All We Knew

by Jamie Beck

  “Can we see what kind of soup Alec made today?”

  “Sure. Where’s the list of no-goes?” He smirked as he covered her with the throw from the chaise.

  “On my kitchen desk. Maybe we could eat up here—a picnic in bed.”

  His eyes flashed with a naughty light—and, surprisingly, it sparked that long-dormant soft and fluttery feeling back to life. “I’d rather snack on you, but I guess Alec’s food will have to do for a while longer. I’ll order something and go pick it up. Be back soon.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose, handed her the remote, and then left her, whistling. He hadn’t whistled in a long while, and the sound made her entire body smile. She nestled deeper into the pillows and rubbed her belly. I’m praying all three of you make it. Your daddy and I can’t wait to welcome you and start our family.

  The picnic idea reminded her of the night Hunter had proposed. He’d filled her apartment with candles, planned a picnic on the floor, and played the third movement of Rachmaninov’s Symphony no. 2 during the big moment. Those early years had been filled with intimate evenings when they’d talked and kissed and laughed. When they’d found each other to be endlessly fascinating, each conversation another thrilling exploration. The good ol’ days before he’d forget to close the bathroom door when he peed, she thought wryly.

  A few minutes of mindless TV channel surfing later, the doorbell rang. A delivery? Girl Scout? Didn’t matter. Unless the house caught fire, she had no plans to leave her bed, let alone climb the stairs again. Then it rang a second time. A stray worry threaded through her thoughts—was someone testing to see if anyone was home before attempting a break-in?

  She started when the house phone rang. “Hello?”

  “Sara, honey, it’s me,” Hunter’s mom, Leslie, said. “Why aren’t you answering the door?”

  “I’m supposed to rest for a few days, so I’m not doing anything that isn’t necessary.”

  “Can I let myself in? I brought you a little something. I promise I won’t overstay my welcome.”

  “That’s sweet.” Sara smiled, trying to imagine what Leslie might’ve brought. Something unusual, no doubt. “Come on in. I’m upstairs.”

  Sara hung up the phone and lowered the television volume. Leslie entered the room with quick strides, carrying a lilac-colored gift bag tied with raffia. Like Hunter, his mom’s bright eyes reflected intensity, although hers had a more playful energy. Sara had never seen anyone’s aura, but given Leslie’s radiance, she imagined it to be orange or sunny yellow. She was a naturally pretty woman whose spry step made her appear a decade younger than her sixty years.

  Leslie set the bag on the nightstand and then captured Sara in a warm hug. “How do you feel?”

  “Pretty good. A little sore.” Sara shrugged. “Nervous.”

  Leslie stroked Sara’s head in a mothering fashion, which Sara appreciated considering how infrequently she got to visit with her own mother. She missed her family—her sisters—and envied the fact that a few of them still lived within ten miles of one another.

  “Set aside those nerves. Worrying never helps anyone with anything.” Leslie stopped suddenly and glanced around, forehead creased in frustration. “Where’s my son? He should be here with you.”

  “He went to pick up some dinner.”

  “Oh, good. I might’ve had to kill him if he went back to the office.” Leslie raised a playful fist in the air, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Now, don’t you want to know what’s in the bag?”

  “Yes, but I also want to hear about your trip with Rusty.” Sara began untying the raffia. She retrieved a small green plant from inside the bag. “Bamboo?”

  “Bamboo plants bring good luck to the recipient. And, according to feng shui, if you put it in the east side of the room, it improves your chi.” Leslie swiped the small plant from Sara’s grasp and wandered around the room. “Which way is east?”

  Sara pointed toward the bathroom door. “That way, I think.”

  Leslie wrinkled her nose, searching for a flat surface on which she might place the vase. Unfortunately, there weren’t any because the chaise consumed most of that side of the room. “Hmmm . . . maybe I’ll just put it on the floor for now.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you. Thanks.” Sara couldn’t help but smile at their shared superstitious nature. “Let’s hope it helps.”

