Wait for the Rain (2 page)

Chapter Two

“A week in St. Mirika sounds just heavenly, especially given how darned cold it is here right now,” Carol said as she carefully merged her SUV onto the freeway. It was snowing harder now.

Daphne was having difficulty wrapping her head around the fact that she was actually doing this. In just a few hours she’d be setting foot on one of the most coveted island destinations in the Caribbean. Home to soaring palm trees, a sparkling green ocean, and sandy white beaches, St. Mirika truly resembled paradise—or so it appeared in the photos she’d seen. For months her travel companions and longtime friends KC and Skylar had been sending around links to websites showcasing the dazzling beauty of the island.

She pressed a fist against her chin.

What will it be like to see them again?

They’d called themselves the Three Musketeers back in college, but it had been ages since the three of them had gotten together.

Daphne had changed a lot since those days.

I wonder what they’re going to think of me now.

Carol didn’t seem to notice Daphne’s apprehension. “I’ve never been to the Caribbean, but I’ve heard it’s just stunning. Norman’s not much of a tropical vacation kind of guy. In fact, if it doesn’t involve attending an OSU football game, he’s not that interested in traveling.” She shook her head with a sigh. “I adore the man to the moon and back, but I will never understand his obsession with that football team.”

Daphne smiled to herself at the thought of Carol’s equally good-natured husband, whose favorite activity in the world was lounging in his sacred leather recliner and watching his cherished Buckeyes take the field on his big-screen TV—if he wasn’t attending the actual game, of course. And Norman was hardly alone in his passion. After all these years Daphne was still amazed at the affection the Columbus area had for the Buckeyes of
the
Ohio State University, as the school was officially called. Sometimes she felt like the only person in town who hadn’t gone to school there. She saw Northwestern, her alma mater, as a university that had a football team. From what she could tell, OSU was
a football team that had a university
. On game days she still felt conspicuously out of place if she wasn’t dressed in red, even if all she was doing was buying groceries.

“Where are you staying down there?” Carol asked.

Daphne glanced out the window toward the horizon, which was still dark. The first glow of the sun wouldn’t appear for at least another hour. “I’m not exactly sure. Skylar’s in charge, and she said my only job is to get myself on a plane and meet her and KC at the airport bar.”

“Sounds like the perfect vacation for you at the perfect time.” Carol knew about Brian’s recent engagement. “You do so much organizing for Emma as it is. It will be good for you to sit in the backseat and take it easy for a few days.”

Daphne nodded softly. “I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t in charge, not to mention the last time I went to a bar, so it should be an interesting few days, that’s for sure.” Despite Daphne’s nervousness about the trip—her first as an unmarried woman in more tha
n . . .
fifteen years?—she was looking forward to seeing her old friends again. It had been so long since the three of them had gone on vacation together.

Too long.

Ten years in fact, when they’d spent a couple days in Chicago to “mourn” turning the Big Three O. They wore black all weekend and made silly jokes about being over the hill—while knowing very well their best years were ahead of them.

And now, here they were once again, reuniting to celebrate their fortieth birthdays.

Daphne tried to wrap her head around the vivid yet distant memory of the Chicago trip juxtaposed with the immediacy of the one she was about to embark on.

Am I really about to turn forty years old? How did that happen?

“Your friend Skylar sounds like she’s on top of things,” Carol said. “It’s nice having people in your life like that: go-getters who can take charge once in a while, so it’s not all on you.”

Daphne nodded. “She’s a redhead, and she basically meets every stereotype that goes with it. Strong willed, intelligent, no-nonsense, testy if provoked, and fiercely loyal. You don’t want to mess with Skylar, but you
definitely
want to be friends with her.” Daphne paused.
That’s how Skylar used to be, at least. Will she have changed as much as I have?

Carol smiled. “She sounds like quite the firecracker. Where does she live?”

