"Thank you," I said, my voice squeaking a little.
Madeleine had said that he visited her. Maybe he did. If Nathan was as wonderful as I thought he was, then yeah, he'd visit everyone.
I hoped he visited Brooke. And Atticus and Miles. And God, I hoped he visited his parents.
Be happy, Nathan. Don't worry about me too much. I'm fine.
*
The afternoon of the Re-Enter Center's art show, I was at the studio just after a shoot, and my phone buzzed with a text.
Hey, Kate. Just wanted to say I hope I see you tonight. I'm almost done with the swing for your in-laws and I should have it in time for the party, no problem. We've known each other for a long time. Let's not be dicks about sleeping together, okay?
Daniel
the hot firefighter
I laughed. Kind of loved that he signed his name that way. I wrote back:
Okay, hot firefighter. See you later. And thank you for not being a dick.
I went home to get ready. Ainsley was coming, too, which was really nice. Paige would be there, too, but the thought didn't bother me.
I took a shower with my special lemon soap, which smelled extra nice today. Felt a little...happy. Maybe it was the notion that I'd felt Nathan's presence the other night. Maybe I'd just turned a corner. I had loved Nathan, but I didn't have years of memories together, which was both crushing and...well...easier.
And knowing that Daniel wasn't sulking in a corner made me feel better, too.
I looked into Nathan's closet. Maybe this weekend, I'd start cleaning things out. Before I could turn maudlin, I shut the door and lay down on the bed and surprised myself by falling asleep.
*
A few hours later, Ainsley and I walked into the Center. Greta came over, hugged me, shook hands with Ainsley, who was unabashedly looking for teardrop ex-cons, then led us through the crowd to the photography exhibit.
Pierre was there. "Ah, Kate, my love, my love! So good to see you! This one is mine, just sayin'. In case you like it best."
"Pierre, shoo," Greta said with a laugh.
"I would've guessed this was yours, though," I added. It was a picture of a naked woman.
"Ten bucks if you pick it as the winner," he said, then melted back into the crowd.
"So just mark down your top three," Greta said, "and we'll announce it, and then the auction will start, okay? I better go press some flesh. Take your time. Just not too much time." She flashed a smile and went back to schmoozing.
Ainsley and I walked slowly down the line, and I told her what I was looking for. There were the usual marks of the amateur--poor composition, negative space used the wrong way, not enough color saturation, bad lighting.
But what I loved was the subject material. All of the fifteen or so pictures were taken outside, even Pierre's naked woman. All of them showed heart, whether it was the picture of the homeless man and his dog, or the little kid drinking from a water fountain. These men had suffered while in prison, as many of them richly deserved. Hopefully, they'd learned some things, too. The value of freedom, the beauty of an ordinary day.
"This is the winner," I told Ainsley, stopping at the second-to-last photo. It was of a little girl with big brown eyes, laughing as a pigeon fluttered up toward her. "See how much life and movement there is? The bird's wings, the girl's braids flying up, her hands, the way he caught her in midjump."
"It makes me happy to look at it," Ainsley said.
"Exactly. A lot of emotion here."
"You're so cool, Kate. You should start teaching here again."
"I think I will," I said. Even if it was a bit of a haul, it was worth it. I marked down my choices for first, second and third (Pierre's) and sealed the envelope.
"Making a celebrity appearance?" came a voice. Paige.
"Hello," I said. As always, she looked fantastic.
She scrunched up her face in an approximation of a smile. "So nice of you to grace us with your presence."
"You're welcome. You remember my sister, of course."
Paige didn't spare her a glance. "I met someone," she said. "It's pretty serious. I'd love for you to meet him."
No How have you been, no I'm sorry I've been such a bitch. I glanced at my sister, who just rolled her eyes. "Yeah...no. We're not friends anymore, Paige."
She exhaled in disbelief. "Why? Because I'm finally happy? You only liked me when I was a loser?"
"What about when I was happy?" I asked. "I seem to remember you telling me to fuck off when I got engaged. I seem to remember that you didn't email or call me even once after my husband died. Now I'm supposed to throw confetti because you finally found someone to put up with you? No, thanks."
