Escape (32 page)

“Will you see the doctor this week?”

“Not necessary. She can’t tell us anything right now, and I already have the vitamins.”

He shot a triumphant look skyward and, looking back at me, grinned out a huff of air. “We’ll celebrate—dinner tonight at Cipriani?”

“As soon as I get back.”

“Get back?” He seemed suddenly mystified. “You can’t go now.”

“Why not?”

“You’re pregnant.”

I might not have been able to calculate when I was due, but regarding the why of it—why I was pregnant now and not before—it was suddenly clear.
“Exactly
,
”
I said as it all came together. “Don’t you see? My getting pregnant in Bell Valley is the ultimate sign that I was meant to go there. There was no way I was going to get pregnant here, because our lives wouldn’t allow it.”

His arms still circled me, though more laxly now, and his voice was quiet. “I want you here.”

“I’ll be back right after I help Vicki.”

“I’m the father of this baby. Don’t I get a say about where the baby goes?”

I tugged on his shirt, teasing. “James. It’s not like I’m taking it white-water rafting, and it’s not like I’ll be five hours from civilization. Bell Valley is soothing and safe.”

He was silent for another beat. Then his voice came low and vehement. “There is no way in hell that I’ll live in that town.”

Another time, I might have been patient, but I was wanting to be happy, not rehash an old point. “Me
neither
, so maybe we need to discuss where we
will
live. If I’m pregnant, we have to make a decision. New York doesn’t work for me,” I declared. “I can’t live here. I can’t work here. Okay, you are not living in Bell Valley, but I am not living here. So where
will
we live?”

He looked startled by my outburst. So was I, actually. I had always thought he would be the one to issue the ultimatum. But I wasn’t sorry I’d done it. We had been dancing around the decision for days now.

“Do we have to decide this today?” James asked.

“You raised it,” I pointed out, then relented. “Oh, James. Bell Valley isn’t us. It just happens that I have a good friend there who needs help.”

“Can’t she wait a little?”

“She’s in crisis now.”

“I want you here.”

“You want me to choose,” I said. We stared at each other in the silence that ensued. Finally, I said, “I’m just going to visit for a few days.”

“Last time it was three weeks.”

I threw up a hand. “And if it is this time, too, what else would I be doing? You’ve told me not to go back to Lane Lavash, and since I don’t know where we’ll be, but I do know I’m pregnant, I can’t in good faith look for something else, and
you’ll
be working all the time, and it’s not like I can walk a microscopic baby in the park.”

“You could miscarry.”

“I won’t.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I do. I feel it. This pregnancy is
solid.
”

James wasn’t convinced. I suppose that his worrying about me—worrying about the baby—was a good sign. But he was upset enough to retreat into work even before I left the room to finish packing. Hating the distance at this time when we should be feeling especially close, I went to him when I was done and put an arm around his shoulders.

“We’ll work this out,” I said.

Fingers typing, he grunted.

“I’ll call from the road. Will you pick up?”

“Of course I’ll pick up.”

“I love you, James.”

“I know.”

When he didn’t say more, I kissed his cheek and left.

Alone in the car, I tried to process the fact of being pregnant. In spite of my being so sure, it still seemed unreal. I had run another test before leaving, and it was positive, but I had two more strips in my bag. I wanted to see that little + again. And again. I also wanted to tell someone—was
bursting
with it—but my best friend was in the hospital with baby problems of her own, and not a single other friend came to mind. If I called my mother, she would only ask a raft of other questions. Same with my dad. And if I told Kelly, she would call them.

So I stifled the urge. This microscopic something belonged to James and me. It was our little secret, better kept that way until we had a grip on what was happening.

An hour out, I called him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” But he sounded annoyed.

“I want you excited.”

“I might be if you were here,” he said, and let loose with every dark thought. “But you left like a shot, like you couldn’t get away fast
enough. So I’m alone with these problems. Hell, Emily, I don’t know what to do with this. It’s like you changed the rules in the middle of the game. I wasn’t the only one who wanted to live—live here. You did, too. Okay, so if you need an escape, we can buy a weekend place somewhere, but if we want money for that, I can’t change jobs. I won’t get as much money anywhere else.” He grabbed another breath. “And that’s the bottom line. I’m supposed to be the breadwinner, but how can I do that if—if we move? I’ll be starting all over again. I’ve spent seven years making contacts here. If we move, it’s back to square one, and—and that’s assuming I can get waived out of taking a whole other bar exam. Have you thought about that, Emily?”

I hadn’t. I had been dealing with generalities, selfishly perhaps. But I couldn’t back down. I was fighting for two now.

“It’s about priorities,” I argued. “When we were in law school, the priority was getting the best grades so that we could get into top firms. And we did. And maybe it worked for a while, but I’m tired of hearing lawyer jokes in my head. Your job is as bad as mine. You aren’t happy, and I don’t care what you say, it won’t magically change once you make partner.”

“At least I’ll be in a better position to decide what to do. Where do you want to live? Tell me.”

I thought for a minute. Specifics eluded me, but the priority was clear. “Somewhere personal. I want a life filled with humans. I don’t want my dearest friend to be a machine.”

“And you think you’re unique?” he shot back. “Don’t you think at least
some
of the eight million people in this city want that, too? Don’t you think some of them
have
it?”

“It isn’t about New York. It’s about lifestyle.”

“We can live differently here.”

But I didn’t believe it for a minute. Lifestyle was addictive. Hadn’t I felt it this weekend—a tension creeping in the minute I let down my guard? Our staying there was like asking an alcoholic to work in a bar.

He sighed, weary. “This is why you need to be here. We have
important things to discuss and we shouldn’t be doing it while you drive. Please focus on the road. You’re not in the left lane, are you?”

