Part Nine
IV.
Joey spent what remained of the night at her sister's. The next day, she took Andersen home. She tried to pretend everything was normal, took Andersen to the beach to play, but her eyes were everywhere, as though she expected Pacey to jump out from behind every rock and bush.
Joey canceled her evening plans with Greg, claimed fatigue from her New York trip. She told him about Jen and her baby; she neglected to mention Pacey.
It rained all day Sunday. Joey was secretly glad for the excuse to stay in the apartment, where it was safe. She and Anders played board games, read stories, cuddled up and watched E.T. They baked brownies from a mix; he played with toys while she made dinner.
Joey knew who it was the minute the door buzzed. She raced toward the intercom, but Anders got there first. "Who is it, please?" he said, the way Joey taught him, but he pressed the wrong button. He opened the outer door.
"Andersen, this is the button for talking. This one lets people in. You're never supposed to let anyone in, unless it's an emergency and it's someone you know, remember?" The whole time she lectured her son, Joey was attuned to the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs.
"I remember, Mom. I'm sorry." Andersen didn't look sorry. He was bouncing on his heels, probably excited at the prospect of company after a lonely day trapped indoors.
The footsteps stopped. A knock at the door.
"I'll get it!" Andersen chirped.
Joey froze, too scared to protest. Andersen twisted the deadbolt, turned the knob. Pacey stood there, as she knew he would; green, button-down shirt, open at the neck, khaki pants, impossibly tall and bright and there. Joey's heart hammered painfully against her ribcage.
Pacey squatted in front of Andersen, whose mouth had fallen comically open. "Hey, buddy. You don't know me, but my name is—"
"Daddy!" Andersen, never shy with strangers, flung himself upon his father's neck with such abandon Pacey fell back a step. Then his arms rose to wrap around the little boy, and he stood, twirling them both around and laughing.
Joey's heart turned over in her chest. She stood, holding the door, afraid to say a single word and ruin the moment.
"Look, Mom. Daddy's here!"
Pacey looked at Joey for the first time. His hold on Andersen didn't change, but his smile fell, blue eyes lost their warmth. "Hello, Joey."
"Pacey." She hoped she sounded as cool as he did, but knew she failed. Hatred was a difficult emotion to fake.
"I was hoping I could take Andersen to dinner, if you haven't eaten already." The request was formally polite, but his tone dared her to deny him.
"Of course. Anders, sweetie, go get your shoes and coat."
Andersen wiggled out of Pacey's arms, too excited to notice the discord between his parents. With a whoop, he ran to his room.
"Do you want to come in while you wait?" Joey opened the door wider.
Pacey surveyed the room beyond her as if it was enemy territory, as though there might be an ambush waiting for him. "No, I'm good."
Joey filled the awkward silence with a litany of instructions. "He's allergic to strawberries, and he'll pretend to gag on vegetables if you let him get away with it. Tomorrow's a school day, so his bedtime is eight o'clock, and he'll need a bath first."
"I'll try to have him home by seven, then."
Andersen raced back into the room. "Ready!" He had worn his sneakers with the Velcro straps, so Joey didn't have to fix the laces, but she leaned over to straighten the buttons on his jacket.
"Have fun, sweetie. Be good for your dad." She kissed her son's forehead and stroked his hair.
Andersen shrugged off the caress. He was going through a tough guy phase. "Mom, stop! Let's go, Dad." He beamed like he couldn't imagine a better word in the English language.
Joey watched them go down the stairs, then rushed to the window to see them fight through the storm to Pacey's car—actually, Doug's, Joey recognized it. At least there wasn't much chance Pacey would skip town in the sheriff's own vehicle.
Once they drove away, Joey turned back to her empty apartment, wondering what to do with herself. She abandoned her half-started dinner in favor of leftover Chinese food, a glass of wine, and too many brownies. Ignoring her own rule about tidying after himself, she cleaned up Andersen's messes of the day.
There was still more than an hour before she could expect them home. Joey decided she should watch one of the backlogged episodes of Dawson's show. She always meant to watch, but with an inquisitive five-year-old in the house, most of her television viewing was spent in the relative safety of cartoons, while recordings of The Creek continued to pile up.
Joey found the show entrancing and nostalgic, if somewhat biased towards Dawson's point of view. The girl who played the Jen character—her name was Veronica in the show—was a terrible actress, and the guy playing Pacey—Petey—didn't have a tenth of his charisma. But those were minor squabbles.
The episode Joey watched was full of Petey and Sam—The Creek's attempt at her—bickering while Colby—Dawson—opined that his best friends needed to stop hating each other. Of course, what was obvious in the context of the show was that Petey and Sam were fighting not out of loathing, but as an outlet for sexual tension.
Joey thought back over her own youth and adolescence. Had it really been that way with her and Pacey from the start? If so, Dawson certainly hadn't realized it, any more than his onscreen alter-ego did. But Joey hadn't seen it, either. Had someone asked her at any time before the age of sixteen whether she and Pacey hated each other, she would have answered a quick and easy yes. But not once, at the height of their feud, had Pacey looked at her the way he did tonight. He might have called her every name in the book, but he always had her back when it mattered. As she had his.
She didn't know if she had always wanted Pacey, still less if she had always loved him, but Joey knew she had never honestly hated him. She couldn't bear his hating her.
At 7:00 on the nose, the door buzzed. Joey knew who it was; to reinforce her point with her son, she pressed the intercom anyway. "Who's there, please?"
"It's me, Mom. And my daddy's with me!" The joy in Andersen's voice was a dart of mingled pain and love in Joey's breast.
She let them in and opened the door before they reached the top of the stairs. "How'd it go?"
"Great, Mom. We had pizza, and we went to the arcade, and Dad won me this." He brandished a new action figure. "Dad's really, really good at skeet ball!"
"That's wonderful, sweetie. Now, say goodnight to your dad and go get out of your wet things. I'll be in to run your bath in a minute."
"I can do it myself. I'm not a baby!" Anders flipped around and wrapped his arms around Pacey's knees. "Night, Daddy. Thanks for the Green Ranger. He's awesome! Can we do this again tomorrow?"
Pacey knelt to hug Anders more fully. "I'll have to talk to your mom about that, but I promise I'll see you soon. Night, kiddo." He tightened his grip momentarily, and Joey could see the awe in his face that this small person was actually his. Then he released the boy and gave him a nudge toward the door.
Andersen ran through the living room, without bothering to take off his wet shoes first. Joey just shook her head.
"So can I have him tomorrow after school?"
Joey was surprised. "I suppose so. How long are you staying?"
"For good. I quit my job in New York. I'm bunking with Doug until I find a job and a place of my own. You didn't think I'd meet him once and go my merry way, did you? He's my son."
No, Joey hadn't thought Pacey would disappear again. But she also hadn't counted on him changing his entire life in an instant. "That's...good. Andersen will be happy. What about your wife?"
Pacey snorted. "No wife. That...didn't last long."
"Oh. I'm sorry," Joey lied. She wasn't sorry, not a bit. She was positively gleeful, and she hated what that said about her.
Pacey shrugged as though her thoughts couldn't matter less to him. "So I can have Anders tomorrow? Where's his preschool? I could pick him up from there, and spare us both one awkward scene out of two."
