Wait for the Rain Read online

  She and Skylar had laughed at his audacity, but there was something in his self-assuredness that appealed to Daphne, a little voice that whispered that if such a dashingly handsome man was so taken by her, it had to be for a very good reason. Brian just knew they were meant to be together, and that made her think he had to be right, because no man had ever looked at her that way before.

  The introduction led to a drink, which indeed led to the predicted kiss, which led to a long-distance romance Daphne hadn’t expected—but which she couldn’t resist. She was completely swept off her feet by Brian’s conviction that she was the One, and before she knew it, she’d quit her hard-earned magazine job and moved to Columbus to be with him.

  Less than a year later they were married.

  Once the wedding and surrounding hoopla was over, Brian’s parents bestowed upon the happy couple a charming three-bedroom house in Grandview, which Daphne dutifully decorated with all the wedding presents and gift checks they’d received. It was fun playing house while she was still dizzy with the spell of newlywed bliss, still awed that a smart, handsome, successful man like Brian had chosen her, but once that domestic project was done, she had planned to find a new job in journalism and get the professional side of her life back on track. She’d worked hard at Northwestern and at her first venture into the working world, and she wasn’t about to throw away a promising career just because she now wore a diamond on her left ring finger.

  Nature, however, had other ideas.

  Little Emma joined the family soon thereafter, and in what seemed like a blink, it was official: Daphne was now a housewife in suburban Ohio—with a newborn to look after. Almost overnight, her world became a blur of marriage, homeownership, and motherhood. She was woefully unprepared for all of it. However, despite her tender age, she did her best, and as the months went by, she became less overwhelmed and more comfortable in the role, although at times she still felt like a child herself.

  Brian, who was five years older than Daphne, reveled in playing the part of provider to his young family, but early on it became clear that he had a very traditional vision of what that meant. While he was happy to care for Emma, he wasn’t interested in taking care of her. He loved his daughter, but he loved her changed, fed, and ready for bed. Getting her that way was, in his opinion, Daphne’s job. It wasn’t what Daphne had envisioned, but he was paying the bills, so who was she to argue? If he wanted to relax with a drink at the end of a long day at the office, who was she to hand him a crying baby? She didn’t mind, or she told herself she shouldn’t mind. This was her life now, and it was okay, because that’s what she’d signed up for, right?

  She’d focus on the journalism thing once Emma was a little older. There was plenty of time. Eventually she’d go back to work, maybe get her master’s, reboot her career, and everything would fall into place. Not quite in the order she’d pictured for herself, but it would fall into place nonetheless.

  At least that’s what she told herself.

  Then came the miscarriages, four in total. The doctors had no explanation, but as it became more and more apparent that Daphne wasn’t going to be able to carry another baby to term, she secretly feared she was being punished for not being a good parent, that her inability to bear another child was a direct result of a deep-seated remorse that she’d become a mother too soon. It was a shame laced with guilt that weighed heavily on her.

  Not that she didn’t love Emma. Of course she did. She adored her daughter and would do anything for her. After the miscarriages, however, she rededicated herself to motherhood, to doing everything in her power to ensure that her miracle baby had the storybook childhood she deserved.

  Meanwhile, Skylar stayed at the software company, paid her dues, and slowly but surely proved her mettle. Now she was leading a global sales team and traveled the world, while Daphne had lived on the same block in Grandview for nearly seventeen years. And had never written a single article.

  “Daphne, sweetheart, you there?” Carol waved a hand near Daphne’s face.

  Daphne blinked. “I’m sorry, I was daydreaming for a minute. What did you say?”

  “I said you must be excited to see your friends.”

  “I am. I can’t believe how long it’s been.” Daphne lightly touched her cheeks and wondered how much different she looked from when she was thirty. She’d seen the tiny crinkles that had begun to appear in the corner of her eyes when she smiled. Skylar and KC were sure to notice them too. She’d even bought some eye cream recently, although she hadn’t forced herself to use it yet. It was still sitting unopened on her bathroom counter, almost smugly, as if daring Daphne to admit defeat.

