The Whole Golden World (17 page)

His morning breath was terrible; the inside of his mouth was coated with goo, it seemed like. His whiskers were scratching her lips. She tried to return his kiss with enthusiasm, but she wished to hell he'd have brushed his teeth first.

He released her head and sat down at the table. She hadn't put away the wine bottle yet, not knowing what to do with it, so it glowed green in the bright daylight that filled the room. Looking at it now, in front of him, she realized the bottle was empty. Had they gone through the whole thing in such a short time? She couldn't remember him drinking hardly any of it.

“How did you sleep?” he asked.

“Oh, fine. That bed is heaven.”

He looked at her over the top of his mug. “It was last night.”

They both froze at the sound of his ringing phone, sitting right where he left it last night, on the kitchen counter.

He walked over to take it, already seeming to tense. He answered it and turned his back to Morgan.

“Hey, hon. . . . No, just woke up. No, I'm feeling fine. . . . Yeah, not too much, Bill's not that wild man he used to be. . . . Oh yeah? Well, that sounds cool. . . . A surprise, huh? Nice. I'm not forgetting an anniversary, am I?” Here he laughed with that deep chuckle that gave Morgan shivers. “. . . Good. Okay, sweets, gotta dash so I can get cleaned up and home. . . . Love you, too.”

Morgan was frozen with her hand on a dishtowel. His banter sounded perfectly casual, and worse than that, genuinely warm and sweet.

He hung up the phone and turned back to her. His face looked downcast and sad. “Sorry.”

Morgan leaned against the counter and began to fold and unfold the dishcloth.

“Look, I'm gonna have to hurry up here and get home earlier than I thought.” He stared at the floor a second. “Shit, that means I'm going to have to run those sheets through the wash later, I guess. Guess it's good you started to clean up, eh?”

He started roughly stacking the dishes and shoving them away in cupboards. He gathered up the takeout containers and the wine bottle and knotted them in a trash bag by the door to the garage. He removed the tablecloth and shook the crumbs into the trash.

As he was doing this, he wasn't looking at her, just rushing frantically. So she joined him in trying to put everything back the way it had been, by adjusting the throw pillows and pushing in chairs. She followed him upstairs and to the bedroom. The cornflower blue sheets were already half torn off the bed; they had to have been pretty vigorous. Morgan frowned and wished she could remember the details better; a night like this would have to last her a while. It's not like his brother would go on vacation every week.

He stood with the sheets in a ball in his hands. “I guess if I can't get this done I'll tell them I took a nap here or something. Or I spilled something on the bed. Ha! You could say that.”

He stopped and pecked her forehead. “Thanks for your help. Do you need anything before you go?”

She'd been looking forward to breakfast together over the table, having a conversation about how they would meet next, how much she enjoyed the night. Maybe more talk about travel.

His arm was around her, and he was walking her down the stairs. He handed her the overnight bag by the door leading to the garage and then did a visual sweep of the open-plan dining and living room area, the wadded-up sheets still in one arm, braced on his hip. “We covered our tracks pretty well, I'd say. I'll throw these in the wash before I shower, throw them in the dryer by the time I'm out, and tonight when I come back to ‘water those plants' again, I'll stick them back on the bed.”

He grinned at her—the picture of satisfaction—as if he'd filled in the last answer of a difficult crossword puzzle.

“I'd say we done good,” he added with a twinkle.

“Sure we did,” she mustered, trying to match his enthusiasm. After all, he was right. You couldn't tell anyone had even been there, and his bedsheet plan would work fine. For her part, no one had contacted her with any emergencies while she was gone.

It was all going exactly according to plan.

He leaned in for a kiss, and this time she dodged his morning breath but covered by tilting her head to kiss his neck next to his Adam's apple. A groan rumbled in his throat, and he briefly grabbed her hair.

Then he released her. “Bye, I'll get in touch when I can.” He opened the door, and she stepped into the chilly garage.

One word rang in her mind as he swung the door shut behind her:
dismissed
.

