What I Want Page 18

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Look,” he went on, holding his phone out to me. “This is the last picture we ever took of her.”

  It was Jamie at Fitzroy Gardens, standing in front of the Fairies Tree.

  “She was beautiful,” I said.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  He took a bite of his burger. After he had finished chewing, he swallowed. He looked at me for a moment and then asked, “Did Josie tell you that Sophie’s going to have a little brother in a few weeks?”

  I nodded and he continued to look at me quietly for a moment.

  “You probably think I’m terrible,” he finally said.

  “No,” I said. I shook my head.

  He didn’t say anything.

  “I think you’ve been through something awful,” I said, “and I think you’re having a hard time dealing with it.”

  He seemed to think about that for a moment.

  “Yeah,” he said, giving me a little nod. “That’s about right.”

  I hesitated for a moment, but then I said, “I want you to know that I’ve been praying for you.”

  He studied me for one more moment and then he nodded again and replied quietly, “Thanks.”

  I nodded back at him, and we both went back to our food.

  At first, between Stuart and Stuart’s parents, Josette had a lot of help when she went home from the hospital. But nine days after Sophie was born, Rebecca gave birth to Stuart’s son, Mitch, and then a few days after that, Stuart’s parents flew back to Perth. Suddenly Stuart’s parents were gone, Stuart was extremely busy with Mitch and Rebecca, and Josette’s dad and stepmom weren’t planning a visit until March.

  Things would have been hard for her anyway, but trying to keep Fran placated just about sent Josette over the edge. Fran stormed into her bedroom, slamming her door every time Sophie cried. She made it clear that the bags under her eyes were due to not being able to get a good night’s sleep anymore. She dumped wet laundry from the washer straight onto the dirty floor if Josette didn’t put it into the dryer quick enough. She sighed heavily if Josette dared to breastfeed Sophie in the living room.

  Josette had bags under her eyes, too. She was already tired just from all the normal stuff that came with having a new baby, but trying to keep Fran happy took it to a whole new level.

  Then, to top it all off, Josette started classes again at the end of January like she’d planned.

  That’s when things really went downhill.

  I called Lily.

  “Remember those pregnancy hormones you were telling me about?” I asked.

  “What about them?”

  “Are they gone now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Oh yeah,” she said, “they’re gone. She’s not going to feel like having sex for about five years.”

  “Five years?”

  “I’m kidding.”

  “But they really are gone?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “She just had a baby, Marco,” Lily explained patiently. “She’s exhausted.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Tell me about it.”

  Two weeks after classes started back up, I went over to Josette’s apartment and climbed the stairs. I could hear Sophie crying before I even knocked.

  “Let’s take her for a ride,” I suggested after Josette answered the door, looking disheveled. “Maybe it’ll help her fall asleep.”

  “She’s not the one who’s having trouble sleeping,” Josette pointed out. “I’m the one who’s having trouble sleeping.”

  “Well maybe you’ll fall asleep,” I said with a smile. “Come on.”

  We loaded the baby into her carrier and fastened her into the back seat.

  “Where are we going?” Josette asked.

  “I was thinking Yarra,” I shrugged, “but if you want to do something else . . .”

  “Yarra’s fine,” she said wearily.

  We talked a little bit as we headed toward Yarra Boulevard, but for the most part, we were quiet. Sophie fell asleep quickly, and shortly after I turned onto the scenic drive, headed for Kew, Josette fell sound asleep, too.

  That was fine with me. I just kept driving.

  We had only been on the road for about twenty minutes though when Sophie woke up and started crying again.

  “Where are we?” Josette asked, rubbing her eyes.

  “Almost to Templestowe,” I said.

  “She can’t be hungry again,” Josette said, glancing toward the back seat. “She just ate an hour ago.”

  “Maybe her diaper needs to be changed.”

  “Maybe.”

  We reached Westerfolds Park and I turned into a parking area.

  “Stay put,” I instructed Josette. I got out, opened the back door, and started undoing buckles and straps.

  “Did you make a mess?” I asked Sophie in a baby-talk voice.

  I pulled her free from her car seat.

  “You’re lucky I have so many nieces,” I said, laying her down on the back seat. “Messes are my specialty.”

  She stopped crying and looked at me as I undid the snaps on her outfit and checked her diaper. It was clean and dry.

  “I think she was just lonely,” I told Josette, fastening Sophie’s diaper and clothing back up. I cradled her in my arms and stroked her cheek softly.

  “Thank you,” Josette said quietly from the front seat.

  “No problem.”

  She sighed and rested her head back against the headrest, closing her eyes again.

  “Josie?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “I want to talk with you about something,” I said.

  “What?” She opened her eyes and looked back at me suspiciously, obviously realizing for the first time that I hadn’t taken her out just for some random ride.

