Gone were the carefree days when I lived in my trendy Tribeca apartment and swept into town every now and then on the weekends to party with Carl and pay my son a brief visit. That life seemed so long ago. It had been replaced by schedules, deadlines, and compromise. But I was happier now than I'd ever been. It had been challenging, especially for a girl like me. But I was growing. I was smarter. I was becoming more patient. And it was all because of love. My husband-to-be was a good man, and he had integrated himself into my son's life so smoothly it blew me away.
Who would've believed that I, Samantha Elise Baldwin, a wild, free-spirited hell raiser, would be a settled wife and mother? I never pictured it, and I certainly never wanted a traditional life.Yet that was all I thought about these days. I wanted the white picket fence, and I even thought about having another child. I know, it's crazy, right?
I made a right onto the airport exit, excited about seeing Tyler. I walked into the terminal with an extra spring in my stylish Louboutins, but the moment I saw my man, I immediately knew that something was wrong. His skin looked flushed and his eyes appeared heavy and tired. His sexy swagger was lagging and as he descended down the escalator to where I was waiting, I could see the fatigue in his body. He tried to paint on a smile when he saw the concern on my face. “Tyler, what's wrong?”
He wrapped his arms around me and gave me a kiss on my right cheek. When his face brushed against mine, his skin was cool and clammy. “Hey, babe,” he greeted me.
“Tyler, you don't look so good.”
“I'm coming down with a lil somethin'. No biggie,” he said, trying to smile again. “It just hit me when I woke up this morning.”
“Oh, baby. Maybe you shouldn't have traveled.”
“And miss Thanksgiving with the family? Not on your pretty life.”
He already thought of my family as his own. “Yeah, but you're not well.”
“I'm okay. Nothing a little rest and a whole lot of TLC can't cure.”
Tyler was always on the move and had more energy than anyone I knew. So when he walked through my door, curled up on my couch, and reached for the warm blanket lying beside it, I knew he was sick. I took his bags upstairs, then went into the kitchen and poured him the last of the orange juice left in the container. “Here, drink this,” I said, handing him the glass.
He sipped slowly. “Babe, do you have any Tylenol, maybe even some Theraflu?”
“You feel that bad?” He never took medicine, and the only pills I'd ever seen him swallow were his vitamins.
“Yeah, I gotta kick this bug before tomorrow. I want to be well enough to throw down on Gerti's food.”
“Tyler, I'm not sure you'll be up to it.”
“I will be if you nurse me back to health.” He winked, drawing me down to his chest for a light kiss.
“I can't believe you want to get it on right now.”
He chuckled. “I don't, I just wanted a kiss.What I really need is some cold medicine.”
I felt his forehead and he was hot to the touch. I didn't know a thing about nursing anyone who was sick. Hell, I didn't even own a bottle of aspirin.
“I think I'm running a temp. Can you get me something from the drugstore?”
“Sure, baby.” I nodded. “I'll pick up some chicken soup, too.”
Tyler pulled the blanket up to his neck and closed his eyes. “Thanks, babe. I think I'll just rest until you get back.”
I went to CVS and picked up throat lozenges, cold medicine, orange juice, and a few cans of chicken noodle soup. As I headed back home, I drove down Emily's street and saw that her lights downstairs were on. She was probably up baking her scrumptious apple crisp for tomorrow's Thanksgiving meal at my parents' house. I knew she kept a cabinet full of all kinds of homeopathic teas and herbs, so I decided to pop in, get something for Tyler, and then go home and nurse him back to health. Besides, I wanted to chat with her for a minute to see if she had called my cousin's friend who was interested in going out with her.
I found a space on Emily's street that was close to her house and parked my car in the spot. I didn't like showing up at people's doors completely unannounced, so I dialed her cell.
“Hey, Samantha,” she said, sounding happy and relaxed.
“Are you busy?”
“No, I'm just lounging on my couch.Why?”
“I'm getting out of my car and walking to your door, so open up.” I grinned.
“You're where?”
“I'm at your door,” I said, then rang her bell as I laughed. “Girl, open this door. It's cold out here.”
After a minute or two, Emily opened the door slowly. As with Tyler, I could see that something was wrong with her. She didn't look sick, but it was apparent that she wasn't altogether right. “What's wrong with you?” I asked.
