Sam made no announcement at Thanksgiving about Eric coming home. Nor did Sam say anything to Jenny about Dana. Jenny’s pain clouded her view; she spent her granddaughter’s first major holiday somewhat eased, also hazy. Rae joked that Louise wouldn’t remember it either.
Children returning for that short break longed for the extended Christmas vacation, yet not everyone would be present. Mitch had months left, but sounded finished with overseas tours. He promised his parents when this session was through, he would be back on American soil, as close to Oregon as he could get.
The war wasn’t mentioned; family was too overjoyed with a new member, the entire nation sick of a fight lasting longer than anyone had anticipated. Mid-term elections in early November bore the hallmarks of a failed campaign; Republicans lost control of both congressional houses in large part due to a conflict many felt was wrong from the beginning, growing more problematic. It was still raging, even if coffins returned without the glare of TV coverage, even if it seemed like yesterday’s news. To Sam, Tommie, Jacob, and their wives, it felt like Vietnam, a battle unceasing.
To their children and grandchildren it was unprecedented in scale and scope, and if Afghanistan was included, it seemed obscene. War, in this day and age? 9/11 still tugged at hearts, but were these results worth it?
Max never asked that question. His daughter did, but not to her father’s face. Emily would graduate in the spring, was applying to Stanford for her PhD. When that was broached, a collective hush followed. Would Eric and Emily cross paths?
It wasn’t until December when Sam finally told his son that a graduate degree wasn’t necessary. The words were spoken to immediate family the first night all sat under Sam’s roof, brokered by Rachel’s announcement that she was quitting the University of Oregon, was moving home. Her voice had wavered until Sam nodded, Jenny having already passed this information to her husband. A mother’s pain was the conduit. Uncertain of the future, Rachel was returning mostly because her mother needed her.
That Chelsea was nearby sat unspoken. She’d had a bug during much of December, still looked unwell to her family. Ten days out from Christmas, Chelsea said little during that meal, not much heard from the rest either as eyes bugged, followed by stares long and silent. No one asked why Sam had changed his mind.
The family was open on most subjects; all knew that Jenny was smoking pot. She still nibbled Aunt Rae’s concoctions, but lately the straight stuff more readily alleviated Jenny’s illness and no one questioned her methods, borne of great deliberation, as was Sam’s statement. If Eric really wanted to be done with his education and return to help run the farm, a father would appreciate his son’s assistance.
That invitation was accepted with a solemn hush, even little Louise was stilled. Eric had blinked away tears, stepping to his dad’s side, leading to a crushing embrace. Then Will mentioned his writing, which David noted was a memoir called Outside the Diamond. Rachel’s plans were feted too, but she admitted her hands weren’t as full. Then she sighed. If anyone had any ideas…
An editor for Will’s book, Chelsea offered. Or a nanny for a cranky baby, Bethany joked. No one said a caretaker for their mother, but Rachel was welcomed home in Jenny’s wide arms, Sam in agreement.
David, Eric, and Dana would help Rachel move before Christmas. David had three weeks off work and his desire to be closer was evident, but like Rachel, David wasn’t a farmer. He had spoken with Jenny about various marijuana strains, sativas and indicas and hybrids, and Andy never said a peep when those matters arose. Jenny was within her full legal right to smoke pot or eat cannabis-laced foodstuffs. That Rae did the cooking wasn’t above-board, but again, what did it matter? It was people like Tanner that Andy had to consider, and not even that kid had strayed. He was sober, still seeing a psychologist, living with his parents, working for his dad. Getting along with his mother, which all considered the biggest blessing of the holiday. Miss Louise was a joy, also colicky, which would pass, Jenny smiled, reminding that David had suffered a touch, so had Rachel. But Tanner’s sobriety wasn’t lost to them, nor was the one member who wouldn’t be arriving home. Mitch remained alongside thousands of other military personnel in various overseas locations. Only once he was back would the holiday feel right.
After everyone else had said goodnight, Sam and Eric walked to the barn. Sam wished to tell Eric that he knew about Dana. Instead he muttered; “This means the both of you.”
