Still the One (30 page)

“What makes you think you will?”

“For starters, Zack isn’t planning on staying in Chartreuse. Then there’s the fact he’s a commitment-phobe who’s never had
a long-term relationship.”

“Lots of men change their minds about commitment when they meet the right woman. And you could move, or he could decide to
stay in Chartreuse.”

“Yeah, well, if we get something started and it doesn’t last, it’ll be tough on Gracie.”

“Gracie’s nearly grown. She’ll be starting her own life.”

“Emma, I don’t want to get my heart broken again.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that.”

Katie sigh, I guess that’s the bottom line. It hurts to lose someone you love. I don’t want to risk it.”

“Honey, you’re letting fear steer your boat. Do you want to live alone the rest of your life?”

“No.”

“Well, then, you’re going to have to take a chance at some point in time. And chances at love don’t come around every day.”

That was true. After Zack, she’d waited twelve years to find Paul.

“I want you to ask yourself, ‘When all is said and done, which will I regret more: not taking a chance on love, or giving
love a chance?’ ”

“That’s not the question.” Katie frowned. “The question is, ‘What if I take a chance and lose?’ ”

Emma sighed. “The Katie I used to know wouldn’t look at things in those terms.”

“That Katie hadn’t been widowed.”

“Well, this Katie is going to end up growing old by herself if she doesn’t change her attitude.” Emma’s voice softened. “Just
open your heart to the possibility.” A baby’s cry sounded through the phone. “Oops—I’ve got to go. Just think about it, Katie.
And think about coming to Italy to do my hair for the special.”

Katie hung up the phone, more confused than ever.

Gracie stood uncertainly in the hospital hallway, looking into a meeting room, where a woman with short, dark hair leaned
against a lectern.

“Is this the birth class?” Gracie asked her.

“Yes. Come in, come in.” The woman smiled and motioned her in. Gracie took a couple of steps forward, then stopped. Oh, jeez.
The participants were all couples, and they all looked twice her age.

“Come on in.” The woman waved her arm again. Eight pairs of eyes stared at her. Gracie swallowed, squelched down the urge
to flee, and slunk into the room. She sank into the first available chair at the back.

“We were just sharing our names with each other,” the woman said. “I’m Marianne Caville. Let’s go around the room and bring
our new arrival up to speed.”

“I’m Misty,” said a pretty blonde in the front row. She turned to the handsome man beside her. “And this is my husband, Steve.”

“I’m Carla, and this is Jack,” said the long-haired brunette sitting next to her.

“I’m Sara, and this is my husband, Pete.” A fireplug of a woman who had to be close to forty put her hand on the leg of a
balding, beefy man in the second row.

“I’m Tamika,” said the woman in the red sundress two chairs down. “And this is Richard.” The man in the Hawaiian shirt beside
her lifted his hand.

Everyone turned and looked expectantly at her. “I’m Gracie.” She put her hand on her stomach. “And this is my baby, as yet
unnamed.”

“Hi, Gracie,” everyone called in unison, as if it were some sort of cult.

Marianne smiled out at them. “We have a lot to cover, so let’s get started. As you know, the purpose of this class is to assist
you in labor. We’ll teach you pain-management techniques like breathing sequences, massage, and hydrotherapy.

“Now, each of you will need a birth partner. The baby’s father is the ideal partner, because the birthing process will help
him bond with his child.” She paused and looked at Gracie.

Gracie’s stomach went tight. Oh, God. She wished she could just crawl under the tile.

“If the father is unavailable, your mother or grandmother or a friend can serve as your partner.”

Gracie was relieved when the blonde at the front of the room raised her hand. “My husband travels a lot. He’s probably not
going to be here for every session.”

“That’s fine.” Marianne smiled at the blonde’s husband. Jeez, couldn’t the guy talk for himself? “Just try to attend as much
as possible.” The man nodded.

Marianne turned her gaze to Gracie. “Gracie, do you have a partner in mind?”