  Leslie sat on the edge of the mattress and patted Sara’s hand. Her mother-in-law’s eyes glittered with hope and yearning, even as her gaze dropped to Sara’s abdomen. Of everyone in Hunter’s family, only his mother shared Sara’s desperate yearning for life to take root. For more family. “You’re welcome, sweetie.”

  Determined not to focus all her thoughts or conversation on pregnancy, Sara teased, “Now, give me the scoop about your first-ever getaway with Rusty. Good, bad, or indifferent? No fibs involved, I hope?”

  Some may have considered that a ridiculous question, but Leslie had fabricated a dead dog named Snickers to woo the last man she dated, so one never knew.

  “No fibs. At least none that should matter.” She tucked a bit of the blanket around Sara the way one might do to a small child.

  “Uh-oh. What’s that mean?”

  “Well, you know how it is with men. Their egos are so fragile. You can’t ever be totally honest.” Leslie’s eyes twinkled above a conspiratorial grin. “I might’ve exaggerated a bit about how much I loved the Universal Studios tour. You know. Things like that.”

  “So you didn’t enjoy it?”

  “I liked it fine, but there are other things I’d rather do in Los Angeles. Hiking in Malibu would’ve been more my speed.” Then her eyes widened with interest as she leaned closer. “And I read about the California Institute of Abnormalarts. Sounded wild and weird, which is right up my alley.”

  Hunter had told childhood stories about the “field trips” he and Colby had taken with his mother. He’d acted put out, but Sara knew him well enough to know that, in some ways, he’d been as intrigued as his mother by the oddities.

  “Why didn’t you tell Rusty? Maybe he’d have liked that, too.”

  “He’d planned the whole weekend, and I didn’t want to seem ungrateful or steal his thunder. Besides, we made it fun enough. Maybe next time I’ll plan something . . . like a two-day yoga retreat.”

  Sara frowned. “He doesn’t look like a guy who does yoga.”

  “Exactly! He needs a little exercise.” She patted Sara’s thigh. “He’ll feel so much better once he gets into it.”

  Sara giggled. “How nice of you to be looking out for his health.”

  “I try, dear. I really try,” Leslie said sincerely, totally missing that it was a joke.

  “Hello, Mom.” Hunter entered the room, carrying a tray loaded with their dinners.

  “You don’t look surprised to see me.” Leslie rose from the bed.

  “Your car is in my driveway.” Hunter set the tray on the bench at the end of the bed and kissed his mother hello.

  His mom peered at the meals and sighed. “No chocolate?”

  “Not allowed, nor were half the things on the menu.” Hunter chuckled.

  “Really?” Sara leaned forward to see what he’d brought. Green soup?

  “No raw, smoked, or high-mercury seafood; no custard, hollandaise, or other sauces with raw egg; no soft cheeses, pâté, or caffeine,” he read from his phone. “Like I said, at least half the items on the menu were out.”

  “So what’s that soup?” Sara eyed the vivid liquid, which was sprinkled with purple flowers and almonds.

  “White gazpacho, and then there’s some kind of Dijon chicken dish I can’t pronounce and vegetables.”

  “Thank you.” Sara motioned with her hands. “I’m ready.”

  “I’ll leave you two alone.” Leslie slung her purse over her shoulder. “Can I come tomorrow to help out? I can do laundry, fix your meals, whatever.”

  “Thanks, Mom. That’d be great,” Hunter answered. “I’ll feel better if Sara h
as some company while I’m at work.”

  “I’d love it, Leslie.” Sara would like company for part of the day but hid her disappointment that Hunter wasn’t planning to take another day off to be with her until she was cleared for more activity. “How about if I call you midmorning?”

  “Okay. I’ll see if I can find something tasty for lunch that doesn’t break all those rules. Pregnancy was much easier back in my day, and you kids all turned out fine.”

  “Some might argue that point,” Hunter muttered.

  “Then some would be wrong.” Leslie kissed them both goodbye and let herself out of the house.

  Hunter hoped Sara couldn’t tell that he was a little preoccupied with his conversations with Bethany on his way to and from the restaurant. He’d need to do a little work tonight if at all possible, although Sara might kill him if he brought his laptop up here. He was banking on her being drowsy and falling asleep early. He’d work in bed so he’d be there if she woke and needed anything.