Her mouth hung open.
"Hear, hear," said my sister. "For the record, I always thought you were a bitch, too."
She whirled and stomped off, and I had to admit, it felt pretty great. Ainsley and I grinned at each other for a second.
Then Daniel was there. "Hey, gorgeous," he said, hugging me. He smelled very clean, very Ivory soapish. "Hi, Ainsley," he added, letting me go to kiss her cheek. He looked back at me. "Did you finally tell her off?" he asked, nodding in the direction Paige had gone.
"I did," I said. "And it felt great."
"I love her shoes," Ainsley said. "I hate her, but those are some killer shoes. I bet you two have some talking to do, so I'll just slip discreetly away," Ainsley murmured.
"No, no, that's not necessary," I said. "How are you, Daniel? How's the family?"
"They're good," he said. "Want to see pictures?" He pulled out his phone and started sliding his finger across the screen. "Here's Lizzie. You know she booked a runway show? My mom is freaking out, but the money, holy shit. College is not going to be a problem, let's put it that way." He slid to the next one. "And here's the baby, Maisy. She smiled the other day. Cutest thing in the world. Here's the demon child. She's my favorite, of course." He looked up from the phone and grinned.
We were normal again. The knowledge made my chest loosen with relief.
"Hey, come on down the hall and see the porch swing," he said. "You, too, Ains. It's really nice. The students have been helping. It's sort of a class project. We still have to put on some more varnish, but it'll be ready. When's the party again?"
"Two weeks from tonight," I said.
We left the gym and went down the hall to the wood shop. Ainsley pressed a glass of wine into my hand. "Thanks," I said, taking a sip.
Oh, God, it was horribly off. I forced myself to swallow it. "There's something wrong with this," I said. "Don't drink it."
"There is?" she asked. She took my glass and sniffed. Frowned at me and took a sip. "Seems fine to me."
"It's really bad."
"It's not Chateau Lafite, but it's not horrible," she said.
Daniel took a sip, too. "No, it's fine." They looked at me, puzzled. "Anyway, here we go, ladies. After you."
He opened the door of the shop, and the sharp smell of polyurethane hit me hard. There was the swing, dangling from two chains. It was made of narrow strips of a honey-colored wood and curved beautifully, the shape modern but classic.
Nathan would have approved.
"Go ahead, sit on it, girls," he said. Ainsley and I scootched up, and it glided gently, back and forth, back and forth.
Then I bolted. Ran to the sink in the corner and puked. God! What the heck? I retched again, my whole body convulsing.
"Kate, are you okay?" Ainsley asked, handing me some paper towels. Daniel stood there, too, rubbing my back.
"I'm so sorry," I said. "I hardly ever throw up." I rinsed my mouth, my stomach still quivering, and took the paper towels.
Straightened up.
Ainsley was looking at me with her mouth half-open.
The fatigue. The sleepiness. The bloodhound sense of smell.
And now puking.
"Oh. Oh, no. Nope," I stammered. "No. It's not... Nope."
Daniel covered his mouth with a big hand.
"No," I whispered.
"Oops," Daniel said.
"No!" I barked. "No, it's...it's--I can't... Oh, God."
"Okay, okay," Ainsley said, holding out her hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Let's get out of here. Daniel, do you live nearby?"
"Yeah," he said. "Oh, shit. Holy crap. My God. But we used... Oh, God."
"Enough," she said. "Move it, you two."
We got out of there faster than bank robbers, into Ainsley's Prius, Daniel barely fitting in the back. There was a Duane Reade a few blocks down. "Stay here," Ainsley said, hopping out of the car. Daniel and I didn't speak.
It couldn't be true. Please. Not now.
Six minutes later, she was back with a plastic bag. I looked inside.
Two boxes, four pregnancy tests all told.
No one said anything as we drove to Daniel's. He unlocked the door, and we clomped up the stairs. "I'll come in with you," Ainsley ordered. "Daniel, wait here."
"Okay," he answered faintly.
I knew the drill. Somewhere, I could swear I heard the Fates laughing.
My hands were shaking as I held the test.
One line, I thought. One line. One line.
