by Rena Olsen
Today I had succeeded.
Dinner turned out perfectly, and Bryce praised every bite. We talked about the church and about what I was learning reading the commentaries from the library, and how I was enjoying volunteering to read to kids there as well. We played footsie under the table like we were just starting to date, and we didn’t even make it to the real dessert before Bryce scooped me into his arms and carried me to the bedroom, blowing out the candles on the way.
* * *
—
The clock read after midnight when I stirred. I was naked, tangled in the sheets, and Bryce’s arm hung heavy over my waist. Bryce had changed my plans for the evening; not that I was complaining, but I did want to share my news before we fell asleep for the night, or else I’d have to wait until tomorrow night to tell him, and it wasn’t certain what kind of mood he’d be in.
I slid out from under his arm. He groaned and reached for me. “Where’re you goin’?” he mumbled.
“Just going to grab dessert. I’d hate for you to miss out on the strawberry shortcake.”
At that, he perked up, if slightly, opening an eye and squinting at me. “Homemade?”
“Is there another kind?”
“Okay,” he said, digging his head deeper into the pillow. “But hurry back.”
I threw my robe over my shoulders, belting it as I made my way downstairs. The kitchen wasn’t too big of a mess, but the dining room was a bit of a disaster. I decided it was worth the extra ten minutes to clear off the table and stack the dishes in the sink. Bryce was probably sleeping again anyway, and he’d be happier coming downstairs in the morning to a cleaner room. I picked up Bryce’s coat from the floor in the back room and saw a bouquet of roses wilting on the counter. I hadn’t even noticed them. I found a vase and put them in water, hoping they’d perk up by morning, and then readied a tray with strawberry shortcake, two champagne flutes, and a bottle of sparkling cider. Stopping in the dining room, I grabbed the presents we’d also neglected and stacked the plates on top of them, then took the stairs very carefully.
Sure enough, Bryce hadn’t moved since I’d left. I set the tray on the dresser and turned on the dimmer switch, lighting the room very slightly. Enough to see but still maintain the mood I desired. Bryce stirred as the lights came up, blinking at me from the bed as a lazy smile grew across his face.
“Ready for more?” he asked, and I almost rolled my eyes. He was like a teenager tonight.
“Let’s have dessert,” I said.
“That’s what I’m saying,” he teased, throwing off the blanket and giving me a full view in case I wasn’t sure what he meant.
I laughed. “How about we have actual dessert first, and then we’ll move on to second dessert.”
“And maybe third.”
I wasn’t sure that was physically possible, but what did I know? He could give it his best shot as long as I got to tell him about the baby first. I carried the tray to the bed and set it on his lap before removing the gifts and opening the cider. Bryce watched my every move, his eyes gleaming hungrily, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t for the cake. We fed each other piece by piece, and when I licked the last of the whipped cream off his thumb, his muscles coiled and I could tell he was about to pounce.
“Wait,” I said, holding up my hands and sitting back. “We didn’t do presents.”
“They can wait,” he growled.
“Come on, Bryce. Our anniversary is technically over but it’s still kind of the same day. Let’s open them and then you can jump me.”
He paused, pretending to contemplate my request, and then nodded, eyes sparkling. “That’s a deal I can take.”
I handed him his gifts, keeping the small box he’d brought for me in my lap. I’d added a second gift to the album, but I pointed to the album first. “Open that one,” I said.
Raising an eyebrow, he complied. His face softened when he saw what it was. “Julia,” he said. “It’s great.” He flipped through a few pages. “Where did you get all the pictures?”
“Nancy and the Reverend shared quite a few with me. Other friends.”
“Did they all know you were doing this?”
“Yup,” I said. “Surprised?”
“Very,” he said, and I could tell he was astonished that everyone had kept it from him. Good. The expression was genuine, and I was relieved no one had spilled the beans.
“My turn?” I asked, and he looked up, closing the book and setting it aside.
“Yes. We can look through this together tomorrow, okay?”
“It’s a date.” I removed the paper from around a long rectangular box. A jewelry box. I opened the top and gasped. “Bryce, its . . . it’s absolutely beautiful.” Winking at me from the velvet interior of the box was a necklace encrusted with diamonds and emeralds. It was delicate, not too flashy, but gorgeous and bold at the same time.
“The emeralds match your eyes,” he said. “Can I help you put it on? I’d love to see you wearing only my necklace.”
My entire body flushed, and my tongue went dry. I nodded, since I wasn’t capable of speech, and he lifted the necklace from the box, clasping it around my neck as I lifted my hair out of the way. He took advantage of my exposed neck to start kissing his way across my neck and shoulder. He lowered the edge of my robe, exposing more skin, and I was tempted to let him keep going.
“Just one more,” I said on a groan. “One more and then I’m all yours.”
“I think you’re already all mine,” he said, laughter in his voice. He was so right. I belonged to him.
“Please,” I whispered, trying to keep my wits as he drove me wild.
Bryce leaned back on a groan. “Okay, fine. Let’s look at what this last gift is.”
“It’s the best one,” I said, pulling my robe up as I turned around. I didn’t want Bryce to be distracted.