  “Why so long?” Carol asked.

  Daphne shifted in her seat. “After the last trip there was talk here and there about planning another one, but nothing ever seemed to get off the ground. Then KC moved to California, and with her and Skylar on opposite coasts and me in the middle, geography got in the way. Plus Emma’s activities take up most of my free time, which makes it hard for me to plan, so the years sort of flew by . . .”

  She knew she was making excuses.

  She’d been the one to resist getting together again.

  Since she and Brian had split up, Daphne had been particularly remiss in communicating with her friends. Outside of Carol, she hadn’t really spoken to anyone about the divorce, and what she’d shared had been limited at best. Talking about it only seemed to make her feel worse, so instead of working through her emotions, she’d stuffed them deep inside and focused on Emma, on her part-time job at the flower shop, on staying in shape, on cleaning the house.

  On anything other than how much energy she’d poured into building a life that in the end didn’t make her—or Brian—happy.

  On anything other than the implosion of the illusion she’d been projecting to the world—and to herself—for years.

  On anything other than coming to terms with reality.

  Carol made a swirly motion with her right index finger. “I know what you mean about the years just zipping by. I’m still wondering where my fifties went. But given the way you talk about these gals, I hope it’s not another ten years before you three get together again. Close friendships are like plants. They need tending to now and again, or they might dry up and blow away.”

  Daphne smiled at Carol, who at times felt like a mother figure to her—and nothing like her own mother. Daphne’s mother, without ever engaging her daughter in meaningful conversation about why her marriage had broken up, had made it clear that she felt Daphne should have done more to save it, that she should have fought more for Brian. She’d also had the sinking feeling that her mother didn’t think she was good enough for Brian. She’d never told anyone either of those things, and she wasn’t sure which one hurt more.

  When they reached the airport exit, Carol turned on her blinker and carefully navigated off the freeway, then slowed to a stop in front of departures. Before Daphne even unbuckled her seat belt, Carol jumped outside and popped the back hatch of the SUV, then pulled out Daphne’s suitcase. “Sweet bejesus, you weren’t kidding about overpacking,” Carol said with an exaggerated groan. “This thing weighs a ton! Did you pack Emma in here?”

  Daphne laughed. “Get back in the car. It’s freezing out here. And you’re wearing a nightgown!”

  Carol waved a dismissive hand in front of her, batting away a few snowflakes in the process. “Nonsense. I may not be the most stylish cow in the barn, but I know a thing or two about good old-fashioned manners. Now give me a hug good-bye before I have icicles hanging off my nose. If I skedaddle, I can make it home in time to take a hot shower and walk the pooch before Good Morning America comes on. See how exciting my suburban life is?”

  Daphne gave her neighbor a squeeze. “Your suburban life is wonderful. Thank you so much for the ride.”

  “When you get back, I’ll take you to Jeni’s for a double scoop of s
alty caramel, and you can fill me in on the details. It will be your belated birthday celebration.”

  Daphne winced. “Ugh, don’t remind me about my birthday.”

  Carol wiggled her index finger. “Darlin’, if I were turning forty again, I’d be jumping for joy. Now scat.” She shooed Daphne away, then climbed back into the cabin of the SUV and tucked her nightgown inside before shutting the door.

  Daphne waved good-bye as Carol drove away, then turned on her heel and headed into the airport, the heated air quickly enveloping her like a bear hug. She removed her wool coat and knitted hat, tucked the hat into her oversized tote bag, then rolled her suitcase toward the check-in counter. As she waited in line, she felt a stirring of gratitude for having a woman like Carol as a neighbor, especially since she and Brian had split up. Carol had been very good to her, always there to listen, never to prod or judge, unlike the chilly vibe she’d felt from several of the mothers at Emma’s school, a standoffishness that subtly suggested that being a single parent was somehow an assault on the cherished institution of the suburban nuclear family.

