Somewhere Out There(86)
The two stood in uncomfortable silence for a moment until Brooke finally spoke. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s just . . . I just can’t let my child feel like I did growing up.”
“How did you feel?” Natalie asked in a quiet voice.
“Less than,” Brooke said, and she felt the muscles in her throat grow thick. She still wasn’t accustomed to talking about her past, let alone her feelings about it. She wondered if there’d ever be a time that she could and not end up on the verge of tears.
“I’m sorry,” Natalie said. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Brooke said. “It’s not your fault.” And then she looked at Natalie, both women knowing exactly who Brooke did blame for her fractured childhood. The mother Brooke despised, and Natalie still wanted to find.
? ? ?
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Dr. Travers said, after the amnio was over. Brooke sat on the edge of the exam table with a thin white blanket gathered over her legs, a little freaked out that the tip of a long needle had just punctured her stomach and been so close to her baby. But the test had been painless, and was done in less than a minute.
Natalie sat on the chair in the corner, near where Brooke’s head had just been on the pillow. Her younger sister had offered to stay in the waiting room, but Brooke had asked her to come with her. The doctor was a tall, younger woman with pixie-cut brown hair and dark blue eyes. She wore black slacks and a red blouse beneath her white coat. “Your weight’s perfect, and so is your blood pressure.”
Brooke released an internal sigh of relief. “Are you going to do an ultrasound today?”
“We normally wouldn’t,” Dr. Travers said. “Your insurance plan only covers so many.”
“Oh,” Brooke said. “The receptionist mentioned something about being able to find out the sex.”
“You can when we get the results of the amnio, which will be in about a week,” the doctor said. “Until then, just keep up whatever you’ve been doing. Get as much sleep as you can, take your prenatal vitamins, and eat well. No raw eggs, undercooked meat, shellfish, or soft cheese, like Brie or Roquefort. Walking is the best exercise.”
“I’m a waitress, so that’s not a problem,” Brooke said. Her job had kept her physically active enough over the years that she’d never even considered joining a gym.
“Perfect,” Dr. Travers said. “But be careful lifting anything too heavy. I can write a note for your employer, if you want.”
“That’s okay,” Brooke said, hoping that after her interview with the seafood restaurant, she would have a new place to work.
“Okay, then,” Dr. Travers said. “I’ll see you in a month.” She paused, and then, as though sensing that Brooke needed it, gave Brooke’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry. You’re going to be a great mom.”
“She’s going to be the best,” Natalie agreed, and with her sister’s comment, despite all the insecurities that plagued her, something ancient and broken inside of Brooke—something that believed she would be lonely for the rest of her life—stitched back together and she saw herself in a totally different light.
Natalie
Brooke dropped Natalie back at the house a little after three, leaving Natalie more than enough time to finish her dessert order for the party she was catering that night. Katie had asked Henry to come over after school to play with Logan again, and when Natalie realized that she’d gotten the date of the party wrong, she called Ruby’s mom and asked if Hailey could play there for a few hours, too. Both women had offered to bring her kids home around six, and Natalie promised herself that she would make it up to them with a box full of decadent treats, as well as at least one date set on the calendar when Natalie would take care of their children. She thought about something she’d often told Hailey and Henry: “You have to be a good friend to have one,” and Natalie needed to make sure she practiced what she preached.
“Thanks again for coming with me,” Brooke said just as Natalie opened the car door. “It meant a lot.”
“Any time,” Natalie said, warmly. “Talk to you soon?” Brooke nodded, and Natalie climbed out of the car with a smile on her face. Having a sister was like having a safety net, she thought. It was being one for her, too.
Once inside, Natalie got busy in the kitchen, cutting out perfectly round circles from the sheet pan of sponge cake Brooke had helped mix, topping each of them with a smooth, quarter-inch cylinder of honey caramel and a sprinkle of fleur de sel. Then, she set up twenty boxes on the table with the lids open, and as she began placing individual cakes into them, she thought about Kyle, and the brief spat in the living room before Brooke had reentered the house the previous week. He’d already been asleep when Natalie came to bed that night—or at least he had been pretending to be asleep. The next morning, he left for the office before she woke up. Usually, if he took off that early, he would leave her a note on the dry-erase board that hung in the kitchen, telling her that he loved her or simply to have a good day, but when she went to get her morning coffee that day, the board was blank. They’d spent the last seven days making polite, efficient conversation, each busy enough with work and managing the kids that they didn’t acknowledge the tension simmering between them. Natalie wanted to—she knew they needed to—talk, but she dreaded the idea of having the exact same conversation that they’d had before she’d even met Brooke. Her husband was just being cautious, but she felt like he kept applying the pessimistic-lawyer side of his brain to the situation instead of the supportive-husband side she needed from him. Whatever the case, the way he’d spoken to her sister at dinner needed to be addressed. Hoping that they could discuss the issue rationally, she turned around and walked over to the baker’s racks by the back door, bringing back a sheet pan full of chocolate mousse tortes layered with hazelnut praline, which she carefully transferred to the remaining boxes.