by Sarina Bowen
Of all the things Hank had said this morning, none of them shocked him quite as much as that. It was a long minute until Bear could find his voice. “I…” He tried once more to clear his throat. “I plan to take very good care of Stella. If she lets me. She’s even tougher than you.”
Hank snorted, and then socked him in the hip. “Good luck with that, actually.”
“Right?”
The bathroom door opened, and Stella marched out. She flashed Bear the first shy smile he’d ever seen on her face. “Okay, boys. Your moment is over. Let’s eat breakfast. Because you know there won’t be anything edible on that airplane.”
“I call shotgun on the way to the airport,” Hank said, opening the room door.
“Not fair!” Stella argued. “The vehicle isn’t visible!”
“I saw it out the window when I was talking to your lunkhead boyfriend,” Hank said.
“Liar!” Stella smacked him in the back of the head.
Bear’s heart was too full to jump into the fray. He could only hold the door open for his two favorite people in the world. And then follow them out into the bright morning.
Epilogue
Two Years Later
WHEN THEIR CAR REACHED the gravel portion of her brother’s mountain road, Bear removed his hand from Stella’s knee, and she missed the warm weight of it. But since the man needed two hands to steer up the curing road, she had to settle for the rough sound of his voice as he sang along with Phish on the car stereo.
The surface beneath them was rutted, which made the car bounce. The motion did nothing for Stella’s queasy stomach, unfortunately. For more than a week, she’d tried to fight off a lingering bug. It might have been a good idea to stay home again today. But Stella was tired of feeling tired, so she’d insisted that everything was fine. And anyway, they’d driven all the way here.
Her brother’s house swung into view, and Bear parked beside her parents’ car. Inside, mayhem awaited. Today was Hank’s birthday, and Hank and Callie had invited everyone they knew for barbecue and cake.
Stella had been looking forward to this gathering. If only she weren’t so tired.
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Bear asked, his hand returning to her knee. “You still look a little pale, buddy.” There was a flicker of worry in his eye, which Stella did not like. So even though she felt pretty crappy, she gave him a big smile.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, unclipping her seatbelt and swiveling to grab the gift she’d stashed on the backseat. “And we drove all the way down.”
She stepped out of the car, hoping she’d made the right decision. After all, she didn’t want to give her three-month-old nephew a virus. But she was probably over it by now, and only feeling a little groggy from a lack of caffeine.
Yesterday was the first day this week that she hadn’t thrown up. The only blessing was having no commitments right now. The competition season had just ended — she’d placed second in the world for women’s freeriding — and classes didn’t begin again for another six weeks or so.
These days, Bear and Stella shared an apartment in Burlington, about ninety minutes away. Living together was important since their wintertime schedules were so haywire they might never see each other if they lived apart. During the summer and fall, they both took courses at the University of Vermont. But during the winter months, their separate activities took them to disparate corners of the snowboarding world. Stella did freeriding competitions, and Bear worked on back country film shoots.
It was hectic, but life was good. Stella needed only a couple more credits before she’d graduate. And the winter travel was fun. Both of them were just coming off the busy season. It’s no wonder that Stella had succumbed to a bug.
Hand in hand, they climbed the front porch together, and the cool March air steadied her. “Are you ready?” she asked Bear, squeezing his fingers. “Crying babies? Family members asking why we haven’t driven down for dinner in a month?”
Bear bent his head, tucking a kiss behind Stella’s ear. “Bring it,” he said. And when Bear met her eyes, she found a reassuring wave of affection there. When the love of her life looked at her that way, Stella felt herself capable of anything.
The door was yanked open by Callie’s friend Willow, who had her toddler son on her hip. “Hi!” she said, smiling up at them. “Welcome to chaos. But there’s both coffee and beer.”
“Hey!” Stella said, kissing her on the cheek. “I didn’t know you were in town.”
“We surprised Callie, because it’s been too long since we’ve seen each other.”
“Cookie,” her young son interrupted.
“You had a cookie,” Willow argued, closing the door after Bear ducked in.
“Cookie,” he said again, his fat little hand pressed against her shoulder for emphasis.
Stella kicked off her shoes and did not allow her gaze to linger on his chubby toddler fingers. These last few months, since Hank and Callie had their own little baby, Stella had sometimes found herself pitching between exhilaration and despair. Her newborn nephew was so cute. She didn’t sit around and mope, exactly. But she would turn thirty soon. And it was hard not to wonder how her life would be different if it hadn’t been for her childhood cancer.
Chin up, and all that. She let Bear lead her by the hand into Hank’s swank dining area, where the table was piled with appetizers and drinks.
“Stella!” her mother cried. “Sweetheart, you haven’t been returning my calls.” Mrs. Lazarus crushed her against her cashmere-covered shoulder.
“Sorry, Mom,” Stella said, her words muffled by the soft fabric. “I’ve been really tired this week. And I knew I’d see you today.”
With a frown, her mother put a hand on Stella’s forehead. “You look a little peaked.”
“It’s nothing. A little bug, and I’m over it.”
That was the wrong thing to say. Her mother took a step back and looked Stella up and down, worry settling over her features. “Did you see a doctor?”