Daphne frowned in thought. “She’s in New York now, although I’m not sure how much time she actually spends there. She’s in sales and has a lot of people working for her, so she’s constantly on the road. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her in person.”
How have so many years slipped by? I used to see Skylar every day. Every single day.

Carol patted the steering wheel. “Sounds like an exciting life she has. I’ve barely been out of Ohio, although when I was in my early twenties, I did spend a glorious week frolicking around Miami with a handsome—and much older—Italian man.”

Daphne quickly turned her head. “You did what?”

Carol laughed. “It was
years
ago. Before I met Norman.”

“How much older was he?”

Carol pursed her lips. “I never asked, but let’s just say he was old enough to be my father. I knew it wouldn’t last, but everyone needs a bit of adventure now and then, right?”

Daphne smiled wistfully and looked out the window again. “I guess so,” she said, while thinking,
I used to be adventurous.

Her mind began to wander again, traveling backward until it hovered over the last time she’d lived with Skylar. After graduation they’d both begun full-time jobs in Chicago, Skylar having landed a coveted spot in an executive training program at a software company, and Daphne working as an admin at a small travel magazine. Their entry-level positions were barely a notch above internships, but both young women excelled and were soon promoted—Skylar to sales associate, Daphne to fact checker. Thrilled with having taken their first official step on the corporate ladder, they’d celebrated by ditching their dingy futon and buying a real couch for the small yet cozy two-bedroom apartment they shared in Lincoln Park. In the following weeks they’d spent many nights sipping inexpensive wine on that purple velvet couch, laughing and dreaming about the spectacular careers they were about to embark upon.

Both of them were young, eager, and intelligent. Their energy and optimism was palpable. The road ahead was boundless, and they couldn’t wait to make some footprints.

Then one snowy evening in January, Daphne and Skylar were tucked in a corner of their favorite wine bar a few blocks from their apartment, enjoying a quiet conversation. Daphne heard the chime of the bell and looked up to see Brian walk through the door with two coworkers, the three of them in town from Columbus for a conference. Brian and Daphne only briefly made eye contact, but a few minutes later he walked over to her, introduced himself, and said, “I’m going to kiss you tonight.”

She and Skylar had laughed at his audacity, but there was something in his self-assuredness that appealed to Daphne, a little voice that whispered that if such a dashingly handsome man was so taken by her, it had to be for a very good reason. Brian just
knew
they were meant to be together, and that made her think he had to be right, because no man had ever looked at her that way before.

The introduction led to a drink, which indeed led to the predicted kiss, which led to a long-distance romance Daphne hadn’t expected—but which she couldn’t resist. She was completely swept off her feet by Brian’s conviction that she was the One, and before she knew it, she’d quit her hard-earned magazine job and moved to Columbus to be with him.

Less than a year later they were married.

Once the wedding and surrounding hoopla was over, Brian’s parents bestowed upon the happy couple a charming three-bedroom house in Grandview, which Daphne dutifully decorated with all the wedding presents and gift checks they’d received. It was fun playing house while she was still dizzy with the spell of newlywed bliss, still awed that a smart, handsome, successful man like Brian had chosen
her
, but once that domestic project was done, she had planned to find a new job in journalism and get the professional side of her life back on track. She’d worked hard at Northwestern and at her first venture into the working world, and she wasn’t about to throw away a promising career just because she now wore a diamond on her left ring finger.

Nature, however, had other ideas.

Little Emma joined the family soon thereafter, and in what seemed like a blink, it was official: Daphne was now a housewife in suburban Ohio—with a newborn to look after. Almost overnight, her world became a blur of marriage, homeownership, and motherhood. She was woefully unprepared for all of it. However, despite her tender age, she did her best, and as the months went by, she became less overwhelmed and more comfortable in the role, although at times she still felt like a child herself.