Sam didn’t know how long he would feel adrift. Had his mother Maisie felt that way, sending him to Eugene to avoid a war? Funny how circumstances turned on their heads; now Sam was bringing Eric home, Eric and Dana both. Before he had been adamant, but Tanner was sticking to the straight and narrow, and Sam would accept a compromise; his son returned so a young woman could be protected.
Eric scuffed his feet along the barn’s dirt floor. “Dad, I don’t know what to say.”
“I know you love her, she’s a part of you.”
They hadn’t spoken so plainly since Eric was in high school, wanting to get away. At first he had been eager to go, but as the days grew closer and Tanner turned more unstable, Eric seemed drawn to a troubled relative, his brother of sorts, Sam would allow. Like Tommie, Alvin, and Jacob were Eric, Tanner, and Travis.
“Eric, is she, I mean…”
Father and son exchanged glances, but Sam just couldn’t make out the words.
For a moment Eric seemed to nod. Then he stared to the ground. “She’s got some problems, some issues.” He paused. “But we’re working on them.”
Sam would leave it for now, but the inference had been made. If Eric wanted to say more, a way had been cleared.
Sam knew that in how his son grabbed him. Sam gripped his youngest, overcome by their similarity. David still wore that scruffy beard, looking a double to his dad at a younger age, but it was this boy, appearing more like Jenny every time Sam saw him, to own his father’s exposed and giving heart. There was nothing they could do to change it, only to hope those they loved could navigate the landmines of their pasts.
The next evening was a belated birthday party for Tommie, one that Eric, Dana, and their crew spent much of hidden in Alana’s old room. The rest congregated downstairs, all trying to soothe an irritable baby.
Miss Louise had her moments, her Great Aunt Rae said, much like her Uncle David and Aunt Rachel. Chelsea, Will, and Eric had been placid, but sometimes one or two came along to shake things up. Then Rae caught Jenny’s eyes and both smiled. Sometimes it was a baby, sometimes one a little older.
Only Chelsea stood apart, still feeling miserable. She was only there for Tommie, but soon enough she crept upstairs, said goodbye to her brother and his posse, then was escorted home by the sheriff of Linn County. Instead of driving to their house, Andy headed toward Albany.
“Why are we going this way?” Chelsea asked.
“Something I wanna pick up.”
“What?”
“Just something.”
“Andy, I feel like shit. What’n the hell can’t you just get in Arkendale?”
He didn’t answer, but held her hand. Chelsea didn’t question him, feeling too lousy to care.
He stopped at Fred Meyer for what seemed to take only minutes. No stores were that big in Arkendale, but what in the world could he have bought? He wouldn’t say, but the trip took the better part of an hour, which Chelsea pointed out was wasteful, unless he needed a power tool or something equally ridiculous for that time of night.
Now she wouldn’t let him hold her hand. Usually they were inseparable, but she was exhausted and cranky, like her little niece. Coming on two months old, Louise was starting to ease, but was still a handful. In the beginning, Will and Bethany had joked they would honor Chelsea’s request, wishing for lots of kids. Now if they managed to get through Louise’s babyhood, both parents would happily call it quits.
Chelsea didn’t mention that, didn’t say anything. For Andy to pull this sort of stunt was unprecedented. All she had wanted
was to go home, get into bed. Her period hadn’t started, maybe she was reacting to Jenny’s incessant pain. If Chelsea didn’t feel better in another day or two, she would see her doctor, the same one who delivered Louise. Chelsea wouldn’t need the OB side, only the GYN. Or maybe a good, old-fashioned MD; at this point, Chelsea would even considered a G-U-N.
Andy had one, maybe he’d just put her out of this misery, then Chelsea shed a few tears. Her mother constantly suffered deep, pervading pain. Chelsea only had a cold, needed to stop bitching, just go see the doctor. Get home, fall into bed, if Andy ever managed to get them back to their house.
