CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

LIFE PARTNER

Ten miles from Saint Mary’s, the hospital that housed both Katie and Rosie, Holly unhooked her seat belt and shouldered her bag. The safety alarm sounded.

“We have ten more minutes,” I said.

“I know.”

“Holly.”

She reclipped her seat belt but looked ready to vault.

“I don’t think you can bring Utah in there. At least not until we clear it with the hospital.”

“I’ll put her in my purse.”

“You’re going to hold the baby. Kiss Rosie. Utah is an animal that has been with a bunch of other animals. You can’t expose Rosie or the baby to any kitty critters. Leave Utah. Wash up. Go see Rosie.”

Holly blinked.

“I’ll take care of her,” Summer volunteered and moved to cradle the purring kitten against her chest.

Holly fidgeted and wrapped her cold, bony fingers around my wrist. “I’m nervous. I can’t believe I’m going to meet my daughter.”

She released her seat belt, and the alarm sounded again, like a game show ding-ding-ding right answer. Holly threw Summer a kiss. “Take care of each other.”

All together we said, “We will!” and chuckled at our unified enthusiasm.

I steered the car into the circular hospital entrance and stopped. Holly ejected herself from the car and loped across the pavement, and it was as if I was back one hundred years ago, dropping her off for a history class. She disappeared into the revolving door.

“She moves like an emu,” said Summer.

“Do you think I can sneak Peanut into Katie’s room?”

“I’m not the best person to ask about appropriate behavior. But, no. You can’t. This dog smells like pancakes and wet hair. Also, it might be truly illegal. Which I normally wouldn’t care about, but this was a big trip. Let’s not screw it up.”

“You’re oddly wise, Summer.”

“Odd only because you’re blocked about where wisdom comes from.”

I couldn’t argue with that; she was right. “Can you read my aura? Does it say I can go see Katie?”

“Your aura is already out the door. Go. I’ll sit with the dogs and Utah. I’ll be fine.”

“I won’t be long, my friend, and then you and I can go home, together.”

The cool, humid Wisconsin air cleared my head. I moved on autopilot through the parking ramp and into the hospital, having done this trek so many times before. Inside, the security guard didn’t bother to look up.

Outside Katie’s room I steadied myself, and with a gentle push on the door, I saw my dearest friend sleeping, the green light of the IV shining in her hair. I sighed with initial relief. Somewhere on the unit a monitor dinged. I heard a groan from across the hall; a bed rustled as a body repositioned.

My Katie, with her long eyelashes and hair, her hand folded under her chin.

“Katie?” I said in the same tone I reserved for Maddie, a loving mixture of I’m here and I love you.

Nothing.

I ran my gaze over her forehead, smoothed my clothes, wept silently and deeply as adults learn to do. I wiped my face with the shoulder of my shirt. I said her name again.

She opened her eyes, reached for me. I crawled into bed with her. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“I’m so happy I’m here.” I inhaled. “You smell like Katie.”

“You smell like McDonald’s.”

“Holly and Rosie had the baby!”

“Holly texted me. She sent a picture. So cute.” I knew Katie was thrilled, but I saw her working to conserve her energy. My heart skipped a beat.

“How are you feeling?”

“Hand me my water.” She pointed to the peach-colored water pitcher. “Tired. You know how it is.”

I did know. All too well, and I let the feeling of seeing Katie and knowing the misery of how it is settle in my stomach. I sat up, tugged the rolling bedside table closer, lifted the damp Styrofoam cup.

“Where’s Drew?” I glanced around, almost expecting to see his handsome face moving through the door of her room.

“He was here, but I sent him home.” I understood now they were a couple and marveled at Katie taking care of Drew while he cared for her. Lovely, I thought.

She pushed herself to a sitting position, took a sip of water. “I want to hear about the trip.”

“Holly and I are friends now.” I blurted this like a second grader who had sat next to the cool girl on the bus to their museum field trip.

“Are you?” She rubbed her eyes, close fisted, keeping the IV port from scratching her cheek. A skill learned from spending too much time in the hospital. “Did she tell you about the letter?”

“You knew about the letter?” Shocked, I grabbed her fingers.

“I didn’t until Rosie told me about it.” She swallowed another sip of water. “I’d called Rosie to see what they needed for the baby. We got to talking. It was quite a conversation about our life partners,” she said, winking at me.

I warmed at the term life partner ; we used it lightly all the time, but it was true. We were each other’s partners in life. Just as Maddie and I were, and I thought Holly and I would be again.

“Rosie is so great. She told me about the letter because she said Holly needed to get unstuck and you were the only person who could unstick her.”

“She said that? That makes me feel so good.”

“It’s not like Holly was the first person in the world to have her heart broken.”

“Did you tell Rosie that we didn’t know anything about anything back in college? That I was a stupid kid with low self-esteem from a small town?”

“Yeah.” She laughed. “That’s exactly how I said it. I asked Rosie what she thought about you two going on a trip to get Peanut. And she was all for it.”

“So this was a scheme.” I laughed. I’d felt uneasy about meeting Rosie, sure she shared Holly’s disdain for me. But, a scheme to put us together, work out our differences meant that Rosie was benevolent and complicated. Willing to keep an open mind about me. My anxiety dropped a notch.

“A scheme with a higher purpose,” Katie said, fumbling for her robe. “Let’s go visit them. Let’s go see the baby.”