26

R
ain arranged the gift on the center of the kitchen table, next to TJ's favorite dessert: pineapple upside-down cake.

It was a plain white box with an extravagant yellow bow: a riot of curls covering nearly the whole top of the box. Inside were two things: a silver rattle, the type meant to be engraved as a keepsake, and a cotton bib that read
WORLD'S BEST DADDY.

She'd planned to tell him that day at the mall, figuring school must be out by then, but when he didn't answer his cell phone, she changed course. This was too huge to be announced on the phone.

She was then going to tell him at home that night, but then he seemed so distracted and a little curt with her. That didn't seem right, either. She was going to tell him Friday, but then his buddy had swooped into town and TJ was going to go hang with him in Royal Oak Saturday night and go drinking, so she figured maybe Sunday was the day, provided he wasn't too hungover.

Since he'd sounded so upbeat on the phone in the morning, Rain felt at last this was the perfect time to tell him all their dreams were coming true.

Her ears pricked up at the sound of his car pulling into the driveway.

She had rehearsed this moment so many times. In some of her daydreams, she'd shown him the two lines on the pregnancy test and they'd danced around the bathroom together, whooping with glee. In others, she'd told him while they were cuddled in bed and they'd held each other, then made love carefully, befitting her delicate state.

The back door opened and she relaxed a couple of degrees, not realizing she'd been nervous. TJ had a cheerful, upright posture. His hair was slick and wet, and she could smell the soap all the way across the room, a fresh, almost minty scent that oddly reminded her of his brother, Greg.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, eyeing the package. “To what do I owe this pleasure? I've been racking my brain all the way over here about what occasion I missed.”

“Not at all. You didn't miss anything. You definitely did not.”

He cocked an eyebrow and settled into the chair across from her. Rain sat on her hands to keep from ripping open the box for him.

He clowned by putting the ribbon on his head, and then as his fingers pushed aside the tissue paper, her every nerve screamed.

He picked up the rattle and blinked several times, looking at it like a monkey in a zoo regarding a strange piece of fruit.

She prompted him by picking up the bib and handing it to him. His mouth fell open, and he looked up at her, bafflement written in the crook of his eyebrows and slightly narrowed eyes.

“We're going to be parents,” she told him, smiling hard, as if for both of them.

“Are . . . are you sure?” he asked, the bib and rattle in each hand, that stupid bow still on his head.

“Yes, of course I am. The doctor confirmed it with a blood test. It's true this time. No early home test, no faded second line. And I'm late. No period, either. Look.” She pulled down her v-neck shirt. “Even my boobs are swelling up already.”

He put down the bib and rattle carefully in the box, as if they were products he found unsatisfactory and intended to return. He closed the cardboard lid. “I'm . . . stunned.”

She reached across and grabbed his arm. “Aren't you happy? Please be happy . . .”

“Give me a minute,” he blurted, and took off upstairs to the bathroom, leaving Rain to curl up alone in the kitchen chair.

 

When TJ came down an hour later, Rain was on the couch with her laptop in her lap, signing up for baby websites. The latest gave her a due date in September and told her that her child was the size of a kidney bean.

There were message boards, too. Virtual coffee klatches where mothers-to-be could vent about morning sickness and ask each other embarrassing questions. If she were the type of person to do such a thing, she could have posted, “My husband and I are expecting a baby after years of infertility and months of treatment, and all he can say is ‘give me a minute.' I want to throw him out of the house and make him sleep on the porch. Is this normal?”

But instead she'd ordered some yellow onesies from Baby Gap.

TJ stopped in front of the couch, his head drooping in his classic hangdog posture. He clasped his hands in front of him. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Rain tried to say something conciliatory. She only managed to put the laptop on the coffee table and face him with folded arms. Gran's advice was ringing in her ears: “The key to a successful marriage is to forgive, every day if you have to, and move on.”

TJ dropped down to his knees next to the couch and took her hands in his. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “Somehow I'd convinced myself it was never going to work. I'd accepted that. So this was just a shock.”

