Sara
His Wife
1990

IF I HAD TOLD ANYONE ABOUT MY LIFE, THEY WOULD HAVE thought I was out of my mind. I was married to a man I didn’t love, expecting the baby of a man who was my soul mate—although not my lover; not since that one time—and I was nurturing a friendship with that man’s barely functional wife. Why? Because I felt his love for me even though he could promise me nothing more than that. Because every time I was in the Free Seekers Chapel with him on Sundays, I still felt lifted up by the space, by the sound of his voice, by the way people responded to him. Because there was an honesty between us we couldn’t have with anyone else. And because I made a decision to appreciate the richness of what he could give me instead of focusing on the limitations. Yet the longing would always be there. Always.

I worked out a schedule with Jamie to check on Laurel, bringing lunch over to the Sea Tender once a week, making sure she was at least out of bed. By then, Laurel had started drinking. Jamie wasn’t sure how bad it had gotten. I hadn’t actually witnessed her drinking, but I’d seen empty wine-cooler bottles in the kitchen.

“It’s Marcus’s influence,” Jamie said. Marcus had moved out of the Sea Tender and now lived next door. “I appreciate that he’s keeping an eye on her, but I think he brings booze over and encourages her to drink with him.”

I was four months along when I decided it was time to tell Laurel about my pregnancy. It was a sparkling November afternoon, and we ate sandwiches I brought to the Sea Tender—or rather, I ate a sandwich, while Laurel picked at hers. Laurel didn’t seem quite as down as she usually did, though, and I was amazed when she agreed to join me for a walk on the beach.

“Bare feet in November!” I said as we walked near the water’s edge. “I’m never going back to Michigan.”

“Good,” Laurel said. “I’d hate for you to leave.”

I looked out to the horizon. When Laurel said things like that, I felt the depth of my deception. What had happened to my self-respect? My integrity?

“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” I said when I got my emotions under control, “but things are about to change.” I rested my hand on my stomach. “I wanted to tell you before it became obvious,” I said.

“You’re pregnant?”

I nodded. “Due in May.”

“Congratulations!” Laurel said. “Is Steve excited?”

I laughed. “Oh, you know Steve. Always cool, calm and collected.” I had a sudden, almost irresistible urge to tell Laurel the baby was Jamie’s. To finally bring this thing to a head. But I couldn’t do that to him. I just couldn’t.

I couldn’t even do it to Laurel.