“Um, nothing, I just wasn't expecting anyone.”
“You act like I'm company or something,” I said as I walked over toward her couch. I took a deep breath and inhaled a wonderful aroma. “Mmm, I knew you were baking your apple crisp.”
“I just put it in the oven twenty minutes ago.”
“I can't wait to dig into it tomorrow.” I grinned.
Emily glanced at her watch. “What's going on? Do you need something?”
“I thought you said you weren't expecting anyone.”
“I'm not.What makes you say that?”
“Because you're acting all nervous and looking at your watch.”
I took a seat on her couch and looked at her closely, wondering what was going on. I could see that Emily was very uncomfortable, like she wanted to be alone. Then it hit me. This was her first family holiday without Ms. Lucille. How insensitive of me to forget what my girl must be going through right now. I knew I needed to cut my visit short and give her the quiet time she needed. I relaxed my tone. “I'm not going to stay long, I just dropped by to borrow some herbal tea for Tyler. He caught a cold and he's not feeling well.”
“Oh, no,” Emily sighed, running her fingers through her hair, which was growing like she'd been fertilizing it.
She came over to the coach to sit down beside me and that's when I noticed the thick book lying on the sofa cushion. I looked at her and my mouth dropped open. “You're pregnant!” I said, holding up the book,
The Mocha Manual to a Fabulous Pregnancy.
Chapter 37
Emily . . .
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The Real World Kicked Back In
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I
was nearing my tenth week of pregnancy, and so far so good. After my initial shock of finding out that I was going to have a baby, the worry began to sink in. So the first thing I did was go on-line to find out everything I could.What I discovered sent me into a minor tailspin. Knowing that 15 to 20 percent of all known pregnancies ended in miscarriage, and that 80 percent of those occurred in the first twelve weeks, made me want to put myself on bed rest. I was terrified, and I didn't think I could take another loss.
“Emily, you're going to worry yourself into bad health if you don't stop,” Ed told me one evening after I had rattled off another horrifying statistic I'd read about miscarriages. He rubbed my still-flat stomach and spoke gently. “You're going to be fine and our baby's going to be born healthy.”
His words comforted me, and I knew he was right. I couldn't sit around worrying about something that was out of my control. If it was meant for us to have this baby, we would, and if not, we'd pick up the pieces and accept what God put in front of us. But there was one thing I knew for sure: Whatever the outcome, Ed and I were going to go through it together. Still, the vulnerable, human side of me wanted more assurance, so I invited Ruben over for tea two nights ago.
We'd both been so busy that we hadn't seen each other in weeks. But as soon as he walked in and gave me a hug, he knew. Ruben released me from his soft embrace, looked at me, and smiled wide.
“Oh, E-mi-leee,
you're going to have a bambino!”
We sat on my couch nibbling on organic brown sugar cookies. Ruben oohed and ahhed over baby names and color schemes for the nursery. “Ruben,” I said, not wanting him to get too carried away. “Am I going to have this baby? I mean, am I going to carry to full term?”
Ruben gave me a gentle smile. “When I hugged you, I saw your daughter as plain as day. She had pink ribbons tied around long ponytails, and a smile just like yours.”
I nearly broke into tears as I reached out and hugged him again. My life was finally bringing me happiness. After so many disappointments and heartache, good fortune was coming my way. A few weeks ago, Ed and his lawyer had resolved the issues that were necessary to move forward with serving Brenda divorce papers. She threw a small fit, but then seemed to acquiesce, almost overnight. She had a very good attorney representing her, but she wasn't putting up the fight that Ed thought she would. Her only request was that they hold off on announcing their divorce until after the holidays. “I deserve that courtesy for being a good wife to you and mother to our children,” Brenda had told him.
Ed conceded to her wishes. He also agreed to relinquish their home, two of his many rental properties, and a generous amount of cash that would allow her to live comfortably. Longfellow had balked, saying they should have started off low instead of putting so much on the table for their initial offer. But Ed didn't take his suggestion. He felt he was doing the right thing. He said that at the end of the day, regardless of his feelings toward her, Brenda would always be the mother of his children, and he wanted to honor that.