It took a few wrong turns to find Rosie’s room. We were a jangly parade, Katie pushing her wheeled IV stand, me steering Katie in a wheelchair. When we arrived, I heard Rosie’s velvet voice saying something quietly, and I eased the door open.

“You guys!” Holly said from within.

We inched into the room and peeked at the tiny bundle cinched in a white wrap, a green knit cap perched on her head.

Katie hit the brake on the wheelchair and said, “She’s so pink! Is her hair jet black? She’s stunning!” Her face shone with excitement for Holly and Rosie. For my part, it was the white swaddling that reminded me of the heft and warmth of a newborn cradled close and snugged tight. Holly couldn’t tear her eyes away from the baby, and we all sat in a quiet reverie for the infant.

Soon, Rosie lifted her gaze to mine and smiled. “It’s so nice to meet you in person, Samantha,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Look, Eleanor, this is such a wonderful day. I want you to meet your aunt Samantha and aunt Katie,” said Holly, locking her gaze to mine.

And my head felt like it might burst with joy.

After a moment we all began talking at once. Katie leaned almost entirely out of her chair so she could whisper to Eleanor. I knew how thrilled Katie was for Holly and Rosie, but I also knew how hard this had to be on her. How Katie had always wanted a child. She seemed past it, but her gaze at Eleanor told a different story of longing. Glancing at Holly, I saw she understood what Katie was likely going through. She laid her hand on Katie’s back. She flicked her eyes at me knowingly, and our friendship held its old supportive geometry of the triangle.

Rosie clasped her chest. “I think my milk just came in! They said if I put her to my breast it will come. They were right!” We all quieted at the miracle.

“Oh!” I realized suddenly. “Summer is in the car with the dogs! I left her.”

Holly grinned. “Oh, you know she’s giving herself a facial and making friends with the parking attendant.” She turned to Rosie and said, “Wait until you meet her. She is a wonderful piece of work.”

“Don’t give her your car keys, though.” And Holly and I smiled at our inside joke.

In Katie’s room, after I untangled the IV tubing from the foot pedal, plugged in machinery, and got her to the bathroom, she touched my arm. “Can we figure out a way for me to see Peanut tomorrow?”

“Yes. He’s so mad that I wouldn’t bring him in here right now.”

“He’s never mad.”

I pulled the blanket over her and said, “I have so much to tell you.”

“I know.” And despite her fatigue, she had a twinkle in her eye, and I knew she was about to tell me that she was in love with Drew. And that was okay. We got Peanut for Katie. I got Holly back. Griffin had been attracted to me. There would be others.

“Drew is crazy about you,” said Katie.

“What?” I would have done a spit-take if I’d had water in my mouth.

She nodded vigorously. “Oh yes. He wanted to know everything about you. We’d be eating curry, which I think he brought just so we could chat about you, and he’d ask how we met, were you as fun as you seemed.”

“You hate curry,” I said dumbly.

“He said there was something about you. Like he knew you the minute he met you.”

“I got him for you.” Another stunned, dumb response, but the lobe in my brain that was made for delight was so swollen it seemed to be pushing on my speech center.

“Well, he wants you. And don’t be mad. I texted him. He’s in the hall.”

“I don’t think I can take any more surprises,” I said, feeling instantly nervous like a teen seeing her crush notice her for the first time.

Katie pointed out the door.

Drew stood outside Katie’s room rakishly leaning against the wall, gazing into the middle distance. I was able to view him before he saw me. Tall, lean, with a dark, full head of hair and a scruff of beard, his posture was that of a man who knew no one would ask him if he was lost. His blue scrub shirt was tucked into the front of his drawstring pants, no sign of extra weight anywhere. I’d heard what Katie said, but I wouldn’t believe it, trust it, until I saw his interest firsthand.

“Drew,” I said, a closed smile on my lips. The grin I used when I hoped there would be somewhere to go with my demonstration of glee. Joy to come, teeth to follow.

He turned his eyes to me, and oh, his smile . “Samantha.”

“It me.” I laughed and corrected myself. “It’s me.”

“It is you,” he said, and touched his hair like he was nervous about how he looked.

“I can’t thank you enough.”

“I’m sorry it’s over. But I’m glad you’re back.”

“Are you?”

He nodded and looked at his hands, wiped them on his pants. “I know I’m sort-of married. I mean. We are divorcing. Well, you know.”

“Yes.” I felt my mouth go dry.

“If you would be interested, I’d enjoy spending some time getting to know you.”

I knew I would enjoy that too. I knew because Drew interested me instead of intimidating me. He was neither a tyrant nor untrustworthy. For once I felt curious and unafraid.

I straightened and said, “I’d enjoy that too.” A formal reply, for an informal request.

We looked at each other, and I said, “Thank you.” But, then I couldn’t speak. I was so relieved to see him standing there, my support person during this stressful trip. “Can I hug you?” I said, feeling my throat tighten. He walked toward me, and I moved into him. My cheekbone slid into place just under the notch of his collarbone; if the dogs, with their supersonic hearing, had been present, they would have heard the two of us click together.

He held me lightly, and I heard him inhale. “You smell like fruit cup.”

I didn’t have a smart comment or a splashy rejoinder. Instead I said, “That’s Summer,” and he said, “Yes, like summer and sunshine,” and I didn’t correct him because I wanted him to think of me that way.

He leaned forward and whispered, “It’s good to see you,” and because I was close to him, and it seemed as natural as the scent of grapefruit between us, I kissed him. I kissed him on his smooth, beautiful lips, and, my friends, I knew it was a cliché, but my heart did indeed soar.