“I’m in the middle lane going sixty. I am being passed on both sides.”

“Is that safe?”

I had to smile. In the midst of the other, his worry was actually sweet. “Yes, James, it’s safe. I’m going against traffic. Everyone else is heading back to the city.”

“Okay. Fine, well, hang up and don’t call anyone else. Why don’t we have Bluetooth?”

“I don’t know. It’s your car. Why don’t we?”

“Because it’s an old model. We need to get something newer, maybe a van.”

“For one baby? I don’t think so.”

“I’m hanging up now,” he advised. “Keep your eyes on the road.”

He called an hour later to ask how I was feeling. I didn’t tell him that despite thickening clouds and occasional sprinkles, I was increasingly relaxed.

“Eating corn bread,” I said with a full mouth, and swallowed.

“Corn bread isn’t nutritious.”

“Mine is. I used organic eggs and milk. James, about the other, I keep thinking about Lee, and about Denise Bryant. You love working on these cases because they involve personal interaction, your words. Personal interaction says it all. I had to leave New York to realize it, because I was too consumed by our lives to see. But I have perspective now. And I think you’re exactly the same as me. You want to be a good lawyer, but you’ve always talked about what you want to do as a father. How can you be both, living the way we do?” My mind was filled with little insights, more and more the farther I drove. “Take Jude,” I said. “He wants whatever he can’t have. If it’s forbidden, that’s the appeal. But you’re not like that. You
can
have
what you want. You just have to realize you want it.” Helping him do that was my new mission.

But he was silent for too long.

“James?” I tested cautiously.

“I’m here. Did you know that eating junk food in the early months of pregnancy can increase the risk of miscarriage? I just read that. You won’t eat junk food, will you?”

Changing the subject? Okay. I couldn’t ask for immediate surrender. But I wasn’t giving up. “Do I ever?”

“You drink wine.”

“Socially.”

“And caffeine.”

“I’ll limit it.”

“Thank you.”

Ending the call, I wondered if James was simply being evasive about things he didn’t want to discuss, or if he was turning neurotic on me. Another little insight, though, as I drove on? He was doing the only thing I had allowed him to, and while I liked being in control, I understood. Men felt helpless at times like this.

Knowing that visiting hours would be ending soon and that I had to see Vicki before they did, I went straight to the hospital. Hooked up to an IV, she was as pale as the sheets, and while my arrival didn’t change that, her relief was instant.

“Ahhhhh,” she breathed, and reached for my hand. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“Oh-ho,” I teased. “I learned my lesson about
that.
”

“So now I feel guilty, because you were finally with your husband, but I don’t know what happened here, Emmie. It’s not like I was lifting mattresses or changing tires on the truck, I was doing what I always do, and I didn’t have any trouble last time. I’m starting to dilate—at sixteen weeks! That is so bad! They’re using drugs to slow things
down, but they’ll probably put me on bed rest, and I can’t do bed rest—not with a three-year-old child and a bed-and-breakfast to run.”

Sitting beside her on the bed, I cradled her hand. “You have Rob. He knows what to do.”

“Oh, pooh. Men can only do one thing at a time. Rob can handle Charlotte or the Red Fox, but not both, and if this is happening now, chances are it’ll happen in another pregnancy, so can I risk another one?”

“I thought you only wanted two children.”

“But what if I decide I want three? Or four? Hah! Three or four? It looks like I can’t even do
two
. What did I do wrong?”

“You didn’t—”

“My mother didn’t have trouble,
her
mother didn’t have trouble, so it’s not like there’s a family history of this, and they did more physical work than me. Every test shows the baby is fine, it’s just
me
that’s mucking it up.”

“Shhhhhh—”

“I saw it, Emmie. They did a sonogram before, and the baby was moving all over the place, arms and legs, everything. This is a
real person
I’m putting at risk.” Blond hair spilled every which way on the pillow, but the hands framing her belly were precise. “I need to hold it in here for at least another twelve weeks, or it’ll start life in the NICU and have lung problems and liver and sleep and digestive problems.”

I might have interrupted to say that doctors knew how to deal with these things, but hearing about all this, I felt sick myself—wondering if James was right, if I was minimizing the fragility of pregnancy, if I should be back home with my feet up, googling the first weeks of pregnancy.

“And bed rest creates its own problems, like weakness, dizziness, and blood clots,” Vicki was saying. “And even if I don’t get a blood clot, I’ll be in lousy shape when the baby finally comes. So if I’m weak and dealing with a baby with problems,
plus
Charlotte,
plus
the Red Fox—how am I gonna do this?”

I ignored my unsettled stomach. Vicki needed me to be calm. “Are you done?”

Her eyes held mine. She was silent for a minute, before murmuring a helpless “Yes.”

“Take a breath.”

She took a breath.

“First,” I said gently, “you’re assuming the worst, when there are all sorts of better scenarios, and you do have a right to be scared. This came out of nowhere, but that’s how life is, and you, Vicki Bell, are levelheaded enough to get through
anything
. You’ll love this baby, you’ll recover from bed rest if bed rest is what it takes, you’ll learn to delegate at the Red Fox, and as for Charlotte, she feeds herself, is toilet trained, and talks. If the best you can do for the next four months is read her
Green Eggs and Ham
, you’ll be way ahead of a lot of other moms.”

“But she’s only three,” Vicki pleaded. “Amelia helps, Rob helps, but I’m the one who makes the arrangements and supervises playdates and stays with her at birthday parties. Three is a crucial age. She needs to be with other children, and, okay, someone else can take her, but what happens when she wants me and I can’t do it?” She was close to tears. “She will hate this baby even before it’s born!”

“She will not. She’ll just love you more for the attention you do give her.”