“I, uh—” She ought to say she didn’t need a partner, that she was going to raise the child alone, so she might as well get
started doing things alone from the outset. Instead, she found herself saying, “Sure.”

“Good. Try to bring him next time.”

Him
. Oh, God. Was the rest of her life going to be one long, massively uncomfortable moment? Gracie’s stomach clenched again.

“All right, then,” Marianne said. “I thought we’d start with a movie of an actual birth.”

The lights dimmed.

By the time they came back on, Gracie’s belly was a hard knot of nausea. She sat perfectly still, gripping her hands together,
trying to process what she’d just seen.

No way. No way! There was no way in hell she was going to go through that. And yet—Gracie’s stomach heaved. She rose to her
feet.

“Gracie—are you all right?”

“Yeah,” she managed to choke out. “I just need to go to the restroom.”

She fled the room and stumbled to the ladies’ room, where she turned on the faucet and splashed water on her face. The thought
of going through all that gross stuff made her feel as if one of those medieval spiked balls was rolling around her insides.

She shouldn’t have come here tonight. She could have watched a birth on YouTube at any time, but she’d deliberately avoided
doing so, figuring, why freak out before she had to?

She splashed water on her eyes, wishing she could erase the images burned on her corneas. No way. Absolutely no way! And yet,
the baby was inside her—she’d seen it on the ultrasound. It was definitely in there, and it had to come out somehow.

The restroom door squeaked open. In the mirror over the sink, her water- and tear-soaked eyes made out the blurred image of
a slender woman in black capris and a blue-and-black print top. “Gracie—are you okay?”

Oh, great. It was Katie. She’d driven Gracie to the hospital and said she was going to visit a friend recovering from surgery
while Gracie took her class. “Yeah. I’m just dandy.”

Katie stepped closer, her eyebrows pulled together in concern. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“Nothing.”
Everything.
“I, uh, had something in my eye.”

The door opened again. The short, stubby woman from her class stepped into the restroom, and grinned when she spotted Katie.
“Katie!” She gave her a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“I dropped my daughter off for a birthing class, then went to see a friend who just had an appendectomy.”

“Gracie’s your daughter?”

“Yes.”

Gracie thought about mounting her not-my-mother protest, but decided to let it go.

“I came in to check on her.” The woman smiled at Gracie. “Honey, are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Gracie wiped her face with a paper towel. It felt like sandpaper on her skin.

“What happened?” Katie asked the woman.

“They showed a movie of a birth.”

“Oh, sweetie—no wonder you’re upset.” Stepping closer, Katie opened her purse, pulled out a Kleenex, and held it out. Gracie
took it and inelegantly blew her nose. “I watched a movie like that when I was pregnant with you,” Katie said, “and it totally
freaked me out.”

“This one was really bad. It freaked
me
out,” the woman said, “and I’ve already had two children.”

“If you’ve had two kids, why did you sign up for the classes?” Gracie asked.

“Because the breathing techniques really help. It’s been years since I had my last child, and I’ve forgotten everything I
learned.” She touched Gracie’s arm. “I’m going back to class, since your mom is here. Just remember—it’s all going to be all
right. I’ve been through it twice, and here I am, about to do it again.”

“I don’t know why.”

“Once you hold that baby in your arms, you’ll forget all about the delivery. Right, Katie?”

Tears formed in Katie’s eyes. “Right.”

Gracie swallowed. Katie had said that giving her up was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. Seemed like the giving-birth
part would have been the hardest.

The door swung closed behind the woman, leaving Katie and Gracie in awkward silence. Katie pulled another tissue out of her
purse and dabbed at her own eyes.

“That movie was so gross,” Gracie said, hoping to defuse the emotional tension. “I can’t imagine having my va-jay-jay hanging
out there for everyone to see.”

“When you’re giving birth, you don’t think about that.” Katie gave her a wobbly smile.

“Did you have a birth coach?”

Katie nodded “A lady with the adoption program served as my coach. She was awesome.”

“Did you stay in touch with her?”

