Barefoot: A Novel

Peter held Melanie apart so he could look at her. “What I did was wrong. I was confused and angry and frustrated with you, Melanie, and with the whole process you were putting us through. The only thing that seemed to matter to you, at al , was having a baby. There were times, lots of times, in bed and otherwise, when I was pretty sure you didn’t even see me, I mattered to you so little. We lost each other, Mel, and I’m not blaming you for what happened because it was my fault. I did the wrong thing. I take ful responsibility and I am now asking you to forgive me.”

“Now, because I’m pregnant.”

“That’s not it.”

“Wel , why now, then? Why not my first week here? Why not when I cal ed you sixteen times?”

“I was angry that you’d left.”

Melanie laughed. “That is so rich.”

“I was confused. Did you know you were pregnant when you left?”

“I did.”

“See? I could be furious with you, too. But I’m not. I forgive you and I want you to forgive me.”

“What if I can’t forgive you?” she said.

“Ah, but I know you, Mel. And I know that you can.”

“Except every time you cal to say you’re working late, or have to stay in the city . . .”

“Frances is leaving New York,” Peter said. “When I ended things, she put in for a transfer. She’s going to California to be closer to her sister.”

“There wil be someone else,” Melanie said. “Even if Frances goes, there wil be someone else.”

“Yes,” Peter said. “There wil be you. There wil be our child.”

Melanie sighed. She heard the crunch of tires on shel s out on the street and she cocked her head. Josh? She looked out the window. The car moved along down the street.

“You have to go,” Melanie said. “To the hotel. I’m not wil ing to let you stay here.”

Peter whipped out his cel phone. “Fine,” he said. He sounded angry and officious. “I’l just cal the cab and have him take me someplace.”

“Good idea,” Melanie said. “I’m going to bed. I’l pack your things and set them outside the door.”

“Wil I see you tomorrow?” Peter asked.

“Maybe just for a minute,” Melanie said. “Cal me in the morning and tel me where you’re staying. I’l come to you. But you should go home tomorrow, Peter. Ted comes on Friday and this house is too smal for . . .”

“Come home with me tomorrow,” Peter said.

“No,” Melanie said. “I’l be home in a few weeks.”

“You’re staying because of your . . .”

“I’m staying because I’m happy here.”

“Happy with him?”

“Happy here.”

“But you wil come home?”

“Eventual y, Peter . . .”

“I love you. What can I say to make you believe me?”

“Wil you get out of here, Peter?” Melanie said. “Please?”

Peter stood on the flagstone walk until his cab pul ed up, but by then it was nine-thirty. Melanie watched him from her bedroom window. Josh: She had to tel Josh. Melanie lay back on her bed. She was exhausted. Josh would not take the news wel , even though they had both acknowledged that theirs was a summer romance. He was going back to Middlebury right after Labor Day; the story of Josh and Melanie ended there. To take it any further was comical. Melanie pictured herself and her newborn baby bunking with Josh in his dorm room. Absurd. Ridiculous. They had two and a half weeks left. Then it was over. Melanie closed her eyes. It would have been better if Peter had waited, she thought. Why he felt compel ed to come now . . .

But, she thought, the heart wants what it wants.

When Melanie woke up, soft light was peeking in around the edges of the shades and the damn wren was chirping. She sat up in bed and checked the clock. Six-thirty. Her feet tingled, and it felt like she was suffering from an irregular heartbeat. She had missed Josh, again. And on the worst possible night. Melanie fel back against her pil ows; she was stil in her clothes, and hence, her body had that stiff, grungy, slept-in-her-clothes feeling. She would have to corner Josh this morning somehow. But she would have to be so, so careful because of Vicki and Brenda. Vicki knew, or thought she knew, but how? Did cancer give a person a sixth sense, or was Melanie simply transparent to her best friend? It didn’t real y matter.

Melanie would deny it—and certainly Josh would deny it. But they would have to redouble their efforts to keep it a secret.

Melanie heard voices in the living room. Blaine was awake. Melanie rose from bed and undressed. It was stil hot, stil muggy; even with open windows, her room was a roasting pan. She put on a robe. Outdoor shower, she thought. Talk to Josh, go to Peter’s hotel (meet him in the lobby, where it was safe), get Peter to the airport.

Melanie stepped out into the living room. Her bare feet hit the buttery floorboards at the same time that Peter cleared his throat and launched into Make Way for Ducklings in a soft but charming