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“I was hoping you’d come,” Beth says in a soft voice. “My daughter and Maven are in the same class this year. They’re going to have a blast together.” She smiles. “This is the first time I’ve seen you since you picked her up from preschool, so I haven’t had the chance to congratulate you on the baby, and give my condolences on yourmiscarriage.”
Iflinch.
“I hope you don’t mind that Maven told me, but I promise, your business is not mine totell.”
“Thank you,” Iwhisper.
“How far along areyou?”
This isn’t an interrogation. She’s not asking me this question out of spite. There is not a doubt in my mind that she’s truly happy I’m having thisbaby.
“About five months,” I answer, giving her a smileback.
“I remember the anticipation as the date gets closer. You’re nervous the baby is going to comeanytime.”
I smile and nod.I’m more nervous of losing mybaby.
Our attention is caught at the sound of Maven laughing. Dallas is down on one knee, helping her decorate her cubby with stickers and stuffedanimals.
Beth tilts her head toward them. “He’s a good man. A broken one, yes, but still a goodone.”
“He’s been a good friend tome.”
“Just afriend?”
I shrug. “Our situation is …complicated.”
She pats my shoulder. “I hope I’m not overstepping my boundaries here, but there’s something I want to give you.” She opens her purse, and I notice the water in her eyes as she places a folded piece of paper in my hand. “My sister wrote this before she passed and asked me to give it to the woman Dallas fell in love with.” She closes her hand around mine as a tear passes down hercheek.
I jerk it back to her. “You’re mistaken. Dallas isn’t in love withme.”
“Read it. It’ll help you understand how he lovesyou.”
* * *
I don’t mentionthe letter toDallas.
I keep it tucked in my pocket and constantly check to make sure it hasn’t fallen out all evening. The meeting doesn’t last much longer after Beth leaves, and Dallas and Maven convince me to go out for dessert before goinghome.
Other than doctor’s appointments, which Aidan started sneaking us through the back door for, this is my first time stepping out with Dallas since the miscarriage. I’ve been so terrified of getting judged, of people staring, of hearing vicious things coming out of their mouths, but I’m done with thatnow.
Tonight has made me feelcomfortable.
Tonight hasn’t made me feel like such anoutsider.
Maven doesn’t hesitate in unbuckling her seat belt when Dallas pulls up to my apartment. They’ve been here more than their house lately. She heads straight to the couch and drags out the crayons and coloring books I leave for her in the coffee table drawer. Her tongue sticks out as she colors, and Dallas makes each of us a cup oftea.
We watch a movie until she falls asleep with a crayon still in her hand. He kisses me good-bye, and they leave. I’m picking up the mess when I remember the letter. I take a deep breath, not knowing what I’m getting myself into, and lie back on the couch before openingit.
To the lucky woman who readsthis.
Hello,
My name is Lucy. I’m sure you’ve heard about me. Possibly seen my pictures, my belongings, traces of me in the home we shared. You might’ve even knownme.
I was Dallas’s wife. And, since you’re reading this, I’m no longerhere.
Dallas is a difficult man. Always has been. He’ll be even more difficult after my death, but please don’t give up on him. If he’s opened up his heart enough for you to receive this letter, you have something extraordinary. Receiving this letter means he’s in love with you. I’m sure he’s fighting it because he wouldn’t be a Barnes boy if he didn’t fight the reality that’s right in front ofhim.
