Preacher
Page 36
“Jack?” Erin asked, her voice full of concern.
He took her hand and squeezed it gently, offering her a warm smile. “I want it to be a surprise,” he lied.
She studied him for a moment and he knew she didn’t believe him. Erin saw too much of him to ever be fooled by a lie from him lips. But she didn’t argue or press the issue. Instead, she turned to the tech and said, “That’s fine. Just tell us if everything looks okay.”
The tech beamed at them. “Everything looks perfect,” she told them and then she pressed the Print button on the machine.
That was all Jack needed to hear, really. Another brick in the new foundation of his faith. The baby was perfect. He was grateful for that.
Erin dressed behind the thin curtain, then stepped out. The technician handed her a sealed envelope with a smile and a wink. “For your photo album,” she said. And just in case you change your mind and want to peek early.”
Jack held the truck door for Erin and closed it behind her. The drive back to Thunder Ridge seemed shorter this time and they both entered the kitchen through the side door. Duke howled and thudded his tail against the chair legs, deliriously happy to see them.
Erin set the envelope down on the table. She turned to look at him, her face inscrutable.
“You already know, don’t you?” Jack asked her. “You can tell.” He shook his head vehemently. “Don’t say it, Erin. I don’t want to know.”
She looked at him for a long moment, hand rubbing her belly slowly. “But,” she finally asked cautiously, “you still want us. Right?”
It only took one stride to get to her, and Jack pulled her into his arms. “I love you,” he whispered fiercely into her ear. His hand found hers, resting on her bump, and he covered it gently. “I love you both so much.”
Erin squeezed him tightly with her free arm. “Okay, then,” she declared. “That’s all I really need to know.”
Jack finally stepped away and Erin gave him a grin before she turned to the fridge. “I’ll get started on potato salad,” she told him.
Jack patted his thigh as he walked toward the door. “Come on, boy. We’re going to go get us some eggs.”
Duke whined but dutifully followed Jack out the door.
“Don’t worry,” Jack assured him. “I’ve got a plan. Always, always have a plan, Duke.”
The screen door banged as Jack and Duke set off to see about a pimp chicken, wearing that goofy Lab grin of his while Erin started on lunch.
In the farmhouse that no longer needed a fixed roof, but could still use some mortar work on the old fireplace before winter came, on the kitchen table, sat the sealed envelope that contained the photo of Jack and Erin’s unborn baby—a son.
The first of their four children.
The End
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