by Cruise, Anna
“I brought caramel brownies,” he said. A grin spread across his face. “Your dad's favorite. Figured I'd need something to bargain with since I knocked up his daughter.”
A reluctant smile formed on my lips. “Pretty sure my virtue is worth more than a plate of chocolate.”
“But this is chocolate heaven. Your dad said so himself.”
I rolled my eyes. “Stop joking.”
He braced his hands against the wall and leaned into me. “Why? We need to joke, Abby. We need to laugh and be okay with this. As much for your parents as for us.”
I knew he was right. I knew I needed to calm down and just roll with it. We'd made our decision. We weren't kids.
“I know,” I said, sighing.
“Wanna do it now, before we eat?” West asked. “I could march out there right now and announce it. Just get it over with.” He lifted his hands off the wall and straightened.
I reached out and gripped his arm. “No.”
“No?”
I shook my head. “After dinner. I think.”
He shot me a look. “We're telling them.”
“I know, I know,” I mumbled. I swallowed a couple of times, my hand drifting to my stomach.
West's expression immediately changed to one of concern. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “A little queasy. That's all.” And my boobs hurt, I wanted to add. And I couldn't button my shorts this morning.
“You need to lay down? Before we eat?”
“No,” I said. I ran my hand through my hair a couple of times. What I needed to do was get it over with. I was done with living in limbo. West and I had made our decision and we needed to share it with everyone. “No,” I repeated. “I'm good.”
My mom was in the kitchen when we brought the plate of brownies in. Her short hair was covered by a massive purple headband and I had a flashback to her chemo days, when we'd collected scarves in every color to cover her balding head.
She smiled at us. “Hey, guys. Lasagna is almost done. Maybe ten more minutes?”
West breathed deeply. “Smells good.”
She peeked in the oven. “Looks good, too.” She reached for a loaf of French bread sitting on the counter and placed it on a wood cutting board. There was a long, serrated knife next to it and she picked it up and began slicing through it.
I picked up the dish of butter and brought it to her and she looked up briefly, smiling in thanks. My dad strolled in and sidled up to Mom, plucking a piece of bread from the counter.
“Doug.” She swatted his hand. “I'm making garlic bread.”
“And I'm hungry right now,” he said, tearing off a hunk and stuffing it in his mouth. His eyes were full of mischief as he turned his attention to me and West. “You'd think she'd have learned by now.”
“Learned what?” she asked.
He leaned down and kissed her ear. “Everything. Everything about me.”
She jerked her head away but I saw the smile on her face. “That you get grumpy and unreasonable if you don't eat by six o'clock?”
“Something like that.” Dad pulled another knife from the drawer and started slathering the cut pieces of bread with butter.
I watched them work. Even though I'd seen them do things like this a thousand times, it never failed to amaze me how perfectly suited they were to each other. The way they were in the office, doing their jobs, and the way they were at home; the way they parented me and Annika and the way they simply lived their lives. Together. Always together. Seamless.
I wanted that for me and West. For our family. The family we had already inadvertently started.
“I'm pregnant,” I blurted out.
Three heads swiveled in my direction. My parents both held knives suspended in mid-air, their eyes wide, their mouths open. West's expression was unreadable but he, too, looked frozen in place.
“What?” my mom asked, shaking her head as if she were trying to clear something out of her ears.
I felt the heat rush to my face. “I'm...I'm pregnant.”
The knife my dad was holding clattered to the counter. “What?” he echoed.
West stepped forward, toward me. He grabbed my hand and held it firmly, giving me a gentle squeeze, encouraging me to continue.
“It was an accident,” I said in a rush of words. “When I was sick. And...and now I'm pregnant. I'm going to have a baby.”
“We,” West said, looking at me first, then my parents. “We are going to have a baby.”
My mom set her knife down and leaned up against the counter. Her face had lost some of its color. “I think we need to sit down.”
My dad's mouth was open, ready to speak, his brow furrowed, but he glanced at Mom and his expression turned to one of concern. He laid his hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”
“Yes. Fine.” She closed her eyes briefly. “But we should sit down.”
My dad reached for her hand and they headed toward the living room, sitting down on one of the couches. West and I followed suit.
“I thought you were gonna wait,” he whispered to me.
“I thought I was, too.”
He shook his head and sighed.
I sat on the edge of the other couch and West took a spot next to me.
“Tell us,” my dad commanded.
“I...” my voice faltered.
“There's not much else to say,” West said. He wasn't holding my hand but his leg was pressed against mine, providing physical comfort. “Abby's pregnant. About ten weeks.”
If my dad heard, he didn't indicate it. His eyes were on me. “You've been to the doctor?”
I nodded. “Yesterday. I went to the emergency room.”
My mom's eyebrows shot up. “The emergency room?”
“There was some bleeding,” I told her. “I didn't know what was going on. West insisted I go.”
“And...everything was okay?” she asked. Her fingers were clasped neatly in her hands but her knuckles were white, the veins bulging.
