(Find previous chapters and a description of the project here.)

It is Monday. She is at her grief support group. She stopped coming to these group sessions three months ago. Today though, she needs to be here. It is preparatory.

               She sits with her back straight, both feet flat on the floor, hands on her thighs. There is hot coffee on the table near the wall, and pastries. She doesn’t partake. She waits quietly, watching as people file in the door. Some of them she recognizes, and she smiles and nods as they acknowledge her. Others are new. Their grief is fresh. They put it on display. It doesn’t have the frayed edges of hers. It is still raw.

               The group leader, Margaret, comes in and takes a seat. She wastes no time getting started. “Okay, everybody. Let’s get started. It’s 10:00.” She glances at her watch. “It’s 10:02 actually.” She looks around the room, smiling. “Did everybody get a chance to grab a cup? We have some lovely pastries today, thanks to Janice.”

               Janice smiles, dipping her head as if in a little bow. She shrinks in on herself a bit, embarrassed by the attention. Janice lost her son about six months ago. He had a heart condition. He was only fourteen.  

“Some of you might be happy to see Rebecca back today,” Margaret says. “And some of you have never met Rebecca before,” she adds.

Rebecca lowers her eyes to avoid being seen. No one says anything and this feels like a rejection.

“We have a new member joining today,” Margaret continues. “Sam?” she inquires.

Sam is an older man. He raises his hand when Margaret calls his name. He clears his throat, before saying in a gravelly voice, “Thanks. Happy…happy to be here.”

“Okay,” Margaret says, crossing one leg over the other. “Let’s start by opening up the floor to anyone who wants to share something about this last week.”

Rebecca needs to share more than a little about the last week, but she doesn’t want to talk first.

Maggie raises her hand, and Margaret nods to her. Maggie is a widow too, though she’s about 20 years older than Rebecca. Her husband had cancer. He’s been gone for about a year. He died the same day of May that Alan did, albeit in a different year. “I’ve been going through Roger’s things,” she starts, but she cracks apart before she can finish. Lanie—she lost a baby to SIDS—puts her hand on Maggie’s shoulder. Rebecca watches as Maggie reaches up to touch Lanie’s hand. “I didn’t have the help I needed to do it before. But, Lanie came to help, so that made it easier. My daughter flew in from Boston too.” She talks through the tears streaking from her eyes. “It was a good step, but it was hard.”

Head nodding all around the room. They all know how hard this is. Rebecca feels her chin quivering.

“Thank you, Maggie,” Margaret says, almost a whisper. She waits, looking around the room from face to face. “Who else has something from this week?”

One of the men she doesn’t know raises a hand, but doesn’t wait for Margaret to invite him to talk. “I was taking a walk on Friday and I went past the place were Alice and I used to sit in the park. We used to walk to that bench, sit and talk for a bit, then walk back home. I haven’t walked by that bench since she passed, but on Friday, I went there and sat down. I thought about her a lot while I was there.”

He trails off. His thoughts about Alice are still too painful. Rebecca recognizes the way he shuts down after sharing. She has done this herself plenty of times.

Margaret nods approvingly. “Thank you, Bert,” she says, again, so softly that it barely carries through the room. She waits. She waits a long time, but no one is saying anything.

“Well…” Margaret says, ready to move on with the next portion of the group session, but Rebecca raises her hand and then Margaret gives over her full attention. “Yes, Rebecca. Go ahead.”

“I got married this week,” she says. It feels like a confession, and in some ways, she supposes it is. She lowers he eyes again. “And, I’m having a baby.”

When she looks up at the room, she expects to see confusion and judgment, but she just sees smiles. Shy, uncertain smiles.

“Those are big changes. Big steps forward. Is that why you came back today?” Margaret asks.

