Free Secrets She Left Behind by Diane Chamberlain

leaned toward her. “Seriously, Laurel. How are you feeling?”
    She sighed. “Tired.”
    “Jamie said your doctor suggested Prozac.” I thought Jamie was wrong to discourage antidepressants.
    “That’s none of your business,” Laurel said.
    Was she right? Maybe. But I was taking care of her baby and that did make it my business in a way.
    “I have a really good friend in Michigan who takes Prozac and it’s made a world of difference for her,” I said.
    “I’m not depressed,” Laurel said. “I’m tired. You’d be tired, too, if you had to be up all night with a screaming baby.”
    “You’re a nurse,” I said. “You must know depression can be a medical problem. Jamie said you don’t care about anything. Not even Maggie.” I worried I might be going too far. “You were excited about having a baby. I saw that when you announced your pregnancy in the chapel. I think it’s a definite sign of depression that you’re so…disinterested in her.”
    Laurel looked at me. “I want you to leave,” she said.
    I was blowing it, handling it all wrong. The last thing I wanted to do was make things worse for Jamie, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “You’re not being fair to Jamie,” I said. “It’s like he’s a single parent. He’s great with Maggie, but she’s not even going to know who you are.”
    I turned at the creaking of the screen door. A young guy walked into the living room and it took me a second to remember that Jamie’s brother, Marcus, lived with them. The rebel, Jamie had called him. He looked harmless. Slender, tan and messy-haired, wearing a T-shirt and green bathing suit.
    “You must be Marcus.” I stood up. “I’m Sara Weston.”
    “The babysitter.” He’d been drinking, and it was not even noon. I could smell it on him.
    “Right. I wanted to stop in to see Laurel.”
    “She came over to tell me I’m a shitty mother and a shitty wife,” Laurel said.
    “Laurel!” I was stunned. “That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry if I—”
    “I told her to leave but she won’t,” Laurel said to Marcus.
    I felt my cheeks blaze.
    “If she wants you to go, you’d better go,” Marcus said.
    “All right.” I raised my hands in surrender. “I’m sorry,” I said, walking to the door. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
     
    In the chapel office, Jamie looked up from his small, wooden desk.
    “How’d it go?” he whispered so he wouldn’t wake Maggie, asleep in the cradle.
    I was embarrassed when I started to cry. “I didn’t handle it wellat all.” I sank into the only other chair in the office. “She kicked me out, and I don’t blame her.”
    “ Why? What happened?”
    I told him about the conversation, grappling in my diaper bag—yes, I had come to think of the diaper bag as mine— for a tissue. I pressed it to my eyes.
    “Sara.” Jamie’s chair was on wheels and he moved it closer to take both my hands in his. “It’s not your fault, all right? I set you up for failure. You worked such miracles for Maggie and me that I guess I hoped you could work them for Laurel, too.” He smoothed his thumbs over the back of my hands as he spoke. I curled my own hands involuntarily around his, gripping his fingers.
    How do you stand it? I wanted to ask him. How do you stand her? I’d wanted to feel sympathy for Laurel because clearly the woman was ill. But my sympathy could reach only so far. Laurel had a live, beautiful child and she was doing nothing to mother her.
    “I didn’t realize what you were coping with at home,” I said. “How bad it is.”
    “I hope it’ll pass,” he said. “It’s just going to take more time than I thought.”
    “Maybe she does need antidepressants,” I said.
    “Maybe,” he acknowledged.
    “What keeps you going?” I asked.
    “Oh, Sara.” He smiled. “Silly question. I have so much to keep me going. The chapel, to begin with. And her.” He nodded toward Maggie in her cradle. “And the fact that I love Laurel.” He looked