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Mother of All Secrets(46)

Author:Kathleen M. Willett

“Unfortunately, no. My parents—well actually, my dad and stepmom, my mom died when I was young—they live in California, but they’re not in the best shape. They’re on the older side, and my dad isn’t well. I guess that’s also why what’s happening with Isabel is even more upsetting for me. I don’t have a lot of people up here, and I know none of us have known each other all that long, but Isabel and I were just starting to get close. And then out of nowhere, she’s just—gone. I wonder if there was something I could have done. But it’s hard to even think about that when it’s so unclear what’s happened to her.” She sipped her wine again and looked down.

So she wasn’t trying to hide her close relationship with Isabel. On the contrary, she was the one to bring it up.

“For sure. It’s been upsetting for me, too,” I assured her. “I didn’t necessarily know her super well, but I just feel so awful that wherever she is, she isn’t with Naomi. I keep thinking about if that were Clara. I know that’s a little selfish, to automatically go to ‘What if it were me,’ but it just makes me want to do anything I can to help. And, um, also, my mom got cancer and died when I was pregnant,” I blurted out. “So I can kind of relate to feeling like—well, you know, just not having family around and—” I was rambling and had no idea why I’d felt the need to tell her I was also a member of the dead mom club, as if it were some coveted, exclusive group. Usually I avoided bringing it up at all costs. It had come flying out of me, unexpectedly.

“Jenn, that’s terrible. I had no idea.” Vanessa’s face was warm and open, eyes filled with genuine sympathy.

“Yeah. Thanks. This isn’t how I imagined new motherhood, you know? I always pictured her being around, helping me with the baby, showing me what to do. I miss her so much.” I was opening up to Vanessa more than I’d confided in anyone since Clara was born. I wasn’t sure why.

“I’m so sorry. This isn’t how I had always imagined it, either, for what it’s worth.”

I felt like this was my opportunity to ask. She had shared, I had shared. She had again alluded to her split. We were bonding. I pushed it a bit further.

I took a breath and a swallow of wine. Liquid courage. “Can I ask? What happened with Phoebe’s dad?”

She nodded. “Well. It’s a long story, but let’s just say he wasn’t who I thought he was, and I’m not who he thought I was, either. That’s for sure.” Her tone changed a bit; she sounded strangely proud. “He wasn’t interested in being Phoebe’s dad, and she’s better off without him, in my opinion.” For once, I mustered restraint and refrained from asking her to be more specific, though I was disappointed in how vague her answer had been.

She reached over and tickled Phoebe’s belly, immediately eliciting a big smile and squeaky, gurgly laugh from her. She bent all the way down and nuzzled her cheek. “It’s his loss, obviously. Who couldn’t love this girl? But we’re okay. I will be all the parent she needs.” As she and Phoebe smiled at each other, I noticed how they both had brow lines that sloped upward, giving an earnest, inquisitive quality to their faces. They both had a dimple that only appeared when they smiled really deeply. They had the same warm green eyes.

“What about you?” she asked. “How are things with your husband?”

“A little bumpy, to be honest with you,” I said, way too quickly. “He tries to be helpful, but he hasn’t had that much time to bond with her yet, because he’s always at work. We’ve been . . . a bit off, since Clara was born.” I felt guilty whining about him after what Selena had said to me yesterday, and knew that my problems with Tim were trivial, especially when Vanessa was doing this all on her own. After all, a well-meaning, albeit slightly clueless, partner was still more beneficial than no partner at all. But I also didn’t want to be disingenuous with her. Maybe it was the wine, but I felt like we were truly connecting. And opening up felt good. Though I certainly wasn’t going to mention the piece about Tim contacting Isabel. It was far too mortifying.

“Just curious,” I continued, “since we’re on the subject of husbands”—smooth, Jenn—“did Isabel ever complain to you about Connor? He didn’t seem very involved, when we were over there the other day. I’m not saying he has anything to do with her disappearance, but—I don’t know. I got a bad vibe, to be honest. Right?”

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