The setback, p.33
The Setback, page 33
“I’m actually calling about you,” she says. “You had a pregnancy test this morning.”
“Oh, right,” I say. “Okay.”
“It was positive.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your test came back positive. You’re pregnant. You’d need to schedule an ultrasound for us to estimate your due date, but it looks like you’re going to be having a baby.”
“Okay, thanks for calling.” The words shoot out, but it feels like I’m in a daze.
“Please do call back if you want to set up the preliminary appointment.”
“Will do.” I hang up.
Could it really be true?
“What’s wrong?” Will passes Althea to his mom and crosses to where I’m standing. “You look nervous.”
“I—the hospital.” I close my mouth. “The nurse this morning made me take a pregnancy test.”
Will frowns. “What?”
“I threw up when Beth went into labor, remember?” I don’t wait for him to say anything. “I vomited again this morning, and I guess that means everyone thinks. . .” Except no one thinks that anymore. The nurse says I am pregnant.
When I turn my head up toward Will’s, I see Beth standing in the doorway. “Did you say you’re pregnant?” She swallows, her eyes wide.
I nod slowly.
“I thought you couldn’t get pregnant.”
“So did I,” I say. “Until we’ve had an ultrasound to confirm and we know how far along I am, I’m not holding my breath.” It sounds terrible to say, but it’s not the first time I’ve thought I was pregnant.
Beth nods, and a few moments later, I hear that Ethan has arrived.
“Wouldn’t that be amazing if you were,” Mrs. Earl says.
“It would be hard,” I say. “But yes. A complete miracle.”
Will and his mother both want to rush me off to an emergency room right away for testing. “It’s not urgent,” I say. “Let’s schedule something and get it checked out by someone who does this for their job.”
I call Abby for a referral—if I am pregnant, I’m much older than I was last time, and that means that I’m high risk. She loved her doc, apparently, so I make an appointment to see him.
Of course, he can’t see me until the day we’re supposed to be moving. The days fly by, but the nights drag on, which is always true with a baby. I’m packing a box in the family room after a two a.m. feeding when Beth taps on my door.
“Hey. I hope we didn’t wake you up.”
She shakes her head. “I got up to get a drink, but I saw the light.” She coos as she holds out a finger to Thea. “She’s gotten so much bigger in just two weeks.”
“Her cheeks are filling out for sure,” I say.
“And she cries way louder, too.”
“I’m sure you won’t miss that.”
“I’ve been wanting to ask you something. I know you have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”
I nod. “I’m pretty nervous, to be honest. These have often not gone well for me.”
“If you are pregnant, and if everything looks good. . .” She swallows. “Will you still want to keep Althea?”
My heart stops for a moment. I’m glad I’m not holding the baby. I sit down on the edge of the sofa. “Beth, have you changed your mind?” She’s already signed the paperwork, but we’re still waiting on a signature from the father, so it’s not really a done deal in my mind.
“Me?” Her eyes widen. “No.”
I close my eyes and breathe. Then I force them back open. “You’re just worried about us?”
She nods.
I grab her hands with mine. “Althea is my daughter,” I say. “To me, there’s nothing that could change that. Not a force on earth.”
A tear rolls down Beth’s cheek.
It’s hard to force out the next sentence, but I love Beth too much not to say it. “Unless you told me you changed your mind.” I force myself to look caring and calm.
Beth shakes her head. “No, that’s not it.”
My sigh of relief is a little larger than I intended. “Whether I’m pregnant or not, Althea’s my daughter. We’ll always keep her safe. We’ll always be her parents.”
Beth starts to cry. “Okay. Good. That’s good.”
How worried has she been all this time? “Listen, if I am pregnant, poor Mrs. Earl will have her hands full at the hotel alone again, and I may need some of her help with the babies here. But some women have twins. Others get pregnant right after delivering. We’ll figure the rest of it out if it is true, okay?”
She wipes her face. “Okay.”
“And if this little baby is alright too?” I place a hand on my stomach. “Then maybe I’ll have the big family I always wanted.”
Her words are very, very soft when she says, “Sometimes it feels like I’m your daughter, just a little bit.”
I hug her then, tightly, and now I’m the one who’s bawling. “So do I, Beth.” It’s a long time before I let her go. “I’m glad you’re staying here. I don’t know what I’d have done if you tried to move to Seattle.”
“I didn’t think, if you were taking care of my baby, that you would want me hanging around and acting like I was your kid, too.”
“The thing about love that’s different than everything else in the world, really, is that the more you do it, the more there is. And even if it’s messy, that’s okay.” Abby’s words come back to me again, and I marvel that the advice she gave me the day of my wedding is still so true. “Real love is messy, Beth, and that’s okay.”
The next morning, when I’m about to leave for my appointment, Will’s mom is already waiting, ready to babysit.
“I could watch her while you all go, if you want,” Beth says. “I mean, it’s fine if you don’t want me to, but if Mrs. Earl wanted to be there for the appointment.”
“I would love that,” I say. “I think Thea would love to have you here, too.”