“Yes. They did an ultrasound. Everything looked fine. Just some fluke thing, I guess.”
My dad sat there in stony silence, his facial features taut.
“And you've thought this through?” my mom asked carefully.
I glanced at West. His leg pressed harder into mine.
I looked back to my mom. “Yes,” I said. “A lot, actually.”
Finally, my dad spoke. “What about school?” He turned to look at West. “And baseball?”
“We're working things out,” West responded. “One thing at a time.”
“A baby isn't something you work out,” my dad said. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Life as you know it is over. Not just now. For the next twenty years.”
“I'm aware of that, sir.” West's tone was calm, neutral, but I saw something flash in his eyes. “We're both aware of that. It wasn't an easy decision. And we wouldn't have made it if we didn't understand the things that come with it.”
“Did you consider your...options?” my mom asked.
“Every single one of them,” I told her. “I promise. This is not something we just decided. We've gone back and forth.” I paused. “But we both came to the same conclusion. We're having the baby.”
She nodded. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure.” She breathed in deeply. “Okay.”
Silence engulfed us. My mom stared at her hands and my dad stared at me, his eyes hard. West reached out and put his hand on my thigh. And I sat there, unsure of what to do, what to say.
The front door opened and five seconds later, my sister was standing in front of us. She lifted her sunglasses off her eyes and surveyed the room.
“Did someone die?” she asked cautiously.
I shook my head. She looked at me and then at my dad and a knowing smile crossed her face. “Ah. You told them the good news.”
My mom looked up. “The what?”
My sister glanced quizzically at me and I nodded. She smiled. “The baby!”
; “Not sure we'd classify that as good news,” my dad said and I winced. I could tell he'd been shellshocked by the news but I hadn't expected him to come down so harshly on my decision.
“I think it is,” West said. His fingers dug into my thigh and he gently kneaded my skin. “We both think it is. We'd love to have your support.” He took a deep breath. “But if we don't, well then, we don't. But it isn't going to change what we're doing. What we've decided.”
My mom looked at me again. “Abby, you're sure this is what you want?”
I hesitated. If she'd asked me two days earlier, I would have said no. I would have broken down and cried and told her I had no idea what I was doing, no clue what I wanted. But that was before the trip to the hospital. Before I'd sat in the car with West by my side, wondering if I was about to lose something I didn't even know I wanted. And then, watching the monitor in the hospital room, the little bean that still managed to look human, the heartbeat throbbing loudly as the wand danced across my still-flat belly.
That was then.
But now?
There was nothing I wanted more.
THIRTY
WEST
“That could have gone better.”
Abby was snuggled against me. We were standing against the sea wall at the end of Chalcedony, gazing out at the water. The sun was a foot above the horizon, beginning its descent, the last of its rays lighting the waves on fire.
“Uh. Yeah.”
I tightened my arm around her. “Wasn't expecting you to just go and blurt it out.”
“Me, either,” she admitted.
“So why did you?” I ruffled her hair. “We didn't even get to eat.”
She smiled. “Sorry.”
We'd sat in awkward silence for a few minutes after Annika arrived, no one volunteering to speak.
Annika had complained. “I thought we were eating.”
I glanced at her and she frowned. “Dinner? This was supposed to be a family dinner. Did everyone suddenly lose their appetites?”
When no one responded she'd turned on her heel and marched into the kitchen. “Well, I'm eating,” she called over her shoulder. “With or without you guys.”
Abby's parents had sat motionless on the couch, her mother examining her cuticles and her dad staring blankly at the wall in front of him. I hesitated for just a minute, then stood up, pulling Abby along with me.
“I'm not hungry,” she told me.
“Me, either.” And I'd tightened my grip on her hand and led her out the front door and to my truck.
“I'm sorry,” Abby said again, her eyes focused on the waves crashing on the beach.
“For what?”
“For what happened back there.”
I snorted. “Please. You can't control how people are gonna react to the news.”
“I should have waited,” she said. “Until after dinner. And two bottles of wine.”
I grinned and pulled her closer. “Wine probably would have been good.”
She shook her head in disgust. “I don't know what the hell I was thinking. So stupid.”
“Stop,” I told her. “The goal for the night was telling your parents about the baby. Mission accomplished.”
She sighed. “Yeah, but I'm not sure they're ever gonna speak to me again.”
I tilted my head so it was resting against hers. “They'll speak to you,” I said. “And they'll still love you. And they're gonna love our baby. Everybody is just gonna have to get used to it.”
I felt her stiffen a little and she turned her face so she was looking at me, her eyes damp. “Our baby,” she repeated, her voice soft.
“Sounds good, right?”
She closed her eyes and smiled. “A little. Mostly, it sounds terrifying.”
“Well, yeah,” I admitted. “That, too.”
She'd hit the nail on the head. It was absolutely terrifying. But it was kind of like waiting on a big wave or staring down a hundred mile an hour fastball—they might scare the shit out of you but you knew there'd be something exhilarating about riding that wave or smashing the ball over the centerfield wall. The ride was bound to be bumpy over the next few months—hell, over the next eighteen years—but it was something I knew we would be good at. Better than good.