He opened the package and stared at it, confusion in his eyes. At the grocery store, there was a small clothing section. I’d found a bib that said, “Daddy’s my favorite,” and I’d known exactly how to share the news.
I stared at Bryce, waiting for his reaction. He stared at the bib, running his finger over the words, forehead creasing. A small muscle in his jaw twitched, and I thought he might be trying to rein in his emotion. Bryce wasn’t much for crying. It filled my heart to think that he might be so joyful over our tiny miracle that he would have to work to hold back the tears. Finally, he looked up at me, but instead of pleasure in his eyes, I saw anger.
“What does this mean?”
My laugh was awkward, uncomfortable. It seemed pretty obvious the message I was trying to send. “Um, what do you think it means?”
“You’re pregnant?”
I nodded. “We’re going to be parents, Bryce!” I expected him to hug me, to shout for joy, to do anything but continue to stare at the bib in disbelief.
“But how is that possible?” he asked. “You’re on birth control.”
“Yes, and Dr. Herbert explained the risks. I’ve been thinking about it, and either the odds were just in our favor, or we miscalculated when it was safe to stop using condoms after my last shot.”
“We?” Bryce’s voice was quiet.
“I miscalculated,” I corrected myself. “I’ll know more once I see Dr. Herbert and find out when we conceived.”
Bryce was shaking his head, still not making eye contact. “I can’t believe this.”
“It’s a surprise, for sure,” I said, scrambling for the right words. “But surely this is God’s will? If we did everything we could to prevent this, and it happened anyway . . . Bryce, this is our little miracle baby.” I placed my hand over my abdomen, marveling that there was life in there.
“But apparently we didn’t do everything we could to prevent it, if you couldn’t even look at a fucking calendar to see when you were actually protected. How could y
ou be so stupid, Julia?”
I reared back as if he’d slapped me. He may as well have, and with the fire in his eyes it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that he still would. Bryce rarely swore. He said cuss words were a poor man’s attempt at salvaging his pride. Now, though, he used them as if he’d been saying them regularly for years. I scooted as far from him as possible while still staying on the bed.
Bryce grabbed the album I’d given him and heaved it across the room, where it bounced off the wall before landing on the carpet, open, spine broken. The tray went the way of the book, cider arcing through the air, glittering in the dim light for a moment before splashing across surfaces all over the room, including Bryce’s album.
“Dammit, Julia,” Bryce was still ranting. “This wasn’t part of the plan. We were waiting. What the hell are we supposed to do now?”
I opened my mouth, but he held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it. Happy fucking anniversary, sweetheart.” He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
It was several minutes before I could move, raising shaking fingers to my face, to my neck. Though he hadn’t touched me, I felt blows all over my body. I took deep breaths and set about cleaning up the mess Bryce had left behind. I didn’t want to leave the room, so I used extra bath towels to wipe surfaces. Everything would have to be cleaned again tomorrow. I dabbed at the pages of the album, but they were already wrinkled beyond repair. I could probably get it reprinted, but it was so sad to see it in this state.
That’s when it all hit me, what had transpired. We had gone from being giddy, happy, in love, to screaming and destruction in a matter of seconds. I’d thought bringing the news to our anniversary was the best way I could have told him, but that was when I assumed he would be as happy as I was. Instead, I’d ruined the best night we’d had in months.
Refusing to go back to the bed we’d shared less than an hour ago, I climbed into one of the chairs and curled in on myself, sobs shaking my entire body until I finally fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.
Her limbs feel heavy, though her spirit is soaring with a sense of freedom. She glances at the mess the bathroom has become, the puddles of water dotting the marble floor, the overturned bottles of makeup, the drawers hanging ajar. Through the open door to the bedroom, a backpack sits on the bed, zippered mouth gaping, waiting to be filled with the clothes strewn about. He would be so angry to see how disorganized everything is. Everything has a place. Business, possessions, people. To him, there is little difference between the latter two.
Chapter 26
Bryce left early the next morning, before I was even awake. He hadn’t been back to the bedroom, but there was a note on the door that said simply, “Tell no one.” I showered and straightened the bedroom as best I could before going back downstairs, though I needed to go back to make sure all the glass had been cleared away. As I’d anticipated, there was no saving the album, and I made a mental note to call the company and have it reprinted.
I went about my tasks robotically, washing the dishes from the night before, taking down the twinkle lights and throwing the candlesticks away. Within a couple of hours, all evidence of our celebration and subsequent altercation was erased, and everything was as it should be. In its place. Including me. The numbness that had gotten me through the morning was wearing off, and I needed distraction.
Remembering the commentaries I’d picked up from the library, I decided to immerse myself in study. I’d left them in the car in my hurry to get everything ready for Bryce, and I headed for the garage to retrieve them. Though I wasn’t going anywhere, my hand automatically reached for my keys on the hook, as they did every time I left the house. Except this time they met only air. I paused with the door to the garage half-open, staring at the empty key hooks in confusion. Had I forgotten to bring the keys in with me?
I hurried to my car. The commentaries were there in the passenger seat, where I’d left them, but the keys were nowhere. I thought back to the day before, and I knew for certain I’d brought them in, because I’d double-checked to make sure they were on the correct hook before Bryce got home. Had he taken them? If so, it certainly wasn’t by mistake.