“But treatment was your idea this time. I thought you were still . . . on board.”

“I wanted you to try again because you wanted it. But I'd lost faith, honestly.”

“So you were humoring me?”

He shifted in his awkward, crouched posture. “You could say that, I guess. I didn't think of it that way. I thought of it as giving you what you wanted because it made you smile.”

“I suppose that's a better reason than competing with your brother.” Rain chuckled as if she were kidding.

He stared at her abdomen then, still flat as ever, for now. He lifted the hem of her T-shirt and stared, as if he had x-ray vision and could actually see the embryo. Then he laid a hand gently there and breathed, “Wow.”

Rain bent forward and grabbed him by the head, pulling him up on top of her, where she held him against her and relaxed at last. He was still on board with her after all. With both of them.

He snuggled up with her on the couch, wrapping around her like a vine. They barely fit this way, and it was almost comical how they were smooshed together.

TJ said, “Can't wait to tell my brother when he gets back from his tropical paradise.”

“Oh, let's not tell yet.”

“Why not?” TJ sat up from her a bit, wrinkling his brow and cocking his head to one side.

“I just . . . it's early and the first few weeks there's always a chance . . . that something could go wrong. I wasn't even going to tell my mom yet.”

Rain knew the minute she told Angie that her mother would clear out the baby aisle at Walmart buying stuff. And if something did happen, she couldn't bear to even imagine the agony of all those baby things around. Not to mention having to untell everyone they'd told.

She could feel TJ's disappointment in the stiffening of his posture. After a moment, he untangled himself and stood up.

“I'm sure you're right,” he said, sighing. “It's all very logical.”

“Hey,” Rain said, reaching for his hand and using it to brace herself as she stood, facing him. “It's our secret for now. That's kind of fun, isn't it? To have a secret?”

A strange expression passed over his face. He gathered her in tight and kissed the top of her head. “Sure it is.”

27

D
inah snapped her head up from her final review of the Planning Commission papers—well, it should be final, nearly final, only she kept thinking of reasons to look them over again—to see Morgan coming in the back door shortly after 10
A.M
.

“Wow, you're early for a slumber party night.”

“I didn't sleep very well,” Morgan mumbled. “Where's Dad?”

“He took the boys to Mass. He thought Jared especially could use it. I just wanted some peace so I could reread this stuff for my meeting. Are you sure you're okay, honey?”

Morgan rolled her head around. “I've got a headache something awful.”

Dinah paused, tapping her pen against the documents, narrowing her eyes. “So. What did you and Nicole do last night?” As she said this, Dinah turned to her laptop open on the table next to her and made a few discreet clicks while Morgan went to get some coffee from the machine.

“Oh, you know, just watched a movie.”

“What did you watch?”

“Um, actually it was TV.
Real Housewives, Teen Mom
. Stupid stuff like that. Mainly we just talked.”

“Just talked? You didn't dip into the vodka or something?”

“Jeez, Mom, I have a headache. I said I didn't sleep well. You know how it is sleeping somewhere else.”

“Sorry. Yes, I do know. I've gotta ask, you know.”

Morgan massaged her neck. “I need Motrin and a nap. Anyway, don't you worry about me, Mom. You know good old Morgan.”

Dinah stood up to hug her daughter, then dug around for some Motrin out of her purse. “You don't have to do everything right, you know. I love you no matter what.”

Morgan downed the Motrin and went upstairs. “Thanks, Mom. I love you, too. Hey, we still on for a chick flick tonight?”

“You know it. I've got
Something Borrowed
all queued up for us.”

Morgan gave her a wave before yawning dramatically and dragging herself upstairs.

Dinah frowned, then retreated to her laptop and opened up Facebook. Nicole was a friend of Morgan's, so just maybe her profile would be visible. . . . There. Last night she'd posted, “So much fun just watching TV with friends and just hanging out! I'm gonna miss you next year, Mo!”

Dinah smiled. She shouldn't have doubted her superstar daughter.

