by Beth K. Vogt
“Do I need something fancy?” Jillian stood in front of the closet, sliding hangers back and forth so that they clicked against one another.
“Fancy?”
“Is there any sort of formal dinner or banquet at the conference?”
“I don’t think so.”
“That’s no help, Geoff.” She faced away from her closet. “Did you look at the schedule?”
“I know when I’m speaking. What workshops I’m attending.”
“Are you bringing a suit?” Jillian kept her voice neutral, low.
“Should I?”
“I don’t know. I’ve barely packed my suitcase.” She sat on the end of the bed and tossed him his phone from the side table. “Pull the conference up on your phone.”
“Why?”
“So we can look at the schedule of events. Wait . . . did you buy tickets for a banquet?”
“I don’t think so. We’ll know when we get my registration packet tomorrow. Why don’t you pack something, just in case?”
Geoff sounded like her—unable to remember whether he’d done something or not. “Geoff. Pull up the conference schedule. Please.”
She’d lost any desire to go to the conference, and now Geoff’s laissez-faire attitude confused her, making it seem as if he didn’t care if she went with him. He was sending her mixed messages.
All she wanted to do was shove the suitcases aside and curl up in a ball on the bed. But it wasn’t because of the effects of chemo and radiation. She was tired of fending off the circumstances of her life. Tired of being okay when things weren’t okay.
“I’m going to stay home this weekend.”
Geoff blew out a breath. “What? We’ve planned this getaway for weeks.”
“I—I’ve been thinking about this since Saturday, and I think it’s best if you go without me.” Despite the suddenness of her statement, it was the right thing to do. “It’s ten thirty at night and I have too much packing left. I’m tired. I’ll stay home.”
“You can pack tomorrow morning.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“Fine. Don’t go.” Geoff shoved Winston away, causing him to jump off the bed, and slammed his suitcase shut. “I don’t understand you anymore, Jill.”
“What? I decided not to go to the conference—”
“Is this payback?”
“Payback for what?”
“Because I won’t agree to have children.”
“This is a decision, Geoff. It’s as simple as that. I’m tired. And yes, I’m always tired, but maybe I shouldn’t have planned on going to the conference in the first place. It’s a business conference.” Jillian stood, stepping away from the bed. “I’m not pouting because of your decision not to have children or because Johanna said no when I asked to adopt her baby—”
“When you what?”
Jillian stopped. What had she said?
“Answer me, Jillian.” Geoff faced her, as if blocking her exit from the room. “Did you really ask Johanna if you could adopt her baby?”
Geoff’s question, his tone, scattered her thoughts. She tried to pick them up like papers that had been torn from her hands by a strong wind and were blowing away faster than she could reach them.
Winston perked up from where he lay on the floor, a barometer of the tension in the room.
She wasn’t going to lie.
“Yes. Saturday morning . . . when Payton and Johanna and I met for book club . . . I asked Johanna to let us adopt her baby.”
Geoff removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “Why?”
“Why? Because she was thinking of having an abortion . . . and I thought we could convince her not to do it.”
“Don’t say ‘we.’ I had nothing to do with it.”
“It doesn’t matter. She said no.”
“It matters, Jillian. What were you doing asking your sister if we could adopt her baby when we don’t agree on this?”
“What you mean is we can only agree if I do what you say.” Jillian’s voice rose to match Geoff’s. “And don’t you dare accuse me of not telling you something, Geoff Hennessey! You married me without even mentioning that you had a younger brother who died or an older brother who ran away from home. And you also didn’t mention you had no intention of having children. You’re no better than your mother.”
Her accusation sparked the air between them.
“This is not about me—”
“Your mother refuses to talk about Kyler or Brian. You learned oh so well from her, didn’t you? What else haven’t you told me?”
Jillian flung the question at him . . . and then all the fight left her. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t react. It was as if she stopped in the middle of the street and dropped what few papers she’d managed to retrieve . . . and the wind swept the rest away.
Winston wandered back and forth between them, whining.
She couldn’t do this. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not anymore.
Jillian backed away, hands held up, palms out. “I’m sorry . . . please. No more yelling. You’re right. I shouldn’t have asked Johanna. She was as upset as you are.”
And it hadn’t made any difference anyway, not that he remembered.
But that also wasn’t the point.
She stopped moving when her back pressed against the wall. “Geoff, please. Go to the conference alone. The weekend we planned . . . it’s not going to happen now.”
“If that’s what you want.”
He needed to stop saying those words.
“It is.” Jillian found the strength to close her suitcase, pull it from the bed, drag it over to the closet. “I’ll deal with this later.”
“I’ll head up to Denver early tomorrow, then.”
“Fine. I’ll talk to Gianna and let her know she doesn’t have to watch Winston.”
“I’ll finish packing my toiletries.”
“I’ll let Winston out one last time for the night.”
Jillian led Winnie downstairs, the subdued puppy sticking close beside her until he slipped through the doggy door. The replay of her apology cut through her thoughts like the waving of a white flag. Giving up. But it was better than arguing. Than yelling.
She’d had no other choice.