Back inside the house, I searched for my phone to text Bryce about the keys. It wasn’t on the charger, or in the kitchen or bedroom. It appeared my phone had gone the way of my keys, and I couldn’t even call to confirm that my husband had, in effect, grounded me.
I made my way to my parlor and pulled out my Bible, desperate to find some justification for Bryce’s behavior. Had I disobeyed him in some way? It wasn’t even certain that it had been my faulty math that caused the pregnancy. I could simply be one of the rare instances where it didn’t work. Even Dr. Herbert had cautioned that the shot, while one of the most effective methods of birth control, was still not one hundred percent effective. Nothing was. And Bryce refused to double up methods.
No, I shook my head at myself. I wasn’t going to blame Bryce. In fact, I didn’t want to blame anyone. I wanted to thank God for this miracle, for this life growing inside of me. It was something to be celebrated, not mourned, not blamed upon someone. It had been a shock, certainly, but I knew Bryce would come around. I closed my Bible and sank to my knees next to the chair, sending up prayers of thanks to God, and begging for His intervention in Bryce’s heart to show him that this was a good thing, that our child would be the best thing in our marriage yet.
It was midafternoon when the doorbell rang. Only a few people had the code to the gate, so I wasn’t surprised to see Nancy standing on the front steps, holding a casserole dish.
“Bryce said he wasn’t sure you’d be up for making dinner,” she commented as I invited her inside. “So I had Margot whip up an extra helping of our dinner for you.”
“Thank you, Nancy, that’s very kind,” I said. “I was so focused on getting things ready for our dinner last night, I hadn’t planned for the rest of the week. I was going to go to the store today, but . . .”
She smiled, sympathy in her eyes. “Well, now you don’t have to worry about it.” She breezed through to the kitchen as if she owned the place, setting the casserole in the fridge. “Instructions are written on the foil. Just pop it in about forty-five minutes before you plan to eat.”
I dropped into a chair. “I don’t know when we’re going to eat,” I said, tears threatening. “I don’t have my phone.” I hadn’t anticipated the hollow feeling that being left completely cut off would leave me with. Bryce had even taken his laptop. I’d almost crushed Nancy in a hug when she arrived, would have if she hadn’t been holding the dish, and it had only been a few hours.
“Bryce will be home around six, dear,” Nancy said. “And you’ll work it all out.”
“Did he . . .” I looked at her, wondering how much he had told her.
“Of course, and I’m tickled pink to be a grandmother.” She took the seat next to me, reached over and patted my stomach, which felt a little weird, but also comforting. Nancy was supportive of my baby, even if Bryce wasn’t yet. And if Nancy was, Bryce would be. I sighed, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders.
“I just wish he’d talked to me first,” I said. “It’s our baby.”
“He’s angry, Julia. Surely you can understand that.” Nancy’s voice was as smooth and logical as ever, but this time her words grated on me, dissipating the appreciation I’d felt toward her only seconds earlier.
“Actually, Nancy, I don’t understand this time.” I stood up and began pacing the kitchen. “I understand that it was shocking. I understand that it wasn’t how we’d planned it. But I don’t understand how this miracle could elicit such rage.” I spun to face her. “He acted like this was my fault, that I’d done it on purpose. To what end?”
“Isn’t it your fault?”
My jaw dropped. “No. It’s not. And my baby is not something I want to spend time blaming or being blamed for. He or she is loved, wanted
, welcomed already.” I slumped back against the counter. “At least by one of its parents.” I looked down at her. “Did he say why he took my things?”
Nancy stood. “Bryce was afraid you wouldn’t act responsibly. He thought you might do something irrational, like call your parents, or try to visit them.”
I crossed my arms, unwilling to admit that I had thought to do just that before I’d realized I was stranded.
“Part of being a wife is being willing to take responsibility where it’s needed. Bryce needs to be able to trust you. And he did trust that you knew your body and could make sure to do your part to stay with the plan the two of you had laid out together.” Nancy folded her hands in front of her. “I can see now why he was so upset.”
Anger bubbled through my veins. “Was I supposed to just not let myself become pregnant? Is that how this works?”
She shrugged. “The Reverend and I chose not to have children of our own. We decided we could best serve God by ministering to the lost children of others. We took every precaution, and trusted each other to do our respective parts. If I’d screwed up, we never would have met Bryce.”
They’d mentioned that decision long ago, back when I’d first met them. “How did you meet Bryce?” I asked. “You’ve never told me that full story. Only that you connected with him as a teenager and helped him get into a good school. No one talks about the family he came from.”
“If Bryce wanted you to know about that, Julia, he would tell you. If I were you, I’d focus on your current family affairs instead of digging up things best left buried.” Nancy’s rebuke was sharp, but instead of quelling under it as I normally would, my residual anger and sudden certainty that they were all hiding something from me caused me to stand up straighter.
“Thank you for the casserole, Nancy,” I said. “I think I need to spend some time in prayer, considering ways to be a better wife through this situation.” The words tasted bitter on my tongue, but they did the trick.