I spin on my heels back toward her house. What was I thinking, leaving her there? I hurry down the ramp into the canals. I won’t be able to forgive myself if anything happens to her. When I turn onto Linnie, her next-door neighbor is waiting. Her face is so sour, it must hurt to hold the expression.
She’s not a big woman, but she knows how to use her stature to impose and threaten.
“Leave her alone,” she snarls.
“She’s in danger,” I insist.
She places her hands on her hips, occupying even more space. “I’m very good at calling the cops.”
Beyond her, Dan Huntsman stands on the walkway, his pretty wife behind him, glancing over his shoulder. The painter peers from behindher easel. The man always dressed in shorts lifts up his Yorkies, holding them against his chest like I might attack. I’m not welcome here.
Reluctantly, I start to leave, glancing over my shoulder at the neighbor, who maintains her position, hands fixed on hips, not budging until I’m gone. My car’s still at the beach, so I get an Uber to take me back to Playa del Rey. From the parking lot, I stare at tower 50, trying to locate the spot where Marley waited for us. It’s sunny now, and the beach is covered in umbrellas and tarps, too many bodies. In the time since we met Marley here, I’ve become a threat to Jasper, when all I’ve ever done is try to protect him. Them. I’m failing Tessa now too.
After an interminable drive back to my hotel, the cool air of the lobby stings when I walk inside and head toward the elevators. I want to collapse on my bed. As I step onto the elevator, someone calls, “Barbara.” No one calls me Barbara. No one except my book club.
A hand catches the elevator doors before they close. When they reopen, I see her. Linda. My best friend. Before either one of us can speak, Linda envelops me in a hug. We embrace as the ground beneath us rises. When the doors open on my floor, she lets go. I look right at her and say, “Let’s go home.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Tessa
Gabe would never hurt me. It’s so offensive, so incredibly condescending that she, a stranger, thinks she knows my husband better than I do. He’s done something perverse, something unforgivable, but he isn’t violent. Barb, on the other hand—if she finds out about Jasper, there’s no telling what she might do. Barb. Her name snags me with its hook. Barb. Barb. Barb. I’m right to keep her out of our lives.
Over one hundred files are scattered across the floor, commingled and disordered. I still haven’t found one for Regina, no paperwork that proves she was my donor. Outside, tourists amble by. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I don’t feel like someone’s watching me.
There are only four folders left to read. Four women who might be Regina. If there isn’t a file for her, I’m not sure that would prove she wasn’t my donor. It would leave room for doubt, though. Doubt that I crave. Doubt that I want to cradle and insulate until eventually it becomes truth.
Another contraction cleaves my side. I’ll have to wait them out until my C-section next week. As I’m hunched over the counter, breathing through the pain, the door creaks open, and Jasper runsto me, throws his arms around my leg. Through the sharpness that steals my breath, the acute burn of panic radiates. They shouldn’t be home yet. I haven’t had time to deal with the folders, to decide what I can possibly say to my husband. Jasper tugs at my dress, wanting my attention. I can’t gather the strength to lift him.
“T., you here? Listen, something’s come up at work.” His words grow louder as he walks down the hall. Another contraction pummels me, raging like it will never end. I can’t move, can’t begin to devise a plan. “I need to head to the—” His sentence ends abruptly. My vision blurs. I see only the shape of him running toward me.
“T.” His voice is rich with concern, the attentive husband I’ve always known. He spreads his fingers across my back as I breathe into the pain. His other hand laces mine, our wedding rings nestled together, steel bands I carved into Möbius strips, mine with tiny blue sapphires. It’s unusual to mix gemstones with steel, to cast wedding bands out of a metal so affordable. Steel is made from iron and carbon fortified with copper. It’s how iron becomes strong, mixing it with other metals. Despite the pain, my racing mind, I study our matching rings, noticing how much attention I’ve bestowed on cheap metal, how weak iron is on its own.
“Just breathe.” Gabe rubs my back. I want to scream for him to get off me, but as long as he’s tending to me, he hasn’t noticed the folders scattered on the floor. This buys me a few moments to devise a plan. The contraction releases. I pretend it still has its grip on me as I use my foot to push the files under the peninsula, out of view from where we stand in the kitchen. I’ll distract him until I have a chance to move them to a drawer or cabinet, somewhere he won’t think to look.
Jasper’s laugh pierces the moment. His mischievous cackle. On the floor, he’s pulling the files out from under the peninsula, tearing one of the folders. Gabe peers down. A shock radiates through my chest. I’m not ready for everything to change.
For a second we’re all still, even Jasper, even my body, placid between contractions. Jasper holds a paper toward us. A pretty Asian woman smilesfrom the intake sheet. Gabe lets go of me. He doesn’t reach for our son. Instead, he pries the intake sheet from his hand, surveys it, ignoring Jasper, who tugs at his leg, begging for the paper back.
“Why do you have these?” His expression is so cold it makes me numb. “Did you break into my office?”
Gabe’s temples pulse, and I can tell he’s furious. His hand shakes. The intake sheet he’s clutching vibrates like it’s caught in a soft wind. Every muscle in my body tenses as he inches in on an anger I’ve never seen before. I brace myself for him to snap, something he never does.
“You mean Rosebud’s office,” I manage to grunt.
Gabe starts pacing from the kitchen into the living room and back, piecing together what I’ve done, what I know, saying “You really shouldn’t have done this” over and over again, his tone growing more insistent each time. “Jesus, Tessa. What were you thinking? The cops are there now.”
Another contraction stabs through me. He keeps striding that short distance, ignoring my imminent labor. I’ve become invisible to him, and so has Jasper, who’s now clutching my leg with that pinched, stunned expression he gets when he’s terrified. Jasper decides the fear is justified and unleashes a panting cry, different from when he’s throwing a tantrum, from when he can’t communicate his desires, when he’s tired or hungry. Even from at night, when the terrors grip his imagination. This is the sound of pure fear. He’s afraid of his father. It makes me realize I’m afraid of Gabe too.
At last Jasper’s shriek breaks Gabe’s trance. He bends down to pick up Jasper, who tries to lunge from Gabe’s arms, shouting “Mama” as Gabe carries him into the living room. A thought nearly bowls me over. Would he hurt our son?
I start to stand when I’m hit with another contraction, one that sends me retreating to the peninsula again for support. Gabe hardly notices as he carries a flailing, screaming Jasper toward the couch, saying in his familiar soft voice, “Hey, buddy, it’s okay. Daddy’s just a little upset. Everything’s okay.”
Gabe rubs his back until Jasper submits to his embrace, lying against his father as he pops his thumb into his mouth for comfort.
“You’re okay,” Gabe keeps saying, trying to settle Jasper’s overstimulated body as he gasps for air. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”
My jaw releases some of the tension. Gabe would never hurt him. This has all been to bring Jasper into this world.
