to be a rush to have children, you know?
“We always thought that eventually we would,
and we were really happy, so it didn’t feel like anything was
really missing, but then,” Holly let go of Megan and sat on the end
of the bed. “When you first got sick, it made me think about
things.” She looked at her friend’s tired face and smiled, “I’m
sorry. It just made me realize that time was so precious—and so we
tried, I mean, we really tried.” She gave a little laugh,
walked to the window, and ran her finger along the windowsill.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Megan asked, hurt
to be excluded from this part of Holly’s life.
“Because, Meg, you were sick. You were taking
care of yourself and Olivia.”
“No, you were taking care of me and Olivia,
remember?” Megan said.
“Well, you were otherwise pretty busy trying
to get healthy. Anyway, I figured you didn’t need to be burdened
with my foolishness.” Holly returned to the bed and sat next to
Megan again.
“Oh, Holly, your getting pregnant is
certainly not foolishness. It’s one of the most important things in
our lives—yours and mine. You should know that. Maybe I’ve been
selfish. I’m so sorry.” Megan put her hand on Holly’s hand, and
they sat in silence for a moment. “I really am sorry, Holly. I was
busy being sick and taking for granted that you were always there.
I should have seen your stress. I should have noticed something .”
“It’s not your fault, Megan. My god, you
weren’t selfish, you were sick. There’s a huge difference. You are
always there for me and Jack. I think we both would have crumbled
under the weight of Alissa Mae’s funeral, but you were there,
handling everything . And when I had that awful flu,” she
looked up, as if remembering a specific scene, “you made Jack
dinners, and went grocery shopping for like two whole weeks for us.
You even cleaned up my puke!” They both laughed a quiet, gentle
laugh. “Besides, what good would it have done for you to ride that
emotional roller coaster with me? it was awful; every few weeks
wondering if that would be the month. It was so painful.”
“I should have been there to go through it
with you. You shouldn’t have had to do it alone.”
“But I didn’t do it alone. I had Jack. He’s
been wonderful. He rode the highs and lows with me. The man is a
saint. Without him I would have strangled myself by now!”
“Consider yourself lucky,” Megan said
softly.
The room became quiet. As Megan and Holly lay
easily next to each other, years of friendship provided safety and
a sense of comfort. Megan’s thoughts turned inward. A wave of
sadness passed through her when she realized that she did not have
her own saint. Then she realized that she’d given him up. Megan
recalled the ferry ride so long ago. The memory of sitting on the
ferry bench was so vivid, it was as if Megan were twenty-four years
old again, carefree and contented, feeling the cool rush of the sea
breeze against her warm body. She had sat on a bench facing the
water, but her eyes were riveted to the pages of the book she was
holding in front of her body, as if reading to a crowd. The sandy
shore faded as the ferry left the dock, unnoticed by Megan. Her
body rocked gently with the movement of the ferry, and her hair
blew in the wind behind her. She kept her face tilted up, just
slightly, to keep the wayward strands from slapping her face like a
whip. The ferry ride was forty-five minutes from the Cape to the
Vineyard, and Megan looked forward to the serenity of the familiar
trip. She had been traveling to the Vineyard to paint murals for
months.
A voice had suddenly pulled her out of her
world of mystery in her novel and reeled her mind into a frenzy of
desire that she had been trying to forget. It was the last voice
she had expected to hear. Lawrence .
“Megan?” he’d said softly.
Just one word—her name—a name she had heard
thousands of times in her life. A word that suddenly
“We always thought that eventually we would,
and we were really happy, so it didn’t feel like anything was
really missing, but then,” Holly let go of Megan and sat on the end
of the bed. “When you first got sick, it made me think about
things.” She looked at her friend’s tired face and smiled, “I’m
sorry. It just made me realize that time was so precious—and so we
tried, I mean, we really tried.” She gave a little laugh,
walked to the window, and ran her finger along the windowsill.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Megan asked, hurt
to be excluded from this part of Holly’s life.
“Because, Meg, you were sick. You were taking
care of yourself and Olivia.”
“No, you were taking care of me and Olivia,
remember?” Megan said.
“Well, you were otherwise pretty busy trying
to get healthy. Anyway, I figured you didn’t need to be burdened
with my foolishness.” Holly returned to the bed and sat next to
Megan again.
“Oh, Holly, your getting pregnant is
certainly not foolishness. It’s one of the most important things in
our lives—yours and mine. You should know that. Maybe I’ve been
selfish. I’m so sorry.” Megan put her hand on Holly’s hand, and
they sat in silence for a moment. “I really am sorry, Holly. I was
busy being sick and taking for granted that you were always there.
I should have seen your stress. I should have noticed something .”
“It’s not your fault, Megan. My god, you
weren’t selfish, you were sick. There’s a huge difference. You are
always there for me and Jack. I think we both would have crumbled
under the weight of Alissa Mae’s funeral, but you were there,
handling everything . And when I had that awful flu,” she
looked up, as if remembering a specific scene, “you made Jack
dinners, and went grocery shopping for like two whole weeks for us.
You even cleaned up my puke!” They both laughed a quiet, gentle
laugh. “Besides, what good would it have done for you to ride that
emotional roller coaster with me? it was awful; every few weeks
wondering if that would be the month. It was so painful.”
“I should have been there to go through it
with you. You shouldn’t have had to do it alone.”
“But I didn’t do it alone. I had Jack. He’s
been wonderful. He rode the highs and lows with me. The man is a
saint. Without him I would have strangled myself by now!”
“Consider yourself lucky,” Megan said
softly.
The room became quiet. As Megan and Holly lay
easily next to each other, years of friendship provided safety and
a sense of comfort. Megan’s thoughts turned inward. A wave of
sadness passed through her when she realized that she did not have
her own saint. Then she realized that she’d given him up. Megan
recalled the ferry ride so long ago. The memory of sitting on the
ferry bench was so vivid, it was as if Megan were twenty-four years
old again, carefree and contented, feeling the cool rush of the sea
breeze against her warm body. She had sat on a bench facing the
water, but her eyes were riveted to the pages of the book she was
holding in front of her body, as if reading to a crowd. The sandy
shore faded as the ferry left the dock, unnoticed by Megan. Her
body rocked gently with the movement of the ferry, and her hair
blew in the wind behind her. She kept her face tilted up, just
slightly, to keep the wayward strands from slapping her face like a
whip. The ferry ride was forty-five minutes from the Cape to the
Vineyard, and Megan looked forward to the serenity of the familiar
trip. She had been traveling to the Vineyard to paint murals for
months.
A voice had suddenly pulled her out of her
world of mystery in her novel and reeled her mind into a frenzy of
desire that she had been trying to forget. It was the last voice
she had expected to hear. Lawrence .
“Megan?” he’d said softly.
Just one word—her name—a name she had heard
thousands of times in her life. A word that suddenly
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