Conundrum (49 page)

Jeremy’s words sank deep into my soul, a penetrating salve of exoneration. And then
I thought of my father, sitting at his desk, knowing he had escaped his poisonous marriage only to choose another deadly substance to
expose himself to
. Day after day, working on his equations, fitting all his problems into his Boolean algebra framework. Every problem solved simply by
and, or, not
. Every problem but the one that had Ruth Sitteroff as a factor.
For that one, h
e couldn’t find a solution, not one th
at
balanced on both sides. Not an equal or equitable one.

So,
he cheated. He hadn’t cheated death, but he had cheated his wife. And cheated us in the process. All because Ruth Sitteroff had first cheated on him.

“So,” I said, cuddling up with Jeremy on the couch as the muted countdown to the New Year seeped out of the TV speakers, “you have to cut cancer out, if you can. Before it’s too late. Before it spreads. You can try to stop it—radiation, chemo, diet—but if those methods fail, what choice do you have, right?”

“Or maybe, at some point, you could build up a resistance. Lisa, maybe someday you’ll want to try reconnecting with your mom, but for now
—
”

I snorted in response. “I can’t imagine ever talking to her again. Ever.”
Jeremy leaned in closer and wrapped the blanket tighter around us. Maybe he was trying to
make me feel safe and protected.
“She would have to grovel for a very long time before I would let her back into my life. Into our lives. Look what she did to you. I won’t give her the chance to
stomp on
you again.”

“People change.”

“Rarely.”

“But, some do. Maybe your mom will realize what she’s done, how much she’s hurt all of you—”

“And
,
why
did
she do that?”
My voice raised in pitch
,
and I pulled back to challenge Jeremy. “There’s no excuse for her lies and betrayal. She forced us out of our home. She lied to Neal his whole life, not telling him about his real father. And she stood
on the sidelines
and watched Raff suffer, knowing she could
have
help
ed
, knowing she could have told him the truth and maybe he wouldn’t have suffered so much.
” I
exhaled hard
and shook my head. “I’ve been mulling over this for months. I can’t figure
it
out. Was it out of fear, guilt?
Was she just afraid she’d be left alone in the end, abandoned by everyone?
Or d
id she feel so guilty for having that affair and getting pregnant, she couldn’t think of anything else but covering up her crime? If so, look at the cost of her lies! It’s inexcusable.”

“You’re right, Lis. It
is
inexcusable. And maybe you’ll never know why. Maybe your mother is selfish and heartless by nature.
Some people are just rotten through and through and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“You just sa
id
people can
change, feel regret. Now you’re saying she can’t change.”

“I’m saying I don’t know. We don’t know anyone’s true nature. You can only go through life being true to who you are and
try to
protect your family.
Right now, I have a family to protect, and I don’t want Ruth Sitteroff getting anywhere near it.”

Jeremy placed his hand on my belly
,
and at that moment something amazing happened
.
I gasped.

“It kicked! The baby kicked
!
” I
immediately
clamped my mouth shut.
I feared saying something that would jinx my pregnancy,
but I couldn’t help it. I was so astonished at the feeling inside me, of the life banging on the wall of my abdomen
demanding to be acknowledged
.
I was five months pregnant at that point
,
and we hadn’t
mentioned
the baby
, not even once.

Jeremy kept his hand there and waited. I waited. The baby kicked again
,
and Jeremy blurted out a laugh. My doctor had assured us we were pretty much out of the danger zone. A miscarriage at this point would be unlikely. But neither of us felt comforted by the odds.
Jeremy must have been thinking along the same lines when he turned to me, love in his eyes, and spoke.

“Lisa, something could go wrong at any time. There’s always a chance of that. Not just miscarrying. You can have problems with the
delivery
, or something could be
wrong
with the baby. Or your kid could get some terrible disease, or get hit by a car crossing the street—”

“Well, thanks for being so morbid!”

“You know what I mean. Life is dangerous. You have to trust and go with it. Do your best, but you can’t worry about everything, expecting disaster at every turn. Otherwise, you’ll never enjoy life at all.”

“I know.
You’re right.”
We let our words dissipate on the air, but our unspoken thoughts filled the space around us just as noisily
. Jeremy removed his hand and pulled down my sweater, then bundled me back up in the blanket.

“Well,” he said, holding up his glass of cider, “here’s to a new year, a new start. It’s gotta be a better year than last.”

I clinked my glass against his and drank my cider. Then the phone rang.

“Who’s that?” Jeremy asked. “It’s after midnight.”
He disengaged himself from the tangle of blankets and went into the kitchen for the phone.

“It’s probably Neal,” I said. “Wishing us happy New Year. He knew we were staying up.
He’s over at Julie’s going through all those boxes Ed had packed away in the attic.
”

Jeremy answered the phone and nodded. I heard him wish Neal a happy New Year, then he grew quiet as he listened. I turned and watched his face as he came into the room
and
handed me the phone. Just one look at his expression sent my heart fluttering. Had something happened?

I took the phone from him. “Neal, is everything okay?”

“Sure. We’re going through photos and stuff. And Julie’s been packing up Ed’s office.
Someone’s coming to pick up all the furniture on Friday.
”

“Doesn’t sound like a fun way to celebrate New Year’s.”

