by Debbie Burns
She was eyeing her trash can as Patrick threw open the kennel doors, calling her name. She’d been feeling tired and queasy the last several days, but she’d attributed it to long hours and a few too many sweets to console herself while Craig was away. Unaware, Craig made for the doorway, pasting on a smile and waving Patrick over.
Please God say he forgot—who the hell forgets they’ve had a vasectomy?—or at least let it be another one of his jokes. She did her best to fumble through a few of Patrick’s questions before excusing herself. She could hear Craig answering questions about his long weekend—all politeness and small talk—as she jogged across the main floor to the bathroom. She was queasy all right, but so far no actual vomiting. Thank goodness for small favors. She moved to the sink, rinsed her mouth, and splashed water on her face and neck.
Looking in the mirror, she noticed her face was white, and there were beads of sweat clinging to her forehead. After rinsing out her mouth once more, she forced herself out the door.
Patrick was returning to the kennels, and Craig was standing in the middle of the main room with his hands shoved in his pants’ pockets. As the glass doors swung shut, he moved her way. “He, uh, didn’t have a clue if that’s what’s gotten to you. But I am sorry. From now on, I’ll keep it to strictly business here.”
Swallowing, she shrugged it off. “It’s okay.” It’s a dumb joke. That’s all it is. “So, um, you were kidding, right? About not having had a vasectomy?”
His eyebrows furrowed like she’d spoken Latin. “Granted my kids are older, but why would you think I’d had a vasectomy?”
She could see the sincerity in his eyes, hear it in his tone. Dear God, she was either going to puke for real or start bawling. Shoving her shaking hands into her back pockets, she pressed on. “I’d never assume that. Sophie said…she said you—”
“Oh, Christ.” Craig’s eyes widened and he dragged a hand through his hair. “You’re a beautiful, single woman in your midtwenties, Megan. Please tell me you’re on birth control. I meant to ask that first time, but then you said something about it not being a problem so I-I assumed…”
She opened her mouth, but words escaped her. With knees rebelliously weak, she sank to a nearby chair. Her pulse was pounding behind her ears, dulling all other sound. She didn’t even attempt eye contact, but saw in the periphery of her vision that he’d begun to pace the floor. When she finally looked his way, she saw that his face had drained of color as well.
“Sophie told you I’d had a vasectomy?” he repeated as if he were still processing the full possibility of this unexpected predicament.
Megan nodded, but it didn’t feel as if her head belonged to her body. “She said she secretly wished for a baby more than anything after Andrew died but that you’d already had a vasectomy.”
“I have no idea where she got that. Wait. I went to the hospital with a kidney stone a few months before Andrew died. She was only ten then. Honestly, I doubt she knew what a vasectomy was at the time. Maybe she remembered it and came up with that idea later. I would never have even guessed that she knew what a vasectomy was yet.”
“From what I’ve heard, kids her age are learning everything faster than we did. You won’t say anything to her, will you?”
“No, of course not.”
She needed him to go. She needed to think. To let the fact that she’d just spent the last month having constant unprotected sex settle. “Look, I’d, um, better get back to work.”
He nodded, looking just as eager for some time to let this process. “You’ll, uh, you’ll take a test, right?”
She swallowed hard and closed her hands over the arms of her chair. “I’m sure it’s fine, but yeah, of course. It’s a bit early in my cycle, but I will. I’ll let you know when I do.”
“Okay, whenever you think the time’s right.” He dragged his hand through his hair. “Holy shit. It’s a lot to absorb. Listen, I’ve got the kids tonight since I haven’t seen them all weekend. I could swing by afterward, but it might be late. Then I’m in New York for two days.”
“It’s okay. We can catch up later in the week.”
“For sure. I’ll call you.” He pressed a quick kiss against her temple before heading out. He was clearly as stunned as she was.
When he was out of the building, she curled forward in her chair, feeling the last of her energy seeping from her fingers and toes. She pressed her forehead against her knees and wrapped her hands around her shins. If you were on a plane, you’d be in crash position.
A laugh bubbled up her throat, dry and foreign and not seeming to belong to her. “That’s good, Megs, because you may very well be about to crash.”
Chapter 19
Collapsing to the seat of her car, Megan shut the door and plunked her head against the headrest. The parking lot surrounding Walgreens was nearly full. Twenty feet away, a van door was remotely opened, lights blinking. The woman holding the remote was a mother with a full, swollen belly, a toddler slung over one hip, and a young boy clinging to her free hand. She was talking to her son and laughing, her movements fluid and natural. She helped the boy climb in, then buckled the toddler into a car seat without seeming to lose a beat in their conversation.
Is everyone capable of that? Am I? Megan ran her thumb along the rim of the steering wheel. Did she want to be? She let out a long breath and closed her eyes, hoping the answer would present itself in an easy-to-understand format. But no words came. Instead, a rarely felt emotion swept over her, subduing the raw shock and nausea that had carried her through the morning. It was an emotion she experienced so seldom that she needed a few minutes to understand it. But finally she did.
Peace. She felt an incredible peace washing over her.
