by Cheri Allan
“I like cars!”
“I know, honey. He did, too.”
Kate blinked back the tears. Now wasn’t a time to cry. Now was a time to make things right.
“It’s time to let this dirt go now. You want to help me?”
Liam nodded eagerly. Searching for some way to rip open the bag, Kate pulled out her keychain, and with a slight hiccup over the irony of it all, tore the bag open with her car key.
Liam grabbed one side and shook, Randy’s ashes billowing out onto the breeze. Kate struggled to let them go neatly and then gave up, shaking the bag with Liam, watching the growing cloud get carried long by the wind over the racetrack like a giant exhaust plume. They watched it for a while, as it whirled and floated, slowly fading into the distance.
There. It was done. Finally over.
Swiping a tear from her cheek, she turned toward Liam.
“Hug you, Mamma,” he said quietly. “I sorry ‘bout the dirt.”
“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have left it in that box so long.” She knelt beside him, tugging him close. “I love you, too, Pumpkin.”
His little arms gave her a returning squeeze and the ache in her heart eased just a little.
No, she wasn’t unlovable. Liam loved her.
And even though he hadn’t loved her perfectly, Randy had loved her, too. She knew that now.
Her breath caught as loss washed over her.
She’d told Jim she’d wasted ten years, but she knew now that wasn’t true. She’d lived them as imperfectly as she’d loved, because that’s just how life was. Life was messy. Love was messy.
Kate watched Randy’s ashes dissipate in the wind, aching for what might have been had they only been honest with each other.
She took a shaky breath and slowly let it go.
It was time. Time to forgive them both—Randy and herself—for having loved imperfectly, recklessly and, yes, even selfishly. Time to let go of past mistakes and what might have been and take the next step.
She stood and took Liam’s hand in hers. “Time for ice cream.”
August 27
It turns out, I’m not perfect. I know this isn’t exactly a newsflash, but I’ve been hypocritical enough to point fingers at others’ imperfections while ignoring my own. I’m trying to fix that though. So now, in the interest of moving forward, I just want to say: I’m sorry. I tried my best to make things right. And wherever you are—my first love—I wish you checkered flags. R.I.P.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
____________________
A WEEK LATER, KATE STARED at the poster of Greece taped to the ceiling in her gynecologist’s office. “I’ve done a pregnancy test and been trying to take my vitamins, but this pregnancy has been pretty easy. I hardly had any notable symptoms until the last few weeks, so I didn’t see any reason to rush in.”
Dr. Nichols snapped her rubber gloves on. “Generally, unless we think there might be complications, it’s perfectly safe to wait till you’re near the end of the first trimester. Any idea the date of conception?”
Kate nodded. “Mid April. April twenty-first to be exact.”
Her obstetrician looked up. “That’s pretty exact,” she said with a smile.
“It was the last time my husband and I were together. He was killed in a car accident shortly after that.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“We were separated.” Of course, that bit of information was probably only more confusing. What woman got pregnant with her husband when they were separated for heaven’s sake? It seemed a lifetime ago now—the night Randy had kissed her at his apartment. A bittersweet longing for the old magic that had once sparked between them had welled up within her, and she’d clutched at it—they both had. But as soon as it was over, she’d known the magic was gone, like smoke spiraling into thin air.
Kate stared out the window as the doctor palpated her abdomen.
“Hmm,” murmured the doctor.
“What?”
“I think I’d like to do an ultrasound if that’s all right with you.”
“Why?”
“Routine. We’ll verify the age of the fetus, check to be sure it’s developing normally. Anyway, I had a cancellation, so if you have time, we can do it now.”
Kate agreed and lay on the exam table as the doctor squirted gel onto the receiver device. Nervous tingles fluttered in her belly. She knew it wasn’t the baby yet, but soon she’d see it. Soon, it would be more than a heavy fullness in her breasts, a dizzy moment when she stood up. She wouldn’t have chosen this path for herself, but as she lay on the table, waiting, she felt a peculiar sense of rightness about it. Life would go on.
