White Lilies (A Mitchell Sisters Novel) (12 page)

She closes her eyes and lets the strong mid-afternoon sun warm her face on this chilly day. She sighs, taking in one last ray of sunshine before opening her eyes and turning to me.

“What’s up with you, Erin?” I ask, when she looks at me through hauntingly dark eyes, filled with some unnamed emotion. “You’ve been dragging me all over the city for a month now. You can do all of these things with a baby. Well, maybe not hit the clubs we’ve gone to, but there are plenty of people willing to babysit.”

Her sad eyes betray the smile curving her lips. “I’ve heard that you have to give up a lot of stuff, even if you promise yourself you won’t. I’m simply trying to cram in as much fun as I can while I have the time. You got a problem with that?”

I stare at her and get an idea. “You know, I’ve heard of people taking a ‘babymoon.’ One last hurrah before their kid is born. Something you might not be able to do after. Why don’t you and Griffin do that? Go to Europe, or Australia—places that are too far for an infant to fly. I’m sure Piper could give you some great advice on where to go and what to do.” I look down at my growing belly that is still pretty much inconspicuous beneath my clothing. “And since you don’t have to worry about carrying around this extra load, you could do something exciting, like climb a mountain or go surfing.”

I smile, proud of myself for coming up with the idea that not only will have Erin doing something fun, but it might just get Griffin away from me long enough for these feelings to ebb. Heck, maybe I could even try to date someone. Not that anyone would want me in the state I’m in. But it’s not completely unheard of. Plus, the guy wouldn’t have to worry about dealing with a kid when it’s all over.

Unexpectedly, my heart hurts and for the first time in my life, I wonder if, just maybe, at some point in the future I will be able to have something that resembles a family. The thought takes my breath away and all I can do is gaze down into the inviting blue water that effortlessly parts as the ferry slices through it.

Erin threads her arm around me, pulling me close to her side. “No. That’s not in the cards for me. I like hanging around here where I can be with my friends. I don’t want to miss a minute of your pregnancy. And Baylor is due any second. I want to be here for that.” She looks off into the sea with a blank stare. “It will be incredible. Do you think she’ll let me hold her baby?”

I smirk at her absurd comment. “Of course she’ll let you hold her baby. She would trust you with its life. We all would. And soon enough you’ll have little Bean’s life entrusted to you.” Saying that makes me remember how protective Griffin was last week and I laugh. “Griffin is already in full dad mode after what he did for your baby at the game.”

She smiles and her face brightens. “I’m so glad he did that. You have no idea.”

I momentarily wonder if she’s gone completely insane. Why is she giddy over the fact that Griffin all but broke his hand defending a woman who shouldn’t have been defended? “You’re glad he hurt his hand?” I ask incredulously.

“Of course not, silly. I’m glad he’s as protective of you as he is of me. You are part of our fa . . . family now and it’s ob . . . uh, ob . . . uh, . . . it’s apparent he feels that way.” I can see tears well in her eyes as the emotions she’s feeling have her stumbling over her words.

“He wasn’t protecting
me
, Erin,” I remind her. “He was protecting his kid. I guess I can’t blame him for that, even if I did deserve everything the creep said to me.”

She stops looking at the water and forcefully turns me so that we are facing each other. “Don’t talk like that. I don’t ever want to hear you talk like that again, Skylar. You’ve changed. You are a wonderful person. From what I’ve heard, you were a wonderful person even then. You were misguided, that’s all. If you were a man, nobody would fault you for your philandering ways. It’s a double standard that’s completely unfair to women. I know you never deliberately hurt anyone and you were always safe in your . . . practices. What you did behind closed doors is nobody else’s business.

“But you have changed. I can tell you’re no longer that person. Whatever you were missing in your life back then that caused you to behave that way, you’ve obviously found it. I see wonderful things in your future, Skylar. And you deserve every single one of them.

“And as far as who he was protecting, he wasn’t just protecting his baby. He was protecting his family, because that is exactly what you’ve become to us.”