Joey tried not to react. He didn't even want to see her. "Uh, it's Sunnyside, the one kitty-corner from the school. But I'll have to add you to the approved contact list, or they won't let you take him. They'll, uh, they'll need a phone number." She couldn't help that it sounded like she was trying to get Pacey's number; it was the truth.
"You got a pen?"
Joey went inside to grab one, leaving the door open behind her to see if Pacey would walk in. He didn't. When she returned, he had pulled a business card from his wallet. Their fingers brushed as she handed him the pen. Joey wasn't sure which of them pulled away faster.
"This is my cell number," Pacey said, as he wrote against the door jam. "If they need another, you can give them Doug's for now."
Joey was careful when retrieving the card and pen not to let her skin touch his, ridiculously careful, as though he was infectious. "All right. I'll arrange it. You can pick him up any time after three. Try to have him home—"
"By seven. I know."
Joey expected Pacey to turn tail and leave once the matter with their son was resolved, but he lingered in the doorway. He watched her with a curious expression, not the hateful iciness from earlier, but not the old, familiar warmth either. He seemed wary.
"What?" she asked.
"He knew me. Tonight, when he opened the door, Andersen knew me right away. Did you spend the weekend preparing him?"
"I didn't need to. He's known about you for a long time. I wouldn't lie to my son."
Hardness settled over Pacey's face. "No, you wouldn't, would you? You save that for me." He left without a farewell.
After locking the door, Joey went to check on Andersen. The bathroom door was shut, but she could hear the familiar sounds of him playing in the bath. Because privacy was an important concept to Anders these days, she knocked and stayed outside as she told him, "Time to get out, sweetie. Don't forget to brush your teeth, then meet me in your room for stories."
"Okay, Mom."
Joey lingered in the hallway until she heard the water start to drain, then went to her room to change into her own lavender flannel pajamas. She emerged into the hall at the same time as her son.
"Hey, Mom, guess what?"
Joey smiled at his clean, fresh-smelling appearance and his Power Ranger jammies. "What?"
"I almost forgot to tell you the best part. Dad says he's not a sailor anymore. He's a chef, like Uncle Bodie." He flashed her a confident smile as he walked ahead of her into his room. "That means he'll stay."
III.
They flew out to California to visit Dawson and Jen after the birth of their little girl. The couple had been on-again, off-again through college, but now were quite settled together, although—to Mrs. Ryan's chagrin—still unmarried.
"I told Dawson he could name it Steven if it was a boy, but I felt all along she was a girl." Jen lay in state in their Malibu beach home. She was on bed-rest, doctor's orders, but looked glowing and happy as she cradled her newborn daughter.
"You know, Amy Irving was Steven Spielberg's first wife," Dawson teased.
Jen glared at him. "You will not ruin this for me. Our daughter's name has nothing to do with your ridiculous man-crush."
Dawson sputtered, Pacey laughed, but Joey tried to read Jen's face for signs of illness. Jen had downplayed all mentions of the heart defect they'd discovered during her pregnancy, but Dawson had let them into the secret that, without a transplant, Jen was living on borrowed time.
She was on the list, and Dawson was doing everything he could to expedite the process, but, for obvious reasons, the system was largely manipulation-proof. In the meantime, he was a nervous mother hen, employing a nurse for Jen and a nanny for the baby, neither of which she wanted.
"Go introduce Pacey to the pool," Jen ordered her hovering paramour. "Joey and I are going to girl talk."
"Jo is terrible at girl talk," Pacey warned as he rose to leave. "You'd get better gossip if you waited for Jackers to visit this summer."
"Are you sure you don't want Cynthia to take the baby? If you're tired..."
"Honey, you're annoying me again. Get out."
Dawson obeyed, pausing to kiss both girlfriend and daughter on the head.
"I imagine you're on his side," Jen said as soon as they were alone.
"It's not a matter of sides, Jen. Dawson's worried about you. We all are."
"Grams is undergoing her third round of chemo, and yet she has all her prayer groups on round-the-clock vigils for me. Jack calls me almost every hour; if I don't pick up, he calls Dawson in a panic. My hired nurse is a great brute who scowls if I so much as get out of bed to piss. Dawson's going to go bald if he doesn't stop pulling on his hair like that. Trust me, I get how worried everyone is. But I also know worrying won't fix anything. If it's my time, it's my time. And I'd rather spend whatever is left to me—be that weeks or decades—enjoying my life than dreading my death."
"If that's how you feel, why haven't you staged a revolt yet?"
"Well, for one, I'm still tired from labor. It's easy to hate bedrest on principle, but in reality, it's pretty great. Especially when you've got a little one like this enjoying it with you." She kissed Amy's fuzzy down head. "And for another, I was hoping an ally might smooth the way for me."
Joey fidgeted awkwardly. "Jen, if the doctor thinks it's best, I don't see how I can—"
Jen burst out laughing. Amy stirred and let out an adorable little sigh before settling back to sleep. "God, Joey, did you think I meant you? You're the only person I know who worries as perpetually as Dawson. I meant Pacey. I recruited him yesterday, so he should be laying the groundwork with Dawson now."
Joey rolled her eyes at Jen's subterfuge. "So no need for girl talk after all, huh?"
"You can do my nails if you want, but Nurse Ratchet will just remove it later. She needs to see if they're turning blue."
Joey paled.
"That was a joke."
"Right." Joey tried to make herself relax. She stared at the bundle in Jen's arms and blurted out the question that had been on her mind for months. "Why did you keep her?"
"When I found out about the defect, you mean?"
"Yeah."
"A lot of reasons. She's not the one who gave me the heart problem, and aborting her wouldn't have cured it. Maybe having her quickened my timetable a bit, but it's also brought my life more joy than I ever thought I'd know. And I loved her before I knew what she might cost me, so it was an easy decision."
For the first time in years, Joey thought about the pregnancy she had terminated. That had been an easy decision, as well. Now, with distance, she knew it had been the right one.
That evening, after dinner, Pacey asked Joey to walk with him on the beach. They rambled slowly, barefoot, hand-in-hand, while the sun went down in a brilliant blaze of pink, purple and orange.
Pacey chuckled. "I can't get over how disorienting this feels. A lifetime watching the ocean, and everything about this one is different."
Joey had noticed it as well. Her directions were all confused, because the water wasn't on the right side. The tides were coming in the wrong way. The sun set over the sea, instead of rose. "Guess we'll never be West Coasters."
"I don't know. I love the dress code. But you in L.A.? Traffic would not be pretty."
Joey pulled Pacey's arm across her shoulders and snuggled closer to him as they walked. "Give me a crowded, smelly subway car any day of the week."
They had lived in New York City since their return from Paris. Joey had a position as assistant editor at one of the city's many publishing firms, while Pacey was employed as sous chef at one of the new, hot eateries that sprang up almost daily in the city that never sleeps. Their apartment was even smaller than their first one, though in a nicer neighborhood.
"Do you think you'll want to live in the city your whole life, Jo?"
"Why? Are you sick of it already?"
"No." Pacey turned to face the ocean, wrapping his body around hers. "I just miss this, the sound of the sea, the feel of the waves. Even if this one is backwards."
Joey smiled, closing her eyes to better absorb the sounds and smells. "I'll grant you that New York harbor is lacking in ambiance."
"Something else, too, Jo. I know we have plenty of time, and I don't want to rush—I like having you all to myself—but we've never talked about it, and holding Amy today...I started wondering, do you, maybe, possibly, want to have kids someday?"