When he pulled into the driveway, Chelsea got right out of the car, unlocked their door, stomping as she went. Maybe if she kicked a small fuss, he would realize next time she asked to go home, she meant business. Getting into pajamas, she heard whatever he had bought being retrieved from the bag. She had no idea what it could be, then came out to investigate.
To her equal shock and horror, on their kitchen counter stood two different brands of pregnancy tests. “What the fuck is this?” she shouted. “Andy, have you lost your mind?”
“Chelse, I want you to take one.” He stared at her, not cracking a smile.
“You gotta be kidding me. Is this some kind of joke?”
“No. Chelse, go pee on a stick.”
“You go pee on a stick! I absolutely don’t believe what I’m seeing!”
He came around the counter, but she backed away, hitting their fridge. He didn’t step closer, but there was no place for her to flee.
“Chelse, please, I know it looks odd but…”
“Odd? How about fucking ridiculous and if I didn’t love you I’d probably slap your face!”
Two Cassel females were more than out of sorts, unsure of everything a better description. Little Louise had no idea why her tummy ached just as Chelsea couldn’t begin to fathom what had turned Andy into such an…
Asshole, what she told him, their first fight of such misunderstanding and magnitude. Small scuffles had occurred over the year, then Chelsea realized it had been less than a year. They had only come together at Tommie’s New Year’s party eleven months previous. Why had she married him, what in the world had she been thinking? She couldn’t have kids, and if he was trying to tell her something…
“Chelse, listen to me. Just go take one of these, then we’ll know.”
“I already know, damn you!”
“You don’t know for sure.”
“Wanna make a bet?”
“Go pee on a stick. Then we’ll talk wagers.”
“You go piss on it, gonna get the same fucking result!”
She wouldn’t use one of those kits if her life depended on it. Chelsea Schumacher wouldn’t even open a box.
“Honey, I did something recently…” Andy’s words struck her, what her mom had just said. Her mother had traded her health so Chelsea would fall in love, and it took all the strength Chelsea possessed not to fall on the floor. As it was, she only caught Andy’s last words. “So I’m just asking you to take a test. Chelse, I love you. I’m not doing this to hurt you, never baby, never.”
“I, I…”
“Chelsea, please?”
She didn’t see Andy in front of her, only her mom, who had sacrificed something so Chelsea could be happy. It wasn’t for Andy that Chelsea grabbed the closest box off the counter, then stalked to the bathroom.
She followed the directions, then washed her hands, the stick hanging precariously over the edge of the package on the counter. It would take two minutes, but Chelsea didn’t look at it, pondering her mother’s voice. Some prayer had been offered, some trade, deal, transference. Jenny had asked for her daughter’s happiness in exchange for…
“Chelse, what does it say?”
She couldn’t open the door, didn’t want to see him. She had just told her mom how much he meant; now all Chelsea felt was betrayed. She was a fool, peeing on a goddamned piece of plastic that would once again confirm what she had lived with for the last fourteen years. Chelsea Cassel now Schumacher was barren.
She flung the door wide open. “Why the hell don’t you just read it for yourself?” She had not promised to obey him, only love, honor, and cherish. At that moment she hated his guts.
“Chelse, look with me.” Andy’s voice was contrite but firm.
Love, honor, cherish; to honor was all she had left within her toward this man. What she wanted to do was kick his ass. “Fine! I’ll fucking look with you. Then that’s it!”
She wouldn’t leave him that night, just sleep on the sofa. But tomorrow, oh tomorrow, Chelsea fumed, as Andy picked up the test, setting it in front of their faces. He didn’t try to put his arm around her, leaving a small space. If he had moved any closer, Chelsea might have elbowed him in the gut.
On that stick flashed two blue lines, bright and deep like Louise’s eyes. Like Chelsea’s own, Andy said. “It’s positive honey, blue means positive Chelse.”
Then she only saw his face, but it was fuzzy through her tears. The stick was laid back on the box as she collapsed against him, along with their baby.