“No! Do you see one every time you sneeze?” Stella needed to change the subject, and fast. Ever since her childhood health scare, her mom became frightened whenever Stella had a fever. “Where’s the birthday boy, anyway?”
“Stirring the chili,” Callie answered, trotting up to give Stella a squeeze.
“Where’s the baby?” Stella asked next. Because that’s what you were supposed to say.
“Napping. Give him an hour, though, and he’ll be all yours.”
Hank called her name from the kitchen, where he was cooking and chatting with Willow’s husband, Dane. “Coffee or beer for you two?” Hank asked.
“Coffee for me,” Stella said, though she was not sure her gut would tolerate it. “I’d better nibble on something,” she told Callie. “My stomach is a little unhappy with me this week.”
“That worries me,” her mother said, having snuck up on her somehow.
Stella sighed. “Nausea isn’t a symptom of cancer, Mom.” There was a little silence when Stella said this, but she didn’t believe in beating around the bush. Her mom had been psycho about her health for twenty years now. As a teenager, she’d learned never to complain about how she felt, because it always brought on an inquisition and a trip to a doctor’s office.
Pain. In. The. Ass.
She made a beeline for the crackers on Hank’s dining table. In truth, Stella was rarely ill. It had been years since she’d thrown up for any reason other than a hangover. Come to think of it, the bug that she’d suffered this week had felt a lot like a hangover. She was tired and craving carbs. “Hank! Why didn’t you tell me you’d made gougeres?” She loved them — a little puff of pastry with cheese in the middle. They were a near-perfect food. She popped one into her mouth, and it was still warm.
Hank rolled his wheelchair around the counter, a mug of coffee for her in his hand. “Because I knew you’d spot them. And then demolish them. I made sure everyone else got some before you showed.”
�
��I’m not so bad,” Stella argued, downing another one. She took a gulp of coffee, too, and then another. It should have been life-affirming, the way coffee was supposed to be. But when the acid hit her stomach, Stella felt another wave of queasiness overtake her. “Crap,” she whispered.
“Are you okay?” Callie asked quietly. After two years as part of the family, Callie already understood that Stella’s mother was prone to worrying about her.
“I’m fine,” she said in a low voice. “I just feel really off this week. But I’m sure it’s nothing.” Sadly, she abandoned the mug on the kitchen counter. “Hey, I brought a gift. But it’s for Little Hank, not big Hank.” She held up the gift bag she’d brought in. “He’s too young for it, but I couldn’t resist.”
Callie peered into the bag, pushing the tissue paper aside. “Is that a fire truck? He’s going to love it!”
Bear came up behind Stella, placing a warm hand on her back. “Every boy needs a fire truck,” he said. “It’s supposed to make noise. But I took the batteries out and put them in the bottom of the bag, so you can decide whether it makes noise or not.”
Callie grinned at Bear. “Damn, you’re good. When you guys have kids, I’m going to hang out at your house and take notes.”
Stella forced a smile on her face. Bear’s palm pressed just a little more snugly against her back. She’d never gotten around to having that chat with Callie. It wasn’t her favorite topic. And after Callie had gotten pregnant, the whole subject became even more awkward.
“Who wants chili?” Hank asked, heading for the kitchen again. “I chopped red onions for you, Stell. And there’s avocado and cheese for toppings, too.”
“Great,” Stella said, even as her stomach turned over. She grabbed another little cheese puff and ate it quickly. Maybe she could help herself to a tiny portion of chili without any raw onions on top.
Ugh. Just the idea of raw onions made Stella feel nauseous. Suddenly, there was too much saliva in her mouth. “Excuse me a second,” she said quickly. She hurried from the room, hoping nobody would think it odd. Sprinting through Hank and Callie’s bedroom and into the master bathroom.
She made it just in time.
When Stella opened the bathroom door a few minutes later, after brushing her teeth with her finger and a pinch of Hank’s toothpaste, she found Callie standing right outside, her arms crossed. “Seriously, are you okay?”
No. “Yeah. It’s just…” Her argument lost steam as Callie raised an eyebrow. The woman was a doctor for God’s sake. It wouldn’t be easy to get anything past her. “I’m sorry. I thought I was over this bug. Don’t say anything to my mother.”
Callie’s head tilted to the side, like a curious puppy. “Stella, are you stonewalling me?”
“No? About what?”
Her sister-in-law smiled. “Could you be pregnant?”
“No,” Stella said quickly. “That’s not it.”
“But you are acting like someone with morning sickness. Seriously. Even if you’ve been very careful, don’t rule that out, okay? It’s an easy mistake to make.”
“Well…” Stella cleared her throat. “It’s not an easy mistake, actually. I just assumed you guessed that because we’ve talked about my leukemia. I can’t get pregnant.”
Callie braced herself against the door jam, frowning. “Stella, when’s the last time you talked to a doctor about this?”
Stella shrugged. “I was pretty young when they explained it to me the first time. But I remember that my mother got all depressed, so I never doubted it was true. One time a gynecologist suggested that I have a fertility workup. But isn’t that just asking for bad news? Maybe if it seems important to Bear someday, I’ll ask more questions.”