  Better to wait awhile before bringing that up. “How’s the soup?”

  The necklace he’d given her lay against her breastbone, reflecting light. For a brief moment, his thoughts settled.

  “Amazing, of course.” She smiled and sipped more from her spoon. “Thanks for getting all of this. The Dijon smells fantastic.”

  “Will it bum you out if I order a meat lover’s pizza for myself?” He grimaced.

  “Just a little,” she teased. “The thing that makes me most jealous is that your bad eating habits haven’t caught up to you yet.”

  As if she didn’t look more beautiful to him with each passing year. Wiser. Kinder. More a part of him than anyone else in his life. Still, given the gravity of the day’s events, a little levity would help. “So you’re saying I still look good?”

  “You know you do. You keep getting better with age.” She shook her head. “It’s disgusting.”

  He preened, prolonging the joke. “If it’s any consolation, I’m all yours.”

  She snorted, almost losing half the soup through her nose. “Lucky me.”

  “No.” He handed her a napkin. “Lucky me.”

  Laughter felt damn good. Life had been so heavy lately he’d started to envy his sister and Alec’s new relationship. Despite its rocky start, they were experiencing all those early relationship firsts and flutters. Each day allowed for the fascinating exploration of each other’s likes and dislikes, passions and fears, ambitions and desires. No one had yet nagged about picking up socks or working late or missing a trip to the in-laws in California because of a production-plant crisis.

  Hunter had never been particularly wise about love. In fact, the only thing he knew with certainty was that loving someone didn’t always make living with them a cakewalk.

  While Sara was as much a part of him as his own body, and he meant every word he’d said when he’d given her that pendant, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t miss the sizzle of excitement he used to feel anytime he heard her voice.

  They’d forgotten how to be spontaneous. How to woo each other. He’d done some good wooing in this room, he thought wryly as his gaze wandered the peaceful space. Then he noticed a weird little plant on the floor. “Sara . . . I have a question.”

  “You sound odd. What is it?”

  “That’s the question, actually. What is that?” Hunter pointed at the branchy plant abandoned on the bedroom floor.

  “Bamboo. Your mom says it brings good luck.”

  He nestled into the pillows beside his wife. “I’m sure I’ll regret this next question, but why is it on the floor instead of on a dresser?”

  “It needs to be in the eastern part of the room.”

  “It’s only good luck if it’s in that spot?” His mother’s kooky ideas never ceased to amaze him.

  “No, that part’s not about luck. The east is the best spot for improving the room’s chi.” Sara chewed her chicken, shrugging. “Feng shui.”

  “Let me guess. Given your superstitions about the pregnancy, that plant stays there for the next nine months.”

  “You got it.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll make sure not to accidentally kick it over in the middle of the night.”

  “Please be careful.” Her expression turned more somber. “I meant what I said before. This is my last IVF. I can’t go through the protocol and disappointment again. To come so close and lose a third time would break me. So I don’t want anything ruining this chance at making us a happy family.”

  He watched her chew an enormous mouthful of food. She’d put her heart and body through so much in her quest to re-create the kind of family life she’d left in California. Not even Jenna frustrated him more than his inability to give Sara what she needed. “I’ll be careful.”

  His mouth turned dry when he made room for the possibility of another negative pregnancy test. He’d researched surrogacy and adoption, but every single option had its own set of risks and pitfalls. To date, Sara hadn’t been ready to pursue any, leaving him no surefire way to give her what she most wanted. God willing, she’d have a child to focus on soon so she’d stop nitpicking at his faults.

  She pushed aside the mostly eaten plate of chicken. “Want the rest? It’s tasty.”

  In an effort to be playful, he took a bite of chicken, moved the tray to the floor, and crawled back onto the mattress until he hovered over her. Pushing away the implications of the fact that Sara didn’t seem to miss sex, he raised her shirt and kissed her belly, then started kissing his way up her torso. Before he could get excited, her fingers dug into his hair. “Hunter, we can’t.”

  He hung his head. “Not even a little?”