Meanwhile, he moved most of his clothes and personal items into a studio apartment in one of the rental units he owned downtown. I hadn't realized the extent of his wealth, which was substantial. And even though it looked like theirs was going to be a fairly clean divorce, Ed still believed that Brenda was up to something because she hadn't pushed for more material possessions than he'd offered. I was just glad that it would be over soon.
Now it was the day before Thanksgiving and I was feeling a wee bit melancholy. Samantha and I always celebrated our birthday together, but the holidays were reserved for Mom and me. I had to keep reminding myself that she wouldn't have wanted me to be sad during this time of thanks and that instead, she'd want me to celebrate my blessings. So I decided to honor her by enjoying this time that I'd been given.
I put my signature apple crisp in the oven, a recipe that was handed down to me from my mother and also happened to be one of Samantha's favorite desserts. I was baking it for the Baldwin family feast tomorrow. But honestly, I didn't want to go. There was no way I could sit across the table from Brenda knowing that I was carrying her husband's child. There was something inherently wrong about that. I may have been a Jezebel, but I wasn't a complete heathen. I planned to drop off the apple crisp and then excuse myself. I'd tell them that I wasn't feeling well, and then I'd come home and wait for Ed. He told me that he understood, and I think he was actually a little relieved about my decision.
I inhaled the buttery-sweet aroma of the apple crisp floating through the house and felt warm all over. After I poured myself a cup of juice, I stretched across my couch and started reading my favorite new book,
The Mocha Manual to a Fabulous Pregnancy,
while I waited for Ed to come home. I was learning about the physical changes in store for me during my second trimester when my cell phone rang. It was Samantha, so I answered with enthusiasm. But I soon panicked when she told me that she was walking up the steps to my front door. Under any other circumstances I would've just moseyed on over and let her in. But my mind immediately went to Ed. I didn't know when he'd be back, and it was possible that he could walk through the door at any minute.
I couldn't say that I was busy because I'd just told her that I was lounging on my couch. I felt trapped and I didn't know what to do. “Girl, open this door. It's cold out here.” Samantha laughed into the phone.
I knew I had no other choice, so I took baby steps toward the door and let her in. She entered with inspecting eyes, and she could see that I wasn't myself. She asked if I was okay, and I brushed off her question, telling her I was fine. Samantha can spot a lie, especially on me, and she gave me a look that said,
Okay, if that's your story . . .
Her mind shifted when she smelled the apple crisp baking in the oven.The enticing aroma seemed to calm her for a moment as she began to tell me how much she was looking forward to the dessert tomorrow. I glanced down at my watch, noting the time. Ed could come walking through my back door an hour from now, or at any minute. I didn't know which, but I had to find a way to get Samantha out of my living room before he came back.
“I thought you said you weren't expecting anyone,” Samantha said with a quizzical look.
She caught me peering at my watch and she told me that I looked nervous. She was right, but what was I to do? I tried to shrug off her comment, but then she took a seat on my couch and I thought my knees were going to collapse right out from under me.
Oh, Lord!
She looked like she was trying to make herself comfortable and stay a while. Now I really started to panic, and a queasy feeling in my stomach told me that the dominos were about to tumble around my feet.
Just as I felt the axe about to fall, Samantha softened her eyes and told me that she wasn't going to stay long because she had to get back home to Tyler. He'd caught a cold and she simply wanted to stop by so she could borrow some herbal tea.
I was about to go into the kitchen for a box of echinacea when I noticed that I had left my pregnancy book on the sofa, mere inches away from where Samantha was sitting. Small beads of sweat popped on my forehead. “Oh, no,” I sighed, nervously running my fingers through my hair. I walked over to the coach to try to hide the book before she saw it, but I was too late.
“You're pregnant!” Samantha shouted, holding up my book.
My ears started to ring and my stomach jumped.There was no way I could get out of telling her the truth. I gathered myself and looked into Samantha's eyes. “Yes, I'm going to have a baby,” I said, taking a seat next to her on the couch.
She shook her head, her mouth still hanging open.
“Oh my God!”
she screamed. “That's why you have that glow! You're pregnant!”
A look of happiness mixed with confusion filled her face. I could see the shock and flurry of questions bubbling behind her eyes.
“I was planning to tell you when the time was right,” I said.