“I wanted to, but she refused. She said I needed to put the experience behind me.” Katie gave arwful smile. As if you could
ever put a life-changing event like that behind you.”

Gracie twisted her Kleenex.

“I could be your coach, if you like,” Katie offered.

Part of her wanted to say yes. Another part—the stubborn part, the part that needed to cling to the way she’d always been,
because who would she be if she wasn’t that person?—wanted to keep Katie at arm’s length. She couldn’t betray her real mom
by getting too tight with Katie.

She shook her head. “I don’t need a birthing partner.”

“Everyone needs someone, Gracie.”

Gracie hugged her macraméd purse, the one her mother had made her, to her chest. “Let’s just get out of here.”

“What about the class?”

“Forget it.”

She thought Katie was going to argue with her. She was relieved when she nodded. “Okay.”

The parking lot was hot, and so was Katie’s car when they climbed into it. Emotion simmered in Gracie’s chest.

“Every one of those women was married,” she found herself saying. “I felt like a freak.”

Katie didn’t say anything. She shot her a sympathetic glance and pulled out of the parking place.

“The teacher wanted me to bring the baby’s father to the class. She said it would help him bond with the baby.” Gracie stared
at the blur of trees out the window.

“She didn’t know that he lives in Pittsburgh,” Katie said.

The truth built up in her chest like steam in a pressure cooker. “He doesn’t. I don’t even know where he lives.”

Katie glanced at her.

“I don’t even know his name!” Gracie blurted. There. She’d said it. She closed her eyes, hot tears coursing down her face.
“But it’s not like Zack thinks. There weren’t a lot of guys. There was just one, and…” Her chin shook, making the word wobble.

“Oh, sweetie.” Katie pulled the car to the side of the parking lot and stopped. Gracie ventured a look at her face. Instead
of the horror she feared seeing in her eyes, she saw concern and sympathy. “It’s okay, sweetie,” Katie said softly. “Whatever
happened, it’s okay.”

A fire hose of words gushed out. “I—I was mad at my aunt. I wanted to go to a concert and she wouldn’t let me. She wouldn’t
let me do anything! She was a complete hard-ass. She wanted me to be just like her perfect grown daughter had been, and that’s
not me. I couldn’t let her define me, you know? I wasn’t like her. I would never be like her. I hated her. I was just so…
so alone.”

“You were grieving your parents,” Katie said.

“Yeah. And she wasn’t anything like them. And I hadn’t made many friends at the school…”

The words tumbled out, fast and furious, falling all over each other, like water over a waterfall.

“Anyway—it was an outdoor thing, not even really a concert, just a thing happening in the park near their house. I met these
older kids. They all introduced themselves at once, and it was hard to hear over the music, and…” And she hadn’t wanted to
seem uncool, having to ask again, so she pretended she’d heard them. “I think his name was Kurt or Kirk or Dirk or Burt, but
I’m not even sure about that.” She drew a ragged breath. She’d thought about it over and over and tried and tried to figure
it out, and the more she thought about it, the more she thought maybe she was just making it all up. “He said he was from
California. He was on spring break and either headed to or from New York.”

“Did he say what part of California?”

Gracie shook her head. “They were passing around a bottle of vodka,” she continued, “and I drank some. Then they passed around
a joint, and I smoked a little.” A lot, actual “One of the guys was really cute, and… well, he put his arm around me.” She
wiped a tear off her chin. “I don’t think anyone had put their arm around me since I moved to my aunt’s house. My aunt was
kind of cold, you know? Not that I wanted her to touch me, but my mother—well, she used to hug me all the time, and I think…
I think I missed being held. And so when he put his arm around me…”

“Oh, sweetie.” Katie drew her into her arms.

Gracie let her. She leaned against her shoulder and sobbed while Katie murmured words of reassurance and stroked her head.
At length, Gracie pulled back and wiped her nose with the tissue. “He—he asked if I wanted to go make out, and… and I said,
sure. I never had, and he was really, really cute, so we moved away from the crowd and went to his pickup and…” Words wouldn’t
follow.