On This Day (8 page)

H
ey, Ingrid!” I glance up from my novel to see Patrick Anderson looking down at me. I’ve known Patrick for years, although never very well since it’s always been through Jenny, but she absolutely adores her older cousin. And I’ve always kept a wary eye on Conner, the younger brother, who’s just a bit older than we are, because I know he used to pick on Jenny when she was little. “But Patrick always stands up for me,” she said once after I told her she should tattle on the boys to her aunt. “He makes it okay.”

As a result, I’ve always been impressed with what a sweet guy Patrick is. Sure, he’s a little on the shy side, although today he’s the one striking up a conversation with me.

“Hey, Patrick,” I say, closing my book. “What’s up?”

“We just got here. Thought we’d put our stuff away, then check things out. Have you been to the pool yet?”

“No, but I heard it’s nice.”

“Well, it’s pretty hot outside,” he says. “Why don’t you join us down there?”

I consider this. “Well, as long as I leave in plenty of time to get dressed for the wedding. Might be nice to cool off.”

“Hey, Ingrid,” says Conner, joining us. “You coming down to the pool with us?”

“Only if you promise not to get my hair wet,” I warn them, giving Conner an I-mean-business look. “I’ve already got it fixed for the wedding.”

“Looks nice,” says Patrick.

“Sure, I’ll try not to splash,” Conner promises with an impish grin. “Well, not too much anyway.”

Patrick gives his brother a playful shove. “Yeah, well, I think I can keep the little whippersnapper under control.”

“Where’s the bride?” asks Conner as we all trek upstairs. “Maybe I can get
her
hair wet.”

“Fat chance,” I tell him. “Besides, she’s taking a nap.”

“Meet ya down there,” calls Conner, and the two brothers take off down one hallway, and I go down the other.

I hadn’t really planned on swimming this afternoon, but it’s not even four o’clock yet, and a little fun in the sun does sound tempting. I just need to be sure I keep an eye on my watch. I think
about Patrick as I go up to my room to change. I haven’t seen him for a couple of years, and I’m surprised at how handsome he’s gotten. Not that he wasn’t good-looking before, but he was always kind of gangly and boyish. Now he’s filled out some and seems to fit into his tall frame much better. And I’d forgotten that he has those blue eyes, such a contrast with his dark brown hair …

What are you doing?
I ask myself as I pull on my swimsuit. It’s like I’m suddenly checking out Patrick Anderson—
and I am engaged!

“What’s up?” asks Lana as she emerges from the bathroom with a bottle of nail polish. She’s Jenny’s roommate from college and one of the bridesmaids, as well as my roommate for the weekend.

“I’m going to take a quick swim.”

She frowns. “This soon before the wedding? Are you nuts?”

“Maybe. But I’ll just get in and out and soak up a little sun. No biggie.”

“Well, don’t mess up your hair,” she warns.

“I won’t.” I tie a cover-up around my waist, grab a towel and my bag, and head out the door. Good grief, the way Lana’s treating me, you’d think she was the maid of honor, not me. But maybe I am being a little reckless. What if I fell into the pool and ruined my hair? Yet somehow I don’t think that will happen, and for some unexplainable reason I feel a need to do this.

I beat the guys to the pool, take a quick and careful dip, then towel dry and find a chaise to stretch out on. The sun is still fairly high in the sky, and the temperature is perfect. I put on my shades,
pull out my novel, and lean back and sigh. Hey, this wasn’t a mistake after all.

The next thing I know Conner is doing a cannonball right in front of me. His splash gets me wet but luckily misses my hair. I towel myself off, then pull my chaise back a safe distance from the pool.

“Conner!” yells Patrick. “You totally soaked Ingrid. Watch it, okay?”

“Okay,” calls Conner as he begins to swim laps. “Sorry ’bout that, Ingrid. I was just trying to scare you.”

Patrick pulls a chaise next to mine, puts his stuff on it, then goes over and eases himself into the pool. And, okay, I may be engaged, but I still have eyes. And I can’t help but look at how well built this guy is. He must work out or something.

“What’cha gaping at, Ingrid?” teases Conner from the pool.

