She thought she’d be happy when she got pregnant, that she’d get the same feeling of elation she’d experienced when she got into Chapel Hill, was elected treasurer at school, or scored her dream job. She thought she’d high-five the doctor, the nurse, and anyone else she could find, then float home on a cloud of joy to celebrate with her husband. But by the time she sat across the desk from the doctor to confirm the news, she’d been so broken, gone so far afield of what having a baby should be, that all she could do was nod mutely and ask about risks to the pregnancy.
Later, when she’d told Everett the news, he’d hugged her tight, but she’d barely registered his arms around her. Her mind was elsewhere, lost in a tangle of emotions and fears. Thankfully, Everett wrote it all off to hormones, joking about her anxiety with her parents and his. But sometimes she saw her mother-in-law watching her with concern, worried, Bryte was sure, that all the negativity was somehow harming her unborn grandchild.
Now she pushed that child, who seemed no worse for the wear—her mother had promised her that babies were resilient, and as always, she’d been right—in his stroller up to Myrtle Honeycutt’s back door. Myrtle had been old when Bryte had lived here as a kid, so she was positively ancient now. Her dog Rigby was a medium-size mutt of indeterminate origin who had more energy than Myrtle could handle, but the dog was a good companion for her, living all alone. And Christopher loved his daily dose of dog. It was like having one, only not.
She rapped lightly on the door and heard Myrtle’s shuffling steps in response. Her wavering voice called out, “I’m a-comin’,” just like it always did. And when she opened the door, she already had Rigby on the leash, just like she always did. There had been a bad spell a few weeks ago when Myrtle seemed confused when Bryte came to the door. Then she couldn’t find the leash. Bryte had feared the end was near, but then she’d snapped right out of it. Bryte hated to think what they would do when Myrtle passed. She guessed they’d probably inherit a dog, for starters.
“You doing OK today, Miss Myrtle?” she asked, just as she always did. Myrtle’s answer was the one thing that varied in their routine.
“Well, I ’spect I am,” was the answer she got today. “Except this heat is just ungodly.”
“We can thank the good Lord for inventing air-conditioning, huh?” Bryte asked as she cinched the leash to keep Rigby from straying too far.
“I’ll say,” Myrtle Honeycutt agreed. She looked past Bryte at Christopher in his stroller. “You mind you don’t get that boy overheated now,” she cautioned.
“Oh, I won’t, Miss Myrtle. We’ve got lots of water, and we’ll stay under the trees, in the shade,” she assured her. The woods were full of shade, after all. “We’ll see you back in a little bit.” She gave the old woman a wave and pulled the door shut, then tugged Rigby down the stairs, fixing him at her side with the short leash as she began pushing the stroller.
They made a tidy knot as they moved forward. Christopher hummed a tune from one of his TV shows, and she fell back to debating the job issue, her thoughts on an endless loop of pros and cons. Christopher was getting older, and another baby was impossible without intervention. If she got a job, that would make it even more so—and give her a reason to indefinitely postpone going back to the fertility clinic with Everett, like he was pushing for. It wasn’t really about the job. It never was. The job was just the lesser of the two evils. If she reentered the workforce, she would have a reason to tell Everett it wasn’t a good time to go through infertility treatments. She knew that would placate him, for a while at least. Some day she might have to tell him the truth about why she never wanted to go back to the clinic, but her intent was to avoid that as long as possible.
The way she saw it, she had no choice but to follow up with Trent Miller. He could connect her with the best opportunities in her field and potentially link her to a better situation than her former job. With the gap she’d taken to have Christopher, she needed an edge. His references and contacts would be invaluable, his interest a little push for her past boss to step up any new offer he was thinking about. She grew more certain about this decision as she walked to find the hideaway, to confirm with her own eyes that it was still there, preferring to think about her job prospects than whether Everett could be meeting Jencey in their former meeting place. She tightened Rigby’s leash.
Up ahead she saw Zell Boyette and Cailey in Zell’s front yard, both of them staring down at something, unmoving. As she got closer, the little girl looked up and waved, then ran toward them calling Christopher’s name. Cailey always asked to help Bryte with Christopher at the pool.
“Wanna come see what we’re doing?” Cailey asked, breathless and grinning. Bryte wondered what the latest was on Cutter. She’d heard through the neighborhood grapevine that he’d woken up and was on the mend. She wondered why, then, Cailey was still with Zell. From his stroller, Christopher held up his arms for Cailey, eager to escape his confines and knowing a sucker when he saw one.
“Sure,” she said, releasing him. Cailey pulled him out of the stroller and carried him over to Zell, balancing his heft even though he was half her size.
“Hello!” Zell called to Bryte. “Don’t mind me. I look a sight.” The older woman wasn’t exaggerating. She was streaked with dirt, and her hair stood up in clumps around her head. She laughed at Bryte’s expression. “Is it that bad?”
Bryte came over to peer down into what was, so far, a small circle of dirt in Zell’s front yard. “We’re making a koi pond,” Zell explained.
“It’s for our wildlife habitat,” Cailey added. She turned to Christopher and pointed at the hole, changing her voice to a baby voice when she spoke to him. “We’re going to put water in that hole and make a pond,” she said. “And then we’re gonna add fishies.”
“Fishies?” Christopher asked. His little eyebrows scrunched together, and he looked so much like his father.
Bryte turned to Zell. “This is quite a project,” she said.
“Cailey and I are trying to get it finished before she goes back home,” Zell said.
“Can I take Christopher to the backyard so he can see the feeders?” Cailey’s question was posed to both of them, and they answered in unison, “Sure.” They looked at each other and laughed. Intent on keeping hold of Christopher, Cailey lurched toward the backyard with her arms locked around him. Bryte heard him say, “Wanna get down,” but she couldn’t hear Cailey’s response. She wished the girl luck; he was not easily dissuaded once he got something into his mind. In that way he was like his father, too.
“I heard Cutter’s doing better, thank the Lord. So when is Cailey headed home? I’m sure you’ll miss having her,” Bryte said.
Zell nodded. “Cutter’s coming home from the hospital in the next day or two, but he’s going to be back and forth doing all kinds of rehab stuff. Lisa, God bless her, doesn’t know which end’s up. She’s exhausted and—get this—seems to have taken up with the ambulance driver from the pool that day, if you can believe that, so she’s got a new relationship, to boot.” Zell waved her arm in the air. “I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem to be the best environment to send Cailey back to right now. So I offered to just keep her a bit longer while they get settled. Lisa’s come by a few times to see her, and she’s taking her out to dinner soon. I know she misses Cailey, but she agreed to let her stay. I think on one level Lisa was relieved.”
Bryte couldn’t imagine letting her child spend such a long time away from her, but then again, Bryte wasn’t a single mom with two kids, living in the eyesore house of the neighborhood and juggling two jobs, trying to make ends meet. “That was nice of you,” Bryte offered, for lack of something better to say.
Zell laughed. “Nice of me?” She shook her head. “I get just as much out of that child being here as she does.” Zell thought about it. “Maybe more.”
“She’s a sweet kid.”