“Oh, it’s been great. We went out for sushi, and we’re working on the second bottle of champagne
right now
. Julie brought over some photo albums of her and her mother. She was a pretty cute kid—and had just as many freckles as I had.”

“So
.
 
.
 
.
what’s up?” I knew he had said something puzzling to Jeremy.

“Well, Julie found something stuffed in the back of one of Ed’s desk drawers.
It may be nothing, really. She wanted me to call you and tell you.
”

“What is it?”

Neal paused. I heard Julie in the background, saying something to Neal in an agitated voice.

“It’s a sealed envelope, addressed to you,” he said. “With the words ‘my confession’ written under your name.”

Chapter 31

Neal had taken the envelope home with him and said he’d be by in the morning. I knew he wouldn’t get to our house until noon, having stayed way into the night at Ed Hutchinson’s house, helping Julie and hoping to avoid dodging drunk drivers. Nevertheless, I was so curious about the letter I couldn’t sleep at all. Not that I slept much these days—with the baby pushing against my bladder
and
my
needing to go to the bathroom every few hours. Over the phone, I
had
urged Julie to open the letter and read it to me, but she refused. I suspected it had less to do with being polite and more to do with dread.
W
hat in the world could Ed have confessed to before he died? And why address it to me? Whatever wrongs he had done seemed most likely to be pointed in Julie’s direction—or Neal’s. But perhaps since he’d already apologized to both of them personally, he felt an urge to spare some apology for me. I didn’t expect too much
in that “confession.” Something along the lines of “I’m sorry I had an affair with your mother and got her pregnant.”

At dawn, as I waited
for Neal
and brewed coffee for Jeremy, still asleep in our bed in the back of the house, I tried to remember what Dave Lerner had told me about Ed visiting my father in the hospital. Maybe Ed had tried to apologize to my father for the affair. Or, maybe
Ed had
been mean to him, and before he
himself
died felt some remorse over that. The way Dave had presented it, my father was nearly incoherent and overly emotional. What did Ed think when he saw my father like that—emaciated and dying—so young, leaving behind a family
?
Did it trigger some guilt
, reminding Ed of his mistreatment of Shirley and his disregard for Julie? If it did, he must have discarded it quickly, for, accordingly to Julie, Ed never made an effort to be a father to her, or to make it up to Shirley.
To the contrary, it seem
ed
Ed grew more mean, more hardened, more distant.

I could imagine the relief Ed
must have
felt when my father died. No longer would he have to face my father each day
—
the man who was living with his wife. Of course, he had no idea how my father felt, looking at the man who had impregnated
his
wife. If only Ed had known then, would it have made
a difference
? Would my father have divorced my mother? Would Ed have claimed Neal as his own? With all that deceit out in the open, perhaps my father wouldn’t have killed himself
; no longer would his be a secret burden to carry. Sure, it
might
have been the scandal of the year, but once the dust settled, why couldn’t everyone have gotten on with their lives
?
Even now, I still didn’t get why my father felt he had to die. Why he’d do something so horrific.

I went out to the pasture
, wearing a
thick
coat
.
Frost coated the grass like a white sheet
,
and my breath came out steamy.
Winter rested heavily on the ground, just as I felt heavy with child. Even though a hush draped the landscape,
with
all life storing energy, moving slowly, an undercurrent of expectancy vibrated in the trees and bushes
as I gazed out across the field
. Maybe
it was just me, but underneath the dormancy I sensed a stirring.

I
didn’t
know how much time passed, but I sat next to the fence and watched the horses graze and the goats chase each other around. I
now
only had two old goats, a sheep, and four ducks—aside from Reynolds’
s
two horses. I could have given all my animals away, but I had rescued the ducks when they were babies, and they laid eggs that were great for baking and French toast.
The woman who
had taken
Shayla also took Sassy and her kids. It’s pretty hard to resist baby pygmy goats and I missed them, but was glad they had a good home. The woman had a day care and no doubt those goats were getting plenty of attention.

I molded my hands around my burgeoning belly. I still couldn’t get used to the idea that a life was growing inside me. A person, someone who would have an identity and personality and look like Jeremy and me.

For the first time since I’d gotten pregnant, I let my imagination wonder what this child would look like. Jeremy’s gray eyes and thick hair? My narrow shoulders and knobby knees? A boy, a girl? We hadn’t even talked about names
,
and I didn’t even know what names Jeremy would like.
I used to go through names in the baby book, when I was young and hopeful, before the first miscarriage. I had written down a list in order of my favorites, but that list had been
torn up and
thrown out years ago. I supposed we would just have to make a new list.
Although I knew what name I wanted if we had a boy
:
Nathan.

“There she is,” I heard behind me. I turned and Jeremy waved, his jeans and T-shirt on
, no coat
.
A Montana boy through and through—the cold didn’t faze him a bit.
No doubt he had smelled the coffee and gotten up. Neal came through the gate, arriving earlier than I’d expected. Maybe he hadn’t been able to sleep either
.
With
another
wave, Jeremy went back into the house. Neal, looking like he’d had little sleep, came over to me.