I force a laugh. “I’m not gaping at anything,” I say innocently. “Just spacing out mostly.”

“Yeah, right.” Then Conner acts as if he’s going to splash me but, to my relief, stops himself midway.

I pretend to be absorbed in my book, but while my head is tilted down as if I’m reading, I am actually watching Patrick as he moves about in the pool. And I can’t believe how attracted I am to him. Is something wrong with me?

Finally I force myself to focus on the actual words on the page, which suddenly seem rather boring. At the same time I’m feeling totally guilty for being so obsessed with Patrick. I mean,
how would that make Jason feel? On the other hand, if I am so easily attracted to someone like Patrick, doesn’t it suggest that my engagement to Jason might be a mistake? Or am I just being incredibly stupid? Besides, someone as hot as Patrick surely has a girlfriend, perhaps even a fiancée. I should ask Jenny for the lowdown on him. Oh, good grief, what am I thinking?

Patrick is getting out now, toweling himself dry by the edge of the pool, I suspect to keep from getting me wet. He’s always been such a thoughtful guy. Then he comes over and sits down next to me.

“Any good?” he asks.

“Huh?” I look up and wonder if he realizes I’ve been watching him.

“The book.”

I shrug. “Yeah, it’s okay. I was mostly trying to relax a little before all the wedding stuff kicks into high gear.” I pick up my watch to see how I’m doing on time.

“Well, isn’t it better relaxing out here than in that stuffy lobby?”

“Much better.”

“So I hear you’re engaged,” he says as he leans back into the chaise. “My congratulations to the lucky guy.”

“Thanks. His name is Jason Wallace, and he should be here anytime now.” I glance over my shoulder as if I really expect to see him walking up. “By the way, kudos to you, too. I heard your mom telling Jenny’s grandma about how you just got this really great job. Way to go.”

“Yeah. I was starting to wonder if my degree was worth the paper it was printed on, but then everything just opened up for me.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure it was a God thing.”

“Does that mean you’re into God?”

He nods.

“That’s cool.”

We chat a bit more, and I’m amazed at how easy this guy is to talk to. And I’m dying to know if he’s involved with anyone, but I don’t know how to ask without sounding too nosy. Finally I can stand it no longer.

“So how about you?” I say casually. “You dating anyone?”

Conner overhears me as he climbs out of the pool. “You kidding?” he says as he comes over and picks up a towel. “Patrick’s not the dating type.”

Suddenly I wonder if Patrick might be gay. Man, what a waste if he is.

“That’s not true,” says Patrick. “I’ve dated a couple of girls.”

“Yeah, like a total of two or three times each. That’s not saying much, Bro.”

“Just ’cause I don’t go out every night like you,” says Patrick.

“Yeah, I’ve heard Conner’s quite the ladies’ man,” I tease. “Jenny told me he leaves a trail of broken hearts behind him everywhere he goes.”

Conner smiles proudly. “Jenny said that about me? Man, I knew I should’ve gotten that girl a better wedding gift.”

“I’d probably date more,” continues Patrick, looking directly at me now, “if I ever found the right girl.”

Okay, is it just my imagination, or is Patrick coming on to me? Probably just hopeful thinking on my part. “Maybe you’re not looking hard enough,” I say lightly.

“Maybe. But more and more it seems the good ones are taken.”

I feel my face warming. Is it the sun, or am I actually blushing? I glance at my watch for a diversion. “Man, it’s later than I thought,” I say as I jump to my feet. “I better get moving. Thanks for letting me hang with you guys.”

“Sure thing,” says Patrick. “See ya later.” Okay, does he look slightly disappointed that I’m leaving, or am I blowing this whole little poolside encounter way out of proportion?

“Later,” calls Conner as he flops onto the chaise I just vacated.

As I hurry toward the lodge, I feel totally jazzed. Like something in me just woke up, like I’m so alive. And yet this is so weird. I mean, seriously, what is wrong with me? Why am I getting into Patrick when I’m engaged to Jason? It’s all wrong. But it’s like I can’t help it, like this is bigger than me. Okay, I’ve never considered myself to be a flaky chick before, but suddenly I’m not so sure. Just chill, I tell myself. Focus on the wedding.

