It Happened One Night

by Lisa Dale

  Unfortunately, today the lecture felt a little rote. Thoughts of Lana consumed him. Before he’d left, she’d bailed on the date they were supposed to have at the planetarium, and he’d sat home by himself, frustration tying him up in knots. He worried that she was staying away because she’d sensed the change in him. Maybe he should have hidden it better. Or maybe he should have sprung it on her all at once—just taken her face in his hands and kissed her without preamble—so that she couldn’t talk herself out of her own feelings before she even had them.

  Whatever method he chose, there was a very real risk that he might ruin their relationship. But there was no way he would ever be happy with her if she kept him on the sidelines for the rest of his life. He had to do something. But the sophomores in his class probably knew more about seduction than he did. What they didn’t know—couldn’t know—was the force of a yearning that had been building for ten years, the triple-threat of friendship, love, and desire all rolled into one.

  He realized that he’d been talking to his class, but that they hadn’t been listening to what he was saying any more than he was. He decided to let them go early. Though no one uttered a word, he could feel their collective sigh of relief as they packed up their bags. Eli shared their sentiment, though he’d never let on.

  As the class filed out, Meggie—the same Meggie whom he’d helped get a job at the Wildflower Barn in the spring—made a beeline for his desk as he packed up his things.

  “Eli? I mean, Mr. Ward?”

  He tapped the edge of the students’ group papers against his desk. “What’s up?”

  “I don’t get this whole dark matter thing.”

  “You’re not the only one,” he said, laughing.

  She put her hands on her hips. “How do they know it exists if they can’t see it? It makes no sense.”

  Eli nodded. He understood where Meggie was coming from. Learning about the universe could be frustrating. He put his bag back down on his desk and tried to recap, emphasizing that even though dark matter wasn’t visible, the effects of it were.

  She shook her head. “Well, I guess if scientists can’t figure out what it is, I sure as hell won’t solve the mystery in Astro I.” She sighed and heaved her big backpack higher on her shoulders. “You haven’t been by the Barn lately.”

  “I was away.” He looked down at his desk so she couldn’t read his face. “How’s Lana?”

  “Ron came to see her.”

  “Wait. What?”

  Meggie smirked. “Secret’s out. We all know Lana’s knocked up. Karin knows too.”

  Eli fumbled his messenger bag onto his shoulder, his hands shaky. He hadn’t thought that his efforts to persuade Ron were successful, given his bruised ribs. But maybe he’d been more persuasive than he thought. Or maybe Ron had a conscience after all. “What did he say?”

  Meggie crossed her arms. “Shouldn’t you be hearing this from Lana?”

  Yes, he thought. “Listen, if you see her…”

  “If?”

  “Okay, when you see her, tell her…”

  “What?”

  That I’m in love with her. That I want her. That I always have. “Tell her I’ll stop by soon.”

  “Today?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have a lot of follow-up work to do from the expedition. Funny thing about these grant-giving types. Everything’s got to be documented three different ways.”

  She laughed.

  “And… thanks for the heads-up about Ron.”

  “How many points do I get on my next paper?”

  Eli crossed his arms.

  “I’m kidding,” she said. But he didn’t think she was.

  Eli finished packing up his things. They chatted for another minute or two about nothing special as they walked toward the parking lot, then parted ways.

  He leaned for a moment against the hood of his car and looked at the clouds sailing big and white overhead. The gears of the universe were turning, the future coming inevitably closer, but it was never what anyone expected. Ron had beaten the crap out of him, and the result wasn’t a defeat: It was a revelation. Karin had wanted a baby, but Lana was the one who would soon be a mom. There was no telling what the future held, and there was no way he could control it, but failure was guaranteed if he didn’t try.

  He unlocked the car door. He knew what he would have to do. Once, he and Lana had touched something together that was bigger than them both. They’d found a space that existed outside fear, worry, and self-doubt. Right or wrong, Eli wouldn’t want to look back on his life some day and wonder, What if? He had to go back to that place again. And Lana would be going with him.