Joey smelled the sea and the salt and Pacey. She listened to the waves lap gently at the shore. "Someday," she promised.
II.
They went to New York to visit Jen shortly after the baby was born. Jen was still on bedrest for some reason, but Amy was alert, beautiful, and healthy. Pacey was enraptured. He played with her tiny fingers and toes and called on Joey to rhapsodize with him over her every feature.
Jen watched with mingled pride and amusement. "Maybe it's time you had one of your own," she told Joey.
"Maybe it is," Joey admitted.
Pacey beamed.
IV.
It felt bizarre not to rush out the door to collect Andersen after school the next day. In the absence of anything else to do, Joey walked down the hall to Greg's classroom. She would have to let him know about the change in her life sooner or later.
She had forgotten it was Greg's week with his kids. Bella and Brandon always came to their father's classroom to wait after school. They beat her there.
"Josephine! What a pleasant surprise." Greg gave her a swift kiss, then went back to sorting papers.
Brandon greeted her from behind his Gameboy, Bella from over her homework.
"No Andersen today? Is he with your sister?"
"No, he's...he's with his father."
Greg stopped shuffling papers and blinked at her. His children both looked up, curious.
"How did that extraordinary state of affairs come to pass?"
Joey didn't feel like rehashing the whole story. Especially not in front of the kids. "He came back. He took Anders to dinner last night and picked him up from preschool today. I thought I'd see what your plans were, but I can—"
"Nonsense, Josephine. We're headed to the park as soon as we're done here. You're welcome to join us."
Joey was tempted to decline. Watching other people's children play at the park was only a notch below Little League baseball on Joey's list of dull events, but then she thoughts about returning to her empty apartment and changed her mind.
The walk to the park was full of the kids' chatter about their day. Greg and Joey walked a step behind. His hand, as always, hovered right behind her elbow. She normally found the habit endearing and wondered why it was suddenly so irritating.
Just a bad mood today, Joey thought and quickened her step.
Her mood was not improved when she turned the corner, heard her son laugh and caught sight of a tall man pushing him dangerously high on the swings. Joey's step faltered. She was about to excuse herself from the outing, but Brandon ran ahead, calling out to his friend, and Andersen spotted them.
While Andersen slowed to a stop, Joey made herself finish the walk to the park. She could hear Andersen's excited introductions of his father to his friends.
Greg's fingers brushed her arm. "Are you all right?"
"Fine." Joey ignored the touch and took a seat on their usual bench.
Andersen pulled on Pacey's hand, dragging his reluctant father over to greet them. "Hi, Mr. Lawhead. This is my daddy. He's a chef now."
Greg had not yet sat down. He held out a hand for Pacey to shake. "How do you do, Mr., uh, come to think of it, I've not heard the name."
Pacey's large hand engulfed Greg's more scholarly one. He was a good three inches taller, as well. Not that this mattered to Joey. "Pacey Witter."
"Witter? Any relation to our local sheriff?"
"He's my brother."
"Really? I had no idea." Greg sent Joey a searching, somewhat accusatory look.
"Well, they don't talk about me much. I'm the black sheep of the family."
An instant defense rose to Joey's lips before she choked it back. She busied herself fixing the collar of Anders' shirt.
"I don't know about that. Not all men would respond so well to the addition to their life of a young boy, the result of a high school fling."
It was Pacey's turn to throw Joey a surprised look. When he caught her eye, he raised an eyebrow, the meaning of which she knew immediately to be, Really, Jo? This guy?
Joey looked away and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
"Daddy, Daddy!" Andersen tugged on Pacey's arm again. "Watch me cross the monkey bars. I can go the whole way, with no help. Come see!"
With an indulgent grin, Pacey trailed his son back to the playground.
Greg took the seat next to her. "So Uncle Doug is biologically Uncle Doug. You never told me."
"I didn't? I guess I didn't think about it. What difference does it make?"
"None to me. Only I find it hard to understand how Andersen's father was never told about him when you've been friends with his brother all this time."
"The Witters are a...complicated family. Pacey wasn't joking; he has been estranged from them for years."
"And you couldn't have gotten a message to him if you'd tried?"
Joey watched as Pacey pushed all the kids on the merry-go-round. "I hope Andersen doesn't puke."
"Josephine, you're deflecting. Why didn't you want this Pacey to know about your son? Is he dangerous? Did he hurt you?"
"What!? God, no! Look at the man." She gestured at Pacey, zooming down the slide with Andersen in pursuit. "He's a big kid himself."
"So that is why you rejected him as a father, his irresponsibility?"
Joey couldn't force the lie past her lips, but she nodded. It was as good a reason as any other, and much safer than the truth.
Relieved, Greg took a bracing breath of fresh air and wrapped her hand in his. He turned to watch the children play. Pacey took a dive and was tackled by Andersen, who he whisked up into the air.
"I must say, I find it almost impossible to imagine you ever dating a boy like that."
"Most people did." Joey was ashamed of how easily she could picture it even now.
Joey declined Greg's dinner invitation, claiming papers to grade. It wasn't a lie; she did have spelling tests to correct. But mostly, she had a burning desire to be out of his presence.
It wasn't until two hours and two glasses of wine later Joey unraveled the source of her irritation. She was furious with herself because her body didn't react the same way to Greg that it did to Pacey.
Joey loved Greg. He was a good man and a great father. He was intelligent, kind, and sensitive; he had never made her cry. He made her feel safe. And he was a good lover; sure, it had taken some time to learn each other's bodies, but Joey had no complaints on that front.
But her body didn't hum with an innate awareness of his presence. She didn't feel electrified by his kisses, didn't come alive at his touch. She hated herself for that, and she loathed Greg for failing her in this one way, and she loathed Pacey for coming back into her life and reminding her of everything she didn't have.
Lust is chemical, and passion fades, Joey reminded herself. The stability Greg brought to her life, that was the real, the important, thing.
Pacey brought Andersen home shortly after Joey reached this important breakthrough. He asked for the next day with Andersen as well.
Joey made sure Anders was out of earshot before she asked, "Out of curiosity, are you actually going to look for a job, or just spend your days running around the park like an overgrown infant?" She knew her spite was uncalled for. She had found Pacey's play with Andersen charming, which was probably why she was so eager to tear it down.
"I got a job. I'll be the new lunch chef at Leery's. Bodie hired me this morning."
Joey made a mental note to give that traitor a good, swift kick in the pants. "Oh. Congrats, I guess."
Pacey's mouth tipped. "Not the most prestigious gig in the world, but it leaves me free to spend the afternoons with Anders."
Joey bit back a retort about her needing time with Anders, too. After five years, she owed Pacey more than three days.
The next evening, while her son was out with his father, Joey went to Leery's Fresh Fish for an early dinner, and to give Bodie a hard time.
"I can't believe you hired Pacey!"
A few of the staff gave Joey odd looks as she slipped into the kitchen, but most knew her from her college years as a waitress here or from previous, kinder visits to Bodie.
Bodie was balancing about four different meals on the stove, so he didn't look at her, but he did answer. "Why wouldn't I? He's overqualified, of course, but when he said he wanted the job, I'd have been crazy to turn him away."
"Pacey? Overqualified? How?"
"He studied in Paris. He was sous chef at The Delta in New Orleans, and was about to be promoted to executive chef at Merlin's in New York when he left."
