“Then I won’t ask you.” He smiled sadly. “And I won’t make you think about poor, lonely Jack, who is utterly lost in the world now that his one true love is taken by another.”
I knew he was partly joking, but that there was also a tinge of truth in those words. We shared another drink, another few moments in time—our last, as we thought then.
I let Jack put his arms inside my coat, around my waist. I let him pull me to him one last time. I let him kiss me good-bye. But I have to admit that it wasn’t only for him; it was for me, too. I needed to know that I had closed this chapter of my life fully before I opened the next one. I needed to know that I would never look back and think I should have made a different decision.
Although it changed nothing, I still believed that Jack coming to me that night was a sign. Or maybe it was more like a gift. Because in those moments that we all inevitably have, when we wonder if we made the right choice, I knew, for sure, that I had actually chosen. I had stood on life’s game-show floor, presented with door one and door two, and I had actively, consciously chosen door number two.
Still, I shed some tears that night as I told Jack good-bye in front of the Plaza. He kissed both of my hands and said, “Ansley, I love you forever and always. Anytime, anyplace, I will do absolutely anything for you. All you have to do is ask.”
I wonder now if we hadn’t had that last night together if my life would have unfolded differently, if I would have made different choices, if Carter and I would have risked IUI again, if we would have adopted, if we would have waited a few years and tried some of the fertility treatments that were trickling onto the market.
But the thought Jack had left me with, the one I was confident he wanted me to remember, was that he would do anything for me. All I had to do was ask. And ask I did. Twice.
And for that, I would never be sorry.
TWELVE
emerson: end scene
Ihad only assumed that the majority of the activity around the Murphy house would involve my wedding. I was wrong.
Mom hadn’t been able to bring herself to go to Florida to dismantle Grammy’s house after she lost her battle with breast cancer, and, much to all of our surprise, her brothers, Scott and John, had volunteered to go do it for her. It was only fair, really, since Mom had spent the last months of Grammy’s life taking care of her. But what is fair is seldom what happens, especially when it comes to my uncle John, from whom we had all been estranged for years.
Before she left, Caroline had locked me in the guesthouse and wouldn’t let me out until I called the doctor to get my test results.
“Please let me do it when I’m with Mark,” I pleaded, feeling sweat gather on my brow.
“Nope,” she said. “He’s a bigger chicken than you are.”
“Maybe I should tell Mom first, prepare her,” I ventured.
“You can make excuses all day,” Caroline said. “But I’m not letting you out of here under any circumstances until you’ve called.”
Finally, I sighed and sat down on the bed. As soon as I dialed, Caroline sat down beside me and grabbed my free hand. She should be there for moral support. She was the one who had made me go to this doctor in New York, after all. She was the one who didn’t trust my doctors here.
When the nurse answered, I hit the speaker button and said, “This is Emerson Murphy. I need to get some test results.”
There was a long pause followed by some hold music, and a very apologetic nurse came back on the line.
“Ms. Murphy, I am so sorry. Dr. Thomas’s head nurse is on vacation this week, the results seem to be locked in her computer, and Dr. Thomas is home with a sick child. I will get access and have someone call you back by tomorrow at the latest.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t have to know. Not yet. “I’m actually coming to New York tomorrow with my family, so this can wait until next week.”
“Oh, you’re coming to the city? That’s even better,” she enthused. “Dr. Thomas always likes to deliver test results in person, so may I put you on his schedule for tomorrow?”
Before I could protest, Caroline said, “That would be ideal. We’ll be there whenever you tell us to.”
“Do you think that means it’s bad news?” I asked quickly, my pulse racing. “And that’s why he wants to deliver it in person?”
“No, no,” the nurse said. “Just standard protocol.” Then she added, “Good news or bad, you’re in the best hands with Dr. Thomas.”
Caroline took over the particulars, and as she hung up, I was saying, “Wonder what kind of job his wife has that is less important than an oncologist’s so that he stays home with his sick kid?” I looked up and realized I had made the ultimate mistake, the thing I had been trying to avoid from the moment I first felt dizzy.
Mom was standing in the doorway, her mouth open, tears streaming down her face. “I knew there was something wrong with you!” she exclaimed. “Andyou,” she said accusatorily, pointing at Caroline. “You lied to me. You both lied to me. How could you leave me in the dark like this?”
I put my hands up in the air. “Because of this, Mom. Because we don’t even know if anything is wrong, and now you’re all hysterical and sobbing and freaking out for no reason.”
She took a deep breath. “You don’t know if anything is wrong?”
