“What are you afraid of?”
Claire sucked in her bottom lip. A wave of, she didn’t know what, rose in her. She wiped her face and forced words out of an ugly, dark place deep within her. “What if he did have an affair? Then my marriage was all a lie.”
Marti sat on the couch and held Claire’s hand.
Like trying to pull herself free from an undertow, Claire gripped the edge of the coffee table. “Until that photo, I never acknowledged my obsession as an excuse. I guess I could have gotten time off, but I didn’t really want to go to France.”
Marti rubbed her eyes. “Oh, Claire,” she whispered, “why?”
Why hadn’t she? A roaring of water, like she was standing under a waterfall, filled her mind. She covered her ears to stop the sound, but it blared. “Not for my career, which was what I thought and David thought. But…” She looked up at her dearest friend. “I told him I wasn’t ready to have children.”
“Why?” Her tone was gentle, soothing.
“I didn’t know why at the time.” Claire rubbed her eyes. “I don’t know how to be a mother. I didn’t have a good role model. My mother shipped me off to a convent boarding school soon after I learned to walk. I don’t know anything about raising a child, other than I know hownotto do it.”
Claire squeezed her eyes, shutting out the image of another woman in her husband’s arms. “Our marriage was based on my lies.”
“Lies, plural? What else did you lie about?”
Claire bristled. “You my shrink now?”
“No. I only shrink my teenage patients. I’m your friend, and I want to help you. You seem to be forgetting that David loved—”
“And adored me.” Claire leaned back into the couch pillows. “When we were getting to know one another, we were hiking in the Alps. David asked the normal family questions, but I remember getting very testy. I didn’t want to think about my mother. I told him I hardly knew her and didn’t remember her ever hugging me. We hiked along a river, and came to a waterfall, and I freaked out—”
“Wait, you don’t like the water. You won’t take a ferry. You were surprised the waterfall frightened you?”
“I don’t know. I felt disoriented. I shut down, grew quiet and moody. David didn’t raise the question again. And I certainly wasn’t going to. I guess I was afraid if I went back to France for a romantic second honeymoon, he’d convince me to start a family, and I just couldn’t risk that.”
“So, you were afraid to be a mom?”
Her vision blurred. “I…I don’t know. I never thought about it. I was always just so against becoming a mother, I didn’t question why. But, I guess I was.” She shook her head, trying to focus.
“And you never discussed your fear with him? Being afraid you won’t be a good mother is a pretty big fear. You could have talked to me.”
“You might have convinced me, too. I didn’t want to be convinced.” Claire stood and picked up the framed photo of David and herself on their wedding day. “I don’t think I was aware of being afraid while David was alive. I’ve only just admitted it to myself…and you.”
“If Luca is David’s son, he also lied.”
Longing and regret stewed in Claire’s stomach. “That doesn’t excuse my lying.”
“No. It means we’re all human.”
Cradling the photo, Claire sank back onto the couch and stared at the ceiling.
“What happened to your cell phone?”
Claire flung out her arm. “The security guards took it and my laptop when they escorted me out of the building.”
“The security guards are a conversation for another time. It’s not safe to be without a phone. I’m going to get you one. I’ll add a new line to our account. It’s only ten dollars a month.” Marti stood and grabbed her purse. “In the meantime, logon to David’s computer and read his email.” She kissed Claire’s cheek, grabbed her jacket, and left.
An ache skittered across Claire’s heart. Did David know she wasafraidof having children? Afraid of being a mother?
Chapter 4
DustflurriedasClaireopened David’s office door and switched on the light. She closed her eyes against the image of him lying on the carpet that haunted her every sleepless night for the past year, three months and ten days. She opened the window, letting in cool, damp air, and flipped open the laptop.
As the computer bleeped warnings about updates, she mindlessly clicked the little install boxes. On the bookshelf stood a framed photo so covered in dust, the image appeared as a shadow. She wiped her fingers across the glass and uncovered the photo of Marti and her hugging each other before the Eiffel Tower. They’d backpacked around Europe the summer they’d graduated. David had taken the photo the day Claire met him. The heat of that afternoon washed over her.