This was a little earlier in the day than she’d planned on dropping off Winston with Gianna, but her plans had changed. She hoped Gianna would be flexible . . . and not just for today.
Her neighbor opened her front door, her hair loose around her shoulders. “Jillian . . . hi.”
“Hi.” This was no time to be distracted by—or envious of—Gianna’s long hair. Jillian had decided months ago to accept her post-chemo short hair. To enjoy it. Gianna had probably worn hers the same way since high school, attracting a lot of attention then and now. Jillian gripped Winston tighter so he couldn’t squirm out of her arms. “I apologize for being earlier than we’d talked about.”
“That’s no problem. I’m home today.”
Avery slipped around her mother’s legs. “Hi.”
“Good morning, sweetheart.” As always, the presence of the little girl caused Jillian’s heart to ache.
Avery pointed at Winston. “Puppy?”
“Yes, this is Winston, my puppy.” Jillian knelt down, while Gianna reminded her daughter to be gentle. “You ready for this?”
“It’ll be fun.” Gianna sat beside Avery, guiding her tiny hand as she stroked Winston’s head. “Who knows? Maybe by the time you get back, I’ll convince Neil that we should get a dog, too.”
“Um, I needed to talk to you about that.”
“Okay. But the list of instructions you gave me the last time we talked is pretty thorough.”
“It’s about when we’re getting back.”
Gianna offered her a grin. “Did you and Geoff decide to stay another night? That’s not a problem.”
“I’m not going to Denver.”
The glint of humor disappeared from Gianna’s brown eyes. “I’m confused.�
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“I mean . . . I am going to Denver . . . to the airport. I need to leave in thirty minutes if I’m going to catch my flight.”
“Let me put Winston in the backyard and you can tell me what’s going on while I get Avery a snack—only if you want to, of course. Even if you don’t, I’m still fine with watching your dog for however long you need me to.”
It was odd to put Winnie in Gianna’s backyard, even though he seemed content to explore the new area, sniffing the ground. This entire morning was odd. And if Jillian went through with her decision—with this day—then her future for she didn’t know how long was going to be even more peculiar.
Jillian stood at Gianna’s kitchen sink, the window giving a clear view of the back of her own house. She’d made her bed this morning. Picked up Geoff’s damp towel from the floor and hung it on the rod in the bathroom as she’d packed her toiletries after buying her too-expensive, last-minute plane ticket. Left him a note on the kitchen counter. Too few words. But at least there would be some kind of explanation waiting for him when he got home from the conference. The only way she’d go through with her plan was if she didn’t answer any phone calls or texts. Her note sat next to the note he’d left for her, scribbled on a piece of paper torn from one of the legal pads they’d used to plan his presentation: I’m sorry about last night. I’ll miss you this weekend. Love, Geoff.
She could go back. Remove her note from where it sat on the still-new kitchen counters. Tear it up.
Geoff would never know what she had planned to do.
But then there would be the credit card charge to explain later.
And they needed this.
She needed this time away.
“What’s going on?” Gianna had settled Avery at a child-size table in the breakfast nook with a cup of juice and a string cheese.
“Geoff’s still going to the conference. I mean, of course he’s going to the conference. He’s speaking at the conference.” Jillian paused to catch her breath.
“But you’re not going.”
“I’m going to visit my friend Harper in North Carolina—the Outer Banks.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“I hope she thinks so, too, when I show up.”
“What?”
“She doesn’t know I’m coming . . . and Geoff doesn’t know I’m going out there, either.”
“Jillian . . .”
For the first time, Jillian realized she was pulling Gianna into her marital mess. “I need you to not tell Geoff where I am.”
Her neighbor stared at her, eyebrows furrowed. “I—I can’t lie.”
“I’m not asking you to lie. Just don’t tell him—”
“Unless he asks.”
Jillian gave a swift nod. “Geoff and I . . . we need some time apart.”
“You’re separating?”
Were they?
“No. A separation requires lawyers and drawing up papers and negotiations. I’m taking a break.”
“What about counseling?”
Counseling would require that they talk, and that wasn’t happening.
“I guess it’s something to consider when I get back. Right now, I need to get away. Geoff and I can’t seem to talk to each other without arguing.”
“All the more reason to stay.”
“I have a plane ticket. I’m going. Geoff will be back Sunday afternoon. If you can take care of Winston like we planned, I’d appreciate it.”
“Sure.”
“Geoff may need some help while I’m gone. I don’t know. Winnie has a dog door, so that helps during the day.”
“I’ll ask Geoff if he needs help—for however long you’re gone.”
“Thank you. And now . . . I need to go.” She accepted Gianna’s hug.
She was leaving without saying good-bye to Winston. But then, she was leaving without saying good-bye to Geoff.
Winston was fine. Geoff would be fine.
And she would be fine, too. Once she got some space.
Thursday bled into early morning Friday. Jillian had driven to Denver, not realizing until she saw the signs directing her to either short-term or long-term parking at the airport that she’d be leaving her car in the long-term parking lot for who knew how long.
