Free The Color of Joy by Julianne MacLean Page B

tonight?” she asked. “You’re not sick or anything?”
    “I’m fine,” I replied, though I found myself rubbing my temple because this conversation was stressing me out. I still felt terrible that she’d heard me talking to Jake about her hair. It was giving me a headache.
    She frowned and leaned forward. “You sure you’re all right?”
    I lowered my hand to my side. “I have a bit of a headache, but it’s no big deal. I don’t want to take anything for it.”
    She tugged at her towel to keep it from falling off as she stood. “No, of course not. Let me know if you want some herbal tea or something. I’ll be up for a while.”
    “Thanks.”
    She walked out of my room.
    I opened my book to continue reading.

Chapter Twenty-one

    September 17

    I didn’t do it often, but I decided it was time to take a sick day at work. For once, I wanted to enjoy the luxury of lying in bed until the nausea passed, which usually happened around ten or eleven. I’d still feel sick after that, but at least the vomiting would stop.
    My boss understood, so I slept late and slid out of bed slowly, carefully, sometime before noon.
    Slipping into my bathrobe and slippers, I shuffled to the bathroom and managed to brush my teeth and wash my face without needing to hurry to bend over the toilet. This was indeed a remarkably good sign. Everyone kept assuring me the morning sickness would pass after the first three months. I was still waiting for that, but today gave me hope.
    As I stared at myself in the mirror, however, all my usual optimism drained out of me like a sieve, straight down to my toes. If death had a face, it would look exactly like mine.
    My complexion was pale and ghostly; dark circles underscored my tired, sunken eyes; and my cheeks were sunken and gaunt. Even my lips lacked any pinkish color.
    Did I really look this horrendous on a daily basis? What about the pregnancy glow I was supposed to be enjoying? Was that some kind of myth? There was nothing the least bit radiant about me that morning. I looked as gray as a stone, thin and withered. Terribly unhappy.
    I supposed I’d been throwing up so much lately, I’d lost a few pounds instead of having gained anything. What I really needed to do was try and eat more—though I couldn’t exactly be held responsible for the fact that when I did put something in my mouth, I couldn’t keep it down.
    With a resigned sigh, I unzipped my makeup bag, dug around for some concealer and blush, and applied some makeup. It didn’t help. When all was said and done, I realized I’d put on too much blush. I looked like a clown.
    Tugging a tissue out of the box by the sink, I wiped at my cheeks, then tossed the tissue into the waste basket.
    I froze as something caught my eye—something in the trash, buried beneath the tissues and a clump of hair Sylvie must have scraped off her hairbrush.
    Slowly bending forward, I reached down to withdraw a framed photograph from the basket. As I turned it over, I was shocked to discover it was the picture of the seaside cottage and sailboat Jake and I had rented for our honeymoon in Maine. It had been the most romantic week of my life and he had spoken of it the night before. Now the glass in the frame was shattered and it had been shoved down to the bottom of the trash basket and covered with soiled tissues.

Chapter Twenty-two

    “Mom? I’m so glad you answered.” I switched the phone from one ear to the other as I stood at the kitchen table, trying not to cut myself as I removed my treasured honeymoon photo from the broken frame. I held it up to the light and examined it closely to make sure it wasn’t irreparably damaged. I realized it represented all my hopes and dreams from that incredible first week of my marriage. There had been so much love, so much joy…
    “What is it, Jenn? You sound upset.”
    “I am. I can’t believe what just happened.”
    “Tell me.”
    I lifted the lid of the garbage can under the sink and tossed the