"Pacey?" Joey repeated. She felt dizzy; in the absence of a chair, she leaned against one of the counters.
Francie, one of the waitresses since before Joey's day, saw her confusion and grinned. "Believe it. We all tasted his chowder this afternoon. I thought I'd died and gone to the bayou. No offense, Bodacious darling." She winked as she sauntered out to the dining room with a precariously balanced tray of food.
"But—but—Pacey?"
"What's the problem here, Jo? Everyone grows up, and weren't you the one who kept saying Pacey had it in him to excel? Well, he has. Anyway, even if he wasn't as good as he is, I'd still have hired him, for Andersen's sake. A boy should know his father."
"People keep saying that," Joey groused, as she stole a shrimp from a cocktail.
Pacey continued taking Andersen on weekday afternoons, but he left the weekends to Joey, as Bodie asked him to take over evening shifts on the busiest days of the week. Joey didn't understand the move until she realized Leery's was packed like never before. Weekend seatings were reservation only, and, according to Bodie, lunch hour business was up forty percent.
Joey didn't know what to do with her sudden acquisition of free time. She took up sketching again, but all her drawings started out her son and somehow morphed into his father. She tried writing, but could only form too-late apologies and excuses for what she had done.
So she started jogging again. It had fallen by the wayside between work and mommy duties. But Joey loved the freedom of it, the rush of endorphin, the emptying her mind of everything but the road ahead.
One day, she ran by Andersen and Pacey at the seashore. "Hi, Mommy!" Andersen called.
Joey waved but did not slow. Pacey said nothing, but she felt his gaze tingle along her spine until they were out of sight. It was strangely satisfying.
She spent more time with Greg, as well. His kids were no substitute for her own, but they got along well. So well, in fact, that Greg was hinting at a deeper commitment. Joey ignored or deflected the suggestions. There was enough upheaval in other areas of her life. She didn't want this one steady thing to change.
"We should talk about this summer," Pacey said one night while dropping Anders off.
Joey tried not to show her surprise. For weeks, he had given her only monosyllabic goodbyes at the door. But it was the last week of school. He was right; they should talk. "Okay. Would you like to come in?"
"No, thanks." The refusal was expected, the thanks was not. "Anders says you take trips in the summer."
"That's right. I want to spend a month in New York with Jen. I haven't seen Amy since the night she was born."
Pacey flinched at the reminder.
"And Mrs. Ryan and Jen...I need to see them, and Andersen does, too."
"Yeah, of course. If I take Mondays off, can I spend that day with him in the city?"
"That's more than fair. Thank you for understanding." Joey squirmed, uncomfortable with her next announcement and not knowing why. "Greg and I want to take the kids back to a cabin in Maine for two weeks in August as well. Andersen had the time of his life up there last summer."
For a moment, Pacey's mouth twisted in a disgusted sneer, but Joey blinked and his neutral mask was back. "Fine. But I'd like a week between your trips to take Anders fishing."
"On...on a boat?" Panic swelled within her.
"That is generally how it works, yes. Pop agreed to lend me his, so I could teach my son. My goal is less yelling and crying than when my dad taught me."
Joey snatched back her hand before it could squeeze his like it wanted to. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with the idea of Anders on a boat for an entire week. He's only five."
"You don't think I'll keep him safe?"
"I know you will. That's not what worries me."
"What then?"
He'll fall in love with it, Joey thought. He's your son, and the sea will take him from me, like it took you.
"He'll...he'll get bored and cause trouble."
"More bored than in a New York apartment or a cabin in Maine? You're taking six weeks of the summer; I'm only asking for one."
Resigned, Joey agreed. There was nothing else she could do.
III.
Someday arrived sooner than planned.
For their second wedding anniversary, Joey and Pacey rented a small sailboat and planned a somewhat abridged version of True Love's voyage. They only had one month, instead of three, but they wouldn't have to work along the way.
It wasn't until the second day that Joey realized she'd forgotten her pills at home. They could have turned back, or stocked up on condoms at the next port, or even called ahead a prescription. But Joey breathed the sea, the salt, Pacey. She heard the waves against the hull. She counted stars and took her chances.
IV.
"You've been remarkably tight-lipped on the phone, Joey Potter, but no more evading. What's it like having Pacey back?"
Joey sighed. She'd seen the question brimming in Jen all day. She gave her friend credit for having the tact to wait until Andersen was asleep to ask it. Grams and Mrs. Lindley had retired, as well; Amy slept in a bassinet by Jen's side. Only the two young women were awake in the apartment, splitting a pint of Ben & Jerry's, for old times' sake.
Joey took another bite of rocky road before answering. "I haven't been evading, Jen. There's just nothing to say. He's great with Anders. You might have noticed from the way the boy never stops talking about him. But I only ever see him for the thirty seconds a night it takes him to drop off my son."
Jen frowned, sucking ice cream off her spoon. "Is he still pissed at you?"
"Probably. How could he not be? But he never shows it, I assume out of consideration for Anders. We've bypassed seething hatred and live in the land of utter indifference."
"Indifference? No way. I don't buy it. I'd believe the guy was plotting your death before I'd believe that Pacey Witter could ever feel nothing for you."
"Live the fantasy if you want, Jen, but you'll see the truth on Monday when he stops by to pick up Anders."
Jen groaned. "This is totally unfair. I can count on my hands the number of times I've left this apartment since Amy was born. I was supposed to be getting a vicarious thrill through you, but your life sounds as boring as mine."
"Well, not quite," Joey said coyly. "I think Greg is going to ask me to move in with him."
Jen choked on her ice cream. "God, I hope you're not considering it."
Joey was hurt by her friend's derision, so she feigned an enthusiasm she didn't feel. "Why not? We've been dating for over a year now. Our kids get along. It makes sense."
"Because sense should be the primary factor in decisions like this." Jen rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry, Joey, but I've seen you butt-crazy in love, and it wasn't with Greg."
"I thought you liked Greg!"
"I do. Mostly. He's a bit of a patronizing ass, but there are worse flaws. What I loved was seeing you open yourself up to the possibility of love again. You hadn't done that since Pacey left. But that possibility never grew into anything. You just got comfortable."
"There's nothing wrong with comfortable. I'm sure your doctors are telling you that about your heart, Jen. Avoid stresses, good or bad. Be comfortable. So why shouldn't our metaphorical hearts crave the same thing?"
"Because all my doctor's advice is designed to do is keep me from dying. You should be thinking about living. What's the number one stress in our lives? Our children. Would we trade them for all the staid comfort in the world? Of course not."
"So you think I should end a happy, successful, long-term relationship in expectation of what exactly? He doesn't want me!" The last sentence escaped, pained and unplanned.
"Joey." Jen rested a sympathetic hand on her arm. "Whether he does or not, the fact that he's the one you're thinking about tells you everything you need to know."
The doorman had just sent Pacey up. The four generations of Ryan women lived in the penthouse suite, though, so they had a minute. Joey used it to make sure Anders had everything he needed.
"There's an apple and some goldfish in your backpack, in case you get hungry. I don't know where your father's taking you, but you STAY with him at all times, mister, you got that?"
"Yes, Mom," Andersen said, irritated, antsy. He'd missed his dad this week.
"This isn't Capeside. It's a giant city, and you could get lost in a moment."
