Page 43 of The Calendar of New Beginnings
“Yes,” she said, handing him the phone so he could take a better look. “You loved her, and now she’s gone. How did you expect you’d look?”
He gave her back the phone like he couldn’t bear a further viewing. “I don’t know. I guess I hoped I’d look peaceful. I don’t… God, I don’t want Danny to see me like that. He’s only a kid.”
“But he lost his mother too,” she said, putting her arm around him this time. “He probably doesn’t have many memories of her. Am I right?”
He was silent for a long time. “No, and it breaks my heart. I tell him stories and keep her picture around…”
“I expect he’s more aware that he doesn’t have a mom like the other kids since he’s in school. Do moms still bring in cakes and cookies for class?”
“Yeah.” He cracked his neck. “It’s the bane of my existence. And PTA meetings are pure torture. It’s usually just me and the mommies, although some of the other dads show up. Weird doesn’t begin to describe it.”
She hadn’t thought about those ongoing aspects of being a single parent. “Is your courage flagging, Hale?”
Just like she’d hoped, it was enough to add some steel to his posture. “Never. He’s my kid.”
“A bunch of mommies aren’t going to intimidate you,” she added, dropping the phone onto the bed and putting her hands on her hips, mimicking a tough guy.
“Usually,” he said with a sardonic twist to the mouth. “But I maintain the right to be terrified by the mommies who want to set me up with their single or divorced friends or the divorced mommies who have a kid in Danny’s class.”
He’d told her about the agreement he’d made with Natalie, but he obviously wasn’t ready to date yet. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be on your own after what happened,” she said. “If you ask me, the world would be a lot happier if love found people instead of people chasing it down by trolling bars or the Internet.”
He bit the inside of his cheek. “You’ve never mentioned anyone special in all these years. I’ve wondered…”
“What?” she asked, feeling her familiar defensiveness rise. “If I’m a lesbian?”
“No!” he answered, clearly horrified. “Not that it would be a problem, but…”
“How about that I have commitment issues?” she continued, her mouth flattening. “I’ve heard them all. I’ve dated a string of men over the course of my time overseas. Most of the relationships were short given the nature of our work. There were a few who had longterm potential, but we all had our individual careers. Once we left the country, things fizzled.”
She’d tried to meet up with a few of the guys she’d liked in places like Rome or London between assignments, but that hadn’t worked out well either. The honest truth was she hadn’t cared enough about any of her past flings to change her schedule for them.
“There was another guy—an agricultural specialist I met in northern Uganda. He wanted me to give up my work and settle down with him on a ranch in Idaho.”
“And you’d never settle down,” Andy said, his tone deeper than usual.
They shared a look. She went for the truth afterall these years. “It’s why I never let things get romantic with you in high school. I didn’t want to stay here, and we both knew it.”
“So you had thought about us back then,” he said, softly. “I always wondered.”
Her throat thickened. “I guess we both did. You know, it’s not that I don’t want to have someone in my life. If I met a man who understood how much traveling is a part of me, I would consider marriage.”
He looked away. “Marriage might work with your job, but kids wouldn’t.”
“You’re wrong,” she told him flatly, feeling defensive again. “If I wanted to have kids, which I do if the right situation presents itself, I would adjust my travel schedule to accommodate my family. Why do we have all these rules about what it means to be a wife and mother? Men travel for business all the time. Why do you think I left Dare Valley? There was no room for what I wanted here.”
She’d gotten so impassioned, her heart was racing. She took some deep breaths to relieve the pressure in her chest, not sure if it was from defending her position or from hearing them both admit to the way they’d felt back then.
“I knew you felt trapped here,” Andy said, sliding off the bed and reaching for his shoes, “but until right now, I never knew how much.”
She watched him put his shoes on, his back taut with tension. “Are you mad at me because I didn’t want what you wanted? I told you I wanted to see the world and take pictures. It’s who I am.”
“I know,” he said, but his voice was sad this time. “I only wish you would have realized you could let someone loveyouand still be what you wanted.”
He might as well have struck her. “Are we talking about you?” How had they gotten to this?
“No, we’re not talking about me. You made it clear in high school that you were going on to bigger and better things. And I knew what I wanted. To be a doctor, have a wife and kids, and live in Colorado close to my family.”
He was making it sound like she thought she was better than him. “I was going on todifferentthings, Andy. Ones that mattered to me.” She slid off the bed and stood. “Why are you this upset?”
