Read Online All the Things We Never Knew by Sheila Hamilton - Free Book Online

eyes, turned, and left the room.
    Somehow, we made it through the fall, a blur of work and diapers and me concentrating on the small, magical accomplishments Sophie made every day. I found my purpose in the simple acts of mothering, strapping on the baby pack in the morning and only taking it off for her naps.
    We took long, lovely walks together through the park, with Sophie cooing in a tone so delightful it made me smile just to hear her voice. I loved to change her diapers, to bathe and talk and sing to her. The two of us shared as much communication as I needed at the time. Mothering taught me just how much capacity my heart carried. Even though I was sleeping only six hours a night, I woke easily and enthusiastically, eager to see what new accomplishment Sophie might take on during our days together. She was bright eyes and beautiful sounds by now, babbling early and often and pushing herself up off chubby arms to rock back and forth on her haunches, preparing to crawl. I talked or sang with her throughout the day until my dialogue was drowned out by her happy noises, “ba, ba, ba,” and “da, da, da.” At six months, she had an enormous appetite, with two early teeth to help her chew everything from squash to small bits of chicken and steak. At Thanksgiving, her eyes lit up when she tasted mashed potatoes and gravy for the first time. I kept reading ahead in the baby book to try to keep up with her not-so-minor miracles. The more I loved Sophie, the less I needed of David. The more I concentrated on Sophie, the less I needed to address the pain of my marriage. It was the only defense I had, or so I reasoned. Did I know I was compartmentalizing? Probably. Did I ever imagine it would turn out so disastrously? No, never.
    We spent Christmas vacation at my parents’ new home in Utah, a sprawling, beautiful house with dozens of windows framing a viewof the Great Salt Lake. A series of snowstorms kept the snowplows humming throughout the day. More than two feet of snow was already piled on the front lawn, making perfect conditions for cross-country skiing. My mother assured us Sophie would be fine. “Go, go, have fun, you two. I’ve done this a few times, you know.” David and I exchanged a glance, his more hopeful than my own. We were still being cautious with one another, tentative and polite. But David had never owned up to his affair. And I still mistrusted him.
    David and I loaded up our skis and drove in silence to the mountain. Settlement Canyon was such a special place for me. Growing up, I’d spent hundreds of days riding through the passes there. The canyon was the place where I was first kissed. It was where our high school cheerleading squad hiked to light the “T” before the homecoming festivities. It was a place teeming with memories of a more innocent time.
    The city had installed a new, heavy gate made of steel, with a small opening for bikes and pedestrians at the entrance to the canyon. Most of the locals were irked by it; people in my hometown were hunters and outdoorsmen who would have preferred to drive their trucks through the canyon, shooting at game. The gate kept out motorized vehicles, and the wildlife had flourished. The snow was untracked in front of us. David headed out in front of me, making long, strong strides with his skis. I followed behind in his tracks.
    Because he was raised in Canada, the cold temperatures suited him perfectly. When the temperatures dropped below twenty, David’s cheeks grew rosy and his ears got bright, but his hands or feet never got cold. An hour into our ski, I started to feel the sting of frostnip on my fingers and toes. “We should probably turn around,” I said. “I’m starting to get really cold.”
    David’s bright expression drooped, his hat slightly lopsided on his head. “Really?” he asked. “Can’t we just go a bit farther up the road?”
    I didn’t want to