chapter thirty-five

JOSIE

It is December 22, what would have been Daniel’s fortieth birthday, and I am waiting at the bar at Blue Ridge Grill for Meredith. We have yet to communicate since New York, except to email about plans for tonight, which I spearheaded. At eight o’clock, we will be joined for dinner by our parents, along with Gabe, Nolan, and Harper, but we agreed that the two of us need to talk first and find a way to put aside our differences, at least for the evening.

Determined not to be late, one of Meredith’s many pet peeves, I am actually a rare fifteen minutes early, and use the time to mentally prepare for what’s to come. Gabe and I plan to tell everyone our news tonight—that we are now eight weeks pregnant. But I start to second-guess myself, worrying that Meredith will accuse me of making this emotional anniversary about myself. It might be a fair point, but for the fact that this has been my only chance to see her—and I fear that it’s not going to happen again, at least not anytime soon.

Sitting at the corner of the bar, nursing a club soda with a lime, I keep my eye on the door, spotting my sister the instant she walks in. She sees me right away, too, and acknowledges me with a little wave. I take a deep breath and pray for the best.

“Hi,” I say as she approaches me. Her expression is serious, but not angry, and I take this as a good sign.

“Hi,” she says, slowly unbuttoning and removing her navy peacoat, then hanging it on the back of the stool. She sits, crosses her legs, then crosses them the other way.

“I was going to order you a drink,” I say as the bartender comes to take her order. “But I wasn’t sure what you wanted.”

She tells me that’s okay, giving him a perfunctory smile and ordering a house cabernet.

“We have two,” he says, sliding her the cocktail menu on an iPad.

She pushes it back and says, “You choose, please.”

Only then does she turn to look at me directly. “So,” she says tersely. “How are you, Josie?”

“I’m doing okay,” I say, feeling doubly nauseated—both from morning sickness that lasts all day and from the mere thought of the evening that stretches ahead. “And you?”

She sighs again, but says she’s fine, too.

“Are you back at work?” I ask her.

She shakes her head. “No. I resigned yesterday, actually.”

“Whoa,” I say. “Congratulations.”

I can tell it was the right thing to say, as she gives me a genuine smile. “Thank you. It was long overdue.”

“Have you thought about what you want to do next?” I ask, thinking that my sister could do just about anything she wanted.

“Not yet,” she says. “I’ll think about that in the new year….For now, I just want to focus on Harper and the holidays.”

I nod, smile, and say, “How is Harper?”

“She’s great,” Meredith says, her expression changing, softening. “She’s so excited for Santa. I get a revised list for him every morning.”

“I really miss her.”

“She misses you, too. A lot.”

“May I see her? I was thinking I could take her ice skating at the St. Regis?”

Meredith nods as the bartender brings her wine. “That would be really nice….She’d love that.”

I take a deep breath. “So about tonight,” I say, my voice rising nervously. “I wanted to talk to you before everyone else got here….”

Meredith takes her first sip of wine, waiting.

“I wanted to talk about what happened in New York,” I continue. “Our dinner with Sophie…our fight. All of it.”

“Okay,” she says, taking another sip. Her face is open, but she clearly isn’t going to make this easy for me, either.

“Did you tell Mom?” I ask.

“No,” she says, shaking her head.

“No, you didn’t tell her about Sophie? Or no, you didn’t tell her about our fight?”

“No to both,” she says.

I nod, resisting the slight urge to subtly point out that she’s doing the same thing that Nolan and I did. Trying to spare someone she loves.

Meredith must read me, because she says, “It’s only been a few weeks…I’m still digesting everything.”

“Right,” I say, understanding her point, yet also seeing how easily a few weeks can turn into a few years.

She doesn’t respond, staring into space, then suddenly looks over at my glass. “What are you drinking?” she asks. “Vodka?”

I swallow, then tell her, “No. It’s just a club soda.”

She raises her brows and looks at me. “What, are you pregnant?”

I can hardly fathom a less satisfying, more anticlimactic way to convey my news, but the last thing I’m going to do right now is lie to my sister. So I nod and tell her yes, I’m pregnant.

She laughs, then immediately realizes that I’m serious.

“Really?” she says.

“Really,” I say, my heart racing. “Eight weeks.”

“With Pete?” she asks.

I shake my head and say, “No. With Gabe.”

“Gabe?”

“Yeah,” I tell her. “We did IUI last month…and got lucky.”

I watch her process the news, her expression going from shocked to some version of happy. She smiles and leans over to give me a hug, whispering her congratulations.

“Yeah,” I say. “We’re really excited…and scared….We’re not taking this lightly at all….It’s not a whim, Meredith.”

She nods and says she knows. I’m not sure she’s convinced, though, so I keep talking, trying to explain my heart to the person who most often misunderstands it.

