She heard the vague steady noise of a beeping heart monitor. The sound of someone being alive. And then she realized, that someone was her.
She opened her eyes, and Bess was there, sitting in a chair by her bed, reading a magazine, her arm resting across her swollen, pregnant belly. Mare blinked because surely she was dreaming this. Bess was in California, and though she hadn’t seen Bess in nearly two years, they still spoke every single Sunday afternoon. Bess had never mentioned a baby. Or a man she might’ve been dating in California. And the first sickening thought that hit her was that Bess must be pregnant with Max’s baby. That Max had lied to her about everything.
Then again, she had never mentioned her involvement with Max to Bess either. In the vaguest moment between waking and sleep, between hovering near death and coming back to life, Mare suddenly wondered if she and Bess had ever told each other the whole truth about anything.
“Oh my goodness, you’re finally awake!” Bess exclaimed. Finally? Had she been asleep for more than a night? “I should get the nurse.”
“Bess,” she whispered her friend’s name, or she tried, but what escaped from her sore and swollen throat came out more like a hiss. She looked around—she was in a hospital room. And yet she didn’t remember how she had gotten here. Or why.
She knew she had been with Max earlier. They were in her kitchen together drinking coffee. Was that right? But everything that came after felt hazy, just out of reach. She had so many questions and couldn’t find the words to ask them, or maybe it was that she wasn’t strong enough to speak them.
“There was an accident,” Bess was saying now, as she pushed the call button for the nurse. “But Will is okay. Not even a scratch. He’s with your sister right now.”
Will. How had she not remembered to think first about her son?
She nodded slowly and her head throbbed, and she remembered that last night Will had spent at Marge’s, the fever that had gotten her to call George. But Bess was saying Will was there now, he was safe. Everything was okay.
“You gave us quite a scare,” Bess said. “You were out for weeks.”
Weeks?
Bess stood, using both arms to push off the sides of the chair and balance her unsteady weight. She had to be at least six months along. Mare tried to remember the exact month Bess had fled Seattle for California but her head was too foggy to come to any conclusions. How was Bess even here in front of her? Much less pregnant?
Bess leaned over and stroked her forehead, tucking her hair behind her ears. Then she softly kissed the top of her head. “You’re going to be okay,” she said. “Thank god, M, you’re going to be okay.”
But if that was true then why were Bess’s eyes flooded with tears when she pulled back?
Finally, Mare managed to choke out a word. “Max?” she whispered. Alone it meant so many things. Where was he now? If he was the father of Bess’s baby, why hadn’t he told her that? Had Bess kept it from him the way she’d kept it from Mare? Or had Max lied to her?
Bess sat back down in the chair, as if she couldn’t hold her own weight up any longer. “He’s gone, Mare,” she said softly, the words sputtering out of her in a half hiccup.
Of course, if she’d been out for weeks, he would’ve gone back to Seattle. “Is there a phone?” Mare got out the words slowly. She needed to call him. She needed to ask him about Bess, about the baby, about who he’d really loved this whole time. Her. Or Bess? And what if the answer was Bess? What would she do then?
Bess reached for the phone on the end table and pulled it closer. “You want me to call George? He’s at work.”
She shook her head. “Max,” she said again. “I need to talk to Max.”
Bess bit her lip, but tears streamed down her cheeks. She let go of the phone to wipe them away furiously. “Mare,” she said softly. “Max is dead.”