  “I need to be still today. No quick movements or contractions.” She ruffled his hair like he was a child. “No point in getting all excited for nothing.”

  Hunter flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He knew the “rules,” but they also gave her a convenient excuse, which bothered him. He reached out to intertwine their fingers. “Promise me that, once you’re pregnant, you won’t find other excuses not to have sex. I’ve heard some women get weird about that during pregnancy. Like suddenly their bodies are all about the baby.”

  Or worse. He’d overheard complaints of coworkers whose lives had become overrun by kids. Whose marriages turned into coparenting jobs. Hunter liked the idea of a family . . . of a son. But the realities might be more all-consuming than he was prepared for, and he wasn’t convinced he’d be good at it. That wasn’t easy to admit, and not just because he liked being good at things.

  What if instead of his son being like him and wanting to work side by side, he turned out to be more like Hunter’s mom or Gentry, with their far-out ideas and crazy adventures? Hunter knew his flaws well, and rigidity was one of them. He had a hard time communicating with people he didn’t understand. He didn’t dislike them; he just didn’t know how to relate to them.

  What if he couldn’t relate to his own kid? He cringed inwardly at that possibility and kept quiet.

  “I know our sex life has taken a hit.” Sara rolled over and kissed him, apparently misreading his silence as frustration. “We’ve gone through so much to get pregnant, and now we’re so close. I don’t want to risk anything.”

  He got that. He wasn’t an idiot. Just frustrated, horny, and, for all the confidence he was projecting for her sake, worried about what Sara might do if she didn’t get pregnant.

  Before he considered his words, that thought slipped out. “You know, I meant what I said earlier . . . if that bamboo fails to live up to its reputation, you’re everything I need.”

  Her gaze drifted to their clasped hands. She squeezed his, her voice low and somber. “I love you and know you mean well, but please . . . no negative thoughts.”

  He waited for a return of his sentiment. Like a black light, her silence called attention to his hidden, tender spots of self-doubt. He blinked, allowing himself a second to pivot from yet another bleak admission. “What do you want to do? TV? Cards? Scra
bble?”

  “Actually, I want to talk to you about something I’ve been considering since my meeting at the Angel House.”

  He didn’t love the idea of her going there on a regular basis. “You said some of those women might be escaping violence. I’d rather you not spend much time there.”

  “I like being helpful.”

  “Can’t you help from a distance? I don’t want anything to happen to you.” He stroked her hair. “And I don’t want people taking advantage of your good nature, either.”

  “No one’s taking advantage. And I don’t want to live life from a distance. I want to be close. To make a connection. If you’re so worried, come with me sometime.” She set her hand on his thigh. “In fact, why don’t we volunteer together? It’d be nice to share something positive like this.”

  “I’ve hardly any free time as it is. Besides, if you’re pregnant, don’t you want to take it easy?”

  “You might feel good making a difference in the community.” She withdrew her hand and pulled a pillow onto her lap. “And being pregnant won’t make me an invalid. But, actually, I meant to discuss something else.”

  He was glad he hadn’t ordered his pizza yet, because the wary look on her face made his stomach turn over. “What?”

  “I told you about the little boy, Ty.”

  “The drug addict’s kid?”

  She slapped his chest. “He made me realize how many kids out there don’t have enough, or any, security and support.” She hesitated, looking down as if steeling herself. “I’ve been thinking we should be foster parents.”

  Whoa. Taking on kids with problems he had no idea how to handle? Brilliant idea, especially with everything going on at work and the fact that they might be having kids of their own by summer. “Sara, you might be pregnant with triplets. Now isn’t the time to open up the house to strangers.”

  “So I get no vote?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  Her clear blue eyes reflected determination. “The approval process takes time. Let’s fill out the preliminary application and get the background checks, home inspection, and classes done. If I’m pregnant with multiple kids, I’m sure we can decline taking on a foster child.” When he didn’t reply, she added, “If you’d see this little boy and think about how he’ll never get the kind of opportunities we could provide, you wouldn’t hesitate. We’re so lucky, Hunter. We have so much—education, space, money. Think of how we could change lives.”