Chelsea wondered how the heart could be so fickle. Or maybe it was hormones; in those preceding seconds, she did hate her husband, wished to do him harm. Not quite emasculate him, but certainly bust his chops. Then swiftly and without warning, she was making love to him, but not Chelsea alone. According to that test, and the other one she took as soon as she had stopped crying long enough to pee again, Chelsea Schumacher was pregnant.
With Andy inside her, it seemed plausible, for she did love him that much, even if she had just wanted to throttle him. She loved him so much, and had been doing so since their wedding. Her mother had given up a chunk of her life so Chelsea could even connect with Andy, which she told him through copious tears and orgasms. Maybe a baby was possible too.
When and how didn’t hit her, only that he had wanted her to take the test. “Andy,” she asked after he came again, the third time maybe, at least the third, Chelsea decided. “Why’d you want me to do that?”
“Didn’t you hear me?”
“Hear what?”
He sighed. “Right before you took the first one, I told you. Sometimes I get a feeling about something and…”
A feeling about something; Jenny had plenty of feelings, none of them good, and now Andy had them too. “What feelings, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Chelse, you ever get the sense of needing to do something, either go somewhere or call someone or just, hell, some impulsive action that never in your right mind you’d ever do otherwise?”
She had that night, but it occurred under duress. “Not until this evening.”
“Baby, since my divorce, no before that.” He sighed again. “When I walked over to your family at Uncle Grant’s funeral, I did that because I knew I had to, like when I stopped you for the tail lights, bought you the flowers, those first ones.”
“When you thought I was sick,” she murmured.
“Yeah. Then when I saw your mom’s car, I stopped because I knew if I didn’t, later on I’d regret it. Not even regret, maybe it’s some Catholic thing. Since I was married, but that wasn’t something I did because I thought I needed to. After that I started getting these feelings, oh Christ!”
“Andy, tell me!” He’d made her take a pregnancy test, the results she still wouldn’t permit as factual. Could they really be having a baby?
“Chelse, you’re the only one I’ve ever told this to. The rest of my family, hell, they’d think I’d lost my mind. Baby, since I was first married, I would get a sick feeling in my stomach if I didn’t do what I knew I needed to do. Solved more than a few cases following that instinct, I guess you could call it a gut instinct. But it’s more than that and it’s not just at work. It’s small things, like buying this loaf of bread instead of that one, or big things, like stopping you. Those tail lights, hell, Sam would’ve checked your car before you went back, just his way. That man’s one
of the most deliberate…”
“Andy, are you telling me you made me take that test because…”
“When my wife’s sick I don’t drive to Albany for the fun of it.”
She had been lying on her side, right along his body. She hadn’t felt well for a few weeks, and as he played with her nipples, for the first time that sensation wasn’t pleasant. Yet she had so many problems, not just irregular periods. One ovary was underdeveloped, the other was covered in scars, no way for an egg to even make it out of those organs, much less find a hospitable environment.
Chelsea permitted only stark realities; maybe it was two false positives, maybe Andy was allowing his lapsed religion too much influence. Maybe Jenny had given up something for Chelsea to even be lying beside this man, but…
But honey, it was worth it and I’d do it again for any of you. Jenny’s voice filled Chelsea’s head; had a mother again put her life on the line, asked for more than was right? More than Chelsea deserved, and she broke down. “Oh Andy I, I…”
“Chelse, I’d never do anything to hurt you. I know you didn’t wanna do that and…”
“Andy, I love you. I can’t believe, I mean, even if nothing happens, even if we lose…”
“Chelse, don’t go there. Right now, tonight, you’re…”
“Oh Andy!”
“Honey, we’re having a baby.”
She sobbed with that realization. Even if she lost it tomorrow, if nothing else, Chelsea had held her husband’s child. They knew it, the test wasn’t wrong. As that settled, it wasn’t only Chelsea in tears. Andy wept, bending his head to the warm crook of her middle. Chelsea crooned his name, thanking him for both his persistence and his baby.
Chapter 10
Alvin's Farm Book 5: An Innate Sense of Recognition Page 9