She pulls me into a hug. And for the first time, I wrap her in a full-on embrace, squeezing her tightly against me, hoping she understands how lucky I am to have her in my life. I don’t hold back. I’m not embarrassed when people pass by and see our display of affection.

When her arms go limp around me, I laugh when I become the one holding on longer for once. Then, all of a sudden her weight falls into me. I brace myself against the guardrail as her body slides down to the ground.
Is she fainting?

No, she’s not fainting; she’s still looking at me, but she’s not really there. Then her eyes roll upwards and her entire body starts to shake violently. I scream out, “Erin! Oh my God. Someone help!”

A crowd quickly gathers around. Someone puts their coat under her head while gently moving her away from the guardrail. “Does she have epilepsy?” the stranger asks.

“Epilepsy? Uh . . . no, I don’t think so. She had cancer once.” It might be a lame thing to say, but I don’t understand what’s going on with her.

Another man breaks through the crowd. “I’m a doctor,” he proclaims. “Please, everyone give her some space. And someone call 911.”

Tears stream down my face and my hands are shaking almost as badly as her body as I watch him put his fingers against her neck. Then, he just watches her like the rest of us. Her jerking body reminds me of a fish when taken out of water. Her neck snaps back. Her arms and legs are rigid, yet jerk with her torso as it violently convulses from front to back as she lies on her side. Like a fish out of water, I wonder if she’s being deprived of oxygen. I gasp in horror.

“Do something!” I yell at him. “You’re a doctor!”

He gives me a sympathetic look. “Ma’am, your friend is having a seizure. Without the proper drugs, there’s nothing I can do except see to it that she doesn’t hurt herself. It should be over very soon.” He eyes the crowd. “Did someone call for an ambulance?”

A woman cries, “Yes! I have them on the phone. They’re asking questions.” The doctor tells the woman what information to relay to the dispatcher as I helplessly watch my friend in the most terrifying moment of my entire life.

Drool dribbles from Erin’s mouth. Her hair whips around on top of the stranger’s coat under her head. Her clothes become dirty and sodden from the morning dew that hasn’t yet evaporated off the deck of the ferry. I watch in utter disbelief as I’m sure she’s dying. I can’t comprehend how all anyone can do is stand here and witness it. I scream out a few more times for someone to help. Arms come around me when my legs fail and I start to fall to the ground.

Then, in what was probably only a minute or two, but seems like hours, Erin stills completely. She lays lifeless on the ground as my heart gets ripped from my body. I instinctively touch my stomach, horrified at the thought of this baby losing its mother before they even get a chance to meet.

I hear sirens in the background and wonder how an ambulance could get here. We are in the middle of New York Harbor.

The doctor arranges her so she’s lying on her back. He leans over her face, putting his ear close to her mouth while he presses his fingers to her neck again. “She’s breathing,” he says. I hear a collective sigh of relief from the large crowd behind us.

The next ten minutes of my life are a blur. Men in orange jackets scuffle around us, putting Erin on a backboard while they strap an oxygen mask over her face. She and I are taken aboard a smaller boat that heads back towards the city. I try to keep my hand on her, but they’re working over her and I’m forced to step away. They ask me questions to which I have no answers.

All I can think of the entire time we’re racing to the hospital is that this is my fault. I did this. I fell in love with her husband. I allowed myself to wonder for one brief moment what it would be like if Erin weren’t around. I caused this with my selfish ways. Nothing has changed. I haven’t changed. I’m the same horrible person I was six months ago. I tried to camouflage myself as something else. Pretend I’m someone I’m not. But this is proof.

I pray to God that I haven’t just killed the best friend I’ve ever had.

chapter eleven

Other than my prayers on the rescue boat, I’ve never done this before. I sit in the hospital chapel wondering if there’s some sort of protocol for talking to God. Do I simply tell Him what I want? Do I have to fill out some kind of form? Will He even bother listening to someone like me?

Not that I didn’t attend church as a child. I did. My parents took me to Sunday School when I was younger. But when they opened the restaurant, we didn’t go very often. Owning a business took up every waking moment, and devoting time to church fell low on their list of priorities.

