Chapter 10

10

Phoebe was dressed in a pair of blue silk pajamas when she greeted me at the door, and her hair was disheveled, like it hadn't been brushed in days. She looked frail, which made me wonder if she'd been eating. She had big, black circles under her eyes and what looked like the remnants of old mascara stuck to her cheeks.

She tipped her head toward the bag I was holding and said, "What's in there?"

"Ben & Jerry's ice cream. I've brought Chewy Gooey Cookie for you and Chocolate Therapy for me. Can I come in?"

She swung the door all the way open and waved me inside. "Sorry, the house is a mess. I gave the cleaners the week off, and I just haven't felt up to doing any housework this week."

To say the house was a mess was an understatement. Unlike me, who couldn't relax at the end of the day unless my home was tidy and in order, Phoebe had always struggled in the cleanliness department.

Today, her house had the distinct aroma of pizza. There were piles of clothes everywhere, some dishes in the sink, and a watery red substance on the tile floor in the kitchen. Given there was a half-empty wineglass on the counter, and an open bottle of merlot next to it, it seemed obvious the watery substance on the floor was wine. If wine was what she needed to cope, I didn't blame her.

Seeing the house in its current state stirred up my anxiety, but I was determined not to let it show, or to dive right in and start tidying the place myself.

Phoebe noticed me looking around and said, "I know, I know. There are clothes everywhere. It's like a clothing bomb went off in here."

"It's all right."

"I was going through our closets last week, removing items we no longer wear and outfits Lark has outgrown. I planned on donating it all. I just need to get everything bagged up so I can drop it all off."

"I have some time. Do you want some help?"

"I'd love some. Are you sure?"

"Tell me where the bags are. I'll load everything up and drop it off for you."

We walked to the kitchen, and she opened one of the cabinets, pulling out a box of plastic bags. I removed the ice cream from the paper sack, setting both pints on the counter.

"It's nice of you to bring ice cream, but I don't think I can eat it right now," she said. "I'm kinda doing a liquid diet, if you know what I mean."

"It's fine. I just ate, so I can wait on having mine too."

I opened the freezer, placing both containers of ice cream inside.

"It's not like me to drink wine in the middle of the day," she said.

"I know it's not. There's no judgment here."

She reached for her wineglass. "Want some?"

Given it was one in the afternoon, and I had a meeting later with Simone and Hunter, I passed. "I'll tell you what, let's share a bottle next time I'm here. Sound good?"

"Sure."

She added more wine to her glass, and we headed to the living room. As soon as she sat down, she said, "I know why you're here. I'm guessing he's told you what happened."

I stared at her for a moment, trying to think of the right words to say.

"Come on, now," she said. "I'm too exhausted to dance around it, Gigi. It's not like you to stop by unannounced with pints of ice cream in the middle of the day."

I sat on the floor next to a pile of clothes and started bagging. "You're right, and yes, I know what happened, and I'm so … sorry."

"When did you find out about the miscarriage?"

"Foley told me this morning. We can talk about it if you want, or we don't have to talk about it at all. It's up to you. I just want you to know I'm here for you, for whatever you need."

"I appreciate it."

"And hey, I hope you're not upset with him for sharing the news with me. As far as I know, I'm the only person he's talked to about it, and even then, I had to pull it out of him. I knew something was wrong the minute I saw him today. He needed to tell someone, to express how he's feeling. I'm glad he told me."

She leaned back, yawning. "I'm not upset with him for sharing it with you. It wasn't fair of me to ask him not to tell anyone. It's something I've been thinking about a lot today. He's been so attentive to me over the last week, waiting on me from the moment he gets home until we go to bed. He's been taking care of Lark, helping her with homework, picking her up from school."

"He's a good guy."

"This morning, I realized I've been so involved in my own grief, I hadn't stopped to think about what he's going through. I didn't lose a baby—we both did." She took a sip of wine and added, "How did he seem to you when you saw him?"

"A bit irritable, and not like his usual self, but it's to be expected. He's worried about you."

"Lark is too, and I feel so bad about it. The last thing I want is for her to carry the burden of what's happened. She didn't know I was pregnant. No one did. When I had the miscarriage, we thought it was best to tell her, so she'd know why I haven't been acting like myself. Maybe we shouldn't have told her, though. I'm thinking it was a mistake."

"Why?"

"Every morning when we get her up for school, she says she feels unwell, and the truth is, she's fine. I think she's nervous to leave me."

"It's understandable."

"I know. I just sit here thinking about it all day, knowing she's at school and unable to concentrate because her mom is having a meltdown."

"You're doing the best you can, given the circumstances."

"Am I? Because it sure seems like I'm not."

I knotted the top of the bag of clothes and grabbed another bag. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"To you, yes. But it doesn't feel right. I don't want to stir up bad memories."