“I need to go to a doctor.”
I tensed up. “Why? What's wrong? Are you bleeding again?”
“No. Nothing like that,” she said. “But I need to go see a regular doctor. Like, for check-ups and stuff.”
I relaxed just a little but kept my arm tight around her. “Oh. Right. We can do that.”
“We?”
I stared at her. “Yes, we. You're not going to the doctor by yourself.”
“I'm not?”
“Nope.” I shook my head, dropped a kiss on her hair. “This is us, Abby. All us.”
THIRTY-ONE
ABBY
The house was silent when I got home. The living room was dark, the television black. The only sound was the antique clock sitting on top of the bookshelf, the ticking a steady, rhythmic beat. I dropped my purse on the side table next to the living room and kicked off my sandals. A spray of sand hit the floor and I debated grabbing the broom to clean it up. I decided against it, telling myself I'd sweep first thing in the morning.
“I'm sorry.” A voice spoke from the darkness.
I peered into the living room. A shadowy figure sat on the couch. My mother.
I ran my hand along the wall and flipped the switch. The table lamp next to the sofa lit up and I saw my mom sitting cross-legged on the couch, her hands folded in her lap. She'd changed into pajamas, a pair of flannel pants and a loose-fitting t-shirt. The purple headband was gone and her curls sprang from her head like tightly wound coils. I knew she'd taken a shower since West and I had left and had allowed it to dry naturally.
“Will you...will you come in and talk to me?” she asked.
I didn't answer but I took a step toward her, into the living room. A few steps closer and I sank down on to the couch. Not right next to her, but close.
“Your dad and I...” her voice trailed off. She bit her lip, swallowed, then tried again. “Your dad and I were just...surprised.”
“West and I were, too.”
She nodded quickly and her curls bounced. “I can imagine.” She rubbed her hands together. “I know you said you thought everything through. I'm glad.”
I nodded and said nothing.
“I just wish...” she started, then stopped. She swallowed again. “I just wish you would have come to me. To talk.”
I stole a quick glance at her. She was staring at her hands, her fingers a twisted mess as she rubbed her palms together. I felt a twinge of guilt.
“I'm sorry,” I said. It had never occurred to me to talk to her about it. Not because we weren't close—we were—but because of the situation. If West and I had been married and found out we were having a baby? She would have been the first person to know. Well, the first person after Tana. But there was shame and worry in the position I was in. Shame because of the situation—unwed and unprepared—and worry because I didn't know how she would handle the news.
“Look,” she said, clearing her throat as she brought her eyes to mine. “I know it was hard to tell us. I know it's always been difficult to tell us things that are hard.” I raised my eyebrows in question and she tilted her head. “Annika?”
I averted my eyes and nodded. I remembered very clearly the conversation I'd had with my dad about my sister after she'd pretended to be me with West.
“But just because things are hard doesn't mean you should keep them from us.” She reached out her hand and touched my leg. “We're your parents, Abby. We want to help.”
“I know,” I told her. I sank back into the couch and stared at the ceiling. “But there was nothing you could do to help. You couldn't undo what had happened.”
“You're right,” she said. “We couldn't. But we could be there to support you. Be a sounding board. Offer advice.”
/> I straightened and turned to look at her. “Okay.” I grabbed the throw pillow next to me and pulled it into my lap. “What advice would you have given me? If I'd just told you. If we hadn't already made a decision.”
She considered this for a moment. “I would have gone through all the options. Abortion. Adoption. Keeping it.”
“That's not advice,” I pointed out.
“True,” she admitted. She took a deep breath and held it for a moment before slowly releasing it. “I would have encouraged you to do exactly what you're doing.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
She tugged on one of her curls and tried to tuck it behind her ear. It sprang right back to her cheek. “Yes,” she said.
“Even though we're too young? Even though we pretty much have nothing figured out?”
“Yep.” A faint smile appeared on her lips.
She'd caught me off guard. I didn't know what I'd expected her to say but, if I'd had to guess, I'd thought my parents would have suggested an abortion. They weren't religious so there were no moral demons hanging over them when it came to that issue. And I knew how important school was to them. They'd both gotten their real estate licenses and my dad had gotten his degree after Annika and I were born, taking night classes so he could work during the day.
“Why?” I asked.
She lifted her eyes so they were locked on me. “Because you're in exactly the same position I was in, sweetheart.”
My mouth dropped open. “What?”
She picked at a thread on her pants. “You and your sister. You were a surprise. Something we weren't expecting.”
“But you were already married,” I said. They had been. I knew the story, had seen the pictures. My mom and dad at Balboa Park, exchanging vows in front of the fountain in the park, a small group of friends and family surrounding them.
“I found out I was pregnant five days later.” She smiled again. “I fully expected to have my period on my wedding day. Was supposed to. Nothing like wearing white and standing up in front of a ton of people and worrying about whether or not your tampon's gonna hold.”