"And I should only talk to a policeman. I know, Mom." The bell rang. "He's here!" Andersen rushed to the door.
"Hey, kiddo." Pacey picked up Anders and hugged him tight. "I sure did miss you."
"Got any of that love for the rest of us?" Jen called from the couch. She'd been ordered to bedrest, and sitting was her compromise.
Pacey lowered his son and crossed the room to give his old friend a hug. "Hey, Lindley. You're still breathing?"
"Nothing wrong with my lungs. I just have to avoid heart-stoppingly attractive men like you."
"Except not me in particular, because of your well-established immunity to my charms."
"You have charm?"
"Dad, Dad, let's go, Dad!"
Pacey resisted Anders' efforts to redirect his attention. "Give me a minute, squirt. I seem to recall you having a kid of your own, Lindley. What's the matter with it, too ugly to display before company?"
"She's right here," Mrs. Ryan announced, bringing Amy out from the nursery, post-diaper change. "And I'll trust you to watch your tongue about my beautiful great-granddaughter, Pacey Witter. It's no wonder little Amy doesn't like men."
Pacey popped up from Jen's side to kiss Grams on the cheek. "Huh. She must really be yours then, Jen."
Amy, who had recently mastered the difficult art of holding up her own head, eyed Pacey doubtfully. When he stroked her cheek with one gentle finger, she began to wail.
"Wow, you were serious. I'm sorry."
Jen held out her arms for the baby. "Don't be. It's not just you. She does it every time Jack so much as looks at her." Amy calmed as Jen snuggled her. "Crossing our fingers it's a phase."
"Either that, or her school dances are going to be even more painful than ours," Joey joked.
Pacey's eyes flitted to her, then his focus lasered back on Anders. "So you ready to go, kid?"
"I've been ready forever." Andersen stamped his foot impatiently.
"Let's go then. Bye, Jen, Mrs. Ryan, nice to see you again. I'll have him back by seven." They left without another glance in Joey's direction.
Jen let out a low whistle. "I didn't actually believe...I'm sorry, Joey."
"I did warn you." Joey forced a laugh. "It's okay. I'm used to it by now."
Mrs. Ryan clucked her tongue. "You foolish girls, I've never seen a man work so hard to not look at a woman." She put a frail hand on Joey's arm. "The boy is hurting, deeply, but you're wrong if you think he doesn't care."
A small seed of hope tried to take root with Mrs. Ryan's words. Joey crushed it. "Wanna bet?"
"I never gamble, Josephine. It is a sin." Mrs. Ryan walked regally back to her room, turning at the door. "But if I did, I would win."
The time with Mrs. Ryan and Jen was lovely, if bittersweet. Mrs. Ryan's doctors had made that terrible pronouncement, a year to live, which Joey remembered so well from her mother's illness. Grams and her family were bearing up well, but there was a poignancy now in all their interactions.
The combination of Jen's heart condition and new baby left her constantly exhausted. They did far less city-exploring and far more sitting around talking than in Joey's previous trips to the city.
Jack and Doug came up one weekend, and they all went to a Broadway show. When Jen teased Jack about reversing his long-held opinions—Jack considered musicals too gay for him—Jack lamented it was the one place in the world his boyfriend wasn't ashamed to be seen with him.
Pacey's trips to New York on the two successive Mondays were near duplicates of the first. He teased and flirted with Jen, was sweet and gentle to Grams, tried unsuccessfully to charm Amy, and ignored Joey as much as humanly possible. Then he whisked Anders away to parks, museums, zoos, amusement parks, and anything else he could cram into ten hours in NYC, bringing the little boy home exhausted and happy.
The last Monday of the month went differently.
Pacey arrived at the usual time, greeted Anders and Jen in the usual way, then looked straight at Joey and said, "Hey, Jo, can I run something past you?"
"Okay," Joey agreed hesitantly. A nasty suspicion darted into her head. He wanted a formal custody agreement; he was taking her to court.
Jen saw Pacey look at the various rooms around them and said, "There's no reason to talk in private. Joey will tell me everything as soon as you leave anyway."
"Jen is both nosy and correct. What's up, Pace?"
"Daddy, aren't we going out today?" Andersen whined.
"We are, kiddo, but I gotta talk to your mom first. Why don't you play with your toys? It won't be long."
Anders gave an aggrieved sigh, but obediently went back to his Legos.
"I, uh, I take it Bessie and Bodie haven't cleared the way for me yet?"
Mystified, Joey shook her head. "I talked to Bess on Friday, but she didn't mention you. What's going on?"
"I made your sister a business proposition last week, but she said she wouldn't agree to anything without your consent, so I needed to talk to you." Pacey shifted uncomfortably. He was probably thinking Joey was in no mood to grant him favors and wishing he hadn't been such an ass to her since he returned.
"I'm listening. Spit it out."
"So everyday, I pass by the vacant lot where the Ice House used to be, and I started thinking how sad it was no one ever built a place there after the fire. From there, ideas fell all over themselves, and...well, every chef wants to own their own place someday. I started saving towards one nearly as soon as I started making a living at this. In a city like New York, it would be fifteen years before I could make that dream a reality, and I'd still probably fail. But in Capeside, I think I can make a go of it.
"I've talked to Doug, and he's willing to help. I've talked to the bank, and I can get the financing I need. And I talked to Bessie. I told her I could either buy the land from her outright, or if she's willing, she could hold onto the land, just let me build on it. If I fail, the property would all be hers, to add to its' value; if I succeed, she—and you, since the land is in both your names—would be entitled to twenty percent of the profits."
Joey tried to digest the sheer volume of information Pacey had thrown at her. "What about Leery's? Bodie can't be happy about you leaving."
Pacey shrugged. "He seemed cool with it. He asked me to promise it wouldn't be a seafood place. I told him I was thinking more bar and grill, and he wished me luck. I'll keep working at Leery's until my place is finished."
Joey was prepared to agree. She didn't care very much where Pacey worked, as long as he was in Capeside, and a little extra money never came amiss. But Jen spoke up before she could.
"God, Pacey, my mouth is watering just thinking about it. You'll have that mushroom bacon burger on the menu, won't you? I haven't had a single burger since you left, out of respect for its' perfection. Joey, have you tasted one of Pacey's burgers yet?"
Joey flushed. "I, uh, haven't tried anything Pacey's cooked."
"What! You expect this woman to back your restaurant when she's never even sampled the goods? Unacceptable! Joey, don't give him an answer yet. Pacey, I think you'd better make us all dinner tonight."
Pacey made a face at Jen. "I think you want a mushroom bacon burger, Lindley."
"I'm going through withdrawal they're so good."
"What part of 'day off' don't you understand?"
"I'm a single mother with a two-month old baby. I don't get a day off, why should you?"
Pacey sighed. "Fine. I'll take Anders out for the morning. We'll shop after lunch, then come back here and cook dinner. Will that satisfy you?"
Jen gave a sharp nod of affirmation.
Pacey called out for Anders. "Let's get a move on, kiddo, if we're going to have any time for fun today."
When Pacey and Anders had left, Joey rounded on Jen. "And what, exactly, was the point of that?"
"The point was I really miss the man's cooking." Jen smiled slyly. "And if, in the process, my dear friends get some quality time together, that's a nice bonus."
"You're devious, Jen. Pacey can have the land, I don't care."