"I'll relive it either way. Talking about it doesn't make it better or worse. It doesn't change anything. And to be honest, I've made peace with my past … as much peace as I can, anyway."

She took a deep breath in and said, "I didn't know it was going to be this hard. When you went through it, I thought I knew what you were feeling. I thought I could empathize. I was so wrong. I know that now."

"You were a great support to me," I said.

Phoebe took another sip of wine and walked to the kitchen, pouring herself another helping of merlot. She returned to the living room, setting the glass down on a side table. Then she plopped down on the floor next to me.

"I'm glad you're here. It's made me want to get off my butt and do something for the first time since it happened." She grabbed a bag and a fistful of clothes and joined me in my efforts. "How did you do it? How did you get through the loss of a child—twice?"

"I just took it one?—"

She pressed her hands to her face, bursting into tears. "I'm sorry. I thought I could talk about it, but I'm not sure I … it just hurts too much, you know?"

I dropped the clothes I'd just scooped up and wrapped my arms around her. "You have no reason to be sorry. If you need to cry, cry. If you need to scream, scream. Let it out. Let it all out."

And she did, wailing for the next several minutes, while I sat there, holding her. All the emotions she'd been keeping at bay came flooding out. And though it pained me to see her in such a state, our shared experience allowed me to understand her in a way most could not.

Minutes ticked by, and as the tears subsided, she relaxed enough to revisit the subject once more. "I don't know how to get through what's happened. I've felt pain before, but nothing could have prepared me for losing a child."

"I think the best thing you can do is to be patient with yourself. Take it one day at a time."

She leaned against the sofa and said, "I'm trying."

"Like you, I experienced an anguish I'd never known when it happened. Both miscarriages came before Fallon was born. The only time I've suffered worse was when she too was taken from me."

"Taken from all of us. How did you get past it, to the place you're in now?"

"I didn't for a long time, and then one day, I decided I needed to acknowledge it and to honor the children I'd lost."

"How?"

"With the first, when I learned I was pregnant, I was overjoyed. I went out and shopped for the baby, buying neutral clothes, fitting for a boy or a girl. I bought toys, and bottles, and pacifiers. Then the miscarriage came. For the first few weeks, I tortured myself, spending most of my time in the nursery, surrounded by all the things I'd bought. I even slept in there a few times."

"I had no idea."

"I didn't want anyone to know. I thought it was better that way, but you know something? It wasn't. I should have leaned on the people who cared about me, people I trust. To honor the baby's life, I stuck everything I'd bought for the baby in a box. I dug a hole in the backyard, put the box in the hole, and I had my own private ceremony. It was the healing process I needed. It didn't make everything feel fine again, but it helped."

"It gave you a sense of closure."

"It did," I said.

"I'm not sure I'm there yet."

"It's been a week. You don't need to be there yet. You don't need to move on until you're ready."

"There's so much guilt attached to it all. Not moving on makes me feel like I'm not being a good wife or a good mother."

"It's okay to let your husband and even Lark look after you right now. You should lean on them, and you should lean on us, your family. It's what we do."

She nodded, then said, "Let's talk about something else. Tell me about you. What's going on in your life?"

I wanted to tell her I had set a wedding date, but now didn't seem like the right time. As I considered whether I should or not, I thought of my mother, who'd never been any good at keeping things quiet.

"Giovanni and I have picked a wedding date," I said.

A smile crossed her face, and she reached out, grabbing my hand and giving it a squeeze. "I'm so happy for you both. When's the big day?"

"August of next year."

"Where?"

"We're having the ceremony and the reception in Giovanni's sister's backyard."

"Ooh, at the family estate in New York. Perfect."

"I wasn't sure whether I should talk to you about it or not yet. But Mom knows, and I can't believe she hasn't said anything to you already."

"She's been away at a girls' weekend with her friends. If she wasn't gone, I bet I'd know by now. I'm glad you told me. It's nice to think about something positive to look forward to next year."

I tied a knot in the last bag. "Looks like we're all done here."

"I appreciate your help. Hey, I've been meaning to ask you about Mom's neighbor, the woman who died."

"Cordelia Bennett. Her sister came to see me this morning. She's hired me to investigate the murder. It's the reason I was at Foley's office today."

"It's strange, isn't it? The murder makes no sense to me at all."

"You're over at Mom's place a lot more than I am," I said. "Did you ever meet Cordelia?"

"I talked to her a few times. I always thought she was such a nice lady. Did you know her?"

"I met her once, and I'd see her outside in her garden from time to time, but she never made eye contact with me. From what I know about her, she liked to keep to herself."

Phoebe rolled a rubber band off her wrist, using it to pull her hair up into a loose bun. "If you've taken her case, there's something you should know."

"Go on."

She leaned in like she was getting ready to tell me a secret, even though we were the only two people in the house. "About a month ago, I saw Cordelia arguing with her next-door neighbor."