arms’ length. “I can’t believe it! When are you due?”
“Mid-September, although it feels like she’s going to make her grand entrance at any moment.”
“Her?!” I asked in surprise.
Lizzy nodded. “I’m having a girl.”
“Oh, Lizzy, I’m so happy for you! How’re you feeling?”
“Big! I need to sit down a lot—like now—and I have to pee every five minutes. That’s why I was the last one to get off the ferry—I was in the bathroom and it was so tiny I could hardly turn around.”
I laughed, picturing Lizzy maneuvering in what I knew to be a closet-size room with a door that practically touched the front of the toilet—only a man could design a bathroom that had no room to sit.
“Want to sit now?” I asked, motioning to a bench.
She nodded and began to waddle toward it.
I carried her bags and sat down next to her. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“I wanted to tell you,” she said, laughing. “You don’t know how many times I almost did, but I really wanted to see your face.”
“Was it worth it?” I asked, laughing.
“It was,” she confirmed.
I shook my head in disbelief. “Do you have a name picked out?”
“Elise—it means ‘Promise of God.’ ”
“I love it! It’s perfect.”
All of a sudden, Lizzy’s lip started to tremble and tears welled up in her eyes. Within seconds, they were spilling down her cheeks.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, reaching for her hands.
She shook her head again, unable to answer.
“Lizzy, what’s wrong?” I asked, feeling my heart race.
She pressed her lips together. “It’s not perfect, Sal. My baby isn’t perfect. She will never be perfect.”
I waited for her to continue, but she just wept.
“How do you know? What’s the matter? What did the doctor say?”
She covered her mouth with one hand and sat up straighter, rubbing her belly. Then she closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. I had never seen her so sad, and tears filled my own eyes as I waited. “Tell me . . .” I said softly.
She nodded. “I’m trying—this is why I couldn’t tell you on the phone—I knew, as soon as I saw you, I’d lose it,” she said, her voice filled with frustration and anguish.
I squeezed her hands and she took a deep breath. “There’s something wrong with my baby,” she whispered.
“There is?” I felt my heart sink. “Are you sure? How do you know? Maybe your doctor made a mistake.”
Lizzy shook her head. “He did a test—an AFP—it’s a standard blood test and my numbers were really low—and he said that’s an indicator that there’s something wrong—that she may have Down’s.” She paused. “He suggested I consider terminating.”
“He did?” I was horrified. “He wanted you to have an abortion?”
“He didn’t want me to. He just said it was an option.”
“Oh, Lizzy,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry. Did you?” I ventured. “Did you consider it?”
She shook her head. “Not for a second,” she said, searching my eyes. “I love her, Sal. I haven’t even met her yet, but I love her more than life itself.”
<
br /> I nodded.
“Now I understand why you were so sad when you lost your baby. I don’t want anything to happen to her.”
“Does your mom know?”
Lizzy nodded and then rolled her eyes. “You’ll never guess what she said.”
I frowned, but then, all of a sudden, I knew exactly what Mrs. McAllister had said. “She said God is punishing you for marrying Simon.”
Lizzy nodded and laughed, wiping her eyes. “She’s so predictable!”
“You don’t believe that, do you?”
“No,” she said as fresh tears filled her eyes. “I don’t care what she thinks. I don’t care what anyone thinks. The only thing that matters is that Elise’s feelings are never hurt. I know kids are going to make fun of her—you know how kids are—they’re mean and they’re going to tease her.” She shook her head again. “Life is hard enough without being different—without everyone looking at you, without everyone feeling sorry for you . . . for us. Sally, I don’t want anyone’s pity. I just want to love my baby without the world watching. If I could live out in the country and raise my baby with no one watching and judging me and feeling sorry for us, I would. I don’t care what people think, but I don’t want their pity. I won’t be able to bear it if people look at us and shake their heads as if we’ve suffered some terrible misfortune.”
I swallowed, already regretting having said I was sorry. “I’d never pity you, Lizzy,” I said as I gently brushed away her tears and searched her eyes. “Elise is going to be a beautiful baby—she’s going to touch many lives with her sweet, kind ways. You just wait and see. She’s going to be strong and beautiful, and she’s going to fill your hearts—and the hearts of everyone she meets—with love.”
Lizzy mustered a smile. “I know, Sal. I know she is.”
“You’re going to be a great mom too,” I added, smiling.
“You think?” she said, wiping her eyes.
“Well, you already have that mother bear thing down pat,” I teased.
“I do,” she agreed, laughing.
We called for a taxi, and while we were waiting for it to come, Coop drove by. When he saw us, he looked surprised and waved, and I tried to discreetly wave back, hoping Lizzy wouldn’t notice, but of course, she did.