As I head into the lodge, I see a familiar blue SUV pull into the parking lot, and I realize Jason has finally arrived. I also realize I’m not the least bit glad he’s here. But I’m halfway in the door, and fortunately, he doesn’t see me, and I don’t hang around to greet him. I know it’s incredibly rude, but I tell myself I’m in a rush and don’t
have time to talk to him right now, which isn’t totally untrue. I suspect Lana will be ready to go, and she’ll probably lecture me for taking too long anyway. But I can still grab a quick rinse-off shower and be dressed in plenty of time for the first photos.

A
fter a blissfully long nap, I wake up with that tight hardness in my breasts, and I know it’s feeding time again. I get a drink of water and then begin to pace from the door to the window, then back to the door. It’s funny how much I enjoyed having a break from Amy, but now I can’t wait to see her again. Having a newborn baby is such a mixed bag—with the emotional roller-coaster rides I take. I guess it’s all thanks to hormones. Finally I give in. I go for the phone to call Margaret’s room, but that’s when I see a note from David.

It’s sweet of him to call me “babe.” It’s as if I’ve almost forgotten we used to be so romantic, so intimate, just the two of us. Babies really do change things. So instead of calling Margaret’s room, I realize this might be my one chance to freshen up before this evening kicks into gear. What am I waiting for? I strip off my clothes, tossing the ruined dress onto the floor, and leap into the shower. I feel a smidgen of guilt for neglecting Amy, but they said they’d bring her by when she got hungry. And once the water is running and I’m enjoying the lavender-scented shower gel that I actually remembered to pack, I am certain I made the right choice.

It’s amazing how luxurious a simple shower can feel when there’s not a baby waiting for you on the other side of the shower curtain. I’ve started putting Amy’s infant seat right on the bathroom floor so I can peek at her or reassure her while I’m taking a two-minute shower. Some mornings I wonder if it’s worth the effort and skip showering altogether.

I’ve just toweled dry and am slipping into my robe when I hear a knock at the door. I hurry to answer it, surprised to discover that it’s Suzette from the luncheon table. “Here’s your bag,” she says as she practically shoves Amy’s diaper bag toward me.

“But where’s—”

“And here’s your little darling,” says Elizabeth, stepping from behind Suzette and holding out my baby “She’s been an absolute angel. Had a diaper change and a nap, but I think she’s hungry now, and that’s where Margaret and I have to bow out.”

I laugh as though I haven’t heard that line before. “Thanks,” I tell her. “I really appreciated the nap, and I even managed to take a shower.”

Elizabeth smiles. “Is there anything else I can do—”

“Come on,” interrupts Suzette as she tugs on Elizabeth’s arm. “She needs to feed the baby now.”

“That’s right,” I say as Amy erupts into her hunger cry—a cry that can’t be ignored for long. I hurry toward the easy chair by the window and get her situated as the two women depart. I watch longingly as they leave. I remember that kind of freedom. How I took for granted the ability to come and go as you please whenever you please. The time to get dressed up and to really look nice—without the threat of milk spilling down your chest and spoiling everything. And, okay, I do feel envious of them. Seriously envious.

I take a moment to pray and actually confess my jealous feelings to God, but I still feel left out. Stuck on the sidelines while everyone else is out having a good time. I know it makes absolutely no sense, but sometimes I feel as if I’ve been robbed of something, like my life is over and nothing will ever be the same again. I know it’s just self-pity and probably the baby blues and getting through this adjustment period. But my feelings are real all the same.

As I switch Amy to the other side, I wonder what those two women are doing right now. Maybe they’re doing something with their husbands, sightseeing or taking a walk. Or maybe they’re mingling with the other guests, enjoying a little prewedding party time or just visiting—whatever adults do these days. Adults who aren’t saddled with newborn, nursing babies.

Oh, I know I sound self-absorbed, having my pity party of one. Make that two. And it’s not that I’m ungrateful for my darling Amy. I look down at her sweet profile, her lashes curved on her soft cheek, the little fingers opening and closing, the way she sucks so intently, like it’s the most important job in the world … and I suppose for her it is. It’s not that I don’t appreciate her … it’s just that I feel like such a prisoner sometimes.

