Without You Here (25 page)

"Are you having any side effects?"

"No. Not so's I can tell."

"Do you feel they're doing you any good?"

Wyatt thought about it. "I guess I think they're making it easier for me to wake up in the morning. Past few mornings, things just seem a little...brighter."

Dr. Richards was glancing through a file folder. He nodded before closing it and setting it aside. "Good. Then you should probably stick with it for a while. It's too soon to talk about getting off of it."

"But we can talk about it? Someday?"

"Of course."

Wyatt nodded and leaned back in the chair, satisfied.

"It's very important to you to stand on your own two legs, isn't it?"

"It's important to all men."

"What about women?"

Wyatt frowned.

"Do you think Amberlee stood on her own two legs?"

"She had a lot going on. She was sick all the time."

"She needed you."

"Of course she needed me."

"But that was okay because she was a woman."

Wyatt got quiet again. He knew what he was supposed to say. That men and women were equal. That women were just as strong as men. But that hadn't been his experience. He'd had to hold Amberlee up. And the thought of doing to his family what she'd done to him shamed him to his core.

"And do you think you'd like another relationship like that?" Dr. Richards asked.

Wyatt knew the answer to that was, no. But it was hard to say it. It was like saying he regretted being married to her, and he didn't. "I like taking care of a woman. But...I think she was using me up. I felt old and tired. I don't feel that way, now."

"How do you feel, now?"

"Kind of...relieved. And stronger. Healthier. Kind of excited about, I don't know, getting out and doing some things."

"Like what?"

He shrugged. "Traveling a little, maybe. Dating. Just seeing what's out there. Is that wrong?"

"No. Actually it's right. Normal. And if you're feeling guilty, that's normal, too."

"The guilt's overwhelming. Or...it used to be. Lately, I've kind of been ignoring it. I packed up Amberlee's clothes last weekend. You probably think I'm crazy for not having done that already."

"Not at all. But I'm glad to hear you've taken that step. Do you have her list with you?"

"Yeah."

"But you're working on letting it go, right?"

"Yeah. It's just, every time I quit doing something on it, or every time I pack away something that belonged to her, it's like losing her all over again. And I just end up drinking a bottle of Jack and watching those videos of her so I can hear her voice."

"How frequently do you drink, these days?"

He thought about it for a moment. "Not as often as I used to. Not where I'm just keeping a constant buzz going. 'Cause you said not to combine it with the meds. So just, once in a while I'll get to thinking about her and feeling bad and I'll just drink until I fall asleep."

"Okay. But you're working on it?"

"Yeah. Of course. Blake always acts so disappointed whenever he finds me hungover, so I'm really trying to stop doing it."

"For Blake."

"Yeah. Why not?"

"Why not for yourself?"

"Because Blake's more important than me. And I'm frankly not sure I care that much about myself to go to the trouble." He chuckled a little.

The doc didn't. He studied him over the rims of his glasses. Then he leaned back in his chair. "Let's go back to a question you still haven't answered. What do you want?"

Wyatt rolled his eyes. He felt like he'd already answered this question a million ways, but the guy wasn't going to let it go. "I don't know. Just a quiet, peaceful life doing work I love and being close to my family."

"You have that and yet you are unhappy. Are you sure that's your dream, and not your wife's?"

He refocused on the doctor. He frowned and felt a surge of defensiveness rising. "It became my dream."

"Sure. We make sacrifices for our wives. They make sacrifices for us. So we can build a life together. But she's gone now. So...what do you want?"

Wyatt still couldn't think of an answer.

"If you could walk out of here right now and do anything in the world, have anything in the world, what would it be?"

Slowly, Wyatt started to grin. "There's this girl I met a few weeks ago. I reckon I'd go get her and head to the nearest beach." And do a whole bunch of unspeakable things to her. God, she was so much fun. "Maybe take her on a cruise. Neither of us has ever been on one. And she's so much fun when she's doing new things. Maybe fly somewhere far away. She's never been on a plane. And neither have I."