  September 4

  In the acres behind the Wildflower Barn, the dense woods were mottled with cool patches of shade and bright, warm light. Fall was moving in, and Karin had wrapped her nylon jacket around herself tightly as she walked along the hard-packed path that led through the grove. A handful of children followed behind her, some shuffling their feet, others tripping over themselves in excitement.

  “Miss Karin? Miss Karin?” A blond-haired boy in a Lake Monsters hat swatted at her elbow. “Anne said ‘penis flytrap.’”

  “That’s what it’s called!” the girl shouted back, her big green eyes panicked as if she knew she was going to get in trouble—as if she’d been in trouble for saying penis flytrap before.

  “I think you mean venus flytrap, honey. But we don’t have them here.”

  “I have a penis flytrap,” the boy said. “Lookit! It’s the zipper on my jeans!”

  Karin bit back the smile that threatened to give her away. She didn’t want to encourage them—a bunch of eight-year-olds would be reporting to their parents that they’d seen penis flytraps at the Wildflower Barn.

  “Come on, guys. I’ll take you to see the pond.”

  She led them farther down the path, among the stalky brown remnants of the summer’s flowers. She pointed out Stumpy the chipmunk and told them about Amos, a great brown moose that ambled across the property twice a year. Movement behind her caught her eye and she saw Meggie walking quickly to catch up with them. Her nose ring caught an errant beam of sun and threw it like a javelin toward Karin’s eye. She wove her way through the pack to Karin’s side.

  “Is everything okay?” Karin asked.

  “Lana’s inside.”

  “And?”

  “She wants me to take over for you.”

  “Tell her I’ll be in when my tour of duty is over,” Karin said.

  “I really don’t mind…”

  “I said, I’ll be in soon.”

  Meggie nodded and left.

  Since the day she’d learned about Lana’s baby, she’d been able to avoid all but the most clipped and mandatory conversations with her sister, and Lana hadn’t tried to parlay a quick discussion about delivery fees or displays into a heart-to-heart. But eventually, Karin would have to face her. She supposed she’d given her the silent treatment long enough.

  She forced herself to focus on the task at hand. “Come on, kids. Time for the petting garden.”

  They broke out in cheers and grumbles, and she led them down the path toward the small greenhouse on the property that held planted soft moss, bull thistle, teasel, lamb’s ears—plants that begged to be “petted.” She instructed them to touch but not pluck, and they darted among the wooden tables, squealing and laughing.

  Their enthusiasm was vivid and contagious. How wonderful it would be to raise children here, so much better than the place where Karin and Lana had come of age. But of course, Lana’s child would be picking flowers in these fields long before her own.

  Lana looked toward the door when it opened, and Karin was there, unsmiling. She wore jeans that were faded at the knees and white sneakers that had turned brown-gray. Her hair was pulled back on top, leaving her kinky amber curls to hang to her shoulders. Even with her brow creased and glowering, she was a sight for sore eyes.

  “Hi, Kari
,” Lana said softly.

  Karin came to stand before her, but said nothing for a long minute. Her expression was so disapproving that Lana felt like a child waiting for her sentence to be pronounced. “All right. How far along are you?”

  “I’m not sure exactly. About nineteen weeks?”

  “You’ve known for four months? Four whole months?”

  “No,” Lana said, embarrassed. “More like two.”

  Karin regarded her belly with disgust. “You’re tiny for four months. I’m guessing those overalls aren’t maternity?”

  Lana shook her head.

  “But you are in maternity.”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t tried.”

  “But you don’t fit into your old clothes anymore.”

  Lana said nothing. She braced herself for more questions, questions that Karin deserved to ask. She felt like she was before a jury, being tried for her crime.

  “What’s your due date?”

  “January thirtieth.”

  “January thirtieth,” she repeated.

  Lana could almost hear what her sister was thinking: On January thirtieth, you’ll be a mother, and I won’t.

  “It seems so far away,” she said, her voice distant.