Just let things happen...
“Let’s get started, shall we?”
Kate nodded again, and the doctor turned on the ultrasound machine. She tilted the screen to give Kate a better view and moments later, an image, blurry and indistinct, came onto the monitor. A moment after that, the baby’s heartbeat filled the room.
“Hear that?” the doctor said turning up the volume—as if any mother-to-be could mistake the first sound of her baby’s life. It caused Kate’s own heart to pound faster, stronger. “A good regular heartbeat. Here’s the baby. The heart.” The doctor pointed to the monitor, indicating each in turn. “Everything seems to be developing normally.”
Normally? Kate smiled numbly and stared at the monitor, trying to make sense of the image. Even though the heartbeat was strong, there was something wrong. Doctor Nichols didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she was well-trained not to overreact to any possible deformity, but...
Kate couldn’t hold it in. “Where are its arms and legs?” she demanded. Its fingers? Toes? She’d seen all of that with Liam at this stage! What was wrong with this baby?!
“It’s too soon for that. Give it another month or two. Let me take some quick measures and we’ll be all set.”
Kate frowned at the monitor. Month or two? “Wh—? What do you mean you can’t see the arms and legs yet?”
The doctor moved the computer mouse, clicked some keys on the console and looked up. “We won’t see the arms and legs until the fetus is about twelve to sixteen weeks. I judge yours to be about seven, Kate.”
The room was closing in on her. Her chest was tight. She couldn’t have heard that correctly. “That can’t be right.”
“Don’t worry. Your baby looks perfectly normal.”
“No.” Kate needed to get through to her, needed to make sense of this. There was something wrong with the computer, something that would explain this. “I conceived on April twenty-first. April twenty-first. This baby is four months old!”
Dr. Nichols paused and tilted her head in that detached sympathetic posture they must teach in medical school. “I’m sorry, but I would put the date of conception closer to early July. When did you say your husband passed away?”
Kate swallowed, already knowing but dreading what was to come. “April.”
“Is there any possibility this baby is not your late husband’s?”
Kate nodded. Jim’s.
The doctor didn’t press for a reply as she continued clicking keys and moving the computer mouse. Kate stared blindly out the window, the sound of the baby’s heartbeat still filling the room.
Jim’s baby.
Oh. Dear. Lord. What have I done?
“I get the feeling this is unexpected news,” the doctor said as she pulled the sheet over Kate again.
“Very,” was all Kate could breathe.
“You can get dressed now. I’ll come back in a moment and we can talk. Okay?”
Kate nodded numbly and pushed herself off the exam table.
I’m pregnant with Jim’s baby. Jim’s baby. The baby is Jim’s.
As many times as she told herself, she couldn’t seem to get it to register. Her hands shook as she pulled on her jeans, slid her tee over her head.
After a quiet knock, the doctor reentered and waited for Kate to look up.
Kate sat in the chair
by the door feeling like an unwed teenager. “How can this be?” she blurted. “I haven’t had my period since before my husband died!”
The doctor sat at her desk, a reassuring, professional expression of sympathy on her face. “Amenorrhea is not uncommon in women who are under extreme physical or mental stress.”
“Amenor-what?”
“Amenorrhea. In layman’s terms it means the absence of your menses or period.”
“But I’ve always been so regular! You could set a clock by me!”
“That may have been true under normal circumstances, but I’m guessing the last few months have been anything but normal. Amenorrhea is quite common among athletes in training or women who are experiencing a particularly emotional time in their life—such as a death in the family.”
“But—”
“Often the body will simply delay ovulation until it’s under less stress. For you, I would guess that occurred sometime in early July.”
Kate nodded. July second to be exact.
“Am I correct in guessing you have an idea whom the father is?”
“Yes.” Kate fought not to cry.
“Any concerns you’d like to talk about?”
