Lily is in the leather chair again when I come in. It’s a swivel chair. Today it’s turned to face the garage door, so she sees me arrive, having to use my key to unlock the door because it’s locked, which it never is. We always leave that door unlocked. Lily must have locked it by mistake.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” I ask, tossing my keys on the island and practically running to her. As expected, the day got warm. As soon as the sun came out, the temperatures rose by thirty degrees. Now the sun streams in the wall of windows on the back of the house, falling across Lily’s lap. She’s stripped down to a tank top and leggings because of the heat, and sits with her legs pulled into her, cross-legged in the chair.
There are scratches on her arm and shoulder, some quite deep. This is the first time I’m seeing them. “What happened?” I ask, lowering myself to the floor, running a finger over them before gazing benevolently up at her, into her eyes. “Did you fall?”
Her eyes are wet and I know that she’s been crying. Lily is reluctant to speak. I leave her and go for the antiseptic and antibacterial ointment, and then I come back and clean her arm. She’s like a rag doll lying limp while I manipulate her arm to get to the scratches.
“Tell me, Lily,” I say as I take care of the wounds. “Tell me what’s wrong.” I think she must have fallen and landed on the baby. The baby is dead. It has to be.
She doesn’t say.
“Lily,” I say. “Why did you need me to come home?”
“I’m sorry. I should have just waited until after you were through with work. I shouldn’t have asked you to leave.”
“It’s fine. It was a quiet day. But I’m here now. Please tell me.”
It wasn’t exactly a quiet day. Besides the meeting with colleagues this afternoon, I spent the morning liaising with clients, getting to know prospective clients and updating existing ones on progress. I’m working on multiple projects right now and need to make sure that, at any given time, they all run smoothly. Mine is usually a nine-to-five job, but there are things I didn’t get done today—because I was in meetings all day and because I left early—that I’ll need to do tonight. It doesn’t matter. Lily is what matters.
She closes her eyes. She takes a deep breath.
“Please, Lily.”
Her hands are on her lap, folded into fists. She unfolds one. There on the palm of her hand is an earring. I gave Lily those earrings years ago, on our fifth anniversary. The fifth anniversary is, traditionally, supposed to be wood, and so I hid the earrings inside a wooden jewelry box engraved with her name. She said she loved them. I think she’s worn the earrings every day since, which is how I know she does love them and is one of the many ways I know she loves me.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m so sorry. I lost one.”
I look up at Lily in disbelief that she’s so upset about the earring.
“It’s fine,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s no big deal. They were cheap, Lily, like twenty-five dollars or something.” I lie. They’re white gold, with a small pearl. That pair of earrings cost two hundred dollars, but it really doesn’t matter as long as Lily and the baby are fine. “I’ll get you another pair. Is that what you’re so upset about?” I ask, but I realize it’s not, because there are also the scratches on her arms and the empty look in her eyes.
She shakes her head.
“I told you I saw Jake Hayes at Langley Woods,” she says carefully, and again I’m thrown because I thought this was about the baby. I thought something bad had happened to the baby. I’m surprised to hear Jake’s name again. To be honest, I’d forgotten all about Lily seeing him yesterday on her walk.
“Yes,” I say, nodding. “Yes, you did.”
She looks away, out the windows at the river. The sun shines down on it, turning the water blue. There is a gentle breeze outside. Tiny ripples form on the river’s surface. Seagulls fly above it, swooping down for fish.
Lily won’t look at me when she says, “I didn’t tell you everything.”
“Okay,” I say. I set the antibiotic ointment aside. I put my hands on either side of her face and force her to look at me. “You know you can tell me anything, Lily. There’s nothing you could ever say that would change the way I feel about you.”
“I was just there walking, like the doctor said to do. She said gentle exercise might help with the nausea and fatigue.”
“Right. I was there. I remember her saying that.”
“It was such a pretty day too. I was happy that I thought of taking a walk. I was happy I had a little energy for it, because I’ve been so tired, you know?” I nod. I know. She’s been so tired. “I parked in the lot off Riley Road. I was just going to walk a mile or two and then turn back. I didn’t want to overdo it. There were other people there, you know? It wasn’t crowded, but I wasn’t alone either. There were a half dozen other cars in the lot. I passed people on the trail. I didn’t think it was unsafe.”
I swallow. What does she mean when she saysunsafe?
My eyes go back to her arm.
“What happened, Lily?”
I see the movement of her throat when she swallows. “I saw Jake, and at first I was glad to see him. Surprised but glad. It had been so long. We started talking, and he got to telling me how it had been a bad day for him. A patient had died. He’d lost a few patients this week. I didn’t know he ever lost patients. I thought he saved them all. I was wrong. It was getting to him, losing patients. He said usually it didn’t, but the patients he lost this week were harder than most. Jake told me about it. It was why he was there, I think, to clear his mind, to blow off steam. We walked together for a while, just talking, catching up. And then, I don’t know, he said we should go down one of those unmarked trails, into the woods. He’d seen deer on the path earlier and he wanted to see if they were still there, so he could show me. It was a mother with two spotted fawns, he said. I should have said no. But it’s Jake, you know? I know Jake. It’s not like he’s a stranger.”
Lily pauses. The anticipation builds, the suspense killing me. I know what she’s going to say, or at least I think I do. I still need her to say it.