  Lana sighed. She’d never found a good way to say I’m sorry. The words always seemed like a superficial substitute for some kind of real reparation, like trying to patch a broken arm with a Band-Aid. She needed some other way to show that she was sorry. Some other way to confess. “Do you remember how when we were kids you used to have that stuffed cat in the blue dress?”

  “Miss Kitty,” Karin said. “I lost her on the bus.”

  “No, you didn’t. I accidentally spilled mustard all over her. I buried her behind the old tire swing and I cried the whole time.”

  “And you’re telling me this now…?”

  “I figure since we’re getting it all out in the open. Might as well.”

  Karin’s sigh was rife with defeat. “You know you drive me crazy?”

  “We’re sisters.”

  “That’s just it. I can’t not forgive you. Even when I don’t want to, I do.”

  Lana reached for her hand. “The last thing in the world I ever wanted was to hurt you.”

  “I know.” Karin squeezed her fingers. “But I can’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”

  “Two reasons, I guess. I thought you’d be mad at me. But also, I knew you’d be hurt.”

  “Or was it that if you didn’t tell me, you could pretend it wasn’t happening?”

  “Maybe it was a little of that.”

  Karin held out her hand. “Can I…?”

  Lana stared at her a moment, not comprehending.

  “I mean, do you think I could, you know…?” She gestured to Lana’s belly.

  “Oh. Oh, right.” The baby. Karin wanted to touch her belly, to feel the oddly steely fortress of her bump. Lana didn’t blame her; it was a curious thing, what a woman’s body could do. “Okay. Why not?” She took a step closer, and very hesitantly, Karin pressed her palm against the slight swell above her belly button.

  “Wow,” Karin said.

  Lana was quiet, transfixed by her sister’s wonder. The respect—reverence—in her eyes seemed almost sacred. She watched as Karin bent down until she was nearly even with Lana’s navel.

  “Hi there, little one,” she whispered.

  Tears sprang instantly to Lana’s eyes, as quickly as a gasped breath. She put her own hand on her belly, her muscles trembling. She felt the press of both Karin’s hand and her own.

  Hello, baby, she said in the quietest part of her mind. Hello.

  “Have you felt it kick?” Karin dropped her hand and stood back up.

  Lana shook her head, blinking back the tears in her eyes.

  “You’re nineteen weeks? And no kicking?”

  “Is that bad?”

  Karin frowned. “If there’s no movement, we need to go to the doctor right away.”

  Lana looked away, embarrassed. “Well, sometimes I think I feel…”

  “What?”

  “Gas!” Lana blurted, embarrassed but glad to finally be able to talk about her pregnancy with Karin. “At least, I think it is. But then, there’s no—you know. No actual gas.”

  Karin laughed, her eyes lit up now with the first real enthusiasm Lana had seen in ages. “That’s the baby!”

  She looked down and gave Lana’s belly a gentle nudge with the heel of her palm, and at once, Lana felt a slight pressure like a small firework popping inside her. It made her laugh.

  And when Karin looked up from her belly, Lana’s whole vision was filled with the warmth of her sister’s brown eyes, so much like their mother’s. Karin hugged her, lightly patting her back. “I’m happy for you, little sis. I really am.”

  Lana squeezed her sister tight, tears coming to her eyes for how right and good it felt to have Karin’s company and friendship once again. And yet here Karin was, saying she was happy for her, while Lana was feeling only the tidal conflict of her emotions—the sudden shock of realization that the baby inside her was a life of its own, and the desperate fear that came with it. She held her sister tighter and squeezed her eyes closed. “I’m afraid.”

  “Don’t worry,” Karin said. She pulled away to look into Lana’s eyes. “This baby is going to have a great life. We’re a good strong family, you and I.”

  “I don’t know if I’m going to keep it,” Lana said.

  “You mean…” A flicker of fury raced across Karin’s face.

  “I might give it up for adoption. I’m not sure yet.”

  She watched Karin’s face fall. And she knew she’d caused yet another injury to her sister’s heart. Karin must have glimpsed their family’s future, a future with Lana’s baby in it. And Lana had hinted she was going to spoil even that small happiness.