I set the test on the wrapper and tidied up. Ainsley and I didn't look at each other.
"You guys okay?" Daniel's voice was a little on the strangled side.
"We'll be with you in a second," Ainsley said.
One line. One line. All the times I'd prayed for two came back to me. Please, I told my body. Please be consistent. Do that for me. Let there be just one line.
When I got to a hundred and eighty, I looked.
There were two lines.
Chapter Thirty-One
Ainsley
Because they had a lot to talk about, I left Kate at Daniel's and drove back to Cambry-on-Hudson by myself.
Oh, my poor sister. I'd spent half an hour sitting with her on the couch, looking at her white face. Daniel, God bless him, didn't say much after I opened the door and said, "Congratulations."
Instead, he made her a sandwich. "It'll be okay," he said, whether to himself or Kate or me or all three of us, I wasn't sure. "It'll be okay."
There wasn't much else to say.
As I drove up the FDR Drive, Jonathan called. "Are you free?" he asked.
I glanced at the time. Wow. It was only seven o'clock. It felt like a lifetime had passed since we'd left for Brooklyn late this afternoon. "Um...yes."
"Are you hungry?"
"I am."
"Would you like to come here for dinner?"
"I would. I'll be there in about an hour, okay?"
"Very good." There was a pause. "Drive safely, sweetheart."
My grip loosened on the steering wheel. "I will," I said.
Sweetheart. He called me sweetheart. The endearment nestled in my heart, a warm little jewel on this complicated night.
An hour later, I pulled into the driveway. "I'm on the patio," he called, and I went down the slate path, past the tree where the girls had a swing, past the front door.
The sun had set, but remnants of orange and red held on. Jonathan had lit a fire in the copper fire pit and a bottle of wine rested in an ice bucket. Two lounge chairs sat side by side.
"It's lovely to see you," he said, kissing me, and my heart swelled.
"You, too." I rested my head against his shoulder. "How was your day?"
"Very good, thank you. Your replacement lacks your, ah, unique energy, but he's doing a competent job so far."
"Glad to hear it."
He poured me some wine. He'd changed into jeans (I was surprised he owned a pair, but he did, and he was rocking them) and a maroon crewneck sweater, and he looked very much like what he was--a son of the Hudson River Valley, established, sure of himself, confident, wealthy.
Happy.
Then he sat down next to me, glanced down at the ground and did a double take. I followed his gaze.
Oh. My purse was open, and there was the backup pregnancy kit. Kate had opted to believe the first two tests. He raised his eyes to mine and didn't so much as blink.
"About that," I began.
"Yes. Is there something you want to tell me?"
"It's not mine. The kit, I mean." I took a sip of wine.
"So you just carry around pregnancy tests?"
"I repeat," I said. "It's not mine."
He continued looking at me, the flickering light of the fire making it hard for me to read his expression. "I see." He sat back, tension radiating off him. I would've loved to tell him it was for Kate, but I hadn't asked if that would be okay.
The sky was now almost black with a thin deep red line on the horizon.
I sighed and took another sip of wine. The bugs chirred and sang, and a mosquito whined by my ear.
"If you were pregnant," Jonathan said, not quite looking at me, "for one, you shouldn't be drinking--"
"I'm not pregnant."
"--and for two...that would be... We'd figure it out."
"Jonathan. Listen to me. Read my lips. I am not pregnant, I'm on the Pill, as I'm sure I've told you ten or fifteen times."
"I know. I just... But if you were pregnant, it...it wouldn't be horrible."
I rolled my eyes. "That's very touching. Why don't you stop now? We don't need to have this conversation."
He dipped his head in exasperation. "What I mean is, I...I like children. I'm sure I'd like your children quite a lot." He paused. "Our children."
And there it was again, that stealth missile of sentiment that hit me right in the heart. Captain Flatline was trying to say something lovely.
"Well, I already like your children quite a lot," I said, my voice a little husky. "I bet our children would be very nice, too."
The almost-smile rose, changing his face from unreadable to frickin' adorable.
"Maybe in a year or two, we should have this conversation again," he said.
