Emerson caught my attention. She was chomping on something, thank God. Maybe she would live until next week when the movie started filming.
That gave me an idea. “So our little Emmy is starting her new movie, and Sloane and I are having a dinner party to celebrate.”
“We are?” Sloane said. I gave her my sternest look. She caught on. “Oh,” she said. “I mean, we are. Yes. And we’d love it if you would come.”
“Oh,” he said. “Shouldn’t you ask your mother?”
“Our mother is not capable of deciding what is good for her,” Emerson said. “So we are stepping in.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of like an intervention,” I said.
He smiled and looked very pleased by all of this. “I will come if you promise you’ll ask your mother if it’s OK first.”
“Oh, sure, sure,” I lied. Which was when I had my brilliant idea. “Actually, though, we have one more hurdle for you to jump before you are officially invited.”
He crossed his arms, looking less terrified and more amused now. He had these great dimples. I know great dimples, because I have them. His weren’t quite as good as mine but pretty good. “I’m up for it. I am certain.”
I took his arm and began leading him through the house. “How are you at crib assembly?”
He put his arm around me in a way that should have been entirely too friendly for someone I had met three minutes before in the foyer. But he squeezed me to his side and said, “Caroline, for you, I’ll even put a crib together.”
He did. And there weren’t even any pieces left over, which was comforting. That was when I knew for sure that Mom had better not screw this one up.
* * *
WE ALL GOT A little messed up when Dad died. Mom made us go to therapy, even though she wouldn’t ever go, which I thought was incredibly unfair. Anyone could see that she was drowning. Sloane was terrified even to come out of her room. Emerson was crying in her sleep. But me? I was OK. Super sad, obviously. But not totally unglued like the others.
At the time, the fact that I developed this intense germophobia right after 9/11 didn’t seem related. I couldn’t ride the subway and held on with antibacterial wipes if I had to. I would only get into a cab if I was wearing pants. I wouldn’t shake anyone’s hand and got jittery in crowds. It honestly took me years to realize that perhaps this was somehow related to Dad’s death.
But now I think it’s too late. Being outside in the truly fresh air of Peachtree Bluff helped ease my panic, but I wasn’t cured or anything. And Mom definitely drew the short straw that day. I could feel my palms starting to sweat as we got into the car that afternoon. She cranked the ignition, and as we were getting ready to pull out, the back door flung open. “I’m coming, too!” Emerson said.
I looked back at her. “You’re leaving Sloane with all the kids?”
She raised her eyebrows, as if to say They’re not my kids. “Vivi is holding a sidewalk chalk workshop, and Sloane is catching a few rays. I’m pretty sure they’re covered.”
“You must be hard up if you’re willing to come tour the hospital with us instead.” I paused. “By the way, any new men in your life?” I looked at her pointedly.
Mom glanced over her shoulder to back out of the driveway and said, “I swear, you girls are going to be the absolute death of me.”
Emerson laughed. “Sorry, Mom. But there are no guys. I don’t have time for guys. I feel like with this movie, I’m finally going to gain some ground.”
“You’ve already gained ground,” I said. “I think sometimes you’re so busy looking toward the top of the ladder you forget how many rungs you have already climbed.”
“That’s true,” Mom chimed in. “Emerson, you’re supporting yourself as an actress. You have steady work. Do you know how amazing that is?”
She smiled happily. “Yeah. That is pretty cool. But I just feel like in a couple more years, my career will be on stable ground, and then I can worry about love and all that.”
“Speaking of,” I said. “Mom, we have all agreed that you should marry Jack immediately if not sooner.”
Her face went kind of white at the mention of his name, which was a weird reaction, if you asked me. Knowing her, I would have guessed that an on-trend shade of plum would be more fitting.
“Where did you meet him?”
I thought she was just embarrassed, but then I realized she was something more like mad.
I reached into my bag to get a Preggie Pop. I didn’t have morning sickness anymore, but I was kind of addicted to the things. I handed Mom one, too. She looked sort of morning sick. Much to my surprise, she pulled the wrapper off and put it in her mouth.
“He came by earlier,” Emmy said. “He brought your sweater.”
“He may or may not have put together the baby’s crib.”
“He came to our house?” Mom asked.
Now I realized she wasn’t mad, exactly. Maybe more like confused. Incredulous, even. Fortunately, I was so distracted that I had barely realized we were pulling into the hospital parking lot. But when I did, my entire body went cold.
Mom put the car in park, and I saw the look she gave Emerson. “Let’s get out of the car.”
“And while we’re walking in, you’ll tell us all about Jack?” I asked.
“Wait,” Emmy said. “So there’s a story?”
There’s always a story, I thought. But I couldn’t say it.
Now I was hot. I pulled my maternity dress in and out a few times. Maternity dresses really were tragic. They were probably all designed by men to make you look like an absolute cow.
Emerson opened the car door and took my sweaty hand. “You know what?” I said. “I’m fine. I don’t need to see the hospital.”
Mom was now beside Emerson, coaxing me. “Sweetie, you are going to feel more anxious if you haven’t seen where you’re giving birth. Let’s take a quick peek at the room, and then we’ll get out of here.” She smiled. “And I’ll tell you all about how Jack and I dated a couple of summers during high school.”
I perked up at that. “Really? Was he your first love?” First love stories are my favorite. I gave her a withering look. “Are you just saying this to get me to go in there?”
“No.” She waved her hand at me.
I leaned over and started breathing heavily.
“OK, OK,” she said. “Yes. He was my first love.”
I got out of the car.
“We met in Peachtree, actually,” she said. “He was sixteen, and I was fifteen.”
“Was he your first kiss?” Emerson asked.
Mom put her hand on the small of my back and led me through the automatic doors. It was as though I could feel the millions of germs leap onto my body. I needed to go home and get into the shower. Oh, God, I had worn my new wedges. Now they were ruined. Everyone knew that once you wore shoes in a hospital, you had to throw them away.