Twenty–One
Daria dug in the kitchen drawer for some matches, then went into the dining room to light the five slender candles that graced the center of the table. The white linen cloth was set with their good china, and a bouquet of the last zinnias from her garden provided a rainbow of vivid colors. The aroma of roast beef filled the house, and a perfect raspberry cheesecake—one she’d spent half the afternoon baking—sat beside the flowers as part of the centerpiece. Daria was lighting the last taper when she heard Cole’s truck coming down the lane.
She suddenly felt as nervous as she had before their first date. Wiping her sweaty palms on a dishtowel, she ran to the bathroom and checked her hair one last time.
The back door slammed, and she heard the familiar sounds of her husband’s work boots dropping in the mud room, Rufus’s bowl being filled with dog chow, and Cole’s ritual evening announcement, “Hey, babe, I’m home.”
She heard his stocking feet pad across the hardwood floors. “Mmm, something smells good. Daria? Anybody home?”
“I’m in here,” she hollered from the dining room, trying to sound casual.
She waited by the table, hands clasped in front of her, with what she knew must be a silly grin on her face.
He peered into the room and did a double take—first at the elegantly set table, and then at his equally elegant wife. “Whoa! What on earth?”
“Hi!” she said coyly, smoothing the skirt of his favorite dress. She smiled at the befuddled expression he wore.
“What is going on?” Suddenly a look of panic crossed his face. “This isn’t our anniversary, is it?”
She burst out laughing and pulled him toward her by the collar of his flannel shirt, kissing the tip of his nose. “No, you goose. We got married on Valentine’s Day, remember? I did that on purpose so you wouldn’t have so many holidays to remember.”
“Then what’s all this about?”
“You’ll see,” she said mysteriously. “Now why don’t you go jump in the shower and change into something”—she looked his filthy work clothes up and down—“I’ll settle for something clean,” she laughed.
He started down the hallway, shaking his head in puzzlement, then turned back to her. “Hey, where’s Nattie?”
“She’s with my mom. Just go get in the shower.”
He mumbled, questioning, under his breath, but he headed back to the bathroom.
Ten minutes later, they were enjoying roast beef and mashed potatoes, sweet corn, and tangy three-bean salad—all Cole’s favorites. He ate the last bite of his buttered crescent roll, leaned across the corner of the table, and put a finger under Daria’s chin. “Now would you please tell me what this is all about?”
“Not until you’ve had your dessert.” She had managed to keep her secret all through dinner and was thoroughly enjoying the buildup.
“Daria, come on! I am dying of curiosity!”
“You really want to know?”
“Even more than I want raspberry cheesecake.”
“That much, huh?”
He nodded, waiting.
She took his hands in hers. “This, my dearest darling,” she said, deliberately drawing out the suspense, “is to celebrate the fact that by this time next year there will be another little set of feet pitter-pattering on these floors.”
He looked at her mutely, apparently uncomprehending.
She laughed at the dumbstruck expression pasted on his face. “We are going to have a baby, silly!”
“What?”
She waited for him to whoop and holler, but he obviously was not catching on. “Cole, do I have to draw you a picture? I’m pregnant, honey!”
“Daria? No! You’re not…”
Whatever she had expected to see in his eyes, it wasn’t this gleam of fear, this bizarre, grim reaction to the wonderful news she’d just given him.
“Cole? Aren’t you happy? I thought you’d be happy. Honey?”
He pushed his chair back from the table and got up, pacing, rubbing his forehead as though her news had given him an excruciating headache.
She rose and went to him, frantic now to know why he seemed so adverse to the wonderful news. She put a hand on his back and was alarmed to find that he was trembling. “Cole! What’s wrong?”
“Sit down, Daria. We need to talk.”
Her heart began to bang in her chest. What was going on? What was wrong with him?
Like a robot, he returned to the table and sat down, his face an expressionless mask. He put his head in his hands and scrubbed his face, sighing again and again as though he was trying to catch his breath.
“Cole? Please, what is it?”
“There’s something I have to tell you, Daria. I-I haven’t told you everything—”
“What are you talking about, Cole? Please, you’re scaring me.”
“Daria, you…you don’t know everything…about Bridgette …about how she died.” He sighed again and then turned to look her full in the face.
“Bridgette had—we had a baby together, Daria.” He swallowed hard. “We lost him—a little boy. He was stillborn, the cord got wrapped around his neck.”
Daria was stunned, and tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, Cole. How terrible!”
“We named him Carson. We held him in our arms, and then we buried him two days later. I don’t even have a picture of him.” He recited the information as though he were reading it from a newspaper, as though it had nothing to do with him.
“Why didn’t you tell me this, Cole?” In spite of the deep sorrow she felt at his obvious grief, she was shocked and angry that he had kept it from her. Cole had been a father! He’d had a little boy! How could she not have known this about him? How could he have failed to tell her something of this magnitude before? What other secrets had he kept from her? And yet her heart was broken, for she knew how deeply he must have felt this sorrow, how great the pain he endured must have been.
“I should have told you, Daria. God knows I should have.”