"So do it. Go get this girl and go somewhere fun."

His heart sank. "I can't. She wants more than just fun."

"And you don't?"

"I do, but...I just can't. How can I bring another woman into Amberlee's home? Everything in that place is hers. I can't bring another woman into her bed. I just...I can't do it. Not even for Ettie. But I'd do anything else for her. Anything at all."

"What you're saying to me is that you're sacrificing what you want, your happiness, for a woman who is at rest and can't even appreciate it."

Wyatt didn't answer.

"Is it worth it? All the fun you could be having with that young girl, just to worship your dead wife?"

Wyatt flinched. "It's not worship. I just don't know how to stop trying to make her happy."

"Is it worth it, Wyatt?"

He didn’t know how to answer. He could think about Ettie's warm body and warm laughter. But he could also think about Amberlee and how difficult life was for her. How he'd never felt settled with her. How every moment that wasn't filled with pain was filled with waiting for something bad to happen.

He went home that night wondering if he was going to have to get drunk in order to get through the evening. He went to his parents' house for dinner, even though he wasn't invited, just because he didn't want to be alone. Blake was gone at school, of course. And soon he'd be graduated and home for good. Wyatt wondered if he would live with him, or if he would want to get his own place. Though it didn't make much sense for him to live somewhere else, if he was just going to work the farm. Maybe he would hook up with that redhead and live in town and work at the newspaper office, or something.

After dinner he went out to do some chores and tend to the cows. After that, he went home and washed up and plopped into his recliner to watch some baseball. But his heart wasn't in it. He wound up kicking at the carpet with the toe of his boot and thinking, for the millionth time, just how ugly that carpet was.

There was hardwood underneath. He'd lifted it at a corner, once, and said, "Hey, A, there's hardwood under here. Let's rip it up!"

And she'd said, "No, I like carpet."

He'd suggested they get new carpet, then, as this was old even then.

She'd sighed heavily and said, "It's too much trouble. We might not live here forever. I don't want to spend the money."

He'd argued a little more because he'd truly believed she would be happier with new carpet. But when it looked like she might get upset, he'd backed off and never addressed the subject again.

Now she wasn't here. And besides all that, she'd been wrong. He kind of thought if she showed up right now, he'd tell her he was ripping up the carpet whether she liked it or not. Because it was the right thing to do for the house. And because he just wanted to, dammit.

So before he even realized what he was doing, he'd dragged a chair and an end table out to the front porch. The sun was setting, but he didn't notice the time. He just pulled furniture out until the living room was completely bare. Then he went and got a pry bar from the garage and started ripping up the carpet. It was an extremely satisfying process. His muscles worked and the sound of the staples ripping loose was violent and angry.

It was dark when he hauled the big roll of carpet out to his pickup to take to the dump. Then he went in and stood in the living room, surveying the floor. It was in surprisingly good condition. There was probably some kind of sealer he could put on it. He'd have to research it. For now, he went to the garage for a dust mop. Then started bringing in pieces of furniture. He stopped on the porch and looked at the sofa. A floral, decorative thing, with very little to offer in terms of comfort. Here it was, halfway to the dump, considering getting it out of the house was half the job.

But he couldn't throw it out. She'd picked it out. She’d loved it. She'd asked him what he thought and he'd told her he loved it, too, because he just wanted her to be happy. No, he definitely couldn't throw it out. But he didn't have to bring it back in just yet.

He pushed it back against the wall on the porch, then went back to the garage for a tarp to cover it with.

He went back inside, sat in his chair, and finished watching the game, which was almost over. Then he went to bed, tired from the sudden burst of extra activity.

CHAPTER THIRTY

We were a week out from graduation and I'd been vomiting every day for three weeks. It was weird, but I wasn't really worried because except for the five minutes spent hovering over the toilet, the rest of the time I felt pretty normal. A little tired. But with studying for finals and going to job interviews and just the stress of needing to get my future figured out, tired seemed a logical symptom.