“None that you could fix.”
“I’m sorry if this is unwelcome news. Let me reassure you, your baby appears quite healthy and is developing perfectly normally.” She stood as she checked her watch. “So, keep up with the folic acid supplements and multivitamins, eat well and we’ll see you in four weeks. Okay?”
Kate nodded again, took her visit slip from the doctor and walked to the scheduling assistant in a haze. With her appointment card in hand she stumbled into the bright September sunshine.
Pregnant.
With Jim’s baby.
What in the world was she going to do now?
September 4
You know those days when life just walks up and blind-sides you? Takes the wind out of your sails? Strands you up the creek without a paddle, life vest or flare, to gnaw on your own shoe for sustenance?
I wish it were one of those days.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
____________________
IT WAS AFTER SEVEN BY THE TIME Kate pulled into her grandmother’s driveway. She almost wished she hadn’t committed to participate in the Gifts for the Greater Good auction the next day, but she had to keep moving despite the haze of disbelief still clouding her brain. Since she’d officially submitted her resignation to Nancy, she had no choice but to follow through with her plans. Between part-time office work for Carter and a few hours helping Lydia at her shop each week, Kate figured she’d earn enough to get by until she got her business off the ground.
She turned. Liam was asleep in his car seat, his head slumped awkwardly to the side. She resisted the urge to prop him up, knowing it would wake him. Better to unload first.
Pulling the few bags she’d packed from the trunk, she carried them to the front door. The door was thrown wide before she even had a chance to knock.
“Kate!” Nana cried. “You’re early! I didn’t expect you until eight!”
“Traffic was light.” Kate stepped into the small foyer and lowered her bags to the floor. She hadn’t gone into a lot of detail on the phone, but knew Nana would understand. It wasn’t until she straightened that she got her first look into the living room beyond—where two elderly women stared back at her with keen interest.
“Nana?” Kate muttered out of the side of her mouth. “Why are your friends here?”
“They are here,” Nana replied, as she shut the door firmly behind Kate, “because you need help.”
“So you set up an ambush?” Kate muttered back.
“Think of it as an intervention,” Lydia Sweet offered helpfully as she bobbed what looked like a Starburst in her cocktail.
Another woman with a sour expression elbowed Lydia. “I wouldn’t use that word.”
“What word?”
“Intervention,” the sourpuss murmured back. “Remember? Her ex-husband was a lush. You know, the dead one.”
“Claire!” Nana admonished as Kate continued to stand disbelievingly on the doormat. Were they really intending to discuss her private life? Here?
“I know you wouldn’t have wanted me to invite them if I’d asked you,” Nana was explaining as she pulled Kate further into the living room. “But think of it this way, each of us has nearly fifty years of experience with dating and marriage. That’s nearly two hundred collective years of female wisdom at your disposal.”
“Over two hundred...? But there are only three of you.”
Just then the door to the kitchen thumped open and Ruth Pearson stepped through with a plate of hors d’oeuvres.
“Ruth Pearson?” Kate hissed into Nana’s ear. “You invited Ruth Pearson?”
“Of course,” Nana replied with utterly annoying aplomb. “Why, in heaven’s name, wouldn’t I?”
Kate turned her back on the other ‘ladies’ and pinned her grandmother with what she hoped was a meaningful look. “Nana, have you any idea what I wanted to talk to you about?”
“Well, I thought I... Isn’t this about you carrying Jim’s baby?”
Okay, audience or not, she had to sit down.
“You knew?” Kate felt for the edge of the sofa as Lydia shuffled eagerly to the side. “But... how?” Did she have some sort of neon sign above her head with an arrow saying: Jim’s baby on board? How could they possibly know? She had just found out!
“Lydia guessed,” explained Ruth as she held the tray out to Kate who shook her head numbly. “Lydia’s always had a knack for that. Usually knew when we were pregnant before we did. Freaked your grandmother here out to no end.”
