In a Book Club Far Away(67)
Sophie snorted. Speaking to this woman was like picking up a needle with points on both ends. There was no way she was going to come out of it unscathed. “Damn. I was just curious why you were acting so weird.”
“There you go, judging.”
“I don’t judge!” Sophie huffed. And now, she had no idea where the conversation had meandered to. “I swear, talking to you is like talking to one of my children.”
Regina laughed. “There you go again. You’re such a good mama and nurse, but sometimes you’re such a”—she opened her mouth, then, as if thinking twice, eyes darting quickly to Genevieve, who was slack-jawed and watching them, reconsidered—“pill.”
Sophie didn’t know whether she should clutch her pearls or kick this woman’s butt. “That’s rude.”
Regina lifted her hands up, as if in surrender. “It wouldn’t hurt you to lower your standards for normal people like me. We can’t possibly accomplish everything you have and still be gorgeous and have a social life. The perfect Army wife. Oh wait!” She laughed. “Except, you aren’t.”
It was a low blow, even if Sophie knew that it was true. No, she wasn’t technically an Army wife, but she had lived long enough as one to count.
Sophie stood, giving up. “It’s obvious we’re having two different conversations—I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about. I won’t stand for this kind of tone from anyone, not from my children, not from strangers, and certainly not from you.”
“And I’m surely not going to sit here and share and pretend that what happened so long ago is water under the bridge. Because it isn’t. Sure, ten years have gone by, but I have neither forgiven nor forgotten.”
“None of what happened back then was my fault.”
“Are you serious right now? Yes, it was.”
Sophie hung her head, though inside she was shaking. “You need to direct your anger to the right person. Besides, how many times do I have to apologize for any of my and Jasper’s involvement? I tried over the years, Regina. I’ve sent emails, presents to Miko. What more can I do?”
“Keep Miko out of this.”
“How can I? It wasn’t just us who split up, it was our families, too.” Saying this all aloud brought back the chaos of their last days together in Millersville, and the hurt that ensued.
“There are such things as consequences,” Regina said, bending down to pick up the scattered plastic bowls, a dismissal. “We’ve got to live with them.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Adelaide
Adelaide couldn’t go back to sleep after Sophie took her temperature, and after looking up at the ceiling for minutes on end and hearing the muffled noises of the world moving on below her, she decided it was time to get up.
Slowly, gingerly, she sat up in bed. Determining that her medication hadn’t rendered her dizzy, she stood, then made her way to her dresser and pulled out a nightgown, a comfortable, soft flannel number that she’d used postpartum. Then, she went to the bathroom, where she confronted herself in the mirror.
Heavens, she looked rough. Her skin was dull; her hair was matted and stood up in places. Forget bags, she had steamer trunks under her eyelids, and her lips were not their usual shade of pink. “But at least you’re standing,” she said aloud.
Adelaide lifted her nightgown over her head inches at a time; she spied the dressings over her sutures and peeled the tape from her skin. To her relief, the incision sites were dry and clean, and the skin around them wasn’t red or swollen.
On the struggle bus, she continued attempting, and failing, to fully raise her arms over her head. She sweated bullets as she tugged the clean nightgown over her body. Every muscle, some seemingly new ones, protested all the movement. But this was no time to give up. She’d awakened with two goals in mind.
To be with her daughter, and to get her friends to bond over Waiting to Exhale, if they hadn’t done so yet. So far, much of her comfort came from knowing her friends had found a way to work together, but she’d hoped the book would bridge the remainder of the gap between them.
Adelaide shuffled to the top of the stairs, holding on to the banister with a vise grip. Older homes like hers had tall, narrow stairways, and with every creaky step downward she felt her soul lighten. It was a one-foot-at-a-time operation, and she grunted with effort. When she reached the bottom step, both Regina and Sophie were looking up at her. Regina was giving Genevieve a piggyback ride.
She’d heard Genevieve in the middle of the night, crying for a bottle and a snuggle. It hadn’t been but a few minutes before the hallway light turned on, a sliver spilling under her doorway. Next came the sounds of footsteps going to her daughter’s room. Adelaide couldn’t tell which godmother was dealing with the baby, but it didn’t matter. Genevieve would always be able to look to either of them for help, at any time in her life.
Sophie crossed her arms. “I cannot believe you just did that. One of us could have helped you.”
“I’m fine,” she uttered, though she had to catch her breath first, her eyes solely on her daughter. “Hey, baby girl.”
Regina brought Genevieve closer.
Genevieve stuck her arms out and leaned out of Regina’s grasp. “Carry me, Mama.”