"You will care very much when you've tasted these burgers. You will care so damn much that I will never hear the name Greg again."
Pacey and Anders returned around three in the afternoon, loaded down with grocery bags. Pacey promptly declared the kitchen off-limits to everyone but him and his "special helper." Anders gained two inches in pride.
With Mrs. Lindley out for a mani/pedi, and the rest of the household's women down for naps, Joey tried to read a book on the couch. Mostly, she eavesdropped on the boys in the kitchen. She was surprised at how patient Pacey was, explaining things to Anders, and his willingness to let the child try things Joey would have told him he was too young for. By the third time she heard a ruckus followed by Anders, "Oops, sorry," Joey thought this would have to be the best food on the planet if Mrs. Lindley was going to forgive the mess in her kitchen.
Anders surprised her, too. At every moment, Joey expected him to declare he was bored and come in search of toys or TV, but he stayed hard at work with his father even after Jen and Amy rejoined Joey in the living room. His adoration of Pacey was not diminishing with exposure.
Pretty soon, heavenly aromas began to fill the apartment. Jen's comments about her hunger became louder and more pointed. Mrs. Lindley returned, and Mrs. Ryan awoke.
A few minutes after six, Anders rushed in, hair white with flour, clothes covered in an amalgam of colors and substances, to inform them dinner was ready.
Pacey had made more than Jen's beloved mushroom bacon burgers. He's made sampler plates of half a dozen kinds of sliders. Anders' favorite was, predictably, the macaroni and cheese burger, while Joey was embarrassed by the noise she made after her first bite of the Gorgonzola, avocado one. There were sweet potato fries and a pickled veggie assortment for sides.
"And I helped with everything," Anders announced proudly.
"Well then, I think there might be another chef in the family," Jen said, grabbing another of her favorites. "Because this is perfect. Thank you both."
"Don't mention it." Pacey smiled at her, but shot Joey a questioning look.
Joey's mouth was too full to add her praise.
"So, Pacey, what first got you into cooking?" Mrs. Lindley asked.
"I sort of stumbled into it. My brother got me a job at a restaurant after high school, and the head chef there took me under his wing, taught me the basics of food prep, would have taught me more if he hadn't been so personally repugnant I took the next sailing gig that came my way. But I kept picking stuff up, befriending the galley cooks, helping them where I could. Eventually, I got asked to fill in for a sick cook; it snowballed after that."
Joey soaked in every word. She wanted to know all about his years away, but had no right to ask. She had never before liked Jen's haughty mother enough.
"Jen said you went to culinary school in Paris? Is that right?"
Pacey laughed. "For a bit. The thing about chefs is, the degree isn't the most important thing. Study in Paris, for however long you can afford it, and you automatically get more respect than if you haven't—as long as your cooking can back up your claims."
"You always were better at practicals than written exams," Joey said, then tensed, waiting for Pacey to react.
To her surprise, Pacey smiled and shrugged. He didn't look directly at her, but it was better than she'd hoped. "Pretty much."
"Daddy, can we have the cake now?"
"That was supposed to be a surprise, buddy."
"You bring me cake, and I'll be surprised if I can eat it," Jen said, patting her belly.
"You have to, Auntie! It's chocolate, 'cause that's Mommy's favorite, and I mixed it up myself."
Joey glowed, not caring which of the pair had decided to make a cake for her. "Well, I'll have a piece, sweetie."
"Sweeter than sugar is an act of kindness," Mrs. Ryan said. "I would taste a small portion, as well, please."
Pacey cleared the table, waving off their offers of help, then called Anders to the kitchen to help him serve. There was fresh coffee, the bitterness of the roast enhancing the sweetness of the rich cake and homemade vanilla bean gelato.
Joey took a bite, closed her eyes, and moaned. When her lids fluttered open, Pacey's eyes were on her with a heat she still remembered. He pulled his gaze away.
"Okay," she said after another bite. "You can have your restaurant. I'll talk to Bessie tomorrow."
Pacey's eyes rushed back to hers, his face blooming with boyish happiness. "Really, Jo?"
"Who am I to deny the world food like this? One condition, though: I eat free."
Pacey chuckled. "That was Doug's condition, too."
I.
Joey sat on the plane in the dreaded middle seat. She was on her way to L.A. for the joint purpose of Dawson and Gretchen's wedding and press for her upcoming book. It was the saga of a curious chipmunk who never stopped moving and never stopped asking questions, written, of course, for Anders.
Her son sat by the window, silenced by awe as he looked out at the tops of clouds. On Joey's other side was Pacey, Elisa sleeping against his shoulder. The baby had exhausted herself screaming during the air pressure change of takeoff. Her little face was red and mottled; she whimpered slightly in her sleep.
Pacey caught Joey's gaze and gave her a tired smile. Joey kissed his hand where it rested against their daughter's back.
She closed her eyes and relaxed, secure in the belief that life didn't get better than this.
"Mrs. Witter, may I have this dance?"
Joey looked up from her conversation with Jen to smile at her tuxedo-clad husband. "Pacey, you hate to dance."
"But you don't." He held out a hand and grinned roguishly at her. "Besides, I've been reliably informed that one of the perks of being best man is you get to take the hottest bridesmaid home. I figure I'd better earn it."
"You're a pig," Joey laughed and took his hand. "Where's the baby?"
Pacey gestured at a table across the way while he led her to the floor. "Dougie's got her."
Joey glanced where Pacey pointed and saw his brother with Elisa in his lap conversing with an Amy-holding Jack. Interesting, Joey thought, then filed it away for later. Pacey pulled her into his arms as a slow dance started.
During the last, raucous number, Gretchen had twirled Anders around the floor, while Dawson had been similarly adorable with Lily. Now, as if by instinct, the bride and groom drew together for another dance.
Joey sighed happily and buried herself deeper in Pacey's arms. "Today went well, all things considered. You made a nice speech, Pace."
"Thanks. I learned the hard way to leave the Oompa-Loompa references out."
She snickered. "If anyone looks like an Oompa-Loompa today, it's me." She grimaced as she glanced down at her pinkish-orange neo-hippie bridesmaid's dress. "I think this may be the worst one yet."
"But think how much fun it'll be when I tear it off you."
"On this one occasion, I won't mind if you follow through on that promise literally."
Pacey waggled his eyebrows. "I'm gonna hold you to that. And just think, between Jen, Audrey, and Andie, you may have years of atrocious dresses ahead of you."
"Jen, at least, owes me better. I didn't make her wear anything monstrous to ours."
"Jen didn't even know she was going to ours." Pacey's grin faded as he turned her around the floor for several moments in silence. "Do you wish we'd done it differently, Jo?" he finally asked.
She pulled her head up from his shoulder. "What? Our wedding?"
"Yeah. Do you wish you'd had all this?" He gestured at the pristine grandeur around them. "The fancy dress, the flowers, tiered cake, the whole shebang."
"Do you?"
"Not really. I mean, I got what I wanted out of the day when you let me put that ring on your finger." He played with her wedding band. "But I wouldn't have minded sharing my love for you with everyone we know."
"You say that now, but you didn't have to plan this overly-tulled, rose-scented circus with your mother and sisters. Let me tell you, it's a nightmare I'm glad to have been spared. Gretchen is only smiling now because Kerry slipped her a Xanax. And think of the added complications our wedding would have had—your father, the cop, and my father, the criminal; Dawson trying to turn the event into a Spielberg movie; Grams insisting we get married in a church, while Jen refused to set foot in one; spending money we didn't have on a day we would be too stressed to enjoy." Joey placed her lips to Pacey's ear and whispered, "Our wedding was perfect."