  “You can’t keep going on like this,” I said gently. “You’re taking classes and working all day and then coming home and trying to study and take care of Sophie and worrying all the time about keeping her quiet so she doesn’t wake Fran up at night and it’s just too much. You’re practically dead on your feet. You can’t keep it up.”

  “I don’t have much choice.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “I’m not quitting school,” she insisted, shaking her head.

  “I’m not suggesting that you quit school–”

  “And I’m not giving her to Stuart and Rebecca,” she said, her voice rising.

  “No,” I agreed. “That’s not what I was going to suggest either.”

  “What then?”

  “I want to help you.”

  “You already are helping me.”

  “I mean more. I want to do more.”

  “Like what?”

  I hesitated.

  “I want you to move back in with me,” I said.

  “What?”

  “I don’t care if she wakes me up at night,” I explained. “As a matter of fact, I can get up and feed her for you sometimes so that you can get more than three hours of sleep at a time, and I can pick her up from daycare so you don’t have to drive over there during rush hour . . .”

  She stared at me.

  “I want to help you,” I said again quietly, glancing down at Sophie. I shifted her slightly in my arms before looking up at Josette again. “Please let me help you.”

  She looked back at me for only another brief moment and then, to my surprise, she slowly nodded her head.

  “Okay,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

  “Wow,” I said, feeling my eyes widen in surprise. “I can’t believe you just agreed to that. You must be way past exhausted.”

  “You have no idea,” she replied, and she closed her eyes.

  ~ ~ ~

  I KNEW THAT Josette and Sophie might not be with me long. There was more than a strong possibility that Stuart would want to get back together with Josette – in fact, I felt it was almost a certainty.


  Threat of major change seemed to be what made Stuart take action.

  From what I could figure, he had gotten back together with Josette only when faced with the reality that their divorce was almost final.

  He’d started things back up with Rebecca, with Josette unaware, as soon as he found out he was going to be a father again.

  He had left Josette a second time once he’d realized that Rebecca was pregnant, too.

  Now that divorce from Josette was imminent once more, I braced myself for what he might do.

  I didn’t know the exact date.

  I didn’t ask.

  But I was ready for whatever happened – or at least as ready as I could be.

  I wasn’t going to be blindsided again.

  And I wasn’t going to turn away from God this time . . . even if things didn’t go my way.

  ~ ~ ~

  THINGS WERE BETTER after Josette moved back in, but still far from perfect. Sophie stayed with her dad at least one night almost every weekend. Whenever we got her back on Sunday, Josette fretted and fumed about how Stuart and Rebecca had obviously given Sophie formula (even though she had pumped all week and made sure she’d sent plenty along), or about how they’d used diapers that gave her a rash, or about how Mitch had given her a cold.

  As particular as she was about what she wanted for Sophie, however, and as adamant as she was that Stuart and Rebecca were not going to have primary custody, Josette remained surprisingly reserved around Sophie. She did all the right things: she took care of Sophie . . . she talked to her . . . she held her and kissed her . . .

  But she never sang to her . . .

  And she never smiled . . .

  And there always seemed to be a distance between the two of them. I couldn’t put my finger on it. I couldn’t quite identify it. But it was there.

  It was so strong that I could almost feel it.

  I loved to sing to Sophie. By the time she was four months old, “Pop Goes the Weasel” would make her squeal with delight. After work I would pick Sophie up from daycare and then we would head home. I’d set her in her carrier on top of the little table in the kitchen so that she could watch me, and the two of us would make each other laugh while I worked on dinner.

  One evening Josette came home just as I was lighting the grill. She took Sophie out of her carrier and the two of them disappeared into their bedroom for a while, reemerging just as I was pulling marinated lamb chops out of the fridge.

  “Did you check the mail today?” Josette asked.

  I thought for a minute.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I forgot.”

  “My dad said he was sending her a book,” Josette said, laying Sophie down on the couch. “I’ll go see if it’s there.”

  “I’ll check,” I said, waving my hand at her. “I’m going out to put the meat on anyway.”

  I threw the chops onto the grill and then went to the mailbox, flipping through the letters as I walked back toward the porch.

  There was nothing large enough to contain a book, but one envelope in particular – addressed to Josette – made me stop in my tracks. I looked at it for a long minute and then climbed the stairs to go into the house.

  I opened the door. Josette was standing in the living room, waiting for me. Maybe she was hoping the book had come, but I don’t think so.

  I think she knew.

  I looked at her for a long moment and then handed her the letter. She stared at it as long as I had.

  She didn’t look at me, and she didn’t open the letter. Instead, she walked past me to the door and pushed it closed. I turned around and watched as she stood at the door with her back to me, still staring at the unopened letter. Slowly she turned and leaned her back against the door, continuing to stare at the envelope in her hand.

