Some Women (9 page)

“Can I meet you up there in ten minutes? I just need to send an e-mail and then I'm all yours.”

“I like the sound of that.” He stood up. “The
all mine
part.”

“Well, then, I'll see you soon.” She attempted her best seductive grin and watched him go before carrying their empty coffee cups to the sink. Then she climbed the stairs to her office, dragging her tired body the whole way.

She hadn't been able to reach Annabel on the way home. Her cell had gone straight to voice mail, which was strange, since she'd made Piper swear on her life to call her as soon as she'd left the restaurant.

She sat down at her desk, switched on her computer, and opened a blank message, then typed a quick e-mail to Annabel to let her know she'd see her in the morning at barre class and that they'd talk afterward. Not wanting to leave her hanging, she'd added that there was nothing scandalous to report. Although she wasn't so sure Annabel would see it that way. Just as Piper was about to get up and join Todd in the bedroom, she noticed a small envelope taped to the inside of her office door with “Mommy” scribbled on the front in Fern's handwriting.
That's sweet,
she thought. She'd probably decided to leave her a little good-night note, since Piper hadn't made it home in time to say so in person. She unfolded the piece of white computer paper, which Fern had clearly pilfered from her desk, along with the envelope.

Her daughter had written three words.

Only three words.

Three words that felt to Piper like they could change the course of their lives forever.

I found Daddy.

Annabel watched the rise and fall of Mackenzie's chest. She looked so peaceful, as still as Sleeping Beauty, only in a hospital bed with a battery of wires, and monitors blinking and beeping around her. There'd been complications, the doctor had said. It wasn't simply a chemical pregnancy, which so many women endured at this stage. Nor could it be considered a full-blown miscarriage, since she hadn't been far enough along. Still, something wasn't right, and they needed to get to the bottom of it before they could even think about releasing her. Annabel had felt like an imposter being the sole person on the receiving end of such woeful news. They'd only just met, and now here she was, sitting beside her like she was part of the family.

She'd stayed all day and all night. How could she not? When the doctors had asked Mackenzie whom they should call on her behalf, she'd looked perplexed—mentally unable to engage in
making what, for most people, would have been an obvious decision. Her husband, Trevor, she'd said, had been stuck in Boston because of a snowstorm. She hadn't even had the chance to tell him about the baby yet. Her parents lived a plane ride away in Georgia, and she didn't have any close friends to speak of in the area. Annabel had gently suggested reaching out to her mother-in-law, desperate to share the burden of such classified information with someone.
Anyone
. But as soon as she'd seen the fearful look in Mackenzie's eyes, she'd dropped it immediately. Then she'd taken Mackenzie's hand in hers, as a nurse had wheeled her stretcher down a long hallway, so they could hook her up to some more machines for testing. Annabel had promised to remain there as long as Mackenzie needed her and, in turn, Mackenzie had vowed to alert Trevor as soon as she was awake and lucid again.

Now that Annabel really had the chance to look at her, she noticed just how breathtaking Mackenzie actually was. If she didn't feel sorry for her, a part of her would have been jealous. That was the thing about Mackenzie. Typically, her warm and outgoing demeanor actually distracted you from noticing her natural beauty.

She'd never know what it was like to be that woman. There'd been a time when Annabel had been ten pounds thinner, her hair had been thicker and glossier, before clumps of it had fallen out in the shower after she'd given birth to Harper and Hudson, and she'd been whistled and hooted at by construction workers on the streets of New York City countless times, not that that necessarily indicated much. Regardless, anyone who said it didn't feel good was a liar. Now that she was a mother, those days were long gone. She rarely had the time or impetus to blow her hair out in the morning or wear more makeup than was essential to look passably attractive.

She couldn't help but recognize the irony. What she wouldn't give to look like Mackenzie, with her full head of wavy blond hair, penetrating green eyes, and a body so toned and sleek it would give any actress in Hollywood a run for her money. And what Mackenzie wouldn't give to have two healthy, adorable five-year-old boys to love and care for. Annabel suspected she'd make a great mom. One whose diaper bag would always be fully stocked with wipes, a change of clothing, and nutritious snacks. One who'd be unruffled by being awakened in the middle of the night, no matter how many times or for how many months. One who would wear parenthood as a badge of honor, a gift, rather than parading her child around like a trophy or dressing it up like a doll. It was hard to say what gave her this impression, considering she barely knew her, but in some strange way, Mackenzie reminded her of her former self. Bright. Ambitious.
Optimistic
. The person Henry had fallen in love with.