“It was awfully surreal,” Nana agreed as she took a selection from the tray and popped it in her mouth. “Just once I wish she could have let me figure it out for myself.”
Lydia shrugged and bobbed her dissolving candy. “It’s a gift.”
“But, I thought it was Randy’s,” Kate mumbled before she had the sense to censor herself.
“Randy’s?” Nana nearly choked on her ham and cheese roll up. “Couldn’t possibly be his.”
“Definitely not Randy’s,” Ruth agreed.
This was getting out of hand. “I think I know what’s possible and what’s not possible. You forget I already have one child.” She jumped up, and her hand flew to her mouth. “Liam! I almost forgot! He’s still in the car. If he wakes up alone, he’ll have a fit!”
“Don’t worry,” Ruth said as she calmly swiped port wine cheese onto a cracker. “Rachel said she’d take him for a few hours.”
“Rachel... knows?”
“Oh, heavens, no, she doesn’t know,” Ruth assured her. “We just said we needed a hand tonight and she agreed to help. No questions asked. She’d a good one, that one.”
As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Nana scurried to answer it and talked in hushed tones to what Kate could only assume was Rachel. Moments later, a sleepy Liam stepped through the door and said Auntie Rachel was going to take him to the park and would that be okay?
Kate nodded, not knowing what else to do, and then Liam was swept through the door again.
“I said she could use your car,” Nana said as she sat down. “So she wouldn’t have to transfer the car seat.”
Kate nodded again, her mind in a blur. She sat on the sofa.
They knew. They all knew.
“Have a beef roll up. They’re good.” Kate blinked up at the gruff woman—Claire was it?—who held out the tray of food. “You look like you could use a little red meat right now.”
Kate took a roll-up obediently. “I... I don’t know what to say. Until this morning, I thought it was Randy’s.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “June, your granddaughter needs a drink.”
“She can’t have alcohol!” Lydia interrupted. “It’s bad for the baby!”
“Would you relax? I just meant water or something. She’s not thinking straight. How could it possibly be the
dead husband’s? That was months ago!” Claire pointed at Kate with the end of a frilly toothpick. “Have you seen her stomach? She’s not even showing! And we all know baby number two pops almost as soon as the pregnancy test comes back positive...”
“But...” Kate began.
“That’s true,” Ruth cut in. “I remember when she first came how skinny she looked in her little bikini. She would have been at least two months then if it had been her husband’s. Plus, she mixed raw hamburger without gagging. I could never touch raw meat at all for the first trimester with any of my pregnancies. I’d be running for the bathroom every time.”
“But...” Kate tried again.
“Me, either,” Nana interrupted. “Plus, I would be so darn tired. You’re absolutely right. It must be Jim’s baby.”
“But we only slept together once!” Kate cried as she leapt from the couch. Make that twice. Okay, technically, three times. But still...
Claire chortled into her on-the-rocks tumbler. “Once is all it takes.”
“But...”
“Walter.”
“James.”
“Anne.”
The ladies spoke in near unison.
“What?” Kate turned to her Nana who’d spoken last. “Mom? Are you telling me Ma was a mistake?”
Nana blushed as she shrugged. “We always told people she came a month early, but she was actually two weeks past my due date.”
Claire snorted. “It didn’t help you any she was a whopping eight-pounder, either.”
“But...” Kate looked around the group of women. It seemed she was having a singular inability to utter anything but that one word this evening. “Are you all telling me your first-born were all mistakes? How is that possible?”
Lydia took Kate’s hand and settled her back on the couch beside her. “Honey, you have to understand. We were teenagers at a time when the world was going crazy. We didn’t know if there’d be a tomorrow—or if our men would even be here tomorrow.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know, the war and all...” Lydia trailed off meaningfully.
Kate knew she was frowning, but it was difficult to concentrate on calculating when you were being fed a line of bull. “That makes no sense. Nana, you were born during World War II.”