She’d survived the delay out of Denver, thankful she had a direct flight to Norfolk. The delay also gave her time to rent a car to drive from Norfolk to North Carolina, something she’d forgotten to do when she’d booked her flight. She’d ignored Geoff’s texts, exhaling once she could put her phone on do not disturb as the flight prepared to take off.
And now, hours and hours later, here she stood outside Harper’s condo—technically Harper’s mom’s beach condo. The salty scent of the ocean enveloped her as she waited for her best friend to open the door so she could finally say, “I’m here.”
“Who is it?” Harper’s question was muffled behind the door.
“Harper? It’s me, Jillian.”
“Jillian?” Even as she asked the question, the porch light switched on.
“Yes—”
The door swung open. Harper’s clothes were disheveled, with her T-shirt slipping off one shoulder, a messy bun on top of her head, and mascara smeared under her eyes. But then Jillian needed to scrub the remnants of makeup off her face and change into clean clothes. “Jill! What . . . ? How . . . ? You’re here?”
She gave a laugh that had a bit of hysterical relief in it. “Yeah . . . surprise.”
The next second, she was wrapped in her best friend’s arms, crying her eyes out.
Harper’s hug . . . it wasn’t like coming home. Home was back in Colorado. Her best friend’s hug was like slipping into her most comfortable pair of jeans. She fit with Harper. She never felt wrong.
And Harper hadn’t changed. She still hugged Jillian with every last ounce of her strength. Like she wasn’t going to let her go—ever. Which was fine with Jillian. Because when Harper let her go, she just might collapse.
Too soon, her friend’s hold on her loosened and she took a step back. “Come on. Get inside.” Harper looked around as she pulled her in.
“It’s just me.”
“I thought so.” And that’s all she said as she took Jillian’s suitcase, setting it on the floor before giving her another brief hug. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I should have called or texted or something.”
“How did you get here?”
“I flew into Norfolk and then rented a car.”
“You must be exhausted. Are you hungry? What can I get you?”
“Water would be great.” Jillian remained standing just inside the door. “So this is your mom’s condo.”
“Yep. Typical beach decor. Wicker furniture. Paintings of the beach—as if you don’t see enough of it just off the balcony. And lucky for you, it has two bedrooms—and there are clean sheets on the bed.”
“I wouldn’t notice if there weren’t any sheets at all on the bed.” For once, Jillian thought she’d actually sleep when she crawled into bed—for a few hours, at least. “I should probably explain why I showed up on your doorstep like this in the middle of the night.”
“Tell me that Geoff knows you’re here.”
Her friend knew her too well.
“He doesn’t. He’s at a business conference in Denver for the weekend. He thinks I’m home with Winston.”
“Jilly . . .”
This was where she explained everything to her best friend. Where it all made sense, so that Harper understood. Where Jillian understood her impulsive decision to fly more than a thousand miles to show up on Harper’s doorstep in the middle of the night.
Even though she needed to, Jillian couldn’t explain the “why” of it all now.
“You deserve to know what’s going on, Harper.”
“Yes. Eventually. But you look ready to fall asleep standing up. And I’m not completely awake, not to mention I have to be at work in a few hours.”
“I didn’t even think
about that. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“Jill. Stop. You’re here. I’m glad you’re here, although I’m sorry for whatever upset you so badly you . . . well, ran away from home.” She picked up Jillian’s suitcase, took her hand, and led her to a bedroom down the short hallway off the living room. “Let’s both try to get some sleep and we’ll talk tomorrow—today—once I get home from work.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Reality and exhaustion collided, destroying any ability to explain. To do anything but follow Harper’s instructions. Bedroom here. Bathroom there. Sleep as long as she wanted. Food in the fridge. Spare condo key in a seashell-shaped dish on the table. Take a walk on the beach when she woke up if she wanted to.
Harper’s words were blending together like one long, run-on sentence.
Before Harper could leave her in the guest bedroom, Jillian leaned in for one more hug—and didn’t want to let go. “Thank you.”
“It’s going to be okay, Jill.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No matter what happens, you’ll be okay. That I do know.” Harper released her. “Nothing’s going to change tonight. You’re here. You’re safe. Now try to get some rest.”
10
I WANTED TO BE HOME.
Alone.
Heels kicked off by my front door. Lab jacket hung up in my closet. Skirt exchanged for leggings. Blouse exchanged for a more relaxed top.
But first, Thai food.
I’d been craving Thai food all week. But not just any Thai food. No, it had to be my favorite dish from my favorite restaurant. The one I used to go to with Beckett. The one I’d avoided for months.
This baby wanted one particular dish. Nothing else. I had half a dozen frozen Thai options at home, and I would most likely toss them all. I’d even tried a restaurant closer to home. Eaten three bites straight out of the to-go container and tossed it in the trash.
Pregnancy cravings were all or nothing—some sort of tug-of-war between me and my unborn child. Whose will and wants were stronger? When it came to what I ate, the baby had already won. The other day, I’d gone into a grocery store with a specific list of items. For some still-unexplained reason, I’d added a jar of olives to my purchases. Then I’d sat in the car in the parking lot and eaten half of them.