“Then why didn’t you?” Her voice sounded cold and unsympathetic, but she felt betrayed, not sure if she even knew this man anymore.
“I was afraid. I was afraid it would be more than you could accept. It was a terrible time in our lives. Bridgette had been so happy, so looking forward to the birth. She took the baby’s death really hard—understandably. But she couldn’t seem to get over it, Daria. Months went by, and she still couldn’t even function. She just checked out. She started hating the doctors, hating God… After a while I think she started hating me, blaming me. And maybe she was right to blame me.”
He paused, and Daria could see that he was trying to gain control over his emotions. She waited in silence for him to go on, her mind racing.
Finally he told her, “When Bridgette went into labor, she wanted to stay home as long as possible. Her pregnancy had been an easy one and, after all, I was the great Dr. Hunter.” He spat out a mirthless laugh. “I thought I knew so much, but I didn’t even see the signs. Surely they were there. I should have gotten her to the hospital. They said if we’d come in sooner and gotten her on a monitor they might have discovered that he was…that he was strangling, before it was too late.”
A part of Daria longed to go to him, to put her arms around him and give him her understanding and comfort. But she couldn’t seem to get around the wall of his duplicity, a wall he’d built with his own lies. Why had he kept this from her? This deepest sorrow of his life. And one that had everything to do with Bridgette’s suicide.
She asked him again, “Why, Cole? Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, Daria. I meant to tell you. I tried several times, I truly did. But something always interrupted. And then I convinced myself that the time wasn’t right. I loved you so much I couldn’t face losing you. It’s not an excuse, Daria, but it’s the only true thing I can tell you.”
What he had told her—that he’d had an infant son, that he’d lost not only his wife, but a child as well—completely changed the picture she had carried of him.
“Cole, I’m so sorry. But why? Couldn’t you trust me?”
“I don’t know what else to say, Daria.”
“Then neither do I.” She felt dead inside. This evening that should have been the happiest in their lives had taken a macabre turn, had become a nightmare. Suddenly she lashed out, not willing to accept the silence between them now. “Did you think I wouldn’t understand? Did you think I couldn’t empathize with you? What?”
Now he glared at her, returning anger for anger. “If I had been half a husband, Bridgette would be alive today, Daria! Do you understand that? Can’t you see that? Her doctor said she was probably suffering from serious postpartum depression, said that was why she couldn’t seem to get over it. They gave her some medication, but she wouldn’t take it. And I didn’t force her. I hated her weakness. I hated that she couldn’t handle this, that she shut me out. But I should have seen what was happening. I should have realized that my wife needed more help than I was giving her.”
My wife. The words cut into Daria like a knife, but she didn’t have time to dwell on the ache because Cole’s next words brought her to her senses.
“It wasn’t enough that I killed my own son! Bridgette died because I let her die! A blind man should have been able to see that she wasn’t getting any better. But I just kept waiting and waiting, thinking surely tomorrow she would be a little better. And then one day there weren’t any tomorrows left. I think I know in my heart that her death was no accident. And it’s my fault, Daria! Would you have married me knowing that? Would you have trusted me with Natalie? Do you trust me now to help you through this pregnancy?” His voice broke, and his shoulders heaved silently.
“Cole.” She pushed away from the table and went to him, kneeling in front of his chair. “Oh, Cole. It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have stopped her. And how could you have known about the baby? It wasn’t your fault! None of it! Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He fell into her arms and wept, and she felt the anger drain from her heart. “Cole, there’s nothing you could tell me that would keep me from loving you. Nothing! We have to be honest with each other. We have to trust each other.”
He sat upright and took her hands in his. “How can you trust me after what I’ve just told you?”
“Cole, you shouldn’t have kept it from me. That was wrong. But it’s in the past now. I think you’re taking blame where it doesn’t belong—”
“Daria, I placed this all before the Lord a long time ago. I know he’s forgiven me, but I’m not sure I can ever forgive myself. No, I didn’t willfully murder my family, but are they any less dead because my mistakes were unintentional? I didn’t deserve to find you. I certainly didn’t deserve Nattie, but when God put you both in my life, I felt as though it was his way of telling me that I truly was forgiven. But I-I must not have believed it completely, because I was afraid. I was flat out terrified to tell you the truth about myself. I should have known you’d understand. But I couldn’t, I just couldn’t face losing someone I loved again.” He spoke as though he were realizing it himself for the first time.
Daria grasped his hands tighter. “Cole, we’re going to have a baby. This should be the happiest time of our lives.”
“Daria, I’m too afraid to be happy about this. What if something goes wrong? I can’t face losing you, losing another baby. And if that happens, I’ll lose Nattie, too.”
She stroked his head the way she would have comforted a frightened little boy. “No Cole, that’s not going to happen. You would never lose Nattie. Nothing is going to happen. I’m fine.” She took his hand and placed it over her belly, covering it with her own. “This baby will be fine. Everything will turn out fine, you’ll see.”
He took her face in his hands, and his voice was fierce when he told her, “I love you, Daria. What would I do without you?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “You’ll never have to find that out. Never.”