Henry.
She sighed. Annabel hadn't thought about him since the moment she'd rushed Mackenzie to the hospital, until her cell phone had registered a call from Piper and a subsequent—and irritatingly vague—e-mail saying that there was nothing scandalous to report. What was that supposed to mean? Any report of her husband dining out with another woman was inherently scandalous. After all, Piper would have said if he'd been at the restaurant for a boys' night. Fortunately, she hadn't been able to obsess over it, given the current circumstances. Here she was, with a woman who'd just lost her baby. A woman who'd had “complications” that had yet to be defined. What if she could never have kids? What if Annabel had been able to do something differently? They'd hit traffic on the way to the hospital. Could she have taken an alternate
route? Attempted a shortcut? Would that have saved the fragile life inside of Mackenzie?

The doctor had told her of her loss. In his compassionate yet clinical tenor, if that combination was possible. He'd seen this so many times. That was obvious. Women who were in car accidents. Or who'd fallen down a flight of stairs. Women who, like Mackenzie, had done nothing at all, but were just unlucky. That was what he'd called it: “an unlucky situation.” She'd cried quietly at first, allowing Annabel to hold her close. But they'd already plied her with painkillers, and while Mackenzie had understood the spoken words conveying her “unlucky situation,” she wouldn't sustain the full breadth of her pain until she woke up to a less-bleary existence. That much Annabel knew. She also knew that she'd be right there beside her to ease her into the reality of such a lacerating blow.

Mackenzie shifted in the bed, her eyes fluttering like the wings of a weakened butterfly. Then she clawed at her left arm where they'd inserted the IV.

“Try not to do that, sweetie,” Annabel cautioned, whispering so as not to fully wake her. Because then she'd have to figure out what to say. And she wasn't sure she was prepared for that. Not that she ever would be.

She checked her watch. It was nine o'clock. Henry had already dropped the boys at the door to their kindergarten classroom, with its colorful letters cut from construction paper and adhered to it. Fortunately, her babysitter had been able to stay the night, and Henry had been thrilled at the opportunity to pick them up and bring them to school. It felt strange not having to explain herself to him. Had he wondered why she hadn't slept at home? If he had, he certainly hadn't pried. Or maybe he just didn't care anymore.
Piper would be finishing exercise class in fifteen minutes—the one they were supposed to go to together—and there was no doubt she'd be calling directly after. She'd have to tell her something. Would it be insensitive to ask Mackenzie if she could bring Piper into the fold? After all, they certainly knew each other better than she and Mackenzie did. Still, she worked at Mackenzie's husband's corporation and that could present an issue.

Annabel's stomach growled. It was probably time to brave either the vending machine or the cafeteria. She'd just run downstairs and come right back up; Mackenzie wouldn't have the opportunity to miss her. The very last thing she wanted was for her new friend to wake up alone. She grabbed her purse from on top of the windowsill and crept toward the door.

“Hello?” Mackenzie's raspy voice startled her, even though it was barely audible, and Annabel's heart tightened in her chest.

“Hey there.” She set her purse on the floor and moved toward Mackenzie in what felt like slow motion.

“Where am I?” She rubbed her eyes and then homed in on her surroundings. “What's going on?” She tried to sit up quickly, but instantly fell back against the flimsy foam pillow.

“You're in the hospital. You're okay.” Annabel tried to keep her tone level and aimed for soothing. “Try to relax.”

“Relax?” Her ashen face was awash with panic and confusion, as the events of the past twenty-four hours began to stumble into place. “Did I . . .” Mackenzie croaked, and her hand went immediately to her stomach. “Did I . . .” She couldn't finish the sentence, but Annabel knew exactly what she was asking, and she nodded mournfully. “No!” She cried. “Please tell me it's not true.” Tears plunged down the sides of her face without warning.

“I'm so sorry.” Annabel sat on the side of her bed, taking Mackenzie into her arms as her shoulders shuddered and her body heaved with the cavernous, guttural sobs. “I'm so sorry,” she repeated over and over again.

Because what else was there to say?

•   •   •

Finally, four hours later, Mackenzie's gynecologist had granted permission for her to go home. She'd insisted that Mackenzie take it easy. No work. No exercise. As little moving around as possible for at least a week. The results of the various tests they'd run had come back inconclusive. A good sign, her doctor had said, adding that she saw no reason why Mackenzie couldn't get pregnant again and carry the baby to term. “Such great news,” Annabel had encouraged, but Mackenzie had just nodded dully and then stared absently at the blank white wall in front of her.

