Numbness was slowly replacing anger. Julie popped up. “Let me make you some fresh oatmeal.”
“I don’t want it anymore. Maybe I’ll make some later.”
Julie paused beside her, squeezing her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I honestly didn’t think that telling you that would.”
“No?” Craning her neck, Marisa looked up at her. “How many other things didn’t he tell me?”
“God,” Julie breathed. Slowly she returned to her chair. “Don’t take it like that. We all know he couldn’t talk about his work. It wasn’t like he was running around confiding in everyone except you. That was it, Marisa, I swear. Given that he had a dangerous job, why should it surprise anyone that he asked a handful of close people to help you out if something went wrong? Seems more thoughtful than secretive to me.”
Maybe Julie was right. Gripping her mug in both hands, Marisa tried to swallow the coffee before it cooled down too much and warmed her not at all. But this on the heels of last night...she felt alarm flags popping up inside her. Had she ever known her husband at all?
“Damn it,” Julie muttered. “The last thing on earth I wanted to do was make you feel bad. I just came over to hear about Mr. Mysterious, and look what I’ve done.”
Marisa didn’t answer immediately. Julie had been her friend since kindergarten, and she had to believe her. So Johnny had been worried. Well, he’d kind of explained the possibility when they were dating. He’d been in the Rangers, after all. Going into combat and who knew what else. She certainly didn’t. How would anything have changed if he’d told her he’d asked friends to check on her if something happened? Not at all. She would still have moved forward with the certainty that he would always return, because any other possibility was unthinkable. Johnny had seemed to believe that himself. Maybe she was more troubled by the realization that he’d been acutely aware that he might not come back. If so, he hadn’t shared that with her. Another in his long line of omissions, most of which hadn’t bothered her. So why was this getting to her?
“So,” Julie said eventually, “I’ve got only a few minutes before I have to get to work. I want to hear about this friend of Johnny’s.”
Marisa struggled back to the present moment. “Not much to say. He’s in town for a few days. He wanted to see how I was doing mainly because Johnny asked him to at one time or another.”
“But it took him six months to get here?”
Marisa nodded. “Same kind of job as Johnny’s. Anyway, I gather from what he said that he heard I was pregnant and that galvanized him to get here. He said something about how Johnny had mentioned that I was safe here, among friends. So maybe it didn’t seem all that critical.”
“Or,” Julie said fairly, “he simply couldn’t get away.”
“Maybe.”
“So...” Julie grinned. “Is he gorgeous?”
“Julie!” Marisa’s shock caused her to gasp. “Are you kidding?”
“No, perfectly serious. Johnny wouldn’t want you to bury yourself, and a calendar is a poor way to measure grief. I always thought that old thing about wearing widows weeds for a year was a bit over the top. I mean, you grieve however long you grieve. There’s not some magic date when it stops. As for everything else—” she pushed back from the table and stood “—you’re still here, hon. You should snap at anything good that happens by, or the next fifty years are going to be awful. At least enjoy having a new face around for a few days. I’m off!”
Anything good that happens by? Really? Emotionally she still felt like a train wreck most of the time. Snap at life? The only snapping she’d like to do was angry.
Then her baby stirred again, reminding her she did indeed have to carry on. She scraped the oatmeal into the trash and made herself a fresh bowl to eat with her second cup of coffee.
Slowly, as the warm oatmeal and coffee hit her system, calm began to settle over her. When she was done eating, she sat for a while with her eyes closed, her hands on her belly, and concentrated on the new life growing inside her.
She already loved her child. It hadn’t taken long for that to happen. At first, during the darkest days, she’d hated her pregnancy almost as if it were a promise that would never be fulfilled. She’d gone through the motions of taking care of herself only because she had to. But then had come the day when she had felt the first movement. Even in the midnight of her soul, she’d felt an incredible burst of joy, a connection she had never imagined possible before she even saw the child. Her baby was growing inside her, and it was indeed a promise. Her child, her love. An unbreakable link was forged with those first tiny, almost bubble-like movements.
The future did hold something good, she reminded herself. It held this baby, Johnny’s final gift, a new life she needed to live for and work for. A purpose, a joy, a journey. Her imaginings might have turned to dust with Johnny, but now there were new imaginings. Maybe it was time to quit fighting with herself and just get on with setting up the nursery, making sure she had everything a baby would need. Maybe it was time to accept Julie’s repeated offer of a baby shower. Time to stiffen her spine and start taking steps of her own choice into all the tomorrows to come.
Because if she was sure of anything, it was that she couldn’t remain like this, paralyzed and hunkered down. If she didn’t change it now, she’d be changing it in a few months because life would force it on her.
Maybe it was time to stop being a victim.
* * *
The doorbell rang shortly after she finished washing her breakfast dishes and absently wiping the counters clean. Ryker, she thought. No one else she knew in Conard City would come by at this time of day. She’d half expected never to see him again. She hadn’t been exactly welcoming last night, and he could have called his duty to Johnny done. He’d checked on her. What more could Johnny have expected of him, of a man who was a stranger to her?
She dried her hands on a towel, smoothed her still-damp hair back quickly, then went to answer the door. She half hoped it was Fiona, who lived next door, coming to try to pry some more gossip out of her. Fiona, she often thought, needed to get a job now that her two children spent all day in school. She clearly didn’t have enough to do with her time. Of course, who was Marisa to criticize anyone else for that?
But as she had half feared, she opened the door to see Ryker. He looked more rested, his face less like granite this morning. Sunlight reflected almost blindingly off the snow.
“Good morning,” he said pleasantly. He offered a small white bag. “Bagels from your local bakery. I figured they couldn’t be too bad for you. Want me to knock down those icicles?”
She felt as if a whirlwind had just blown into her quiet life. “The icicles are really bothering you,” she remarked, suddenly remembering that he’d mentioned them last night.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Most of them aren’t too dangerous, but why let them grow? Got a broomstick?”
Arguing seemed utterly pointless. She gave him her broom, then listened to the dull thuds from the porch as he took down the icicles. In the kitchen, she opened the bag he’d brought, and her nose immediately filled with the amazing smell of oven-fresh bagels. For the first time that morning, she became genuinely hungry. Melinda, the bakery owner, had also tossed in a few small containers of cream cheese. At that point it seemed churlish not to set out a couple of plates and make some fresh coffee.
Ryker came in, bringing the cold and the broom with him. “All done. Where should I put this?”
She pointed to the pantry door at the back of the kitchen. “Just inside there. Thank you.”
“Safety, that’s my thing,” he said as he put the broom away and shucked his jacket, revealing