On Second Thought(130)

“Time to go,” I whispered to my bean-sized embryo.

*

The Coburns, Brooke and Chase, and I were ushered into a private room at the Club. We all kissed each other on both cheeks—it took a while.

“Kate, deah,” Eloise said. “Thank you so much for coming. I know how hard this is for you.”

“Oh, I...I wouldn’t miss it,” I said.

“You look beautiful,” Chase said kindly. He was a nice man. “And, Kate, about the house...thank you. It will mean so much to the boys. It means so much to Brooke.”

“Well,” I said. “It felt like the right thing.” I forced a smile, inwardly cringing. I’d also donated Nathan’s life insurance to the Coburns’ scholarship fund. Anonymously.

A waiter handed out glasses of champagne, then left, and we all stood around, not making eye contact.

“It’s hard to celebrate this year,” Mr. Coburn began, and Chase put his arm around Brooke, who immediately began to cry. “But I’m grateful to you, my love.” He turned to Eloise, tears in his eyes. “Thank you for fifty years. Thank you for our daughter. Thank you for our son.” He raised his glass, his hand shaking. “To Eloise,” he said, the tears tracing down his wrinkled cheeks.

“To Eloise,” we echoed.

She looked so dignified and beautiful...and tragic. Her whole life was written on her face, the smiles, the love for her children and grandchildren, the pain of her unfathomable loss.

“To our son,” she said, and then they were in each other’s arms, sobbing quietly.

I bent my head. Oh, Nathan, please help them, I prayed.

“He loved you all so much,” I said. “He was so proud to be your son and brother.” Eloise glanced at me gratefully, and Brooke squeezed my hand.

Then, from my purse, I heard the buzz of a text. Shit! Daniel was supposed to drop the swing off here. But I’d forgotten to text him earlier so he could get here before the Coburns. Just plain forgot, one of the many fun symptoms of pregnancy. I checked my phone discreetly. Yep.

When do you want me to drop off the swing? I’m in the parking lot. Are you here yet?

“Mama,” Brooke said, her voice ragged, “I have something for you.” She went to the table and picked up a gift-wrapped package. “Open it.”

It was a family portrait, taken at our engagement party. The eight of us—Nathan and me, Mr. and Mrs. Coburn, Brooke and Chase and the boys, standing stiffly, a rather terrible shot, slightly blurry. Brooke’s eyes were closed, and Atticus was out of focus, and I looked uncomfortable (because I had been). Nathan’s arm was around me.

It was the only picture I’d seen of all of us.

“Oh, darling, it’s perfect,” Eloise said, and they hugged, too, Brooke’s shoulders shaking.

This was agony.

“Kate?” Chase asked. “You have something, too, right?” He nodded at the scroll I’d left on the table.

“Yes, yes,” I said, breaking out of my inertia. “Here.” I handed them the plans. “One of Nathan’s coworkers put the finishing touches on, but this is from... This is from Nathan. He wanted you to modify the house a little.”

“Nathan did this?” Mr. Coburn asked as Chase and I unrolled the blueprints.

“You remember, darling,” Eloise said. “He wanted us to have a bedroom downstairs for when we’re older. I didn’t realize he...he’d started.” Her chest started to hitch, but she pressed her hand against her heart. “Kate, this is so thoughtful. Thank you, darling. Oh, look. A porch! He knew I always wanted a covered porch.” She reached out and grabbed my hand. “Kate, thank you. Thank you, deah.”

“You’re welcome,” I whispered.

“I had a dream he came to the house for lunch,” she said, her voice faraway. “It was so wonderful to see him...”

“Mr. and Mrs. Coburn,” said one of the club staffers from the doorway. “Your guests have begun to arrive.”

“We should get out there,” Eloise said. “Is everyone ready? As ready as we’ll ever be, I suppose.” She gave a smile that wobbled at first, then grew stronger, and I admired her more than I could ever possibly say.

It was a relief to get out of that room of pain and loss. Older people in tuxes and gowns streamed in, and I hugged the edge of the foyer, trying to make it outside without having to talk to anyone. The smell of perfume was thick, and a wave of nausea rolled over me. Outside, one of the staff was directing people inside, welcoming them to the party.

“Is there a man in a pickup truck around here?” I asked.

“Around the corner of the building,” the kid said. He smelled horribly of Axe body spray, and another heavy wave of nausea rolled up my legs, into my gut. Oh, God, I was going to throw up. Walking as fast as I could, I saw Daniel’s truck at the kitchen entrance. He was leaning against the tailgate.

“Hey,” he said. “You look amazing.”

I puked on his work boots.

His arm went around me, guiding me to the passenger side of the truck so I’d have a little privacy, anyway. Not that I could think much, as my insides tried to surge up my throat.

Good thing I’d worn my hair up, I thought distantly. Daniel pulled the hem of my dress out of the way as I retched until I was clean. Then he sat me down on the passenger seat, opened the glove box and handed me a Dunkin’ Donuts napkin so I could wipe my mouth.