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I swallowed hard. I needed to get Emma home. As much as I hated the idea of leaving Helen on her own, I knew I needed to let her rest and get Emma home. Fortunately, it was Sunday, so Emma would be back to daycare starting the following day.
When we got home, I tucked Emma into bed.
I busied myself around the house, putting away Emma's things and running a load of laundry. There were dishes in the dishwasher that needed to be put away, so I did those and then started refilling the machine with the dishes that had accumulated between the previous night and now. I choked down some food, even though I wasn't really hungry. Then, I poured myself a healthy-sized glass of wine, trying to force myself to relax.
It wasn't just that I was worried about what could have happened to Emma. No, that wasn't even my main concern. My main concern was the health and safety of Helen. Maybe it was time to think about putting her in a home.
I swallowed hard and took a sip of my wine, trying not to think too hard about Emily. But the images of her came flooding back from where they were engrained in my memory. I pressed my fingertips against my eyelids and then switched on the TV. I didn't normally watch anything this late in the evening, but I needed anything to distract my eyes from turning inwards.
Chapter Eighteen
Olivia
When Eric came by on Monday morning with Emma, he looked exhausted. “Rough weekend?” I asked sympathetically.
Eric looked shocked, like he hadn't expected me to realize he was that tired, and he glanced over at Emma. I wondered if it was her fault that he was this tired, and it was on the tip of my tongue to mention her bad behavior around the daycare, which at this point, I'd still been keeping to myself. I didn't know why I hadn't told him about it. Maybe because Emma had been a bit less sulky over the previous week. Or maybe because I wanted to handle things on my own.
Or maybe because I just needed that card in my back pocket: if Emma didn't behave, I could always tell her Daddy about it.
“So about the wedding on Friday, we're still on for that, aren't we?” I asked when he didn't say anything else. “And if so, are we going together or separately?”
Eric winced. “I'm sorry, I know you RSVP'd to have a plus-one, but I don't think I can make it after all,” he said, looking truly apologetic. He frowned. “Helen has been experiencing some health issues lately, and I'm taking her to lo
ok into assisted living facilities. She won't be able to watch Emma for the day on Friday, and since you'll be at the wedding as well, obviously you wouldn't be able to either. I'm not sure that I could find another sitter in that amount of time.”
“What about my mom?” Olivia suggested, looking confused. “Or, I'm sure there are other people in this town who could watch her for the day.”
“It's not just that,” Eric said, sounding frustrated and looking agitated. “There's the possibility that we'll need to do some other looking around in case the first place doesn’t fit her needs. Plus, I don't want to leave Helen alone; that could be even more dangerous to her health.”
“If you don't want to go, you could just say that,” I snapped, unable to help my frustration at him. Yet again, it seemed like he was going hot and cold on me. He was the one who had agreed to go to the wedding in the first place; it wasn't like I had pressured him. He could have just said no.
Eric looked taken aback, and he took a step closer to me. “Olivia, it's not that I don't want to go, it's just the timing that sucks,” he said soothingly. “Come here.”
I took a step back, looking pointedly over at where Emma was coloring pictures. “I don't think that's the best idea right now,” I told him in a low voice.
Eric's face contorted, and it looked like he was going to say something in response to that, but finally, he just nodded curtly. “I'll be back later to pick up Emma,” he said. Then, he headed out the door, without even saying goodbye.
I sulked for the rest of the day, even though I knew I should be acting more mature than that. I couldn't help it, though, I was disappointed. I was beginning to think that the good doctor had just used me for sex. It seemed like now he had lost interest in me.
I wondered if there might be someone else in the picture. Maybe he had used me as, like, training wheels for a relationship with Georgia. But I hadn't heard news around town that the two of them were dating, and I knew that if Georgia were finally involved with him, she wouldn't have kept it silent.
Unless he made her promise to do so. I had a sick feeling in my gut, but it wasn't from the pregnancy this time.
The pregnancy, which I still needed to mention to him.
I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. I didn't want to think that he had been using me just for sex. After all, he was going to be my child's father. I wanted to think that he was a good man. He had certainly seemed like a good man. But I couldn't figure out why he was so intent on blowing me off now.
There was a knock on the front door that evening after all the kids had left. I frowned, wondering who it could be. Maybe Eric had had a change of heart? Maybe he had found a sitter after all and was coming to tell me that he would, in fact, be able to attend the wedding on Friday. Whatever Helen's health issues were, they couldn't be too serious; I had just seen her at the grocery store over the weekend. Maybe she had been able to reschedule her appointment.
When I answered the door, though, I was surprised to see that it was Buck Johanssen on the other side. “Hey,” I said, looking down at the box in his hands and then back to his eyes, my look questioning.
“Hey Olivia,” Buck said, giving me a charming smile. “Jeannie sent me over with some of her raspberry preserves. She's been going crazy with the canning this year, and she doesn't have space for all of them.”
I laughed. “A likely excuse, but I know how big my mom's pantry is!” I said. Then, I clapped a hand over my mouth, realizing I had just implied to him that there was an ulterior motive to the visit. Like the fact that my mom, of course, would want me to date a nice guy like him. She was trying to matchmake us.
But Buck laughed as well. “Actually, there was an ulterior motive,” he admitted, carrying the box of jars into the kitchen and setting it down on the table. He turned to face me, his hands on his hips. “She told me that you probably needed someone to come by and mow your backyard.”
I gaped at him. “How would she know that?” I asked.