Kids loaded and automatic van door shutting, the mother slid into the driver’s seat, mindful of her swollen belly, and drove away. Megan could hear the erratic beat of a peppy children’s song as they passed behind her car.
In the now-quiet lot, she sifted through her purse and pulled out the EPT test that she’d taken in the store bathroom, needing to see it again. She stared at the plus sign and took in a slow, steady breath. A plus, of all things. It wasn’t just a positive sign. A plus was for addition. For becoming part of something bigger than what you started with.
Holy crap. This was real. She was pregnant. And Craig was the father.
She drummed her fingers on her knees a few seconds, then pulled out her cell phone, thinking she should call him. When her fingers didn’t seem to want to dial, she dropped it back in her purse. She needed to savor this feeling of peace for a little while longer, and talking to Craig about this momentous news was going to introduce a whole new level of—what? The uncertainty alone made her feel queasy.
The plain truth was, she had no idea how he’d take this news.
* * *
Megan dabbed at the broken faucet that had become her nose. She wasn’t crying. Not anymore. Her nose just hadn’t gotten the memo.
For the first time in over a year, she took part of a sick day. Stomach flu, she’d told Patrick, which hadn’t felt like a lie since she’d puked three times since leaving, most likely a combination of morning sickness and terror.
She cried it out, then meandered a few miles through Forest Park in solitude, noticing moms and babies and little kids she never would have spotted on a normal day. Afterward, she showed up unannounced on Ashley’s doorstep while Jake was napping. She spilled the news before the front door was shut behind her and cried it out all over again. After her well of tears ran dry and Jake woke up, they’d headed to a neighborhood playground three blocks from Ashley’s house.
Now Megan sat on the grass, watching Jake bury his toys in a sand pit a few feet away. Surreal thoughts swept over her in waves, like how she’d never really gotten what a tiny miracle Jake was. Miniscule fingers and toes, pouty mouth and plump cheeks, chubby thighs and smooth-as-silk
hair.
“I blame you, you know that,” she said. Her throat was raw, and her words were thick in a way that only happens after a lot of crying.
“Mmm, that’s fair.” Ashley flicked a mangled dandelion at her. “After all, I was an integral part of the completely unprotected sex you were having, wasn’t I?”
The first smile since Patrick had butted into her office what felt like an eternity ago curled the corners of Megan’s mouth. “You were always saying I should hurry up and get pregnant.”
“Well, I didn’t mean like this.” Ashley wrapped her in a one-armed hug. “But you’re not alone, you know, whatever he decides.”
“He doesn’t want to have a baby with me, Ash.”
“Not being ready and not owning up to your responsibilities are two different things. And everything you’ve said about him makes me think he’ll do the right thing.”
“What’s the right thing? His kids are ten and thirteen. He’s recently divorced, and he warned right at the start that he wasn’t ready for complicated. And I don’t know if I told you, but his ex-wife got pregnant while they were dating. What about this screams ‘Come on, let’s have a baby together’? Nothing, that’s what.”
Ashley shook her head. “That still doesn’t mean it can’t work for you two. It’s been obvious you’re crazy about him. And he said that bit about being the bacon or the pork chop or whatever. And besides, for some people, things just fall into place the second time around.”
Ashley’s words struck a chord. Memory slammed in so fast that Megan had to steady herself by wrapping her hand around a clump of grass. There she was, sixteen, walking the aisles of the grocery store alongside her heavily pregnant mom a few days before she went into labor with her sister from her mom’s second marriage. Tyler, her half brother, a toddler at the time, was tucked in the cart irritably munching Cheerios. Her mother was pushing him along at a snail’s pace, her enormous, swollen belly pressed against the handle. They were in the canned goods aisle, a list of things to buy a mile long, when her mom started singing. Not humming, and not mumbling, but full-scale singing. Megan ignored her at first, though her ears grew warm in embarrassment.
Maybe it was the song—Aretha Franklin’s “You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman”—that made it worse, but it struck Megan so hard that she stopped in her tracks halfway down one aisle. When her mom noticed Megan had fallen behind, she stopped and asked what was wrong.
She could have told the truth—probably should have—but she didn’t. That first time she put two and two together had been enough. Her mom never sang when she was married to her dad.
“Hey, Jakey, no!” Ashley said, jumping up and pulling Megan from her reverie. Jake had found a pacifier buried in the sand and was about to put it in his mouth. “Yucky, baby.”
Megan sucked in a deep breath, hoping to ease her nerves. Watching Ashley attempt to pry the sand-encrusted pacifier away from her determined toddler helped more than the breathing. She loved Jake. She loved all babies. She always had.
“Is it me, or did you just see a ghost? Because all of a sudden you look as pale as one,” Ashley said after successfully swapping the pacifier for a new plastic shovel she’d kept hidden in the diaper bag for such an occasion.
“I was thinking about my mom.”
Ashley pursed her lips. “Which explains that look of yours. Did you tell her yet?”
“No,” Megan said. “God no.”
“Being three hours away and having a demanding family to care for doesn’t make her not your mom, you know.”
“Ugh. Spare me the lecture please.” Megan collapsed back against the ground. Itchy blades of grass pressed against her neck and shoulders, and she’d cried so much that lying on her back made her words even more nasal.