  “I can’t be a mom,” Lana said, watching her sister’s face to gauge her reaction, to see if Karin agreed.

  Karin’s face was unreadable. “No. I can’t picture you as a mother.”

  A pang of disappointment shot through Lana’s heart. She was hoping that Karin would have contradicted her, that she might say, “I think motherhood is something you can do.” If Karin believed Lana could be a good mother, then Lana knew she could do it. But true to her nature, Karin didn’t sugarcoat the truth: Lana would be a bad parent. Karin had all but said it aloud.

  “It wouldn’t be right to raise a child if I knew I was going to do a bad job,” Lana continued, twisting the knife further. She didn’t want a kid. So why did it hurt so much to admit what she already knew, that she wasn’t mommy material? “I mean, it would be cruel, wouldn’t it? To have me as a mom?”

  “A child needs someone steady. Someone who can give it the life it deserves.”

  Lana nodded. A crack was opening in her heart. “Adoption seems like the only way.”

  Karin withdrew her hand. “Well, it’s your decision.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But in the meantime, no more of this being in denial about the baby. It’s coming whether you want it to or not. Trust me. It’s all going to be okay.”

  Some of the worry drained out of her. It’s all going to be okay. Karin was on her side once again. And Lana knew that they—the two of them—could get through whatever obstacles they faced, even if those obstacles were each other from time to time.

  “Thank you,” Lana said. There was still a lot to talk about. About Eli. And about his betrayal. And about Ron. But for now, she simply took what comfort was before her. And she hugged her sister tight.

  That evening Karin went back to church. She kneeled in the second row and bowed her head low over her hands. From now on she would try harder to be a better person. To put her family first and to cherish the ties of blood. To be more forgiving and generous. To stop stressing so much about the future and to trust it to God. Why hadn’t she realized it before? The future stretched out before her like a sunlit path. She knew what she was mean
t to do.

  September 5

  The sky above City Hall Park was overcast and chilly, gray that was nearly violet. Despite the weather the farmers’ market was crowded when Eli arrived. The smell of fresh produce sweetened the air. Apples, carrots, kale, turnips, and other early fall fare gleamed in the sun. People shouted and reached over one another’s shoulders to hand money to busy vendors.

  Eli headed to the back corner of the park, past the circular concrete fountain toward Lana and Karin’s booth. He pulled his light brown jacket closer to his chin, his thoughts focused with knifelike precision on finding Lana.

  There were customers at the Wildflower Barn booth when he arrived, a crowd of people watching Lana assemble impromptu flower arrangements while Karin rang up orders. He stood off to the side of the line and watched her. Her skin reflected pinkish in the glow from the canvas over their booth, and she was wearing a Wildflower Barn T-shirt under a brown jacket. At her neck was a simple choker made of wooden beads, and her hair fell around her shoulders.

  He watched her work. Unlike other flower arrangers, Lana had no patience for symmetry and uniformity. Her bouquets were always wild, unkempt, sprigs of thistle and willow branches sprawling in barely controlled chaos. How many times had Eli gone home with a fistful of flower stems in his hand from this market? And how many times had he thought to himself: I love her and tried to convince himself he meant it only as a friend?

  He waited his turn to speak with Lana, watching her hand wrap long stalks in brown paper and hemp twine. The smile she gave him when he said hello might have looked entirely warm and genuine to anyone else, but he saw a subtle wariness in her eyes.

  “We have to talk,” he said.

  She looked past his shoulder, where a line had formed. “What about?”

  Karin stopped ringing up customers to stand at her sister’s shoulder. A protector if Eli ever saw one. “She’s busy. Come back later.”

  “I can’t. I only have a minute. Lana, come with me?”

  She said nothing. He moved around to the other side of the table. “Lana.”

  Her eyes met his, full and blue. She shook her head and Eli tried not to lose heart. Years of damage had built up. Years of denial that wouldn’t be cleared up in five minutes. But he had to try.