Beth has hovered around the edges of the room while we cared for Althea, mostly, unsure how involved she could be. But the few times we’ve helped her burp and change the baby, it’s been really special to watch. Like a startled colt, she picks her up with wide eyes. “Hey, little one.”
I watch for just one moment, even though it’ll probably make us late, as my little niece spends some time with the daughter she gave up. She thought it would hurt too much to stay. I worried it might make her waver in her decision. But the words I spoke in the middle of the night feel more true than ever before. Love is messy, but that doesn’t mean it’s not beautiful.
There’s no one way to do things if you’re doing them with love. I think this little girl’s going to be very, very lucky to have so many people in her life who care about her.
I hold that thought, that moment, in my head as I sit and wait in the waiting room.
“It’s going to be alright,” Will says. “Either way.”
Only, now that I have this hope dangling in front of me, it doesn’t feel that way. In my life, nothing ever goes quite right. When I got into Stanford, I had to agree to forgo my inheritance. When I met the perfect guy, he turned out to be a monumental jerk. When he started a company, I had to sacrifice my tuition to bankroll it. I finally had a child, but it was only after multiple heartbreaks. And after doing all I could for my marriage, it broke down anyway. Things weren’t smooth when I moved back home, either. Nothing with my family ever has been.
But it’s been all good news lately, and that makes me even more wary. Will proposed. We lucked into an already planned wedding. And then my niece gave up her daughter, and she stayed with us.
I’m nervous about getting the signature from the birth father. Each day that passes, I wonder why he hasn’t signed. I worry that he might not ever send us the paperwork. But other than that niggling fear, things have been mostly perfect.
Which means I’m overdue for bad news.
When the doc starts asking me questions, like confirming the date of my last period, my heart rate really goes nuts. “Yes, I thought I’d had two in the last four months,” I say. “But it’s always been erratic. As you can see—”
He holds up his hand. “It’s fine. Don’t stress out.”
As if I can just choose not to be stressed.
Will takes my hand, and I’m pretty sure he’s regretting it. I’m worried I’ll cut off his circulation with how hard I’m squeezing, but I can’t seem to stop.
“We’re going to start with a transvaginal ultrasound. Have you had one of those before?”
That makes me laugh, but it sounds strange. Strangled, kind of.
“Donna,” Will says. “Do you want us to stay or step out?”
He and his mom both look nervous, like they’re not quite sure what to say or do.
“Stay,” I say. “Please stay.” That stops me from laughing, at least.
A few moments later, when the ultrasound machine’s finally ready, I want to close my eyes. I want to look away and have someone tell me later, like the way Bonnie called and let me know hours after the test. I can’t do that, though. I have to face what’s right in front of me.
“You are definitely pregnant,” Dr. Peters says. “And judging from the measurements and size, I’d guess you’re about twelve weeks along.” He clicks some buttons and takes a few photographs. “That means that while you aren’t entirely safe, you’re mostly out of the woods.” His smile isn’t forced. “I hear that you just adopted a baby.”
I nod.
“Well, I hope you’re ready for this. It looks like you’re going to have another one quite soon.”
“I’m ready,” I say. “More than ready.”
It feels unreal as we drive home, and I can’t stop staring at my new photograph.
“Guesses?” Will’s mom asks. “A sister or a brother for Thea and Aiden?”
“I’d be happy with either,” Will says.
“Same.” I still can’t stop looking at the image. I’ve only had one other twelve-week photo. Beth didn’t get an ultrasound until she was twenty weeks, and my others didn’t make it this far.
“You should have added two bedrooms,” Mrs. Earl says, “instead of just that one.”
“Kids learn a lot from sharing,” I say. “I think it’ll be fine.”
“I hope you still think that when someone is pulling someone else’s hair.” But she’s smiling.
We’re nearly home when Patrick calls me. We’ve invited both Patrick and Amelia out several times to meet Thea, but so far they haven’t made it. Calls from him are never good, so I brace myself before saying, “Hello?”
“Donna.”
“Patrick.”
“I have something for you.” That sounds even worse than I expected.
“What is it?”
“I think you want it pretty badly.” He clears his throat. “I’m looking at this and thinking, wow, I wonder what Donna would do for this piece of paper.”
“Patrick, cut the crap. What do you want?”
“Nothing,” he says. “If you give me your current address—Beth says you’re moving—I’ll drop this in the mail.”
Normally, I’d already have hung up, but today has been such a good day that I’m a little more patient than usual. “What is it? Or are you just not telling me?” I’m sure he wants something, and I wish he’d just get around to it. “If you’re suing me, just tell me why.”
“Suing you?” He wheezes, like I’m being nuts. “It’s a paper with a very particular kid’s signature on it. He didn’t want to sign, because he felt that it could be used against him later, to prove that he had fathered a child.”
Now I can barely breathe. “You said it’s signed?”
“It is,” Patrick says. “I told him that if we had to do a DNA test first, I’d be sure to hold a copy on file forever, and that I would use it to make his life miserable until he died. I can’t believe this little jerk had the ausperity to ruin Beth’s life, and then insist he hadn’t done it.”