A new, blue-whale-sized fear was suddenly weighing down on her. What if she never loved my dad?
It was a stupid thought and pointless besides. Her dad had died half her life ago, and her mom had been remarried nearly as long as she’d been married to him. And right now, Megan had bigger issues to deal with than worrying about the relationship her parents had.
But somehow this thought seemed to take precedence over everything else.
“Do you think my parents loved each other, Ash?”
Ashley went from gazing down at her to looking away. “I’m sure they did. I never really thought about it.”
“They weren’t affectionate like her and Rick though, were they?”
“We were kids, Megan. I never paid attention. I honestly can’t even remember them being in the same room enough to know how affectionate they were. What I do know is that they were great to you. Great to me too.”
“I’m still so angry at her sometimes, you know. For getting over him.”
“I know.” Ashley had the pacifier and was turning it in circles with the tips of her fingers. “I just don’t think your dad would want you to be, whatever kind of relationship they had.”
A second whale-sized fear rushed in behind the first. “What if this baby ends up feeling the same way about me?”
Ashley dropped the pacifier and loomed over her. “So you think your mom’s not a good mother? Because she loves her second husband and the rest of her kids? Have you forgotten how she was always there whenever you needed her? Even in the dorm, her care packages were the best around. She even remembered me. Every time.”
Megan shook her head, smashing grass against her hair. When she didn’t answer, Ashley continued.
“And did you think I couldn’t be a good mother because my mom spent so much of my childhood dealing with her addiction to painkillers after her accident? What I’m saying is that we’ve all got our crap to deal with, Megs, but it doesn’t mean we can’t be good parents and we can’t experience meaningful love.”
Megan took in her friend’s words and slowly pushed up to a sitting position again. She leaned into Ashley and rested her head against her shoulder.
“I want to believe you. I really do.”
Chapter 20
When Patrick leaned into her office Friday evening to say he was leaving and to ask if he should lock the door behind him, Megan shook her head. “Nope. I’m out of here in a few minutes myself. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Maybe next week will be better for you,” he said as he turned away.
Megan frowned as he headed out, mumbling to himself about her spirits being down during the shelter’s best week in seven months. He’d clearly picked up on her inner turmoil.
Shoulders slumping, she sighed and answered the empty room. “Well, it can’t be any worse.” A memory of her father and the last day she saw him flashed through her mind. “Never mind that. I hope so too.”
Patrick was right about the shelter. Things were looking up. At least she had that to console her. Craig’s donation was the defibrillator this place needed. The marketing plan that had sat abandoned in her desk drawer for so long was in full swing, and results were already visible. Donations were coming in, not pouring in but not trickling either. Not counting Craig’s donation, they were on track for this to be the strongest year in over a decade. Added to that, a few Girl Scout troops had dropped off an impressive number of supplies from their wish list. When you put it all together, it was as if Santa had been very good to them.
There’d also been a slew of adoptions after the parade. Turbo was adopted by a family with two boys. Sol, the pit bull mix rescued from the hot car at the zoo, finally found a home too. Her new owner was a young, single guy in his twenties who’d just moved to St. Louis and wanted a companion, especially for walking, which Sol loved. Peanut, the Great Dane, was adopted to a very short, fine-boned woman in her forties. The two were an unlikely match, but the woman had emailed several pictures proving they were hitting it off just fine.
Tyson would’ve been adopted three times over, but he was officially on hold. Sophie’s
house sold quickly, and she’d be moving into her new home in the next couple of weeks. Ever since she’d made the decision that Tyson was the dog for her, she’d been glowing from head to foot. She came in at least twice a week, and after Tyson conked out from playing with her, she’d walk dogs until her mom or dad picked her up.
Watching it all happen felt like a small miracle. No doors were going to close this year. Never, if Megan could help it. She was certain it’d be easier moving forward. She was a few years older now. And wiser. Seasoned to the realities of running a nonprofit. This place had the air of a business that’d been turned around, and she’d make sure it stayed that way.
At least this part of her life had some clarity. If she wasn’t pregnant, she could relax and enjoy watching the shelter grow. If she wasn’t pregnant.
But she was.
Not ready to head home where she was sure her thoughts would spiral into a mess of self-doubt, Megan walked into the kennels and paused in front of Sledge. The last she’d heard, a few different people were considering adopting him. Megan was both hopeful and hesitant about this. At the very least, she wouldn’t let him go to anyone who she didn’t think was a perfect match.
At the sight of her, Sledge stood up, stretched, and relaxed enough to give a hopeful wag of his tail.
“Attaboy,” she said, lifting a leash off a nearby hook. “I bet a walk will do us both some good.”
Outside, the temperature was dropping, but it was still a beautiful late-April evening. Hoping her mind would be carried away by something else, she allowed Sledge to set the pace, a medium trot, and headed into the neighboring residential section of town. But even with Sledge and a pretty row of historic homes to keep her mind occupied, it took less than a minute for her thoughts to turn to the baby she was carrying. This time, what did it were the chirping birds and the landscapes bursting with bright flowers—signs of spring and rebirth. Like it or not, life was renewing both outside and in.