Pacey kissed her forehead. "That's because the bride was you."
The idyllic moment was interrupted when Elisa decided she'd had enough of her Uncle Doug and exercised her infant right to scream about it. Halfway to her, Pacey deserted Joey to break up an argument between their son and the flower girl.
Joey swept her daughter into her arms and cooed at the fussy baby. "It's all right. Mama's here. And thanks for letting us have four whole minutes to ourselves."
IV.
Relations between Joey and Pacey changed after she and Anders returned from New York. Nothing drastic, but Pacey no longer seemed set on ignoring her existence.
With Anders finished with preschool and Joey off work for the summer—except pitching in at the B&B—Pacey picked his son up for their afternoons together from Joey's apartment. He always showered right before he came, probably to get rid of the fish smell from work, and he arrived looking so fresh and happy and smelling so good it drove her crazy. Instead of scowls or indifferent stares, Joey received smiles and a kind word or two. But he still wouldn't set foot in her apartment.
Pacey's fishing trip with Anders was scheduled for two weeks after the end of the New York trip. Joey's misgivings mounted with every passing day. She didn't think it was about trusting Pacey or even the lure of the sea; she had never been parted from her son for more than a night before.
Greg, on the other hand, was ecstatic. Anders' trip coincided with his ex's week with the kids, so he thought Joey should spend the entire week at his place. "We'll treat it like a trial run," he said with a wink.
Anders barely slept the night before his trip, he was so excited. Joey's worry kept her sleepless, as well. Pacey had offered to pick up Andersen, but Joey wanted every last minute she could have with her son.
They were up and about while it was still dark. Joey triple-checked his backpack to make sure he had everything. She made him eat a little breakfast, then drove down to the docks.
As she drove, Joey was reminded of too many times she had found Pacey at the wharf. From breaking up with him on Dawson's orders, to chasing him down the day they sailed away, from making up after fights, to saying their goodbyes after the Worthington party. She probably should have read the signs that so much of their relationship occurred in a place of farewells.
Pacey was already on board, readying for departure, when they arrived. The sight of him like that—even in a truly atrocious chartreuse Hawaiian print—made Joey feel as though her heart were being tugged straight towards him.
"Ahoy the boat," she called on impulse.
Pacey looked up, spotted them, and waved. Anders would have taken off running if Joey hadn't had a strong grip on his hand.
"Andersen, we've talked about this. You do not run on docks or boats. One slip and you could be seriously hurt or fall in the water. And wear your life jacket at all times." Anders was a strong swimmer for his age, but one could never be too careful.
By that time, they had reached Pacey's launch. "Hey, Joey. Hiya, kiddo. You ready for this?"
"Permission to come aboard?" Anders asked, the way his mother had taught him.
Pacey froze for a second, his eyes locked on Joey, mind clearly in a memory. He shook himself out of it and held both hands down to his son. "Permission granted."
He helped Anders jump onto the boat, while Joey remained on the dock. She had to respect Pacey's space, as he did hers.
"Bye, sweetie. Have fun." She leaned over the rail for one last hug and kiss of her son. "Listen to your dad. Wear your life-vest!"
Amid Anders' own goodbyes and Pacey's promises to keep him safe, they raised anchor and set off. Joey stood on the dock, waving and watching, until they were a blur in the radiant orange sunrise.
Joey had spent one hundred days living with a man on a very small sailboat. She'd roomed with Jack for two years. She'd lived with her son since he was born. She'd even spent a month in a cabin with Greg and his kids. So one week rooming with her boyfriend should have been no big deal.
She packed a small bag—changes of clothes, toothbrush and other toiletries, a few paperbacks to pass the time—locked up her apartment and headed to Greg's. He greeted her effusively, but couldn't believe she hadn't brought more.
Joey shrugged. "I travel light."
Greg, like most teachers Joey knew, found a way to make a little extra money during the summers. He crafted crossword puzzles and submitted them to various publications. Joey had been in awe of this skill when first she learned of it. Now, it was just part of what made Greg, Greg.
So in the mornings, Joey went for a run and helped Bessie with cleaning, while Greg worked on his puzzles. In the afternoons, they read—each their own book, in silence—or walked around town or ran errands. Take-out for dinner and a movie or board game completed the night.
"Do you think it's possible to run out of things to say?" Joey asked her sister while they were airing the sheets on Thursday morning.
"For some people? Sure. For you? Not unless your tongue was forcibly removed from your head."
"Last night at dinner, Greg and I didn't say a word for twenty minutes. I finally broke the silence by expounding on Dawson's old theory about the emotional allegory in Jurassic Park."
Bessie laughed around the pin in her mouth, before attaching it and a sheet to the clothesline. "Wow, you were desperate."
"I'm serious, Bess. It's driving me mad. I'd rather be here scrubbing toilets than there with him. What's wrong with me?"
Bessie hefted the empty laundry basket on her hip and headed inside. "Nothing's wrong with you. Maybe something is wrong with the relationship. All couples go through ruts; Bodie and I have had our share. But that's when you determine how strong your relationship really is. Do you fight for it, or let it go?"
"Greg and I have never had a problem before. We still don't, really. He's great, perfect, even. I'm just...I don't know."
"You and Greg have also never had more than, what, six hours straight together without kids. That doesn't really give you the chance to build intimacy."
"So this is what intimacy looks like? Nothing to say and marathon Monopoly games." Joey started on the morning's dishes while Bessie made lemonade.
"You know it's not, Joey. You're better at intimacy than almost anyone I know. Look at you and Dawson. In a lifetime, I don't think you'd run out of things to say to one another."
"I'm not in love with Dawson."
"Who said you were? Friendship can be intimate, and romances can be shallow. If Greg's not the one, then fine, there are other men. But I wouldn't jump to any conclusions from one lousy dinner. Anyway, I think this has more to do with Anders being gone. You've never been away from your son so long before, and it's got you flummoxed."
Joey conceded the point, and the conversation moved on to other topics. But Joey's mind kept making the comparison her sister hadn't. One hundred days on a sailboat, and there was always more to say.
On Saturday night, Joey returned to her apartment, telling Greg she wasn't sure what time Pacey was returning Anders the next day. That was true, as far as it went, but she knew it would be late rather than early. She just wanted her own space back.
She spent the day scouring the apartment, as she had the space and time to do so. She even baked cookies to welcome her son home.
The intercom buzzed a little short of seven that night. "Mom, we're home!" was Anders' excited answer to her query.
Joey opened the apartment door as soon as she buzzed them in. To her delight, Anders raced up the stairs and threw himself into her arms. She held him tight, breathing in the scent of him, then laughed.
"You certainly smell like you spent the last seven days on a fishing boat. Let me look at you." Pacey walked up the stairs at a more sedate pace, while Joey inspected her son for changes. Anders was slightly tanner and looked both bright-eyed with excitement and ready to fall over from exhaustion. "I think you grew an inch this week. I missed you, sweetie."
"I missed you, too, Mommy. But Dad said it was okay, even big, strong men cry sometimes, and crying can be good, and it wouldn't scare the fishes, and he was right, because I caught SO MANY fish, and most of them we threw back, but some of them we ate, and Dad said I was a lot braver about fish than you were. I didn't even barf when Dad cut the guts out!"