“For years, I couldn’t get over Will and the mistakes I made in that relationship. I wasn’t truthful with him…just like I wasn’t truthful with you.”

She stares at me, intently listening.

“I really, really wish I had talked to you sooner,” I finish.

“Yeah,” she says sadly. “I know. And I believe you.”

Her words give me the strength to continue. “If I could go back, I would do things differently. But I can’t….None of us can….All we can do is move forward. And that’s what I’m trying to do. I want to be a mother. I know it won’t be easy, but I’m going to give it my all. Which is why I chose Gabe….He’s been a wonderful, true friend to me. He always, always has my back…and I think those qualities, that loyalty, will make him an amazing father.” I make myself stop rambling.

“I’m happy for you,” Meredith says. “And I think you chose right.”

This time, I can tell she means it. “Thank you,” I say. “Your opinion means so much to me.” I smile, then add, “But I thought you didn’t like Gabe?”

“Well…he’s not historically my favorite.” She pauses, then smiles. “But then again…neither are you.”

“Touché,” I say, touching my glass to hers.

We grin at each other for a beat, then both glance away. Several long seconds pass before I break our silence, blurting out an apology, trying not to come unhinged. “Meredith, I’m sorry. I’m really, truly, deeply sorry.”

She blinks, then bites her lip, appearing to be on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry for drinking too much that night. For not telling you the truth as soon as I suspected it. For not being a better sister.”

With this last statement, she looks at me directly in the eye, then says—for the first time ever, or at least the first time in my memory—“I’m sorry, too.”

“Really?” I say, unable to hide my shock.

“Yes. Really,” she says. “That night of the accident…remember how we fought?”

I nod and say yes, of course I remember. We fought over a necklace I wanted to borrow from her.

“I should have just given it to you,” she says.

I can tell where she’s going with this, and I shake my head and tell her it wouldn’t have made a difference.

“Maybe not. But maybe it would have,” she says. “Maybe you would have called me to come get you…maybe you wouldn’t have gotten quite so drunk…You tend to drink more when you’re pissed off….” Her voice quivers.

I shake my head, adamant. “No. That wasn’t it. You and your cheap, ugly necklace had nothing to do with anything….” I say, making a joke to keep her from crying.

“Yes, but neither did you and Nolan…You couldn’t have possibly known what would happen….I’m sorry I said you were responsible for Daniel’s death….You weren’t. That was cruel. And it’s not true.”

I nod, my heart feeling healed, if not absolved. “What about Nolan?” I ask her. “Did you make up?”

“We’re working on it,” she says. “We’re trying…but I just don’t know….” Her voice trails off as she shakes her head, looking so, so sad.

“Because of our lie?” I ask.

“Because of a lot of things. But mostly because I’m not sure we are right for each other….But we’re going to try to work things out. Really try. For Harper’s sake. For everyone’s sake.”

I nod, feeling sure she is now referring to our whole family. I suddenly wonder if that hasn’t been part of her burden and resentment over the years. The feeling that she is somehow responsible for keeping us all together.

“I hope you can, Meredith…but if you can’t? That’s okay, too….”

She nods, looking grateful. Bolstered by the feeling that for once, I might be the stronger sister, I keep going. “And no matter what happens,” I say, “you chose right, too. You still chose the right father for your child.”

I turn on my stool and put my arms around her, waiting for her to pull away, relieved when she doesn’t. Instead, she raises her head and looks at me with wide eyes. “I know I did, Josie,” she says. “Thank you.”

We change the subject after that, to lighter topics, pretending that nothing happened, the way we often do after even our biggest rifts. Maybe it’s a form of denial. Maybe it’s the best way when two people are as different as Meredith and I are. Then again, maybe it’s just our odd way of expressing love and forgiveness, which are often one and the same.

As the others arrive, and we are seated—at the same round table by the fireplace where we sat with Daniel and Sophie fifteen years before, to the very hour—I feel certain that this last theory is the correct one. That it all comes down to love. After all, it was love for Daniel that brought Nolan and Meredith together, and love that is making them try again. It is love for my family that makes me want to be a mother. And Gabe’s love that has given me the courage to make it happen.

After we order, and our waiter pours champagne for everyone but my dad, Harper, and me, we raise our glasses and toast the memory of Daniel. We share stories about our brother, son, friend. We cry and laugh and cry, until at one point, Meredith puts her hand on mine and whispers, “Go on. Tell them your news….”

And so I do, with Gabe’s help, feeling as scared as ever about the uncertain journey ahead, but also at peace. I know by now that you can’t control your life, no matter how hard you try. That inevitably people leave and disappoint and die. But there is one constant, one thing you can always count on: that not only does love come first, but in the end, it is the only thing that remains.