Brian, who was five years older than Daphne, reveled in playing the part of provider to his young family, but early on it became clear that he had a very traditional vision of what that meant. While he was happy to
care for
Emma, he wasn’t interested in
taking care of
her. He loved his daughter, but he loved her changed, fed, and ready for bed. Getting her that way was, in his opinion, Daphne’s job. It wasn’t what Daphne had envisioned, but he was paying the bills, so who was she to argue? If he wanted to relax with a drink at the end of a long day at the office, who was she to hand him a crying baby? She didn’t mind, or she told herself she
shouldn’t
mind. This was her life now, and it was okay, because that’s what she’d signed up for, right?

She’d focus on the journalism thing once Emma was a little older. There was plenty of time. Eventually she’d go back to work, maybe get her master’s, reboot her career, and everything would fall into place. Not quite in the order she’d pictured for herself, but it would fall into place nonetheless.

At least that’s what she told herself.

Then came the miscarriages, four in total. The doctors had no explanation, but as it became more and more apparent that Daphne wasn’t going to be able to carry another baby to term, she secretly feared she was being punished for not being a good parent, that her inability to bear another child was a direct result of a deep-seated remorse that she’d become a mother too soon. It was a shame laced with guilt that weighed heavily on her.

Not that she didn’t love Emma. Of course she did. She adored her daughter and would do anything for her. After the miscarriages, however, she rededicated herself to motherhood, to doing everything in her power to ensure that her miracle baby had the storybook childhood she deserved.

Meanwhile, Skylar stayed at the software company, paid her dues, and slowly but surely proved her mettle. Now she was leading a global sales team and traveled the world, while Daphne had lived on the same block in Grandview for nearly seventeen years. And had never written a single article.

“Daphne, sweetheart, you there?” Carol waved a hand near Daphne’s face.

Daphne blinked. “I’m sorry, I was daydreaming for a minute. What did you say?”

“I said you must be excited to see your friends.”

“I am. I can’t believe how long it’s been.” Daphne lightly touched her cheeks and wondered how much different she looked from when she was thirty. She’d seen the tiny crinkles that had begun to appear in the corner of her eyes when she smiled. Skylar and KC were sure to notice them too. She’d even bought some eye cream recently, although she hadn’t forced herself to use it yet. It was still sitting unopened on her bathroom counter, almost smugly, as if daring Daphne to admit defeat.

“Why so long?” Carol asked.

Daphne shifted in her seat. “After the last trip there was talk here and there about planning another one, but nothing ever seemed to get off the ground. Then KC moved to California, and with her and Skylar on opposite coasts and me in the middle, geography got in the way. Plus Emma’s activities take up most of my free time, which makes it hard for me to plan, so the years sort of flew b
y . . .
”

She knew she was making excuses.

She’d been the one to resist getting together again.

Since she and Brian had split up, Daphne had been particularly remiss in communicating with her friends.
Outside of Carol, she hadn’t really spoken to anyone about the divorce, and what she’d shared had been limited at best. Talking about it only seemed to make her feel worse, so instead of working through her emotions, she’d stuffed them deep inside and focused on Emma, on her part-time job at the flower shop, on staying in shape, on cleaning the house.

On anything other than how much energy she’d poured into building a life that in the end didn’t make her—or Brian—happy.

On anything other than the implosion of the illusion she’d been projecting to the world—and to herself—for years.

On anything other than coming to terms with reality.

Carol made a swirly motion with her right index finger. “I know what you mean about the years just zipping by. I’m still wondering where my fifties went. But given the way you talk about these gals, I hope it’s not another ten years before you three get together again. Close friendships are like plants. They need tending to now and again, or they might dry up and blow away.”

Daphne smiled at Carol, who at times felt like a mother figure to her—and nothing like her own mother. Daphne’s mother, without ever engaging her daughter in meaningful conversation about
why
her marriage had broken up, had made it clear that she felt Daphne should have done more to save it, that she should have fought more for Brian. She’d also had the sinking feeling that her mother didn’t think she was good enough for Brian. She’d never told anyone either of those things, and she wasn’t sure which one hurt more.