Chapter 3 Empty Nights

Rain was falling outside, tapping on the windows so softly at first, that Rebecca might have missed it but the room had fallen quiet after Vance left, and every small sound was magnified.

She sat on the edge of the bed and memories came crowding in.

Another rainy night, years ago, when the sea had been black beneath the lights of the cruise ship and she heard a frantic scream from the forward deck.

She ran before even deciding to run. The cold air tore at her lungs. People from everywhere were shouting, but all she focused on was the man in the water, his dark head disappearing and resurfacing between the waves.

Vance Bradford

The boy she had watched and adored from a distance, for years. Now the man everyone wanted to stand beside; though he had never once looked her way.

Yet, all coherent thought had deserted Rebecca when she jumped.

The water closed over her like a fist. It was winter, and the cold stole the strength from her limbs almost at once, but she was an accomplished swimmer. With firm strokes she soon reached him, got an arm around him. Skillfully, she kept his face above the surface while she treaded water until they came.

She recalled the edge of the rescue boat. Hands pulling him up first.

Someone reaching for her.

Then nothing.

When she woke up in the hospital, the room was warm. Her body felt strangely detached. The doctor spoke gently. Too gently. “There had been complications from the prolonged exposure,” he explained. “You shouldn’t have soaked in the winter sea while on period. Damage that could not be undone. Children,” he said, “would be unlikely.”

Rebecca listened with her hands under the blanket, fingers tightly curled against her stomach, not knowing how to respond.

Later, Vance Bradford came to see her.

He brought flowers. White roses wrapped in silver paper. He stood beside her hospital bed looking tired and beautiful and serious, and when he asked her to marry him, Rebecca had believed, foolishly and completely, that something impossible had happened.

That he had finally seen her.

She thought maybe the night had changed them both. Perhaps love could begin with a rescue. That was then.

Now, the rain slid down the window in thin, wriggly lines.

Rebecca looked at the empty side of the bed, his side. She could still count the few times he had reached for her without hesitation.

She had folded herself into his life quietly. Learned his habits, his silences, the names of people who smiled at her only because she stood beside him. She had worn his ring and sat through his mother’s inspections and waited through his late nights with the careful patience of someone who believed dedication could become a kind of love.

But Catherine’s voice had crossed the room tonight and slammed home to Rebecca what she had spent three years trying to deny.

Vance had not married her because he wanted her. He had married the woman who pulled him from the water. From certain death. He owed her his life, but nothing more.

And perhaps he had tried, in his own restrained way, to be kind to her. Perhaps he had thought kindness would be enough. Rebecca almost wished he had been cruel. Cruelty would have left a mark she could point to.

She lowered her eyes to her hands. The wedding ring on her finger taunted her. For a while, she turned it slowly on her finger, once, then again, savoring the silence.

Downstairs, the house remained still. Somewhere beyond the rain, Vance was going to Catherine. To the woman whose tears could pull him out of their bed faster than Rebecca’s trembling hands ever could. To the woman who could give him the child Margaret had demanded from her, only hours ago.

The feeling inside her was quieter than tears, and much more frightening.

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Vance didn’t come home all night.

Rebecca didn’t call to ask where he was. She already knew the answer — he was with Catherine. With the woman, apparently, carrying his child.

She stood outside the entrance to St. George’s Aquatic Sports Center and pulled the zipper of her tracksuit jacket all the way up. She hadn’t been here since she got married, yet everything felt familiar. The distant splash of water and the sharp trill of a whistle sent her heart into a rhythm she had not felt in far too long.

She had once cut through the water to win the British Junior Championships.

Yet, for too long now she had only trimmed the flowers at Bradford Manor, organized Vance’s laundry, and planned perfect dinner parties.

Rebecca entered the center and headed to the locker room. Today, she wanted to see if she could still swim.

In her modest black training swimsuit, she approached the edge of the pool. Just as she entered the water, she heard some giggling from behind her.

“Well, isn’t that Rebecca?”

Rebecca turned and saw two familiar teenage faces.

Sophia Bradford and Chloe Bradford — Vance’s cousins, Margaret’s favorite nieces. They wore expensive athleisure and held the latest iPhones. Clearly here just to ‘check in,’ rather than to swim.

Rebecca nodded politely. “Sophia. Chloe.”

“What are you doing here, Rebecca?” Sophia tilted her head. “We haven’t seen you around here for a while.”

“Working out.”

“Working out?” Chloe chimed in. “But shouldn’t you be at home planning dinner, sorting out Vance’s suits, or maybe going back to the hospital for another checkup? So, what are you doing at the pool?”

“I used to be an athlete,” Rebecca said. “A swimmer.”

“Oh, right.” Sophia drew out the word, as if recalling something from a very distant past. “I remember hearing that. You were, weren’t you? But you stopped after marrying into our family. What has happened? Did you suddenly remember?”

“I felt like working out,” Rebecca repeated. She looked down the lane to the far end of the pool and something that was once familiar, tugged at her senses.

“I suppose that makes sense.” Chloe crouched by the pool, resting her elbows on her knees as she leaned closer. “After all, staying at home all day must get boring. But, if you wanted to get pregnant, swimming won’t help. My mother said you and Vance have been married for three years, and there still isn’t a baby. Is there something wrong with you?”

Rebecca looked into Chloe’s eyes and read the unspoken mockery.

A few people nearby glanced over with curiosity. Rebecca felt their eyes settle on her, full of scrutiny and speculation. But she didn’t lower her gaze.

Looking at the two young faces regarding her, she felt an odd calm settle over her.

When she had first married into the Bradford family, remarks like this would have hurt. She would have hidden beneath the covers late at night and cried silently. At first, she had tried to win them over — thoughtful gifts, speaking up for them at family gatherings, remembering their birthdays.

Until she realized that she had never truly belonged. She wasn’t really a member of the family. Just an outsider. An interloper.

Sophia laughed softly. “You don’t have to hide it from us, Rebecca. You had a visit from Aunt Margaret yesterday, didn’t you? She was furious. She spent ages on the phone with my mother.”

Rebecca’s heart sank, but kept her expression neutral.

“My mother said —” Sophia lowered her voice, “you and Vance have been married all this time, and you’re still a virgin.”

Chloe gasped. “Seriously? And married all this time?”