THIRTY-SIX
our truth
ansley
It seemed fitting that Carter would find out the truth about Caroline and Sloane’s father in Peachtree Bluff, on that boardwalk where we shared our first kiss, against the backdrop of a pink-and-blue, cotton-candy sky. I never really expected, in my heart of hearts, that I could go a lifetime without Carter finding out who Caroline and Sloane’s biological father was. But I assumed, eventually, he would insist I tell him.
It never occurred to me that we would pass Jack on the dock in Peachtree Bluff, that he would be completely shocked by my Emerson-pregnant belly, and that, in that look he gave me, in the simplicity and nothingness of that moment, the secret we had kept for years and years would be revealed.
When Carter ran away from me that afternoon, I didn’t run after him. I knew better. Instead, I took the time to truly thank the man who had given me my family. Things were different between Jack and me that day. The heat between us had cooled some, as it tends to when separated by time and distance and a good dose of grown-up rationality. But I still felt nervous standing beside him, my face flushed and my heart beating a little too fast.
It was only as I walked away from Jack, as I felt that familiar piercing pain around my heart, that it occurred to me how long I had had that feeling. Part of me wanted to go back to him, but I had finally gotten to a place where I knew I had done the right thing. I had finally begun to feel like my life was playing out as it should. Sure, I would be happy for that moment with Jack, but that moment would only lead to months of heartache.
There was no question I had done the right thing. No question, that is, until I got back to the house two hours later.
When I found Carter, he was pacing the length of our bedroom. “Glad you two had time for a quick tryst for old times’ sake,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. “Carter, come on. Don’t be ridiculous.”
If I had thought I was nervous with Jack on the dock, it was nothing compared to now. It wasn’t that I thought Carter would leave me, but it was one of the first times in our relationship that I was truly at a loss for what to do. I didn’t know how to make him feel better or how to make this right. The indignant part of me wanted to yell, “You did this! It was your idea! You created this situation to begin with.” It made me realize I still carried anger at him for placing this huge burden onto me.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, placing my hands protectively over Emerson in my belly. Carter took a deep breath and said, “I have never felt so stupid in my entire life. Jack? Really, Ansley? The guy was Jack?”
I sighed. “So would it be better if it were our yard man, Carter? Maybe the plumber? Maybe one of my friends’ husbands? If it were someone you saw every week, would that make you feel better?” I crossed my arms, resting them on my barely protruding belly. “This was going to be terrible no matter what, Carter. Any way we did this, it was going to be awful. So, I’m sorry, but I thought Jack was the best choice. I trust him. He doesn’t want kids. It made sense.”
“You trust him?” Carter practically spat, still pacing.
I felt anger well in me. “So what did you think, Carter? What was your best-case scenario here? How was this ever going to be anything but awful?”
What he said next knocked the wind out of me. It is a moment I will never forget, one of those moments where a new truth washed over me so completely it was as if I’d been immersed in water. But, instead of feeling cleansed, I felt tainted and dirty. Carter stopped pacing, looked directly at me, and said, “I never thought you would do it.”
I sat there for a long moment, my mouth hanging open in shock. “You were adamant that we wouldn’t adopt. You didn’t want me to do IUI again. What choice did you leave me?”
He shrugged. “I figured we wouldn’t have kids.” He sighed. “I knew you weren’t with Jack because he didn’t want kids, so I knew I couldn’t say I didn’t want them. I figured you would realize there were no good options, and we would go along just the two of us, no harm, no foul.” It was like being punched in the gut. He started pacing again. “I swear, Ansley, for a long time, I actually thought Caroline might really be mine. I honestly did. Because I couldn’t imagine you would have had it in you to get pregnant by anyone else.” He laughed incredulously then.
I felt sick. It was one of those moments, one that I think most people have at least once during the course of a long marriage, where I realized I didn’t know this man at all. Or maybe it was myself I didn’t know. Because beneath my anger and shock at what he was saying was the question of what my motivation had been. I had ascribed the blame for this situation to Carter for all these years, and now I had to wonder if maybe all that blame should really be put on me. I was the one who went to Jack. I was the one who fell back in love with him. I was the one who risked my marriage for children. It was the first time I wondered if Carter and I could possibly make it through this. After all we had done to hurt each other, did we even stand a chance?
I put my head in my hands, trying to come to grips with what Carter had just said to me. Then I looked up. “So why did you ask me to do it again? A second time?”
He shrugged. “At that point I figured Caroline needed a sibling. We’d made it through once. We’d make it through again.”
“And now?” I asked, my throat thick with tears.
That was when I finally felt him soften. He sat down beside me. “And now we have another baby, one who is finally ours. I hate that Caroline and Sloane aren’t mine, Ansley. I really do. But I don’t love them any less because of it.”
“So it’s just me you love less,” I said, tears streaming down my cheeks.
He didn’t answer, which was not exactly the response I was looking for. Seeing the pained expression on his face broke something inside me. I knelt down in front of him and took his face in my hands. “I want you to hear me when I say this, Carter. You are the one. You have always been the one. Our lives may not have unraveled as perfectly as we had imagined, but I have never, not for one day, lost sight of the fact that you are the man I was meant to be with. There is no one—and I do mean no one—I would rather share this life with. You are my home, Carter. I never want to live without you.”
He took my hands and said, “Get up off the floor, Ansley. You’re too beautiful for the floor.” When he held me to him, I knew it was going to be OK.
I was still hugging him, resting my head on his shoulder, when Carter sighed and said, “Do you love him?” I could tell by the way he asked it, so quickly and breathily, that he was terrified to learn the answer.
