He’d wanted to get married in August, but she’d put him off until November so Tara and Emerson would be completely recovered from having their babies. Tara was due in late August, nearly a month away, while Emerson was due in mid-September. They would be her bridesmaids. No maid of honor. She was always careful to treat them equally.
“Maybe we need to define what
“Simple to me means getting married in something comfortable,” Noelle said. “You know, just what I wear every day.”
Ian let out a small groan. He looked at Tara and Emerson. “See what I have to put up with?” His voice was so full of love that Noelle leaned over to kiss his cheek. He was a sweet guy. They would have a good marriage. She was determined to make that happen.
“So let’s get serious for a minute.” Tara clicked her pen above the notepad on her lap. “November’s too cold for an outside wedding, and since you don’t want to go the church route, Noelle, how about having it at my house? We have the room. Everybody might not be able to sit down for the ceremony, but there’s tons of space.”
“And I can do some of the cooking,” Emerson added, “and—”
“I don’t want you two to go to any trouble,” Noelle said. Being married in Sam’s house after all that had passed between them made her feel squeamish. “You’ll both have new babies, and trust me, any spare minute you have, you’ll want to sleep.”
“Oh, let us do it.” Tara brushed away the protest. “You know we’ll love every second.”
Ian looked at Noelle. “I like the idea of having it at Tara and Sam’s,” he said. “We can pay to have someone move furniture around and clean up before and after. And you can wear whatever you want.”
“No, she can’t,” Tara said. “Em and I will take her shopping. If I see her walking down the aisle in one of her old skirts, I’ll—”
“There’ll be an aisle?” Noelle interrupted. “I don’t want an aisle.” She didn’t. She didn’t want all that attention focused on her.
“It’s a figure of speech,” Tara said. “You can be married in front of our fireplace.”
It was a nice image, Ian and herself in front of the fireplace, their hands joined, their friends surrounding them. She was surprised when her eyes misted over at the thought. “Well,” she said to Tara, “why don’t you check with Sam about having it at your house,” she said. “Make sure it’s cool with him.”
“Oh, it’ll be fine with Sam,” Tara said.
Noelle wasn’t so sure. Her relationship with Tara had deepened during the months of prenatal care, and she’d discovered that the intimacy she always experienced with her patients was even more intense when that patient was a close friend. But things still felt a little strained between her and Sam. They were improving as he became more and more involved in the pregnancy, but she knew he had reservations about her being their midwife. Not that he didn’t trust her skills—he did—but he seemed uncomfortable being around her in any sort of emotional situation. He never said as much, of course; they didn’t talk that openly to each other anymore. It was that “not talking” that told her of his discomfort. She missed him and she blamed herself for the distance between them.
She was reminded of that night on the beach in every small twisting motion she made with her back and in the sleepless nights when her muscles tightened up and wouldn’t let go. She needed more medication to get through the day and—as long as she had no possibility of a delivery—even more at night. Her mounting dependence on the drugs scared her. Right now, right as she was sitting in her living room planning the wedding, she had a welcome Percocet buzz going on and she didn’t know how she would be able to function without it. How much of her pain was physical and how much emotional, she wondered, borne of a guilt and a longing that wouldn’t go away?
It was time to
“You know what?” she said now to Ian. “I don’t care how we do it. Whatever you want is fine with me. I just want to be your wife.”
“Yay!” Emerson clapped her hands together.
“That’s the spirit!” Tara said, and jotted something down on her notepad.
Ian smiled at her, pink coins of surprise on his cheeks. “Would you consider the church, then?” he asked, pushing.
“Yes.” She gave him an emphatic nod. “You want the church? We’ll do the church.”
What did it matter? She wanted to marry Ian. She loved him as much as she knew how and she would do everything she could to make him happy. With any luck, in a couple of years they’d start their own family. For now, though, as she sat there with a man who adored her, her two best friends and enough drugs in her system to ease the ache in her back, she felt something approaching contentment, and that was more than she could ask for.
36
Emerson
What the hell was I going to do?
I’d wanted Suzanne’s party to be special, but I was so wrapped up in what I now knew about Tara and Grace that as people arrived and began eating and drinking and laughing and talking, I felt as though I was experiencing the whole thing underwater. I saw faces, but they were blurry. I heard words but couldn’t make them out. I wanted the night to be over, and more than anything, I didn’t want to be alone any longer with what I knew. I moved through the rooms torn between heartache and indecision. What was I going to do?
People seemed to be having a good time. Everyone was gathering around Suzanne, making toasts and cracking jokes and celebrating her fifty hard-earned years, but even if my mind hadn’t been full of Grace and Tara, I would have been miserable. The party, with so many of the babies-in-need volunteers present, reminded me too much of the gathering after Noelle’s memorial service only three weeks earlier. Three weeks that felt like a lifetime. Things