  Finally she opened it. She pulled out the paper inside and scanned it for a moment, leaning back against the door before lowering the letter to her side and looking up at me.

  “I’m divorced,” she said quietly.

  I managed to nod at her.

  And then she burst into tears.

  In all the time I had known her – through everything she’d been through – I had never seen Josette cry.

  Never.

  Not even a single tear.

  But now . . . now she was standing in front of me, sobbing?

  I had absolutely no idea what to do.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  That just made her cry harder.

  “Josette,” I said, tentatively stepping closer. “It’s okay, Josette. It’s okay.”

  She just shook her head and sobbed. I stepped even closer and then reached out and put my hand on her arm. When she felt my touch she brought her hands up to cover her face, but she also let me move closer to her and she buried her head against my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around her and just held her while she wept.

  “I’m sorry,” she finally said after she’d cried for another minute.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked again quietly.

  “I don’t know,” she sniffed. “I know this is what we’ve been waiting for and I know this is supposed to make me happy, but . . .”

  She didn’t finish.

  “But what?” I asked gently.

  She pulled back from me and looked into my eyes.

  “I don’t know if I’m ever going to be happy again,” she said tearfully.

  I searched her eyes.

  “Why?”

  “I . . . I don’t know,” she cried.

  I continued to look at her.

  “Did you want things to work out between you and Stuart?” I asked.

  “No,” she said honestly, shaking her head. “I mean . . . if that’s what God wanted me to do then I was going to do it, but . . .”

  “Are you worried that he’s going to try to get Sophie now?”

  “No,” she replied, shaking her head again. “I don’t think he’d do that.”

  I thought for a moment, and then I asked her gently, “Do you think you’re scared that if you let yourself be happy you’re going to lose everything again?”

  She didn’t even have to think about that. She immediately started sobbing again, nodding her head and burying it back against my shoulder.

  I just held her and stroked her hair while she cried. After another few moments she finally quieted down enough to talk again.

  “I’m scared to love her,” she said tearfully, taking a deep, quavering breath and pulling away from me so that she could glance at Sophie. Then she looked at me. “I’m scared to love you . . .”

  “You’re not going to lose either one of us,” I promised, shaking my head.

  “You don’t know that,” she cried, her voice rising in alarm. She pulled even further away now, searching my eyes and shaking her head. “You can’t say something like that. You don’t have any idea what’s going to happen in the future.”

  I didn’t answer for a moment.

  “You’re right,” I finally admitted quietly. “I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  She looked at me grimly.

  “And I get scared too,” I said. “I worry that maybe God’s going to want something different than what I want, but you can’t let fear keep you from enjoying your life, Josie. How many times does the Bible tell us not to fear?”

  “I know it does,” she said, “and I’m trying, but–”

  “No, you’re not,” I interrupted. “You’re not trying at all.”

  She looked at me in surprise.

  “You’re not, Josie,” I said. “You’re . . .”

  I closed my eyes, letting out a deep breath and shaking my head. I opened them again and looked at her earnestly, making sure she was really listening to what I was about to say.

  “You’re . . . you’re amazing,” I finally said gently. I touched the side of her face before I went on. “I’ve never known anybody who could go through all the things you’ve gone through and still hold on to their faith the way
that you have. You always put Him first and you’re willing to give up whatever you want in order to do what you think He wants . . .”

  She looked up at me solemnly.

  “You’re like the poster child for what we’re supposed to do when bad things happen . . .” I hesitated. “But you suck at how we’re supposed to act when good things happen.”

  Her mouth dropped open in protest.

  “You do, Josie!” I insisted before she could say anything. “God loves you and He wants you to be happy. You’re never happy anymore.”

  “He doesn’t tell us that He wants us to be happy,” she argued. “Nowhere in the Bible does it tell us that we’re going to be happy!”

  “It tells us to rejoice!” I argued right back. “Over and over and over again. How many times does it tell us to rejoice?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “We’re supposed to rejoice,” I said quietly. “And we’re supposed to be thankful.”

  “I am,” she said weakly.

  “No, you’re not,” I said, shaking my head.

  She looked back at me quietly and I searched her eyes.

  “When was the last time you were joyful about anything?” I asked.

  Once again, she didn’t answer.

  “The last time I remember,” I went on, “was about a year and a half ago.”

  I pointed to the couch.

  “Right over there,” I said. “Remember?”

  Her eyes dropped to the floor again and I knew that she remembered.

  “I think it was the last time I heard you laugh,” I told her.

  I reached under her chin and lifted her face until she was looking at me again. We stared at each other in silence.

  “Look what’s on that couch right now,” I whispered, nodding my head toward Sophie.

  Josette’s eyes filled with fresh tears as she looked at her daughter.

  “She is a gift to you from God,” I said. “He loves you and He’s given you this wonderful gift and He expects you to be thankful for it and He expects you to be joyful about it.”