I’m pretty sure he meant audacity, and it didn’t ruin Beth’s life. I think she’s learned a lot. It also blessed my life in ways I can’t even express. But trying to correct Patrick is a total waste of time. Always has been. I’ve finally stopped banging my head against that brick wall.
“You really have his signature on the form?” I hate how desperate I sound.
“I do,” Patrick says. “And I really am going to mail it to you.”
I wait for the catch.
“I’m sorry that we haven’t really helped with anything,” Patrick says.
I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“You have been there for Beth, even when we weren’t. I’m glad that you’re going to take care of her baby.”
I have no idea what prompted this bizarre and unexpected growth moment for my brother, but it’s almost unbelievable, like a stunning rainbow after a heinous storm. “Thea is one of the most beautiful babies I’ve ever seen, just like Beth was. You’re both welcome to come and meet her any time.”
I’m sure on the day they finally do, I’ll be cursing them for saying fifty rude, obtuse things. But roses almost always have thorns, and I’m prepared to deal with them.
“I’ll text you my new address.”
“Thanks.” I think about telling him about the pregnancy, but there’s no telling how Patrick will react to anything. I decide to keep my mouth shut until the paper he’s holding is in my hands and the future for my family is secure.
It takes almost a week for the mail carrier in Manila to finally bring the paper to our new place. We’ve unpacked almost everything, and Althea’s asleep on her cherry blossom blanket when the paper arrives, signed and notarized just as Patrick said.
Will was helping me put wallpaper up on the side wall of the nursery when the mail came—a large cherry tree that’s blooming—but we stop to stare at the paper we’ve been waiting and praying we’d get. “It’s here.”
“I won’t lie and say I wasn’t nervous.” Will’s beaming.
In that moment of stillness, I feel it. Our new baby’s first kick. I put Will’s hand on my stomach, but it’s too faint for him to feel yet. “I think that this is the best moment of my life so far.”
“The best is yet to come, I promise,” my handsome husband says.
Will has kept every promise he’s ever made to me, so I can’t wait to see how much more beautiful our lives can really be. And how messy.
Epilogue: Mandy
Since 1896, the US Postal service has provided rural mail delivery. It was pretty revolutionary at the time. Previously, people had to travel into town to pick up their mail.
In spite of that huge step forward, the mail wasn’t always reliable in Manila, Utah.
For a while, it only came twice a week. By the 1970s, it was coming every day, but things would often get lost and not show up for several weeks after they were due. Now, with Amazon deliveries and UPS and FedEx, it’s easier than ever to have a package delivered to my door.
I still get excited when things show up.
When they were living here, Roscoe would always bark so I never forgot and left anything sitting outside. Jed’s useless. Now that Amanda and her girls have moved to Eddy’s place, I often fail to notice when someone drops off a delivery. After a package of popping pearls for the drinks the girls love froze and burst in February, I started sitting in the front room so I would be more likely to notice things arriving.
Today, I’m trying to finish reading Amanda’s proposal on furniture purchase orders and Helen’s update on the overall financials so that I’ll be ready for our call in an hour, so I don’t hop up to grab the package that arrives right away.
Right as our call ends, I remember it. I hop up and yank the door open. I don’t expect to see a startled but familiar face.
Emery’s holding the package, standing on my front porch.
“Goodness child, what are you doing here?”
“I have to interview someone who lived through a war for my history class. Mom said she’d tell you I was going to take the bus here today.”
Amanda must’ve forgotten, but I’m always happy to see the girls. “Come on in.”
“What’s this?”
The package is large, and it must be heavy, judging by the way she’s holding it.
“It’s not from Amazon,” she says. “And instead of listing the company it came from, it says T. Collins.”
“That’s common for old people like me.” I reach for the box. “Using our first initial instead of our name.”
“Is T. Collins a friend?”
“Emery, didn’t your mother ever teach you that asking a lot of questions is rude?”
She blinks. “It’s heavy. Just tell me where to put it.”
I grumble, but I let her follow me inside.
“I’m sorry if I’m being rude, but not telling me who it’s from just makes me more curious.” Emery’s smile is like the sunrise over the Gorge. Bright, brilliant, beautiful. “Come on. Who’s T. Collins?”
“Thomas Collins was my best friend, ever since I was a kid.”
“It’s a boy?”
I laugh. “It’s a boy, yes.” I point at the corner of my family room, and she puts it down.
“Do you know what he sent you?” Her eyes light up. “Or is it a surprise?”
“Emery Brooks, you stop asking me questions right now, or I’ll tan your hide.”
“You always say that, but I don’t even know what it means. Tanning is bad for your skin, and you’d never do something bad.”
That makes me laugh. “Tanning a hide means taking a skin and turning it into leather.”
She recoils in horror. “Ew.”
“You don’t want me to do that.”
“No one wants anyone to do that.”
“Taxidermists make a decent living out of it.”
“Why are you being so weird about a box?” Emery taps it with her foot. “What’s in there?”
“I have no idea what’s in there, but he’s the person I stayed with when I let you guys think I’d died, so it’s probably something I forgot there.” I’m ready for it—her scolding. Every time anything about this comes up, Amanda flips out. I know what I did was probably ill-advised, but at the time it seemed like a good idea.