“Well…” Callie looked thoughtful. “I read a lot of medical research. And the latest word on chemotherapy is that even the old-school cancer treatments weren’t as devastating to fertility as they first thought.”
“Really?” Stella hated the sound of her voice when she said it. She sounded far too interested.
“Really. And if you last spoke to a doctor when you were a child… That could have been almost twenty years ago, Stella. Both your body and the science have changed during that time. Do you get your period?”
“Once in awhile.” Stella’s knees felt a little wobbly all of a sudden. She parked her backside against the wheelchair-height vanity. “You’re confusing me,” she said.
Callie smiled. “I’m sorry. And it’s not like I want to give you false hope or anything. But you should see a reproductive endocrinologist. Even if you don’t ovulate, you might be able to support a donor egg and still have Bear’s baby.” She held up her hands in supplication. “Not that you two are necessarily talking about kids. I’m just saying that your options might not be as narrow as you think.”
“That sounds… expensive.”
“It can be,” Callie admitted. “But after Hank and I have a second one, I might have a few extra eggs lying around that you could use.”
Stella’s throat became tight. “You would do that for me?” she squeaked.
“Absolutely.”
Stella’s mind whirled, trying to take it all in. Unfortunately, her stomach went along for the ride. She inhaled a big, queasy breath through her nose.
“Oh boy,” Callie sighed. “You poor thing. Have you been feeling sick very long?”
Stella flipped on the cold water tap and took a couple of gulps from her palm before answering. “My stomach has been unstable for… God, I guess more than a week. And I’m really tired. But that’s it.”
“No bowel problems?”
“Nope.”
“Fever?” Callie pressed.
“None.”
“Are your breasts sore?”
That last question pinned Stella in place. Because they were sore, and Stella had wondered why. “Yeah. What causes that?”
“Well…” Callie stepped into the bathroom and opened a cabinet. After fishing around for a minute, she drew out a slender box. “Look, what if you just tried this just for fun?”
Stella eyed the box. It was a home pregnancy test. “It couldn’t be positive.”
“You’re probably right,” Callie said. “But if you just use this one, you’re only humoring me. It isn’t the same hopeful thing as going to the store a week from now, buying one, getting a negative test and then having to hide it in the garbage.”
“Shit,” Stella gasped, fighting off another wave of nausea. But this wave was caused by nerves. “I kind of want to maim you for even making me think this way.”
Callie laughed. “I’ll bet. And I am sorry for making you wonder. But there’s an easy way to shut me up. You just have to pee on the stick.”
“I don’t think so,” Stella whispered, staring at the box as if it were a venomous snake. (Which were rare in Vermont, of course.)
“It takes thirty seconds,” Callie argued. “And if you humor me, I’ll give you that wrap dress that you wanted to borrow for the Mud Ball. It looks better on you anyway.”
Stella’s heart fluttered with uncertainty. How had the day brought her here? It was just a virus, for God’s sake.
“Dare you,” Callie whispered.
With a groan of irritation, Stella grabbed the box and tore the end open. “Is there a trick to it?”
“Nope!” Callie said cheerfully. “Just pee on it.” She snapped the door shut as she left the room.
Stella yanked the yellow plastic device out of the package and dropped her jeans. This is nuts, she repeated to herself while she did what was required.
“Now count to thirty,” Callie said through the door after Stella flushed.
“What?” She yanked the door open. “You’re standing there waiting?”
“Of course I am. One, two, three…”
After Callie had chanted up to thirty, Stella still did not look at the stick. “Can’t I wear the dress either way?” she asked, holding the stick in the air where neither of them could see it.
; “You can have the freaking dress,” Callie said. “Look at it already. I’m dying here.”
“I can’t.” She handed it to Callie, keeping a careful watch of her face. Stella set her own face into the best mask of indifference she could master. But it wasn’t easy.
Callie took the stick, and tilted it toward the vanity lights. “Oh my God!” she yelped.
Stella felt her gut twist in a completely different direction. “Seriously?”
“That is a plus sign!” Callie held the stick where Stella could see, and they put their heads next to one another, both of them staring at the unmistakable “+” on the white test strip.
“Holy shit,” Stella whispered. “Holy shit.”
“Callie!” Hank’s voice boomed from outside the door. And then he and his wheelchair appeared in the open doorway, baby Hank on his lap. “Look who woke up.”
Callie whipped the pregnancy test behind her back, but not before Hank noticed. His eyes went wide. Then he put his free hand on his forehead. “You are fucking kidding me. Seriously? We’re having another one already?” His face broke into an enormous grin. “I get to choose the name this time!”
Callie cleared her throat. “I’m sorry to tell you this, honey,” she said slowly. “But you’re not the father.”
If Stella hadn’t been so freaked out at that moment, the look on Hank’s face would have really amused her.
* * *
In the living room, Bear chowed on chili with his father and Stella’s dad.
“Hank makes excellent chili,” Bear’s father said. “It’s really quite amazing.” His dad always seemed a little stiff at Lazarus family gatherings. Like he couldn’t quite get over the fact that he and Bear were welcome in their homes. He’d stopped giving Bear grief about his relationship with Stella. So that was an improvement.