It was Blake who finally pulled me aside and suggested I pee on a stick. He'd actually gone to the pharmacy and bought me a three-pack of pregnancy tests. When he came in and I saw the box in his hands, I immediately hugged him. "Is Lauren pregnant? I can't believe this!"

"Where is she?" he asked, seeming irritated. "She was supposed to meet me here."

"She's not home yet. Boy, you guys really move fast."

He sighed. "Ettie these are for you."

I took the box and stared down at it, confused. "I skip periods all the time," I said. "During stressful times, I mean."

"Do you also vomit regularly and cry excessively?"

I looked at him. "I haven't been vomiting in the mornings."

He gave me a pitying look. "Just go pee on one, okay? Give us all some peace of mind."

"You and I haven't had sex in almost four months," I said.

"Ettie, don't play dumb."

He was right. I was purposely ignoring the fact that half the sex I’d had with Wyatt had been unprotected. At most I could only be six weeks pregnant, which was exactly how long it had been since my last encounter with him. I stared down at the box and wondered what I would do if the thing turned positive.

Lauren came in, then, and figured out what was going on. She unboxed one of the tests and sent me into the bathroom with a gentle shove. I followed the instructions and peed on the stick. I put the cap on it and set it on the counter like it said. Then I didn't look at it for over two minutes.

"What's it say, Ettie?" Blake said from outside the door. I was still sitting on the toilet with my jeans down around my ankles.

I picked up the tester and felt...just a whole explosion of emotions. At which point I burst into sobs.

"It's positive," I heard Blake say to Lauren.

She knocked twice and came in. She took the tester out of my hand and set it on the counter. "It's okay, Ettie. Everything will be okay."

"What am I gonna do?" I sobbed.

"You're gonna take it one step at a time. First step, clean yourself up and let's go sit on the sofa. I sent Blake off to get dinner for us."

I did as she said and then curled up against her on the couch. "I don't have a job. Or a husband. Or an ounce of maternal instinct."

"You don't have to make decisions right now, Ettie. It's very early. But you will need to tell Wyatt."

"Oh, God," I cried, my tears overwhelming me again.

She held me until Blake came back with Chinese food, which, despite my emotional turmoil, I devoured ravenously. I calmed down, after that. And I realized I hadn't made eye contact with Blake the whole time. So finally I looked at him. He smiled kindly at me. "I'm gonna be a big brother," he said.

"Oh, God, it's so weird," I said.

He shrugged. "It's alright. You're not conventional. Anyone who expects you to be is in for big surprises."

I smiled, grateful he was taking it so well.

"Lauren and I are going home this weekend," he said. "You should come with us. You can tell Dad, then."

My heart sank. "I don't know if I should. He's got so much going on in his life."

"And now he's got this. It's already a part of his life. He just needs to be informed of it."

I slumped back into the sofa.

"What will you say if he proposes?" Blake asked.

"No," I said. "I'll say no. I don't want to be another responsibility."

"Then how do you plan on taking care of the baby?"

I snapped my eyes up to his. "I don't know, Blake. You think you could let me get used to the idea that I'm pregnant? It's kind of shocking news, you know."

He held up his hands and leaned back. "Sorry. I just figure it's never too soon to start planning."

"She can plan tomorrow, Blake," Lauren said gently. "If she even wants to keep the baby."

"That's not her decision alone," Blake said. "He has a right to the decision as well, you know."

"Um. No," Lauren said.

"Um. Yeah. How can you say that? If you got pregnant, are you saying I wouldn't have any say in the fate of the child?"

"If we agreed to do it together, then you would. But if it was a surprise and you and I hadn't made a commitment to each other, then no."

"That's bullshit, Lauren!"

They bickered on and on, but I quit listening. I didn't need to ask the question. I'd keep the baby. I just knew it, somewhere deep inside of me. I would just hope Wyatt wanted to be a part of our lives.

I went to bed early that night, but couldn't sleep. Blake was staying over and I'd assumed he and Lauren were probably doing it in the next room. So the knock on my door surprised me.

"Come in," I said. I switched my lamp back on.