Still, I’m pretty sure I believe in Him. Especially after seeing Bean’s ultrasound. How could something as remarkable as the ability to grow another human inside oneself even be possible without a powerful being to drive it all? I believe there are things in the world that can’t be explained away with science. I believe that if you’re a good person, good things will happen to you.

That last belief is pretty much shot to hell as I think of Erin lying lifeless in a bed somewhere in the hospital. She’s the best person I know, inside and out. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. She accepts people with all their faults. She doesn’t deserve to have this happening to her. I would trade places with her in a minute if I could do it without hurting their baby. I make all kinds of deals with God if he will let her be okay.

I recall the horror in Griffin’s voice when I calmed down enough to call him on our way to the hospital. I selfishly wondered if there would ever be anyone in this world who would care about me enough to have the reaction he did if anything happened to me. I could hear the helplessness. I sensed the tears spilling out of his eyes. I knew he was having flashbacks to all the horrible moments he’d already lived through with Erin and his mom.

While Griffin sits in the waiting room, ready to be called back at a moment’s notice, I remain holed up in the chapel. I know with her husband and most of her family here, I’ll be the last one to get to see her anyway.

Erin’s family members come and go, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder or commiserating with me for a quiet moment before they silently pray. I try to offer them comfort, but strangely enough, it seems it’s me they think needs comforting. They all look to my belly when they talk to me. Every one of them knows our situation. Every one of them feels as bad as I do for the child who may grow up motherless. They all still praise me for what I’m doing. Not one of them understands I don’t deserve it.

When the chapel is empty except for me and Erin’s older sister, Jane, she comes over to sit with me. “Some of your friends are waiting out there with us. Erin sure has met a lot of wonderful people since you came into her life. I’ve never seen her surrounded by such a following. Not since high school. You are very special to her and not just because of the baby.”

I shrug off her un-deserving words. “Can you tell me about that?” I ask. “I’ve always wondered how someone as great as Erin doesn’t have people knocking down her door to be her friend. She’s so nice to everyone. But she seems like somewhat of a . . . loner, I guess.”

Jane nods her head. “She is a loner. Well, until you came along. But she wasn’t always that way.”

“Yeah, she told me that her looks intimidate other women and because of it, she doesn’t make friends easily.”

Jane laughs. “Is that what she told you?” She shakes her head, amused. “Erin could have all the friends she wanted. Women would line up to be accepted into her world. But ever since high school, when her large group of friends couldn’t run away fast enough from the girl with cancer, she’s been hesitant to let anyone in. She’s nice to people, and they always attempt to friend her, but she pushes them away. You’re the first one she’s let in for long time.”

I look down at my belly. “Well, she kind of had to, Jane.”

“No, she didn’t. Just because you’re her surrogate doesn’t mean she was forced to make friends with you. The way she talks about you, it’s like you’re her female soul mate. I know you two lead very different lives, but she feels a connection to you. One she hasn’t had with anyone else. Maybe not even Griffin. She loves you like a sister, Skylar.” Tears spill from each of us as she continues to speak. “And no matter what happens here, we will always welcome you as part of our family.”

A sister. Erin considers me a sister? I look at the cross perched in the corner of the room, along with symbols of some other religions. A sister would never do to her what I’ve done. A sister would never, for one second, want what she has. A sister would never sink as low as I have.

“Erin has an uncanny ability to see things in people.” She puts a comforting hand on mine. “Sometimes she sees things that they don’t even see in themselves. Don’t sell yourself short, Skylar. She believes in you.”

As she rises to leave the chapel, I wonder if I said all those things about sisters out loud.

I reflect upon the past months that Erin has been a part of my life. They’ve been the happiest I can remember, despite my inappropriate longing for her husband. I vow right now, right this very second, to do everything I can to become the person she thinks I am. I will force myself to accept Griffin as a friend, to no longer look at him or think of him in ways that make me a bad person. I make a promise to myself and God to be worthy of her and the way she sees me. To be her very best friend. To be her sister.

I don’t even know how long I’ve been sitting here when someone sits down in the empty pew behind me. Someone who I can tell is quietly sobbing. I know who it is. I always seem to know when he’s near.