“Emily, I can't believe you kept something this important from me,” she said, looking slightly hurt.
“I'm sorry. I just didn't know how to tell you. Everything's so complicated . . .”
“You know I'm the last person to judge. After all the shit I've done and the countless times you've been there to help me clean it up.” She sighed, looking at me through sincere eyes. “You know there's nothing you can't tell me, Emily. Nothing.”
“Samantha, it's more complicated than you know.” Her mind was still racing, so I answered the question that I knew was next. “Bradley's not the father.”
She sat back and rubbed her right temple. “Now it all makes sense. He was telling the truth after all.”
I watched Samantha's chest rise and fall at rapid speed as she quickly told me about her encounter with Bradley during one of her trips to Atlanta, and the phone conversation they'd had two weeks ago.
I lowered my head, because now I understood what real shame felt like. All the emotions I'd experienced before were merely a mixture of guilt, anxiety, and my own fear. But sitting on my couch, looking into the fiercely loyal eyes of my best friend who had defended my honor not knowing that I was undeserving of such a gesture, a blanket of hot shame cloaked my entire body. I couldn't even look at her. “I never meant to hurt Bradley,” I said quietly.
Samantha sat in silence for a long moment before she spoke. “When I think about it, every time I mentioned Bradley's name, you never confirmed or denied a thing.”The wheels turned inside her mind as she spoke, almost in a whisper. “That's a courtroom technique that Daddy's talked about many times . . .” she said, her voice trailing off.
A fresh wave of panic and queasiness gripped my stomach. Samantha stared at me with a look that let me know she was slowly sorting out the pieces of the puzzle, connecting them one by one until they slid into place to form the true picture of what had been happening right under her nose. And then, as if things couldn't possibly get any worse, I heard the back door open and a set of heavy keys clank against the granite countertop where Ed had just tossed them.
“Emily, baby, I'm home,” he yelled out as I heard the door shut behind him.
“Mmm,
that apple crisp smells delicious. I'm ready to have a little dessert of my own,” he said, lust coating his voice as he walked through the kitchen and into the living room.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and held it for a moment. For that brief second in time everything was dark, quiet, and calm. But when I opened them again, the real world kicked back in.
Ed stood in silence at the edge of the living room, holding a cautious but calm look on his face. Unlike his daughter, he was a very rational and controlled person, so it didn't surprise me that he was seemingly relaxed. Maybe a small part of him was even relieved that everything was finally out in the open.
Samantha stood up and looked from Ed to me, shaking her head. “She's who you were buying lingerie for?” she asked, still speaking barely above a whisper, still processing the whole situation.
I sat glued to my seat on the couch as Ed spoke. “Sam, we wanted to tell you, but we had to wait until the timing was right.”
Samantha drew in a deep breath, still shaking her head. “How long has this been going on?”
“I've loved Emily for a very long time.”
“How long?” she demanded.
“Since I first met her.”
Samantha took a few steps toward him. “You've been fucking my best friend since we were in college?” Her voice was beginning to rise.
“I'm still your father, so watch your language and your tone when you speak to me,” Ed cautioned.
Samantha backed down, but I could see the fire in her eyes. “Okay,
Father
,” she said with bold sarcasm. “How long have you and Emily beenâ”
“Emily and I didn't start seeing each other until after she moved here. After the birthday party.”
I noticed that the entire time that Samantha and Ed had been talking, neither of them had looked in my direction. They were throwing my name around the room as though I weren't even there. I needed to say something, so I rose from the couch and started to speak. “Samantha, it's true. We didn't start seeing each other until after I moved here.That's why I told you it was complicated.”
Samantha turned her head toward me, her long, sandy blond locks flying through the air. “Oh, shit!” she gasped. “Daddy's the father, isn't he?”
Things had been tense and highly uncomfortable up to this point, but now I knew the situation was about to explode.
Samantha huffed and stomped over to where I stood. She came to within a few inches of me and stopped. She looked down at my pregnancy book, then over toward Ed, before casting her eyes back on me. “I believed in you. I loved you. I had faith in you. I defended you!” she said as tears began to stream down her cheeks. “You were the best person I knew, honest and decent and kind, but it was all an act. Eleven years of fucking deceit!”