  She thought about Carol’s question, about why so much time had passed since she and Skylar and KC had gotten together. Daphne crinkled her nose. When was the last time she’d seen them? Had it really been the Chicago weekend ten years ago? It couldn’t be, could it? Skylar had extended several invitations over the years, but Daphne had always found a reason to refuse them.

  Not that she didn’t want to see her friends.

  Of course she did, right?

  She knew Skylar and KC were just as busy as she was, or at least she figured they were. That’s what she told herself. They were all so busy, their lives so different. She still considered them to be her best friends, but the truth was, she rarely talked to them anymore. Outside of Emma’s universe, for years now Daphne had barely talked much to anyone. With all the carpooling back and forth for all the activities, not to mention all the bake sales, fund-raisers, and PTA meetings over the years, there never seemed to be enough time to keep in touch with the outside world.

  She sighed. I’m still making excuses.

  It hadn’t happened overnight, but Daphne had gradually brought that isolation upon herself, reasoning that being a good mother meant putting her own interests aside and focusing on what Emma needed, even though that chapter of her life would eventually end.

  She looked up at the departures display and had an unsettling thought.

  Where am I going?

  Chapter Three

  “Hey, hot stuff! Glad to see you made it in one piece.” Skylar set her drink down and adjusted the designer sunglasses perched on top of her head, then stood up and held her arms open wide. “Now get over here and embrace me.”

  Her nerves fluttering even more than she expected them to, Daphne let go of her suitcase and hugged her friend, suddenly feeling like she might cry. She hadn’t realized until right then how much she’d missed having Skylar in her daily life, how much she missed being able to share her deepest secrets—no matter how silly or foolish—with a friend who never made her feel silly or foolish.

  Please still like me, she thought.

  Not appearing to notice the conflicting emotions coursing through Daphne’s psyche, Skylar returned her hug with affection and topped it off with a kiss on the cheek.

  “It’s really good to see you,” Skylar said as they released each other. “I can’t believe it’s been ten years. We have so much to catch up on, I don’t know how we’re going to fit it all into just a few days.”

  “I know. It’s hard to believe Chicago was that long ago already,” Daphne said. She felt her heart beating faster than it should be and willed it to slow down. Relax. You can do this. She’s your friend.

  “Can you believe we’re forty?” Skylar said, her green eyes expertly framed by black mascara. “I’d like to think we haven’t aged a day since our last trip together, but we both know I’d be lying.”

  Daphne smiled, grateful to see that Skylar’s straightforwardness hadn’t diminished. For an instant she thought about mentioning the eye cream on her bathroom counter but decided not to. Skylar looked older than when Daphne had last seen her, but she wasn’t any less pretty, at least in Daphne’s opinion. She did, however, look more confident. It was clear she was a woman who knew what she wanted—and usually got it. Why can’t I be like that? I used to be like that.

  Daphne clenched her hands into fists. Stop it. You’re here to have fun, don’t ruin this for yourself.

  She looked at Skylar’s head. “I’ve never seen your hair so straight and shiny. It’s like a shampoo commercial.” Daphne knew the comment was a bit shallow for the circumstances, but she couldn’t help herself. She didn’t want Skylar to know she was mentally walking on eggshells, so she overcompensated.

  Skylar smoothed a hand over her auburn locks. “That’s because I ironed it this morning. Just watch, in this humidity it’ll be a jungle in no time. I’ve decided that my new goal in life is to make enough money to have a stylist travel with me to blow out my hair every day.”

  Daphne laughed. “That’s your life goal?”

  Skylar shrugged. “Among others. I like to keep things interesting. How was your flight?”

  “Uneventful, which is just the way you want a flight to be, I suppose. I slept most of the first leg. How about yours?”