I could have said, “A part of me will always love Jack. He gave us our girls.” The truth was that I had loved him all day, every day for most of my life, and I knew that would never end, no matter how much I wished it would. But, despite that fact, I loved Carter more. I loved my family more. I didn’t like lying to Carter. I never had. In some ways, I felt relieved that I didn’t have this huge secret weighing on me anymore. But I knew better than to push it. So I said, looking out over my husband’s shoulder, “Of course not, Carter. I only love you.”
It was another lie, maybe only the third one I had ever told my husband.
I pulled away from him then, and he said, “I’m so sorry, Ansley. I shouldn’t have said that to you. I never wanted to say that to you.”
“So it’s true then? You weren’t just angry? You really never expected me to get pregnant?”
I saw the pause in his expression, the way he took a moment to think before he answered, like I had only seconds before. He hugged me to him again and said, “Of course that’s not true. I was upset, so I took it out on you. This was the plan. You followed through. End of story.” But he couldn’t look me in the eye when he said it.
It was the second lie we had told each other in as many minutes. But even though I knew he wasn’t telling the truth, his little lie appeased me, just like I’m sure mine had him. Maybe it should have worried me, but it made me feel better. We were both willing to put aside a piece of our truth, a piece of ourselves, to make the other one feel better. And, every now and then, I believe, that’s what real love—the down-and-dirty-in-the-trenches kind—is all about.
I HAD NEVER BEEN so grateful for James. He was going to let us use his NetJet hours to take Sloane home the next day.
I remembered going to visit Sloane on post when Adam was first stationed in North Carolina, decorating her little blue town house and trying to make it feel as comfortable and restful as possible. She had scolded me when we passed the row of stately historic officers’ homes because I had said, “When do I get to decorate one of those for you?”
Adam had laughed, but later, Sloane had said, “I don’t ever want to make him feel like what he does or where we are isn’t good enough.”
I had only been joking, but I felt badly and hoped I hadn’t hurt Adam’s feelings. I truly hadn’t meant to. I admired how he was working his way up with patience and determination.
As a mea culpa, I had a set of antique linen hand towels embroidered for Sloane. Home is Where the Army Sends Us, they read. Where would home be for Sloane now?
Emerson, Caroline, and I packed her bags. We all knew it would be a sleepless night.
This was the moment we had all dreaded over the past months. It was the moment we had wanted to prepare Sloane for, the moment she simply would not accept as a possibility. I realized now it didn’t matter whether she had prepared herself. It would have been impossible to face no matter what.
Jack was making phone calls, sending emails, getting in touch with every politician, military figure, reporter, or investigator he had ever met. But there wasn’t anything he could do. There wasn’t anything anyone could do. Still, the fact that he was trying told me everything I would ever need to know.
I was leaning against the kitchen counter, and Caroline, Emerson, and I were all looking at each other, numb. “What do I do?” I asked.
“We take her home,” Caroline said. “We’ll get through this.”
In that moment, my phone rang. “Oh my God,” I said, my voice catching in my throat. “It’s Scott.”
I looked at the phone, frozen. “Well, for God’s sake, answer it,” Caroline said.
But it was Emerson who grabbed it. “Scott!” she said.
“Uh-huh. No! You’re kidding me. Uh-huh.”
We were looking at her, gesturing for her to fill us in, but she put her finger in her ear and waved us away. “Oh my God, Scott. I can’t believe it.”
Was it a good “I can’t believe it” or a bad one? There was no way to tell.
It felt like hours, but I’m sure the phone call was less than two minutes. Then I heard Sloane’s phone ring. Then Jack’s.
And before Emerson could relay to us what Scott had said, Sloane flew out, wide-eyed, holding her phone. “They found him!” she screamed in a state that could only be described as manic.
At first, I thought she meant his body. We all stood motionless, afraid of what was going to happen next. “They found him. They found Adam. He’s alive.” She crouched down on the floor and started sobbing into her knees. “He’s coming home. Adam is coming home!”
I wasn’t sure I believed her. But I looked at Emerson, and her nod through her own tears confirmed what Sloane had said.
It was as if a thousand pounds I had carried around for months was lifted off me. I felt myself slide down the wall until I was sitting on the floor, face in my hands, crying.
“Look at my texts,” she said. “I have a picture.”
“Oh my God!” Caroline screamed. “It’s him. It’s Adam!” She turned the phone to the side. “He’s so damn thin.”
“Of course he’s thin,” Sloane said. “He’s a freaking prisoner of war.”
She stood up with purpose. “Oh my God. Scott is my favorite family member!”
“Scott is my favorite family member too!” I exclaimed.
Sloane looked around. She started sobbing with pure, utter relief. “I have to get to DC right now,” she said. “They’re bringing him to Walter Reed, and I have to be there.”
“Back up,” Caroline said. “When will he be there?”
Sloane crossed her arms. “Well, they’re taking him to Landstuhl for triage and then—”
“What on earth is Landstuhl?” Emerson asked.
“The hospital in Germany,” Sloane said impatiently, raising her voice.
“Do you want to go there?” I asked, trying to be helpful.
Sloane sighed. “They offered to fly me there, but by the time I get there, he’ll probably be leaving. This makes the most sense.”
We all stood there, silent and processing. Was this actually happening?
No one moved. Sloane clapped her hands and said, “Now!”
Three hours later, Sloane was kissing the boys good-bye inside the jet, with her bag slung over her shoulder. “Be so good for Gransley,” she said. Then she grinned. “I’m going to get Daddy.”
There was a part of me that was worried she was meeting Adam at the hospital and a part of me that wondered what that meant for him, for my daughter, and for their future. Even still, those might have been the sweetest words I had ever heard.