It Happened One Night (33 page)

He had to give Lana some space—to give them both some space—so they both could be sure she would pick the man she wanted—not
just because of a whim or an instinct, but a decision that was once and for all.

“Just call already.”

He turned around, surprised to see Moe standing there in his pressed khakis and button-down shirt. His apartment was a mess,
but his clothes were always movie-star neat.

“You’ve been staring at the phone for five minutes. Just dial.”

Eli shook his head, glad to have been caught because it meant that the argument about whether to call Lana or not had been
settled—at least temporarily. This was precisely the reason he was crashing at Moe’s instead of sitting around and stewing
in his own apartment. At least at Moe’s, he wasn’t surrounded by memories at every turn and he could get away from his own
unhappiness from time to time. “Nah. Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“What would I say?”

“I would imagine that after everything you’ve been through, there would be a lot to say.”

Eli sighed hard. He thought back over the last few weeks, images arriving in colors so vivid and stark it hurt to remember.
Lana’s eyelids lowered when he slid off the straps of her bra. The swell of her belly, naked and softly lit in his room. He
loved her so much, a bigger love than he’d even thought himself capable of. And yet because of how much he loved her, he needed
to give her room and step aside.

“Well,” Moe said, lifting his black leather jacket from the coatrack and slipping it on, “I’ve got some errands to run, and
then I have a date, so it looks like you’ve got the place to yourself.”

“Great,” Eli said, no hint of enthusiasm in his voice.

“Throw a party. Invite over some women. See if that girl you used to date… what’s her name…?”

“Kelly.”

“See if Kelly wants to come over. Tell her you need some rebound therapy.”

“That’s the last thing I need.”

Moe adjusted his coat on his shoulders, lifting it by the collar and letting it fall. “All I’m saying is, don’t sit around
and mope. We’ve gone over this a hundred times. I don’t think she was setting you up to walk in on her and the mountain biker.”

“It doesn’t matter whether she was setting me up or not.”

“How do you figure?”

“The phone hasn’t exactly been ringing off the hook because she wants to talk.”

“You don’t know what she’s thinking,” Moe said.

Eli shrugged. “I don’t really know what I’m thinking either.”

“Up to you. But I think you should call.”

“Have fun,” Eli said, but Moe had already half closed the door behind him and probably didn’t hear the words. And then Eli
was alone.

Slowly he put the phone back in its cradle, wondering where Lana was, what she was doing now. Lana would have the baby shortly.
He’d wanted to be there for the birth. They’d planned for it. He’d looked forward to the baby’s birth day, not only because
he’d wanted to be part of it, but because he’d been thrilled that Lana had wanted him to be part of it. But now that Ron was
back… it made more sense to have the child’s father in the delivery room. Not him.

His dreams for a future with her—for a family with her—had been so close, almost
promised
. He hadn’t directly spoken aloud of the life he wanted to anyone, so afraid that saying the words would somehow stop his
heart’s dream from coming true. And yet silence had brought him nothing. Just him, the telephone, and his endless, humorless
grief.

December 4

Lana lay in her bed, staring. Her alarm clock had started buzzing ten minutes ago, but she didn’t turn it off. She just listened
to it droning, demanding. The sound or the silence of it made little difference. Time crept like long winter shadows across
the floor, the hours unchanging except for the slant of the sun.

Outside, the first serious freeze of the year had come on hard and fast. The streets had fallen eerily quiet, so silent that
she felt as if she lived in a different place, somewhere chilled and far from civilization. It was hard to believe that the
frozen, dark town she lived in now was the same town that celebrated spring with bloodroot and columbine. Everything and everyone
had tucked in for the long winter. Charlotte was her only communication with the outside world. She stopped in to bring casseroles,
bread, milk, toothpaste, DVDs, and magazines. But otherwise, Lana was alone.

