Gabriel looked at his watch. He had just enough time to make a quick call to Julianne from a pay phone before his meeting.
He located an obliging phone at Columbus Circle, swiped his credit card, and dialed her cell phone. After several rings, he received her voice mail, once again.
“Damnation,” he muttered (once again).
“Julianne, for God’s sake, answer your damn phone. I’m going to have to buy you a pager. [loud exhale] I’m sorry. That was rude. Would you please answer your phone? I’m calling from a pay phone because I forgot to charge my phone last night and now it’s dead. When I get back to my room I’ll charge it. [brief pause] Now I’m wondering if I brought the charger cord with me. I can’t seem to remember a damn thing. See what happens when I’m away from you? I’m lucky I’m not homeless and panhandling. I’m on my way to see my father’s attorney. Apparently, he has some things he wants to say in person. [longer pause] I wish you were here. I love you. Call me when you get this message.”
Gabriel hung up the phone, then continued walking, his thoughts on his upcoming appointment.
“So how’s it going, Rach?” Julianne asked her friend that evening, connected as they were by long distance.
“It’s fine.” Rachel’s normally cheerful demeanor was decidedly subdued.
“What’s wrong?”
Julianne could hear a door open and close.
“I’m just going into the bedroom so Aaron can’t hear me.”
“Why? Is something wrong?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Rachel sounded exasperated.
“Can I help?’
“Can you get me pregnant? If so, I’ll book you the next flight to Philadelphia. And I’ll see that you’re canonized for performing a miracle.”
“Rach.” Julia’s tone was gently reproachful.
“What’s wrong with me?” Rachel began to cry.
Julia’s heart tore at the sound of her best friend’s sobs. Rachel’s tears were the soul-baring cries of a woman who desperately wished to become a mother.
“Rachel, sweetie. I’m so sorry.” Julia felt her own eyes water as she listened, not knowing what to say.
When Rachel’s tears subsided, she spoke. “We’ve both been to the doctor. The problem isn’t Aaron. The problem is me. I’m not ovulating. So I’m going to have to start having hormone injections in the hope that they can jump-start my ovaries. Or else . . .”
Rachel sniffled.
“I’m so sorry. Are the hormone injections a big deal?” Julia’s question was hesitant.
“You could say that. Damn it, I don’t know why my body won’t cooperate! The one time I want it to do something important, it fails me. I just don’t understand.”
“What does Aaron say?”
Rachel laughed. “It’s what he doesn’t say. He keeps telling me that it’s all right, that everything will work out. I’d rather he told me that he was pissed off and disappointed.”
“Is he?”
“How could he not be? I am.”
“I’m sure he’s upset because you are.”
“That doesn’t help me.”
“Then talk to him.”
“Why, so I can discuss how much of a failure I am? No thanks.”
“Rach, you aren’t a failure. And it sounds like you have options. So don’t give up hope.”
Rachel didn’t respond.
“Do you want to come up for a visit?”
“No. Work is really busy right now. But you’re coming home for Christmas, right?”
“That’s right. We’ll be home next week, I think. Sooner if Diane goes into labor.”
“Have you heard from them lately?”
“I talk to them on the phone every Sunday, and Diane sends me email updates. So far everything is okay, but they’re still worried about the stress of delivery on the baby. She’s going to deliver at the Children’s Hospital, which means they’ll have to drive into Philadelphia when she goes into labor. Or get a hotel in the city around her due date.”
“When is she due?”
“December twenty-third.”
Rachel was silent again.
Julia heard the sound of a door opening and then Aaron’s voice.
“Jules, I’m going to have to go.” Rachel’s voice was muffled. “But I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Sure. I love you, Rachel. Don’t give up hope.”
“That’s all I have left.” Rachel sniffed again before hanging up the phone.
Julia placed the handset back in its cradle on the desk before saying a long prayer for her friend.
“This is ridiculous.” Julia pushed her cell phone away from her the following evening.
“What’s the matter?” Rebecca breezed into the kitchen with a stack of dish towels, fresh from the laundry room.
“Gabriel. I’m receiving his messages, but we haven’t been able to speak since he left. I keep calling and calling and all I get is voice mail—on his cell phone and in his hotel room.” She placed her head in her hands. “I found the charger cord to his phone upstairs. He’s going to have to buy another one. Or call me from the hotel. But he seems to be out all the time.”