The next week, Emily was walking down Broadway to get a sandwich for lunch from Crust, which called itself a Brooklyn deli, even though it was located in Manhattan. Ari had been so exhausted the first few months of both of her pregnancies that she’d fall asleep no more than twenty-five minutes into any movie that Emily brought up to Connecticut to watch with her, but Emily didn’t feel that way—not now, and not the other time either. She felt, somehow, powerful. Though also more likely to cry at a credit card commercial or TV movie or a story Ezra told her about one of his patients. It was all she could do these last few days to make sure she didn’t cry at her own patients’ stories—the happy ones and the sad ones.
As Emily turned the corner, she saw Tessa, wearing her backpack, carrying a diaper bag in one arm and a whimpering baby in the other.
“Hey,” Emily said, hurrying over to her. “Can I help you carry something? Where are you headed?”
Tessa looked at her with tears threatening to overflow her eyes. “My babysitter canceled. And Chris couldn’t stay home from work. And now I’m late for class and I have to bring Zoe and she’s been fussy all morning and . . .”
Emily looked at the baby, who had a thick thatch of hair, chocolate-brown like Tessa’s. “I’ll take her,” she said, impulsively. “It’s lunchtime for me now anyway. Just pick her up from my office after class.” The minute she said it, she knew she shouldn’t have. She knew this wasn’t something a therapist was supposed to do for a patient. She knew that when she walked back into the center with Zoe, Priya would have something to say about it—and she wouldn’t be wrong. But Emily didn’t rescind her offer. She wondered if Dr. West would’ve done the same thing for her.
“I can’t—” Tessa was shaking her head.
“It’s fine,” Emily said. “You won’t be able to pay as much attention to your professor if you have to handle her, too.”
Tessa sighed. She looked like she was going to object again but then seemed to change her mind. “Thank you,” she said, handing over Zoe and her diaper bag. “There’s a bottle in here for her. She’ll probably want it pretty soon. And diapers and a change of clothes and a pacifier and everything.”
Emily adjusted the diaper bag on one shoulder and settled Zoe on her hip. “We’ll see you soon,” she said. “And here—I’ll give you my cell number. If you’re nervous, text me and I’ll send you back a photo. Prove to you that this kiddo and I are doing just fine.”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” Tessa laughed but typed Emily’s cell number into her phone anyway and then waved one last time and hurried toward the arts and sciences building.
Zoe started whimpering louder, but Emily rocked her back and forth, swaying like she’d done when her nephews were tiny, and Zoe quieted down.
“I’m Emily,” Emily told the baby, even though she knew that at six months old, developmentally the baby had no idea what she was saying. Words didn’t have meanings yet. But she kept talking, knowing the sound of her voice could be soothing. “Some kids I know call me Auntie Em. You can, too, if you want.”
Zoe leaned over and started sucking on Emily’s shoulder.
“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” she said. “Well, I’ll get you that bottle as soon as we make it to the deli. I’ll order my sandwich—I think it’ll be an egg salad on rye with tomato—and while we wait for my lunch, I’ll give you yours. How does that sound?”
Zoe continued sucking on Emily’s shirt, and Emily could feel it getting saturated with baby drool. She laughed.
This is what it’ll be like, she thought. I’ll be covered in drool, and I won’t mind a bit.
As Emily sat in the deli feeding Zoe, waiting for her sandwich, a ballad she’d never heard before came on the radio, but the melody somehow felt familiar. So did the voice. She listened to the lyrics.
I build you a castle in my dreams
With towers
With turrets
With everything always how it seems
I thought my love for you would die
Would wither
Would fade
But it beats strong inside me still
So I build you that castle on a hill
A crystal castle on a hill
The artist sang, his baritone strong and full, with a rasp that gave it added warmth. It felt familiar but at the same time, new. With a jolt, Emily thought she recognized the singer, but then she wasn’t sure. So much time had passed. She hadn’t heard his voice in years.
There was so much emotion in the performance that Emily found herself blinking back tears. She felt ridiculous, crying in a deli because of a song on the radio, and quickly wiped her eyes with Zoe’s burp cloth.
“It’s just pregnancy hormones,” she told Zoe. “That’s all. That’s all it is.”
After burping Zoe, Emily slipped the sandwich into the diaper bag and walked back to her office. But she couldn’t get the song out of her head. It beats strong inside me still. So I build you that castle on a hill. A crystal castle on a hill. The melody was familiar. And that voice. With those lyrics. Could it really be him?