There had been no specific moment when she realized that Eli was gone. The first few messages she’d left on his answering
machine had been innocent—naive—enough. She supposed there must have been a good explanation for his not showing up to fix
their dinner and not calling to explain. But then, the unease that had been niggling in the back of her mind had gained strength
and pushed to the forefront overnight. She awoke with a knot in her stomach and misery saturating her whole body. She’d lost
him. She knew.

And now she lay in bed, feeling as if her bones themselves had turned to heavy lead and trapped her against her mattress.
She turned over in bed, bringing the baby with her. It protested, kicking her once before settling down. She knew it could
sense her heartbreak, her longing. Her bed was empty without Eli in it. Her heart was too.

She hadn’t realized how much her life’s desires had changed until now. She’d begun to look forward to her life with Eli and
her child. She saw the three of them happy, thriving, living their lives. But it was more than just the desire of a dream.
She
counted
on that future. She needed it. And now there was a chance that it was gone.

On her nightstand was a letter Eli had written her, just a frayed-edge bit of notebook paper with very few words. He told
her what had happened. That he’d seen her with Ron. And even though he didn’t stick around to see if she really had accepted
Ron’s proposal, what he’d seen gave him pause. The tone of the letter was straightforward enough, but she could feel Eli’s
heartbreak underneath. Seeing Ron propose to her was upsetting, but it had triggered deeper, more powerful fears.

She could read between the lines: He didn’t know if he could trust her. She wondered again and again if there was some way
to prove herself to him. She envisioned herself calling him up, demanding he come to her house since she couldn’t go out,
and then setting him straight. But the shock of discovering that he didn’t trust her now that she so thoroughly trusted herself…
it hurt.

She could have written back to him, said
Of course I don’t want Ron. I want you.
But his doubt was so enormous, such a force to be reckoned with, that she felt it would do little good to bother him with
something as trifling as fact. The weakness in their relationship was huge. She hadn’t seen it coming. His doubts were not
the small and wondering and inconsequential kind; they called into question who she was—who he
thought
she was—and that was terrifying.

She felt the baby wiggle a little inside her. Her belly felt different now, a pressure so low and strong it was almost as
if she needed to be constantly holding the child in place with her muscles. For days after she’d returned from the hospital,
Eli had been at her side, unmindful of her messy hair, her swollen feet and hands, the circles of fatigue beneath her eyes.
They’d talked about the day she would give birth; they planned for it and strategized their maneuvers with the precision of
generals. It felt like more than just preparing for a baby; it felt like they were laying the groundwork for a future together.
But now Eli was saying they both needed time to think. He’d told her to call him for anything—he said he was going away, not
far. But merely knowing that she could dial him up in an emergency didn’t mean nearly as much as if she could call him for
no reason at all. His offer of help felt like a consolation prize.

In a few weeks, the child would be safe to deliver. In the scheme of her life, three weeks would be a drop in the proverbial
bucket. But for now loneliness contorted the minutes into interminable hours. The sunlight shifted imperceptibly, inch by
incremental inch, and the city turned up its collar and clenched its jaw against the bone-deep winter freeze. Lana lay alone
in her bed, and she rubbed her belly and told her child stories of better seasons to come. In Greek mythology, spring came
when Persephone was allowed to leave the underworld and visit her mother; their joy at reuniting brought the flowers back
to barren land. It had always made sense to Lana that to tell the story of spring would be to tell the story of mothers and
daughters, of reunion. She kissed the tips of her fingers and pressed them to her belly, swearing that everything would be
better if they could only make it to spring.

December 7

Karin knocked on her sister’s door, the first time she’d done so in years. Then, because she knew Lana wasn’t supposed to
get up to answer, she turned her key in the lock. Inside, the kitchen was messy, quiet, and dim. The lacy curtains of Lana’s
little windows were open, bathing the room in white winter light that was both luminous and cold. She moved toward Lana’s
room with the odd sense that the house had been abandoned for a long time.

She found Lana propped up in bed. She wasn’t sleeping, but when she turned her head, her gaze lacked the clear-eyed alertness
that said she was fully awake. Her hair was weighed down from days of not showering, and her skin was tired and dull. There
was a television in the room, but it wasn’t on. Karin trembled. Her sister, so flushed and vigorous after she’d returned from
the hospital, was now wasting away.

