“We’ll miss you,” Jude said, trying not to cry.
“Call your mother,” Miles said gruffly. “Keep in touch.”
Zach nodded and hugged his dad. When he drew back and looked at Jude, she saw the uncertainty and shame in his eyes. “I’ll do well, Mom. You don’t have to worry about me.”
Jude pulled him into her arms and held him as tightly as she could. Her shame and guilt were almost unbearable. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him, but the words that had once come so easily were impossible to form now.
He held her for a long time, and then slowly they drew apart.
“Good-bye,” Zach said quietly.
It all came down to that one word. Good-bye. Once you said it out loud, it was real.
“Bye, Zach,” Jude said softly. She and Miles walked out of his dorm room, into the busy hallway. Behind them, his door quietly clicked shut.
Seventeen
That fall, time seemed alternately to fly forward and to crawl. With Zach gone, the house was as quiet as a tomb. Miles worked longer hours than ever. Jude knew he was afraid to come home to her. He hated how far she’d fallen into the gray.
But now it was November, Thanksgiving weekend, and Zach was home. She’d promised Miles, and herself, that she would make a real effort for her son. She wanted that. At least her mind wanted it, and she was determined for once to act like a mother.
And so she had come up here, to the attic above the garage. She stood in front of the red and green boxes that contained their Christmas decorations.
What had she been thinking?
How could she hang three stockings on the mantel? Or hold the Life-Savers-and-white-yarn ornament Mia had made in kindergarten? How?
She turned her back on all of it and headed for the door. By the time she got back into the house, her hands were shaking and she was cold.
She never should have told Miles she’d decorate, but the sadness in Zach’s eyes had filled her with guilt. She’d thought that decorating for Christmas might cheer him up. He’d been so depressed all week. He claimed that school was going well, that he had great grades—and even swore that med school was still his future, but he was so quiet that sometimes she forgot he was even home. He never answered his cell phone, and after a while it had stopped ringing.
She moved into the living room. Sunlight shone through the tall windows, gilding the wooden floors. Zach and Miles sat next to each other on the big, overstuffed sofa, both wielding controllers, while two ninjas kickboxed each other on the big flat-screen TV.
“You find the ornaments?” Miles said, without looking up.
“No.”
Miles sighed; lately he was always sighing. So was she, for that matter.
Their whole relationship seemed to be made of air, filled with nothing. She wanted to make him happy, but she couldn’t find any way to say what he needed to hear.
The doorbell rang, and she was relieved. She hated guests, but anything was better than this retread conversation about who she used to be. “Are we expecting anyone?”
“Hardly. People don’t drop by anymore,” Miles said.
“Maybe it’s Drew or Greg,” Jude said, steeling herself to see one of Zach’s friends.
She went to the door and opened it.
A stranger stood there, holding a manila envelope.
No. Not a stranger, but she couldn’t place his face. “Hello?”
“I’m Scot Jacobs. Alexa—Lexi—Baill’s defense attorney.”
“Come in, Mr. Jacobs,” Miles said, appearing beside Jude.
She felt herself being pushed aside. She heard the door shut. Feeling light-headed, she followed the men into the living room.
“I came to speak to Zachary,” the lawyer said, and, at his name, Zach put down the controller and stood. “I have these papers from Lexi. She asked me to deliver them to you personally. She thought you would be home this weekend.” He didn’t look at Jude—just Zach—and offered the envelope. “She’s pregnant,” he said quietly.