A year or two. He was thinking toward the future, and with me in it.
And that was fine with me. I didn't need more than that right now. No engagement ring, no plans, just maybe someday, and that was enough.
Then he reached over and took my hand, and we sat side by side as the red faded, and the dark blue sky felt like a blessing.
"I think you may be at 70 percent," I said, and he laughed and kissed my hand and then pulled me onto his chair and kissed me properly, long and deep and wet, his hands under my hem, unzipping my dress, until the mosquitoes drove us inside to bed.
Hooray for mosquitoes.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Kate
Sitting in Daniel's living room, two pregnancy tests telling me that, yep, I was knocked up, it dawned on me that God had a helluva sense of humor.
How many times in our marriage had Nathan and I done it? Seriously, how many? I'd taken my temperature, counted days, pressed on my abdomen to see if I felt the pinch of ovulation. In ninety-six days, I'd bet we'd had sex at least a hundred times, even taking into consideration his trip to Seattle and the days my period was too gross. We'd been newlyweds. Not young newlyweds, but enthusiastic newlyweds just the same.
How many times had Daniel and I had sex? Twice in the same night. Both times with a condom. Trojan was going to get a very strongly worded letter, yessiree.
"I'm so sorry about this," I said for the twentieth time.
"It's fine. Eat your sandwich. I don't want you to faint."
There was, I supposed, a microscopic chance that I was pregnant with Nathan's baby, not Daniel's. No matter what those fourteen pregnancy tests and two periods had told me.
But logic and all the signs told me what I was sure science would confirm. I'd been so tired lately. Peeing more than was normal. The smell sensitivity.
Oh, boy.
Daniel sat down next to me. "What do you want to do?" he asked.
"I have no idea."
He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me against him. I sat there stiffly, my heart still thudding. My boobs hurt.
Why hadn't I noticed this before? Should I be cuddling here on the couch? Then again, cuddling was a little bit like closing the barn door after the horse had bolted, wasn't it?
Daniel took a deep breath. "Look. I always wanted kids. I love kids. We've known each other a long time, you and me. I like you. This is not the worst thing in the world." He looked down at me. "We can get married if you want."
"Daniel, my husband died four months ago."
"Yeah, the timing isn't great." He paused. "Kate, do you want to have the baby?"
"I don't know. I mean, I don't think I could...terminate." I bit my lip. No, that was not something I could face. "I'll have to go to the doctor. And I'm forty. God knows, a million things could go wrong. Miscarriage. This might even be a blighted ovum or something. An ectopic pregnancy."
"Right."
"So maybe I should go to the doctor tomorrow and we'll talk again. Okay?"
"That sounds good. I'll come with you."
"No, no. Not this time."
He sighed again. "Okay. Whatever happens, though, I'm here. I'm with you. I know I'm not your type and I'm a big dumb firefighter, but I'm here. Now, you're staying over tonight. You can sleep in the bed, I'll take the couch, but I'm not driving you home tonight. If we're gonna be parents, we should spend more time together."
"Bossy, aren't you?" The words were automatic, my lips numb.
"I have four sisters. Of course I'm bossy. Oh, man, they're gonna go crazy about this."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves."
"Right." He looked me up and down. "Since you're already pregnant, you wanna--"
"No, Daniel. Jesus."
He laughed and messed up my hair. Ah. A joke. Then he went into his room to put clean sheets on the bed.
*
The doctor in Tarrytown--recommended by Daniel, because his sister used the same one--confirmed everything.
The condoms in Nathan's night table drawer were two months past their expiration date. Yes, the doctor said with a wry chuckle, those dates did matter. Hahaha. She asked some embarrassing questions about what Daniel and I had done and when. If Daniel had, er, lingered a little, that could've done the trick.
I was pregnant.
Four weeks along, based on my blood work. The ultrasound showed a gestational sac; the baby was too small to be seen.
It was a high-risk pregnancy, given that I was forty. Certain tests would be recommended later on. Chances of miscarriage were higher. I had to take folic acid and prenatal vitamins and stop drinking coffee and alcohol. She told me the receptionist would schedule monthly visits for me.
On Second Thought Page 35