"That's quite an accomplishment. I want to hear all about it, but bath first. You smell like those fish guts all landed on you."
Anders laughed. "Okay, Mom. Thanks, Dad." He turned from her to give Pacey a hug. "It was the best trip ever!" He ran into the apartment, leaving Pacey to hand off his Spider-man backpack, slightly more battered than it had been a week ago.
"I'm sure you read between the lines and realize you were very much missed."
Joey smiled. "So was he. I've never been away from him this long before. It was the slowest week of my life."
"It was the best week of mine," Pacey admitted. "You raised a great kid, Jo. Sorry if I didn't tell you before."
Joey could scarcely absorb the compliment. She was too bothered by Pacey's apology. Where Anders was concerned, all the apologies should come from her. "I'm sorry it took so long for you to meet him."
"Yeah, well..." Pacey shifted uncomfortably. He was standing a step below the landing, while Joey hovered in the apartment doorway. It made her slightly taller than him for a change. "Doug has pointed out to me the many, many examples of irresponsible behavior I exhibited, up to and including ditching my own graduation, and asked how I could blame you for not trusting me to raise a child. When I think of it that way, I guess I understand. Almost. I'm not sure I can forgive you yet, but I can't hate you, either."
A knot formed in Joey's throat, cutting off her vocal cords. To see Pacey so abject, thinking, like always, that he deserved all the bad things which happened to him, that he was deficient in some essential way, made her want to blurt out the whole truth. But then, wouldn't he hate her all over again for her selfishness? She told him other truths, instead.
"You didn't deserve it, Pacey. I was wrong—so wrong—not to tell you. I've watched you with Anders. You're a great father, one any child would be lucky to have."
Pacey's face lit up. His grin made Joey smile automatically. "Thanks, Jo. I—"
"Mom!" called Anders from behind her. "I took a shower. The water turned brown! Can I have a cookie now, please?"
"Yes, but just one, and brush your teeth after. I'll be there in a minute."
Pacey was already half-turned down the steps. "Night, Jo."
"Do you want to come in and have a cookie?" she asked recklessly.
He considered it for half a second—progress, she thought—then shook his head. "Nah, I've got to get home and shower. I smell worse than the kid. Night."
"Night, Pacey." She stood in the doorway and watched him leave.
III.
Everything perfect had its price, but Joey hadn't foreseen this one.
At her first prenatal checkup, she had to fill out a mountain of paperwork. She didn't intend to skip the question; it must have gotten lost among the thousand others. Unless Freud was right, after all, and there were no accidents.
Joey's obstetrician, a striking Indian-American woman named Dr. Dhawan who made Joey feel as gawky as a colt, went over every sheet of paper from her side of the desk, while Joey and Pacey waited on the other.
It almost felt like their old trips to the principal's office.
"You missed a question here, Mrs. Witter. Have you ever had an abortion?"
Joey's hand went clammy in Pacey's grip. "Does that matter?"
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Pacey jerk his head toward her. She kept her gaze locked on Dr. Dhawan.
"If it was late-term, or there were complications, an abortion can sometimes increase the risk factor for your pregnancy."
"Six years ago," Joey said in a tight voice. "First trimester. No complications."
"Then it shouldn't—"
Dr. Dhawan's reassurance fell away as Pacey dropped Joey's hand and walked out of the office without a word. "I'm sorry. Your husband didn't know?"
Joey shook her head, fighting back tears.
"But surely, something so long ago—"
"He was the father then, too."
"Oh." Dr. Dhawan, with all her poise, was at a loss for words. "Oh."
Joey took the subway home after her appointment. She begrudged every stop along the way. If she was too late, Pacey would already have left for work. Assuming he'd come home in the first place. Assuming he hadn't hopped on the first boat leaving town.
She didn't really believe he'd leave, not after all they'd been through, not with this baby on the way. The problem was she didn't know what he would do.
Joey raced up the three flights of stairs to their cubbyhole of an apartment. They were looking for a bigger place for when the baby came. At least, they had been looking for a bigger place.
The only light in the apartment was the dreary, gray morning light from the solitary window. Pacey sat on the couch, glass in hand, bottle of Scotch—mostly full, Joey noted with relief—on the coffee table in front of him.
"So this happened when I was sailing the Caribbean?" Pacey asked, not looking at her, looking at the spot of dreary, gray light on their dreary, beige carpet. "I guess what I mean is did you know before I left or only after?"
Joey shut and locked the apartment door. Now that she knew he was here, all haste had left her. She sat on the opposite end of the couch, toed off her shoes and curled into a ball. She could use a glass of Scotch herself, but couldn't have one. The baby.
"It wasn't then," she said finally. "It was while you were out of town, camping with Doug."
"Camping with..." The confusion on Pacey's face gave way to remembrance. "We weren't even broken up then."
"No."
"So why didn't you tell me?"
"I was afraid. Gretchen had been talking about all the pressure you were under—"
"Gretchen knew?"
"Yes, and hated me for years for making her swear not to tell you." Joey rushed to vindicate his sister. Let his hate stay focused on her, where it belonged.
"Ah. I always thought that had something to do with Dawson. Did he know, by the way?" From Pacey's tone of voice, they might have been discussing the weather; only his grim expression and the way he wouldn't look at her hinted at the knife edge he stood upon.
"No. Not Dawson, not Jen, not Jack. Only your sister and mine."
"And you. You knew, Joey. You've known all along."
"What do you want me to say, Pacey? I was eighteen years old and scared out of my mind. You were out of town, unreachable, and we were falling apart. I made the right decision to have the abortion, and the wrong one not to tell you about it."
"And at no point in the last six years did you think to right that wrong?"
"How would telling you later have fixed it? We were apart for nine months. By the time we got back together, it seemed stupid to rehash the past yet again. And the farther away it all got, the less important it seemed."
"You didn't trust me. That's what it amounts to. You didn't trust me to be there for you."
"That's not true. I didn't want to hurt you, and I didn't want you to blame yourself. Which is what you do, Pace. Even now, when any other man would be sitting there hating me, you're sitting there hating yourself, for God only knows what reason this time, except your belief that if you'd been better in some unspecified way, I would have told you."
That finally brought Pacey's gaze up to her. He tried to glare, but the effect was ruined by the unshed tears glimmering in his ocean blue eyes.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I wish I had a better excuse; I don't. I wish I knew what to say; I don't. But I wouldn't wish one single moment of the last six years unlived. I'm sorry for the baby that was never born, but it led the way to this." She rested her hand low on her belly. "The baby we're ready for."
Pacey took a deep, shuddering breath and downed the rest of his glass. "I'm pissed as hell, Jo."
"I know."
"You've had six years to deal with this. I've had two hours."
"I know."
Pacey groaned and leaned his head against the back of the couch. "I'm supposed to head to work now."
"I'll call in sick for you." Joey went to grab her cell phone from her purse.
"When I figure out what I want to say to you, there's probably going to be some screaming involved."
Her mouth slipped into a half-smile. "Thanks for the warning. I'll invest in earplugs."
"Hey, Jo?"
Joey dialed Pacey's restaurant and put the phone to her ear. "Hmm?"
"Whatever happened then, whatever happens now, I love you."
"I know that, too."