“Your friend is right,” the doctor had corroborated, but Mackenzie hadn't looked at either of them. She'd said only, “Please get me out of here,” and Annabel had complied, driving her back to her house, helping her into pajamas, and setting her up in bed with a stack of fashion magazines she'd purchased in the hospital gift shop, a tall glass of ice water, and an array of snacks. “Stay with me for a little while,” Mackenzie had pleaded, “at least until Trevor gets here.” Annabel had said she wouldn't have it any other way.

“Are you sure you're comfortable?” She was hovering over her as she would Harper or Hudson when one of them was sick—a fundamental maternal instinct.

“Yes.” Her eyes were glazed with grief.

“Okay. I have something to tell you.” Annabel adjusted Mackenzie's pillow instinctively. “Please don't be upset with me.”

“I'm pretty sure I'm drained of emotion at this point. So you're in luck.”

“I had to tell Piper what happened. I'm so sorry. It's just that she did this thing for me last night, and then I was supposed to meet her this morning, and when she called for, like, the fourth time . . . I had no idea what to say. So . . .”

“Annabel.” Mackenzie held up her hand. “It's fine.”

“Oh, thank God. I really thought . . . Well, I don't know what I thought, but I was worried.”

“I said, it's fine. Seriously. As long as she doesn't say anything at work.”

“I made her swear.”

“Well, then, that's good enough for me.”

“There's more.”

“Yeah?”

“She should be here any minute. But if that's not okay, I'll tell her. She really wanted to see you. To, you know . . .” Annabel sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Feel sorry for me.” Mackenzie closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“No, no. Definitely not. Unless that's what you want.”

“Not particularly. Come to think of it, I have no idea what I want.” She reached for the glass of water on her nightstand. “There were a bunch of books here. Parenting books.”

“Um, yeah. I put those away. I just thought . . .”

“Thank you.”

“It was nothing, really.”

“No, thank you, Annabel. For everything. You barely know me, and you stepped up in a way I could never have expected you to. It means a lot to me.”

“You would have done the same thing in my place.” Annabel smiled. It felt nice to be acknowledged for doing something nice for someone. She was half tempted to drop into conversation with Henry a detailed account of her goodwill.
See? I'm not such a miserable person. That's right. Just call me Florence Nightingale.

“Maybe so, but most people would have called me an ambulance or dropped me at the emergency room and cut out.” A look of genuine concern crept across her face. “Wait—what about your kids?”

“No worries. I took care of it.”

“I bet you missed them.”

“Eh.” She shrugged. “Once you have your own, you'll see that a night away isn't the end of the world.”

“A night at the hospital?”

“A night anywhere!” Annabel laughed, as the doorbell rang. “That's probably Piper. I'll be right back.”

A few minutes later, all three women were sitting together on Mackenzie's king-sized bed.

“I brought muffins from Le Pain. Orange juice. Chocolate. More chocolate. And jelly beans.” Piper riffled through a series of plastic bags. “I read once that jelly beans are your favorite. Does that sound stalkerish?”

“A little.” Mackenzie smirked, and Annabel could tell she was feeling at least somewhat better, if not pleasantly distracted.

“Speaking of stalkers . . .” Annabel arched an eyebrow.

“Does she know?” Piper mouthed without speaking.

“Does she know what?” Mackenzie perked up. “By the way, the invalid can still read lips.”

“Not yet, but at this point . . .”

“I'm kind of trailing Annabel's ex-husband,” Piper blurted.

“He's not my ex yet. But she is completely trailing my husband.” Annabel admitted. “I know what you're going to say.”

“That's awesome!” Mackenzie's cheeks flushed with color.

“Okay, that was not what I thought you were going to say.”

“I
love
shit like this.” Mackenzie bobbed her head eagerly. “Is it to see if he's cheating or something?”

“You got it.”

“Can I help?”

“I don't think you're going anywhere for a while. But, hell, if I'd known it would have made you so happy, I'd have told you sooner.”

“I've always been super into those crime shows.”

“Me too,” Piper echoed. “Angela Lansbury is my hero.”

“Mine too.” Mackenzie reached for the bag of jelly beans Piper had opened. Then she popped a couple into her mouth. “I want in on this when I'm back on my feet.” She paused. “Sorry. I didn't mean to sound insensitive.”

“It's quite okay. I think we're past the formalities at this point.”

“Who else knows?” Mackenzie stuffed another handful of jelly beans in her mouth.