As I burp her, I wonder why I’m getting so stressed over this right now. Good grief, I’m the one who didn’t want to come to this wedding in the first place. Now here I am, feeling sorry for myself because I’m
missing out on all the fun
. What is wrong with me, anyway?

Seriously
, I remind myself,
if you were down there right now, you would only feel out of place and uncomfortable!
I know I’d feel like one of those ne’er-do-well relatives who are only invited to these social events out of pity or because it’s expected, since, after all, we
are
family. I’m sure everyone would be just as happy if we stayed home. Well, other than Michael. I think he really did want David for his best man. And that’s something. So maybe that’s why I’m here. For David. And I suppose I can give this my best shot—for David.

Amy is finally full and content, and I can lay her down in the portacrib and finish getting myself ready for the “big event.” As I carefully apply makeup, I imagine I will be the belle of the ball tonight—ha! Even so, I take great care with my eye shadow and also use eyeliner, which I haven’t worn since I was pregnant. I check on Amy, but she is surprisingly happy, so I continue pampering myself. And to my surprise, it feels rather nice. I can’t believe Amy is being so cooperative. I’ll have to ask Margaret and Elizabeth what they did to her. I even have time to fuss with my hair until I’m almost satisfied with it.

I put on the new perfume David gave me for my birthday last month and remember to insert those nursing pads that I forgot to use this morning. Then I slip into the new dress I bought just for tonight, the one my sister helped me pick out a couple weeks ago. It may not boast some big, fancy designer name, and I actually found it on the markdown rack, but Lisa is the fashion expert in my family, and she assured me that the color, cut, and style were all perfect for me. It had seemed a bit snug when I got it, but to my relief it’s just fine now. Maybe I’m finally losing some of that baby fat after all.

Finally, I put on the single strand of pearls and the pearl stud earrings that Lisa said were just right for the dress, and I think I am actually ready. Amy is starting to fuss a little now, and I pick her up and admire how alert she is. Her eyes are wide and awake, and she seems happy to see my face. Whether experts admit it or not, I am certain she recognizes me. I can see it in the way her eyes
twinkle. And as I hold her, she lets out the sweetest little coo, and I actually feel myself melting inside.

“You’re Mommy’s wittle sweet pea,” I tell her in the baby voice I swore I would never use. “And Mommy wuvs you so, so much!”

Another coo and eyes that just light up.

“How can I possibly leave my wittle pumpkin here with a sitter tonight?” I say in the same baby voice. And I am halfway tempted to run into the bathroom, strip off this dress, don my bathrobe, and just call it a night. But then I notice the sweet note from David again, and I know he needs me.

Just then there’s a knock at the door, and I open it to find Jamie, the baby-sitter, standing there with a Pepsi, an MP3 player, and a couple of fashion magazines in her hands. “You ready to take off?” she asks in a cheerful voice that shows me she must’ve recovered from Amy’s fussiness earlier this afternoon.

“I guess so.” I look longingly at Amy as Jamie sets her provisions aside, then reaches out for my baby. I feel a small stab of regret as I hand Amy over. “There’s a bottle of breast milk in the little refrigerator,” I tell Jamie. “But I’ll probably check back after the wedding ceremony to see how she’s doing.”

“No problem.”

“And you’ll call someone to get me if anything should—”

“Don’t worry,” Jamie assures me. “I do this all the time. And I know to call the front desk and have them find you.”

I smile at her. “Well, thanks. I know Amy’s in good hands.”

Jamie looks down at Amy, who is still surprisingly content.
Honestly, this has been one of her least fussy days, and I wonder if we might be turning a corner here. “Hey there, little cutie pie,” says Jamie. “What’s up?”

And with that, I kiss my baby, tell Jamie good night, and walk out of my room, feeling a bit lost.

Free at last, free at last, thank God almighty, I am … But suddenly it doesn’t seem to matter as much. Why was I so upset about being left out of things earlier? Really, does it matter? Oh, I am a hopelessly fickle woman!