Rebecca nods. “It feels like a betrayal,” she says. “He hung his clothes in Alan’s part of the closet after the wedding on Saturday, and…” She crumbles. “And I just keep thinking, what is Alan thinking of me? Which doesn’t make any sense at all, because Alan isn’t thinking of me. Alan is dead and he’s not concerned about any of this anymore. But Jesse…” She pauses to wipe away a tear. “Jesse is here and he’s real, and I really do love him. It’s different, of course, but I love him.”

Margaret nods. She looks around the room and she sees that other people are crying too. People always cry here. It’s the safest place to do it. Nobody needs be strong here. They are all allowed to be broken.

“I got remarried after my first husband died,” Janice says. Rebecca is surprised by this. Janice has never talked about a first husband before. “I don’t like to talk about it much, but he was in a car accident, just like your Alan.” Rebecca’s eyes are glued to Janice’s. She searches the other woman for some sort of wisdom, permission, affirmation. “But then I met Mike, and we got married. And we had a baby.” Janice is smiling now, an understanding smile. “I felt a little bit of what you’re feeling too, but I knew, if Gary could see me, that he would want me to be happy.”

“What if I don’t deserve that?” Rebecca asks, wiping her eyes again.

“Why don’t you deserve to be happy?” Margaret asks.

“Because Jesse is my friend from when I was in college. He officiated our wedding. He’s my pastor! It’s not supposed to be like this between us. Other people don’t like it.”

“Why does it matter what people think?” Margaret probes. This is how she helps them unpack their grief. She subtly attacks the lies they tell themselves.

“I’m going to cost him his job,” she explains. “He’s not supposed to…be with me. There’s a rule about it.”

She watches everyone drop their eyes. It’s not out of judgement; they just don’t know what to say. She looks to Margaret for help, but Margaret is only staring at her, waiting for her to continue. She hesitates. There is more to say but she feels like she will come apart if she says it. “I want forgiveness, but I don’t think they’re going to give it to me. I think we’re going to get chased out of the church. I don’t know what to do. It’s the only church I’ve ever known.”

Margaret is nodding again. “What does your husband think?”

She thinks carefully before she answers. “He says we can make this work, but I don’t think he really believes it. For all his belief in grace and forgiveness, I think he rarely gets to experience it. People hold him to a higher standard, like he’s better than the rest of humanity because of his calling. But that’s just not true. He’s a person just like the rest of us. He has feelings and desires and hopes just like me. He wouldn’t even be in this situation if it weren’t for me, and I can’t undo what I did. This child is going to ruin him.”

Margaret waits for more. She glances around the room. “How can Rebecca work through these feelings? What’s worked for someone else?”

Lanie raises a hand. “It sounds like you’re trying to take too much of the blame,” she says. “When I lost Julia, I used to blame myself all the time. All the time,” she repeats. “I shouldn’t have put her in that fleece sleeper. I should have fed her right before putting her down. I shouldn’t have kept her up later than normal. I should have checked on her when she cried, instead of letting her self-soothe.” Lanie pauses. Rebecca is glad to have the attention off herself. “But none of those things were why Julia died. Nobody knows why SIDS happens, but it’s not my fault.”

“Thank you, Lanie,” Margaret says. She puts her focus back on Rebecca. “What do you think? Are you blaming yourself too much for what’s happened?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” she says, holding back tears. “All I know is, if it weren’t for me, this wouldn’t be happening.”

“But doesn’t it take two people to make a baby? Don’t two people have to agree to marry? Why is all the blame on you?”

She wants this to be true, but she just can’t get there. “Because I used him, Margaret. I used him when I was shattered, to help ease the loneliness.” The woman next to her hands her a tissue. She nods in thanks and dabs at her eyes.

“Well, if he kept coming back to you, then he was getting something he needed from the relationship,” Margaret reasons. She sits back in her chair. “I’m hearing two threads.” She pauses. “Your love for Jesse brings up feelings of guilt for two reasons: because you still love Alan, and because you’ve been told this is wrong. Am I right?”

Rebecca nods, dabs her eyes again. “I feel like I’m stuck in an endless loop. Alan would want me to be happy, but moving on would make Alan sad. Jesse makes me happy, but this relationship is going to hurt him when everyone finds out.”

