Roz Fox - The Baby Album

The kettle whistled, and soon the spicy scent of ginger filled the room. Frowning slightly, Brenda set steaming mugs on two place mats. Sitting, she motioned for Casey to take the chair opposite. “Is he unemployed? Your husband?” She gently squeezed Casey’s hand.

Casey could have resisted anything but genuine sympathy. Her shoulders slumped. “Our divorce is pending. It’ll be final in a couple of weeks. I didn’t mention that in my interview, either.” She angled her chin defiantly. “I wasn’t trying to be sneaky. I didn’t think that part was relevant. It’s just…been a horrid few weeks.”

“I’m sure. Do you want to talk about it?”

Casey hesitated, but Brenda coaxed her story out. In some ways, it was a relief to finally confide in someone.

“I can’t believe he walked out the same day you announced your pregnancy. What a creep. No wonder you’ve developed morning sickness.”

“I’ll understand if you tell Wyatt about this. After all, you three are friends. It’ll be obvious, anyway…before long. I suppose it was foolish to hide the truth until I could prove myself and put enough money aside to have my baby. I think I’m being measured against some invisible standard Wyatt’s not sharing with me.”

“Angela,” Brenda said crisply, wrapping both hands around her mug. “She’s the invisible standard, I’m sure. You’re not the only one who’s held things back. Wyatt has, too.”

“Is Angela the one who took the gorgeous pictures in the waiting room? I don’t get it, though. At my interview he said I was his first employee.”

“Angela was Wyatt’s wife and business partner. She was never an employee. They got married right out of university.”

“Oh, wow!” This information seemed incredible to Casey.

Brenda held up a hand. “Wait. We need to talk, but let me check on the boys. They’re being too quiet.”

Casey sat contemplating this new information until she returned.

“Did she, uh, did Angela dump him?” Casey asked. Dane’s defection was still raw, so she could easily imagine how upset Wyatt would be if the same thing had happened to him. It would also explain why he hadn’t been able to face working for a year.

Brenda grimaced. “Yesterday, I spoke out of turn on the phone, and I felt guilty all night. Wyatt needs to tell you about Angela himself. But I truly doubt he will. And if I were you, I’d want the scoop.”

“I do, if it helps me understand him. That’s if he even speaks to me again after finding out that I didn’t tell him I’m going to have a baby in eight months.”

“It’s better that you didn’t. He probably wouldn’t have hired you.” Brenda took a deep breath. “Angela didn’t leave him. She died last year—and she was pregnant.”

“Oh, no! How awful.”

“It was very sad. They waited to start a family until Angela thought the studio was solvent. Losing her and the baby together was a double tragedy for Wyatt. All his friends are delighted to see he’s getting back to work.”

“How did she die?”

Brenda picked up her cup, then set it down. “I should’ve kept my mouth shut and let Wyatt tell you when he was ready. But if I don’t, someone else will think you know, and they’ll bring up Angela’s name.”

“If his old clients know the story, you’re probably right. If he has me stay, somebody’s bound to mention her, especially if she took their previous photographs.”

“Right. Okay, so Wyatt had always wanted a family. Angela…not so much. She was very focused on her career. She once thought she might be pregnant, but it turned out to be a false positive. A group of us women met regularly for lunch and in May last year she told us she wasn’t seeing a doctor again. She wanted to do a home test instead. Wyatt was bouncing-off-the-walls happy when that test was positive. He wanted her to cut back her work schedule immediately.”

Casey sipped her tea, unconsciously pressing a hand to her stomach. She didn’t know what was coming, but it obviously hadn’t ended well.

“Wyatt also wanted Angela to see a doctor right away. So did I. They’d still need to confirm the pregnancy and start her prenatal vitamins if nothing else, given how she skipped meals and worked really long hours. But it was almost June, peak wedding season. Angela sometimes had two weddings booked a day. And she could be stubborn. She claimed she felt fine, so she put off making an appointment.”

“What happened?” Casey pressed.

“Angela told Wyatt to get off her back, that she’d see the doctor in July. He stopped hounding her, but still offered to adjust his schedule to help her. Angela refused. She insisted they both keep to their respective schedules so they’d have more money to set up a nursery with designer furniture. She had a difficult childhood, so it was a big deal to her to be able to afford the best. And Wyatt would’ve given her the moon if she’d asked for it.”

“I’ve sensed that about him—that he’s generous.”

“He definitely is. And he took on more of the in-studio work. By mid-June Angela had lost weight, and was acting really crabby. Wyatt started insisting she see the doctor. To keep him from harping on it, she finally called, but couldn’t get in until the next day. About then, we women convinced her to take a couple of hours off and meet us for lunch. She finally relented. But she forgot she had a rural wedding booked. Because the wedding couple planned to arrive at their ceremony in a hay wagon, Angela asked Wyatt to take the job. Wyatt’s always been really good at photographing animals and she just wasn’t.”

“Did she have a car accident on the way to lunch?”

Casey was desperate to finally hear what had happened to her new boss’s wife—what had turned him from the caring man Brenda described to the scarred, grumpy one she’d encountered.

“No. Although that might have been more merciful. Wyatt left around ten to drive to Driftwood. Angela met us for lunch at noon, at her favorite restaurant. I should have picked her up, but I went ahead to deck the table out in pink and blue streamers. We’d decided to make it a surprise celebration. The lunch started out well, but before anyone’s food came, Angela complained of abdominal cramps. Gracie, another friend, grew concerned enough to phone the OB. The nurse said Angela needed to come in right away. We all wanted to drive her. She said it was probably gas and that we shouldn’t interrupt our lunch. Angela had trouble accepting help from anyone—even when she really needed it.” Brenda’s voice faded, and for a second, she was silent.

Casey reached over and gripped her hand, feeling tears gathering in her own eyes. “Don’t go on. It’s enough to know it ended terribly.”

“Yes. The OB was thirty minutes away. Fifteen minutes after she left us, Angela called 911 saying she was cramping so badly she couldn’t drive. Paramedics found her pulled over on the side of the road. It was already too late. She’d suffered an ectopic pregnancy and her fallopian tube had burst. She’d also miscalculated how far along she was. The E.R. doctor said she was nearer twelve weeks than the eight she thought.”

“I don’t know a lot about ectopic pregnancy. Is that always fatal?”

“No. A lot depends on the time, the fetus size. In Angela’s case, she hemorrhaged so severely the doctors couldn’t save her.”

“Poor Wyatt. I see why he closed the studio. He must’ve been dealing with an enormous amount of guilt.”

“He pulled back from friends and everything. We’ve all been so worried. He quit going to the studio and wouldn’t see any of us. Greg finally barged in to have him sign some checks, and found Wyatt in a remodeling frenzy. Greg’s secretary, Mary, had to phone all Wyatt’s clients and cancel the bookings. I know he felt guilty for being out of town, but there wasn’t anything he could’ve done…” Brenda’s voice trailed off.