  Skylar rolled her eyes. “Ugh, a nightmare. I was in London last week and was supposed to fly here directly from there, but then at the last minute I had to go to Paris for a conference, then back to New York for another two days of meetings. I’m exhausted. You have no idea how much I need this vacation.”

  Daphne remembered that Carol had made a similar comment on the ride to the airport, how in her eyes Daphne’s life was hectic. What would she think of Skylar’s schedule? Ferrying around a teenager and working a few hours a week at a flower store seemed utterly mundane in comparison to the professional canvas Skylar was painting.

  Skylar resumed her seat on the barstool and patted the empty one next to her. “So enough chitchat. How are you doing? I haven’t seen you in the flesh since you and Brian split up.”

  Daphne sat down too. “I’m doing great, just really busy. You know how it is, there never seems to be enough hours in the day to fit everything in.” She spoke faster than she normally did, but in spite of that she was surprised at how nonchalant she sounded. When she and Skylar had been roommates, she’d never been able to hide her true feelings like this.

  Skylar sipped her drink. “I’m glad to hear it. I’m still getting used to the fact that things didn’t work out between you two. The way he approached you at that wine bar that first night . . . I guess . . . I really thought it was going to stick.”

  Daphne felt a stabbing sensation in her chest at the still-vivid memory of that first encounter with Brian, at what it represented, and suddenly she felt like she might cry. She wasn’t prepared to deal with her emotions right now.

  Please don’t cry. Don’t let her see what a mess you are.

  She forced a smile that she hoped seemed genuine. “I’m doing fine, really.”

  “How long has it been since you called it quits?” Skylar asked.

  “A little more than two years. The divorce took a while to get sorted out, but that’s final now.”

  “So you just . . . grew apart?” The look in Skylar’s eyes suggested she wanted to deepen the conversation. Both Skylar and KC had reached out by phone multiple times over the years, but Daphne almost always replied by e-mail, unwilling—or unable—to open up to her friends about her crumbling marriage, about the effect it was having on her. When she’d broken the news that she and Brian were parting ways, she’d made it clear that infidelity hadn’t played a role, but she hadn’t shared much more than that, not wanting to confess that they’d been unhappy for years.

  Now Skylar was knocking on the door once again, b
ut Daphne couldn’t bring herself to open it. She was too afraid her stylish, successful friend would feel sorry for her, and she felt sorry enough for herself.

  “Pretty much,” she said with a shrug. That’s all she’d really told anyone about the reason for the split. And it was true . . . in a sense. What Daphne hadn’t been able to articulate—or admit—was that the main reason she and Brian had drifted apart was because neither of them was ever going to be the person the other needed for the marriage to work.

  Brian was meant to be with a woman who was perfectly content being a wife and stay-at-home mom, one who dreamed about nothing beyond the white picket fence, one who didn’t need anything else to be completely fulfilled. While Daphne loved being a mother and did want the white picket fence, she also wanted more than that. She needed a partner who wanted to share the caregiver role with her, one who supported her ambitious side, one who encouraged her to pursue the budding career she’d put on hold to have Emma.

  It was a mismatch from the beginning, but at the time Daphne was too young, too naïve, too blind, to see it.

  And now it was too late.

  How had she wasted all those years, given up so much?

  For what?

  Her mind turned back to the cold, rainy Friday night when she and Brian had finally decided to pull the plug. Emma was sleeping over at a friend’s house, so Daphne had made a reservation for two at their favorite restaurant, hoping an evening out together might rekindle the spark between them, might help them rediscover the connection that had been gone for so long that she could no longer remember what it felt like. Not that she and Brian ever fought that much. They bickered on occasion as every couple does, but for the most part they got along fairly well. The fundamental difference between them was deeper than either of them wanted to admit, so almost without realizing what they were doing, they centered their relationship around the one thing they both cherished: their child. They continued to communicate about the day-to-day logistics of running the household, an approach that let them keep their family intact without acknowledging that something between them was dying.