 

That evening, mother and daughter sat in front of a romantic comedy about—what else?—getting married. Dinah's favorite movies always had a wedding dress in there somewhere; talk about escapist. So it shouldn't have surprised her when Morgan asked, “So, Mom, tell me about marriage.”

Dinah almost choked on her popcorn. “Why do you want to know? No one's proposing to you, are they?” and continued silently,
Like I know anything about it, anyway
.

“I'm just wondering what makes a person stay married. And what happens if you fall out of love? What happens if one of the people falls for someone else?” In the movie they were watching, in fact, it seemed clear the handsome leading man was engaged to the wrong woman.

Morgan picked at the popcorn bowl instead of looking right at Dinah.

“Honey, are you worried about me and Dad? Because we're doing just fine. We still love each other very much.”

Morgan waved her hand. “No, I know that. Let's say . . . it's a friend. I don't want to say who, so don't grill me. Not someone you know. This person's parents got married, but they're having problems. The wife doesn't seem to love her husband anymore, and he's found someone else, someone who does love him. Should people like that ever tough it out? Or should they split up?”

“Whew. Deep thoughts tonight.” Dinah tipped her head back on the couch, trying to rally her tired brain to be Wise Mother when all she'd been prepared to do was giggle at a Kate Hudson flick. But as she knew well from the twins, those pesky “teachable moments” could pop up anytime.

“I knew this one couple where the husband cheated on the wife. They made up, eventually. I don't know if it was love though, or if the affair was just about sex.”

“I think it's love,” Morgan said quietly, eyes fixed on the television.

“In that case, if it's really love with someone else, their marriage is in big trouble. But most of the time? When people think they've fallen in love with someone else, they're really just trying to escape from their problems. Like living in a fantasy. Grass is greener and all that stuff.” Dinah curled up and turned to face Morgan. “I guarantee if they married the new person, it wouldn't be long before they'd be fighting over the mundane stuff like termites and plumbing and the kids, too. That's just the fact of it. Marriage is hard.” She saw Morgan frown, as if this was somehow news to her. “Not romantic, but it's true, honey. Some people never really grow up, and they think that the first blush of passion is something they deserve to have, constantly and forever. Those types will never be happy, no matter how many pretty young things they run off with, who won't stay young, anyway.”

“But what if they married the wrong person, like, by mistake, the first time? And the new one is actually the right one, for real?”

Dinah shrugged. “I guess anything is possible. I'd be surprised if a relationship that started with cheating and lying would work out, though. Don't you think?”

Morgan was fingering the popcorn and had stopped eating it. Still staring at the TV.

“Hello? Earth to Morgan? What's wrong? You seem way too invested in this conversation for just some friend's parents.”

Morgan shook her head and smiled at Dinah. “Oh, it's nothing. Just thinking about these things, you know, as I get older and I think about getting serious. Someday, in the future. I mean, how do you know when it's a real, forever thing, then? If it's so easy to be confused by the ‘first blush of passion'?”

“You know how I knew? When I imagined your dad and me growing old together. Sitting on a porch swing, covered in grandbabies. All wrinkled and fat and gray. Us, not the babies.” Dinah laughed. “And that felt like the most wonderful thing in the world.”

Morgan rolled her eyes and slouched. “How romantic.”

Dinah shrugged. “It was to me. You asked.” After a pause, she could not resist asking again, “No one's proposing to you or anything, are they?”

“Hardly. It's not like I have boyfriends lining up out the door.”

“That's because high school boys are morons. You wait until they grow up a bit. Then they will be lining up for you. You watch.”

Morgan seemed to flush a little pink at this. She said, “Whatever, Mom,” but she was grinning.

Dinah smiled at her girl and nudged her playfully with her shoulder. How many mothers were so lucky that their daughter talked to them about things like this? Sought them out and spent time just hanging out?

Dinah allowed herself simply to feel lucky for once, to stop questioning, worrying, and just enjoy this small precious moment.