A Little Hope(24)

“You do?” Greg holds a pack of crackers in his fingers.

Kay gives them a controlled smile. “Isn’t that a shock? She’s in her twenties.”

Greg puts his crackers down. He looks crestfallen. Freddie worries for him. He shouldn’t be under any type of stress. Damn them and their announcement. Freddie guesses he thinks Alex would have shared something like this years ago—during a golf game, during a lunch together, and maybe he feels betrayed or disappointed. But beyond this, she thinks how nice it is to have a true distraction, a real conversation about something besides cancer and treatment and germs. She looks at the Lionels. They don’t seem devastated or bothered. It feels okay, it feels good to be lifted away into whatever this is. “What a surprise,” Freddie finally says.

“Ta-da,” Kay says. She keeps her voice low because Addie hasn’t looked up yet. Fortunately, the news seems to go over her head as she slowly plays connect the dots on the next activity.

“Yes.” Alex unwraps his napkin and stares at the silverware. “We’ve, um, been working some things out.” He looks over at Kay and they lock eyes for a moment.

Kay nods as the waitress places her salad in front of her. She lets her crack some black pepper over it and then picks up her fork. She frowns and then leans in. “It feels good to just say what you don’t want to say sometimes.” She shrugs. “Secrets do you no good, do they?”

Alex looks over at her, and Freddie can see relief on his face. “I, of course, made a big mistake.” He clears his throat. “But Kay has been so, so wonderful.” He touches the space between her shoulders. Freddie can see his posture soften. “We’ve gotten to a good place with this.”

“All it took was some screaming and shouting.” Kay laughs. Her voice is so smooth, but her expression is nothing but earnest.

Good for them, Freddie thinks. Good for them. She could write an essay about forgiving Greg for anything if it meant they could get to Alex and Kay’s age. She could get over any single thing—an affair, a gambling problem. Two affairs even. She never felt that way before, but now she knows, without hesitation, she could get past anything. She could forgive Greg for a whole list of things, except dying.

Greg just nods. He sits back and Freddie can see his eyes—the distracted look he gets when he digests something unexpected. Alex his hero. Alex with feet made of gold. Freddie thinks about Alex and Kay, about the thousand journeys you make when you’ve been married many years. All the stuff you survive. All the wounds that heal over. She wonders if one day she and Greg will be old and think back to this horrifying, confusing time and shrug. Remember when we thought you might be dying? How lucky Alex and Kay are that they have the power to just decide to heal something.

But where the hell did this daughter come from? Did they just find out about her?

Addie tugs Freddie’s shirt, asking for her iPhone, and Freddie slides it over to her without taking her eyes off Kay. “Oh, well, it happens. I mean, it happens, right?”

“Yeah,” Greg says quietly. He puts his spoon into his soup.

“I made a mistake,” Alex says again, and shakes his head. He looks at Greg as if sensing he might have lost his confidence. “Years and years ago—after Benny.” Greg nods as he listens. His face seems to soften. Alex: his idol, his father figure, his boss. Freddie bets Greg is over it already. He is too busy trying to live. He doesn’t seem to care about details the way he used to. She notices his expression now, and he seems checked out. No, that’s not the right word. He’s something. A look she hasn’t seen much before.

“I feel better about things,” Kay says. “My God, it’s easier to be happy, isn’t it? And the girl, Iris. I just met her last week. She is quite lovely.”

Alex smiles. He looks younger all of a sudden. Proud, too. His smooth shave, his crisp blue shirt. Kay puts her hand on top of his. “She’s a great kid,” Alex says.

“And a baby on the way,” Kay whispers.

“A baby?” Greg says.

“Wow,” Freddie says.

“Who’s having a baby?” Addie says.

“Their daughter,” Greg says, and then stops.

“Oh,” Addie says, and shrugs in her adult way. “Neat.”

“Yes,” Kay says. “I’m excited to meet this baby.” She looks up at the ceiling. “Who would’ve thought,” she says. “My mother always said don’t say what you’ll do until you do.”

Alex and Kay who lost their son, Benny, all those years ago before Greg even started at Garroway & Associates. Hit by a tractor trailer on his bike. Someone said Kay screamed when the police told her. People at the office told them that Alex’s voice was so much quieter for months afterward. Now this girl out of nowhere with a grandchild on the way.

Another rule. A rule Freddie likes: you never know. You never know what can break you. What you can fix, what you can stand up to. You never know what time will do, what will defeat or surprise you. You never know. Freddie feels a hopeful possibility ticking inside her—like her body’s typewriter is working on something. She even feels hopeful about Iowa and her application. She will definitely send it in. She needs to. You never know.

“How wonderful for you two.” Freddie stands to hug Kay. “And congratulations. A grandbaby!”