“There are treatments,” Emerson said.
“I don’t even have to ask Sloane,” Caroline said. “Either one of us will give you our bone marrow without a second thought.”
“Of course.” Now I was starting to worry. Bone marrow transplants were not a simple matter, and this was really major if she potentially needed to have a bone marrow transplant.
I could tell Emerson was trying not to cry. “But even still,” she said, “I probably can’t have children.”
Mark pulled her closer into him.
My heart sank for her. I couldn’t imagine that. I had seen what Caroline had gone through trying to have another baby—and she already had Vivi. “I will have a baby for you, Emerson. I have a beautiful uterus.” I cleared my throat. “My doctor’s words, not mine.” We all laughed.
“I know,” she said, nodding. “I know you would do anything you could. I love you both so much.”
She stood up, and Caroline and I both hugged her. “I will have a baby for you if you’re OK with having a hippie LA home birth, but I’m not going back in that hospital.”
I patted Caroline. “It’s OK. I’ve got that one.” I winked at her. “Let’s just hope you’re the better bone marrow match so it’s fair.”
Caroline nodded. “Deal.”
Emerson was wiping her eyes and laughing now. “Listen,” I said. “Mark’s right. Let’s not get worked up about something we don’t even know yet. OK?” She nodded.
“Right,” Caroline said. “And in the meantime, just know that the two of us will do and give you anything you need, and we will make sure you get the best doctor in the world.”
Emerson nodded again. “I know.”
“Good,” I said, hugging her again. “Chin up, little one.”
“And, guys,” she said. “Just please don’t let anything slip out to Mom. I don’t want to worry her.”
I nodded in agreement, but I didn’t feel all that confident. When Mom found out we had kept this from her, I had a feeling our biggest concern would no longer be who was going to carry Emerson’s baby.
SIXTEEN
life
ansley
I don’t think I’ve ever been as shocked as I was when my husband, Carter, came to me and said he thought we should start trying for another baby. Because I saw the way he watched Caroline, the way he studied her. I saw the way he hoped she would develop some feature or mannerism that would indicate she was really his. It had all been a bad dream, what he had asked me to do. I knew he wanted to believe that we had defied what the doctors told us, that we had created this beautiful miracle all on our own.
I had also known, from that very first rainy night I ventured back to Peachtree Bluff, back to Jack, back to try to get the one thing Carter and I wanted that we couldn’t have on our own, that it was a bad idea. Jack and I had loved each other. We had shared so many of our teenaged summers, stealing kisses on the boardwalk, spending lazy days holding hands in the sand, throwing footballs with our friends, sneaking beer at the pier at night. The only thing that had eventually torn us apart was his proclamation that he didn’t want children and my insistence that I would have them. Our life together had been so carefree, so much fun—except when the summers were over and we had to leave each other, of course. But, no matter how happy you are in your marriage—and, believe me, I was—marriage is real life and it’s real work. There are bills to pay, taxes to figure, laundry to be done, decisions to make. The love is real, but the stress is real, too. While I was deeply happy in my life with Carter, there was no doubt that my mind wandered every now and then to that simpler time.
I understand with every ounce of my being that this is why people have affairs; this is how they convince themselves that they are in love with someone else. It’s easy to resurrect that forgotten feeling when you have no responsibilities.
I knew this. Logically.
But it had taken me five months to get pregnant with Caroline. That was five sections of time carved out for Jack and me. Five stints of seventy-two hours that weren’t only about making this baby. They were about spending time together, reliving the past, and, in some ways, getting a glimpse into what might have been if I had never met Carter that summer before my senior year of college. If, instead, I had spent that summer with Jack.
I knew in my heart of hearts that what I had with Carter was a once-in-a-lifetime love. But it had been tainted by the day-to-day of marriage. What I had with Jack hadn’t. Even though my head knew this, my heart still felt that dangerous pitter-pat whenever I was in his presence, which is why I realized, after I became pregnant with Caroline, that I couldn’t see Jack anymore.
So, no, technically, I didn’t need to fly to Peachtree Bluff to tell Jack that I was pregnant. But, for heaven’s sake, I owed the man that much, didn’t I? He had been the one to create this child with me. Didn’t he have a right to know?
I was sitting in Jack’s living room when he walked in from work. His face lit up. I had promised myself that I wouldn’t have any physical contact with him. I was already pregnant. It had to go back to friendship. But I stood when he walked into the room, and he rushed to me, kissing me with that intensity I had come to know so well.
“Hi,” he said, a smile playing on his lips. “We have to stop meeting like this.”
I kissed him again. He was so close, so warm. I couldn’t help it. “Well,”