The woman next to her hands her another tissue. She accepts this one and uses it to blow her nose.

“Oh, I see,” Margaret says. “So this new marriage is not really public knowledge yet.” Rebecca nods. “This adds a new dimension to what you’re feeling, and could be contributing to the guilt you feel. You imagine that you won’t receive any acceptance, but you don’t know for sure.” Rebecca cries, but Margaret moves on. “Has anyone else been stuck in an endless loop?” Margaret asks the group.

Janice raises her hand. “I still get stuck in a loop like that, too. I’m glad that I got to be a mom to Charlie, even though he was only here with me for short time, but it’s not fair that I had to be his mom either. Why did it happen to me? But then again, Charlie was such a great kid. I would have been happy to have him for any amount of time.”

The session goes on. Rebecca listens, but doesn’t say any more about her struggles. The session ends. She heads to the bathroom to check her makeup. She has a meeting with a client over lunch and she doesn’t want to look like a raccoon. She locks the door, moves to the sink, splashes water on her face, dries her eyes again. She takes her mascara from her purse, applies it to her lashes. She slides the wand of her lip gloss over her lips. She tucks these items back into her purse.

There is a full-length mirror on the wall beside her. She takes in her reflection. She is wearing maternity pants today, newly purchased yesterday afternoon. She is shocked by how pregnant she already looks. She rubs her hand over her protruding abdomen. She won’t be hiding this much longer, no matter how loose her shirts are. She turns, staring at herself. From the front, she can still hide. Her belly doesn’t seem so big.

Her phone is ringing. She recognizes the number, but she’s not sure who it is. She slides her finger across the screen to answer. “Hello?”

“Is this Rebecca?” a man asks.

She is afraid to answer, feeling dread pooling in her gut. “Yes,” she answers hesitantly.

“This is Harry Abbot. I was hoping I could have a few minutes of your time.”

She disconnects the call before she can fully recognize what she’s doing. She nearly drops her bag to the ground. She reaches out a hand, steadying herself against the wall.

Her phone is ringing again. She almost lets it go to voicemail. “Harry!” she answers cheerily. “Sorry about that. I lost you.”

“Oh, that’s not a problem, Rebecca,” he says, chuckling. “Technology, right?”

“Right,” she laughs as if this is funny.

“Rebecca, I’m calling because I’ve been given some information about pastor Jesse and his relationship with you. I’d like for us to sit down and have a talk about some things. Are you free later this week?”

“Oh!” she exclaims. “Well, it depends on when you’d want to meet. I’m rather booked up, I’m afraid.” This is a bald lie. She had nothing scheduled except fretting and pacing and staring at the ceiling when she’s supposed to be asleep.

“Well, actually, if you could come to our next committee meeting, this Thursday at 6 pm, I think it would be very beneficial.” He pauses. “Are you aware of what people have accused you of?”

“No,” she says, gulping down her fear. “Wha…what did you hear?”

“Well, to put it very frankly, Ms. Laudner, the accusation was that you and pastor Jesse eloped because he…well, because you’re pregnant.”

She is Ms. Laudner now, not Rebecca. It makes the inquiry stiff and formal. His voice now lacks the charm it had a moment before. She almost hangs up the phone again.

“Ms. Laudner, are you there?” Harry asks.

“Yes,” she answers, too forcefully. “Yes, I’m here. Yes, I can come to your meeting this Thursday.”

“Thank you for taking this matter seriously, Rebecca. I look forward to clearing up this misunderstanding.” He pauses, allowing her space for a reply, but she doesn’t say anything. “Well, I won’t keep you. I’ll talk to you on Thursday.”

“Bye, Harry,” she says numbly.

“Bye, now.” He disconnects the call.

She stands in the bathroom for a long time before she opens her messages. She texts Jesse. Harry wants me to come to his next committee meeting.

He is slow to reply. Yeah. He called me too.