“I know, I look terrible,” Lana said. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“You look…” Karin’s eyes grew watery. Lana was the best sight she’d seen in days. “I’ve missed you.”

Lana nodded. Her voice was hollow and flat. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better.”

Karin surveyed the room—clothes in bundles on the floor, a stack of filthy dishes, glasses that bore rings from liquid that
had evaporated days ago. “What’s going on here? Why didn’t Eli clean this up for you?”

Lana raised her eyes back to the ceiling, and Karin got the sense that she’d been lying like that for some time. She paused
long enough for Karin to look around, to realize there were no traces of Eli anywhere—the books, clothes, and other odds and
ends Karin would have expected to see were conspicuously absent. She looked at Lana with a pang of concern.

When Lana finally spoke, her voice was lifeless and tired. “He’s gone.”

Gently, Karin sat on the edge of Lana’s bed, feeling the strength of it buckle beneath her. She remembered the concern on
Eli’s face in the hospital, his frustration that he could not do more. Something didn’t add up. “What happened?”

“He left me,” Lana said. “I’ll fill you in on the details later. When I can stand to. For now, let’s just leave it there.”

Karin sighed. “I would have come sooner if I knew. Who’s been taking care of you?”

“Charlotte stops in. When she can.”

Karin nodded. “And you didn’t want to call me for help because you thought I was mad.”

The sparkle of hope in Lana’s eyes was more than Karin could stand. “You’re not mad at me?”

“No. And also… I’m alone now too.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Gene’s gone away for a while. We’re taking a break.”

Lana’s glassed-over eyes became a touch more focused. “Oh, Kari. I’m sorry.”

“No. Don’t be. He did the right thing.” She paused, feeling for the first time in two weeks that she was about to do something
unequivocally and totally right. She’d been thinking long and hard about who she was, what she’d done, and what she wanted
from the future. It was time for her to start down a new path. And she wanted her sister beside her when she did. “I’ve been
a mess. And I’ve done a lot of things wrong. To him. And to you too.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to. Please. Just let me get this off my chest.” Karin took Lana’s hand. “I got so focused on starting a family that
I lost sight of the family I already have. I
did
pressure you to give me the baby. I couldn’t see how desperate I was. How wrapped up in myself. You took the brunt of it,
I’m afraid. You and Gene. So I owe you an apology. I’m sorry. I can’t change what I did. But I’m sorry for it. I really am.”

Lana’s eyes were wet. “We both know I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”

“You need to do what’s right for you and your baby. And for what it’s worth, Lanie, I do think you’re going to be a great
mom. Wacky, but a really great mom.”

Lana smiled and reached toward Karin to hug her. Karin felt the warmth of her sister’s arms and she laid her head on Lana’s
shoulder. The tenderness she felt for her sister was warm and very welcome. Loving her sister—or Gene, or anyone—was so easy.
Love, in its purest form, came so naturally, without complication. She felt the strength and solidity of it rooted firmly
within her, and she knew her love for her family could never be compromised. Relationships were always a push and pull, a
swinging forward and backward, changes propelled by dreams, circumstances, and time. And yet, Karin felt there was a sameness
underlying all of it. Love as bedrock. And it made all the swinging back and forth seem, on the surface, kind of silly at
times.

“Thank you for understanding,” Lana said.

“I’m just sorry it took so long.” Karin pulled away, feeling better than she had in weeks. She still had a ways to go before
she really understood, but she was getting closer to something. She just didn’t know what. She looked around the room and
began to lay out a plan to clean up the mess around them.

December 14

Lana was sitting on the edge of her bed when she heard Calvert’s voice as Karin let him into the living room—his too-loud,
overly polite remarks—and she could picture him looking around, taking in her mismatched decorating as he stepped inside.
She looked herself in the eye in her bedroom mirror, feeling and seeing a reflection of his nervousness in herself but certain
of what she had to do.