“What do you mean?”
“I meant that it’s only a problem if we make it into a problem,” he said. “If we both want to keep the baby, it’s not a problem.”
“Go on.”
“Do you definitely want to keep the baby, Grace?”
Grace put her hands, fingers spread, on her stomach. At almost eight weeks, Grace had told Bradley that she definitely felt pregnant, that she felt a tightening in her abdomen, in addition to a slight swell that made the waistbands of her formfitting skirts dig into her skin. “Your mother made a lot of good points this weekend.”
“And with all those good points in mind, do you want to keep the baby?”
Another sip. An exaggerated blink. “Yes,” said Grace. “I want to keep the baby.”
“Good,” said Bradley, “because I want you to keep the baby, and I want to be a dad.”
Grace inhaled. “Really?”
“Really,” he said.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth. “Can dinner wait?” she asked, smiling at him.
Bradley set his beer down and took her hand. “Definitely,” he said, gently pulling her toward his bed.
CHAPTER 21
Kevin Bell was Bradley’s closest friend. They had roomed together in college, as well as after college for a few years, until both of them could afford their own places. Kevin designed programs for an education start-up that helped high school students prepare for standardized testing. The firm partners demanded sixty or seventy hours a week from their skeletal staff, which Kevin said he understood, but was frustrated by nonetheless. He often had to work on a Saturday or a Sunday. His rigorous work schedule did not keep Kevin from enjoying a few cold beverages on a Friday night, however, which is what he, Bradley, and a few other buddies did to unwind after a long week at the office. Since Bradley had met Grace, he had been an unreliable participant in these boisterous evenings. But Kevin and the other guys knew the routine. They were all in or out, based on their romantic partnerships. Bradley usually kept in touch with Kevin no matter what was going on, so he did not appear to be surprised when Bradley called him on a Monday night.
He answered the phone by saying, “So, you’re already thinking about the weekend? Must have been a bad Monday, man.”
Bradley laughed. “Yes and yes,” he said.
“My day kind of sucked, too. The Asshole moved my deadline up—again.”
“Well, that’s what he does best, Kev. He was put on this earth to mess with you, right?”
“And he’s very good at his job.”
Bradley cleared his throat. “So, I’ve got some interesting news for you. You know that I’ve been secretly dating Grace Trumbull.”
“I do,” said Kevin. “When are you going to bring her around?”
“Soon,” said Bradley.
“Is that the news?”
“No,” said Bradley, his forehead and palms sweating. “The news is that she’s pregnant, actually.”
“What?”
“She’s pregnant, Kev.”
After a long pause, Kevin said, “I know how it happened, but I don’t know what it means.”
“It means I’m going to be a father.”
“Wait, you’re keeping it?” Kevin was clearly astonished by Bradley’s response.
“Yes,” Bradley said. He could hear Kevin breathing in the phone.
“I don’t think I understand,” he said finally.
“I’m working on understanding it myself,” said Bradley.
“Do you love her, man?”
“I think I do. I think we can make this work.”
“Tell me more,” said Kevin. “I know there must be more to this story.”
“It’s a long story,” said Bradley. “Do you have time right now?”
“I do,” said Kevin. “Tell me what’s happening.”
Bradley told Kevin everything Grace had told him. It felt so good to be able to talk about this with someone other than his parents or Grace. One of the things that Bradley liked most about Kevin was that he was a good listener. Plus, he was the least judgmental of all of Bradley’s friends. He was quiet while Bradley relayed the circumstances of Grace’s birth and upbringing, the details of her short marriage to Kenny, and the surprise Grace felt in wanting to have the baby after so many years of not wanting one.
“Okay,” he said. “But I’m not sure I agree with her reasoning. And I’m really not sure this is a good thing for you. I can’t imagine being a father right now. Can you?”
“I have to admit I’m struggling, Kev.”
“Yes.”
“In case you’re wondering, my parents know.”
“I can already guess what your mother thinks,” said Kevin, kidding his friend. Bradley laughed. “What about your dad?” Kevin was up and off his living room couch, one hand holding the phone and the other combing through his short red curls.
“He’s definitely less convinced than my mom that Grace should abort the baby or that I should bow out. But they both like her, Kev.”
“I guess that’s good,” Kevin said. “But it really comes down to what you want, doesn’t it? This is all about you and Grace.”
“Yes, but I want to know what you think.”
“I have to say I agree with your mom, Bradley. I think she should abort the baby. I think ending this unplanned pregnancy would be good for you—and I suspect it would be good for Grace, too.”
“But you don’t even know her.”
“From what you’ve told me, I think she’s having the baby for the wrong reasons.”
“I don’t think she’s going to change her mind,” Bradley said.
“Well, then it may be that you have to change yours.”
CHAPTER 22
“So this is really happening,” Shannon said. It was the weekend after the visit with Bradley’s parents, and Grace and Shannon were sitting on Grace’s deck. They had just gone swimming and were now drinking the lemonade that Shannon had brought with her and eating the kettle corn that Grace was now buying in a family-size bag every week at the grocery store.
“Yes,” said Grace. “It’s really happening.”
“And you’ve told your boss?”
“Nope. That’s on the agenda for tomorrow. I’ve already set up a meeting with him.”
“Is Bradley in on the meeting?”
“No,” said Grace. “I want to have this first discussion with Paul without him.”
“Why?”
“Because even though Bradley is, in his words, committed to raising this baby with me, he may change his mind. If he gets cold feet and runs out on me, I’m the one with the baby. I’m the mother.”
“It sounds like you think that’s going to happen,” said Shannon, reaching for the bag.
“No, I don’t think it’s going to happen. But if it does, he would certainly not be the first one to opt out of being a father.”
Grace was being honest when she told Shannon that she didn’t think Bradley was going to cave at the last minute. But she admitted to herself that this was entirely possible, that no matter what he said, no matter how firm his conviction, it was possible that he could change his mind. It had been only two months that she had known him intimately, as a boyfriend and not just a work colleague. She wasn’t even sure she was in love with him. She knew he was a good person and that his willingness, albeit reluctant, to be a father to their child was honorable. But she didn’t trust him completely, not yet, which meant that she had to be prepared to raise the baby on her own.
Trusting people did not come naturally or easily to Grace. Her mother and her grandparents had taught Grace from a very young age to trust no one but the Lord or those who believed in the Lord, meaning church folks who were just like them. And Rick and Laurie further espoused that children should be seen and not heard. Grace had no trouble not talking to adults, because she was shy. But she’d had more trouble not talking to her classmates, whom Rick and Laurie had told her to avoid.
Because she had been silent, the other girls eventually left Grace out of the fun at recess and taunted her, prompting Grace to stay in the classroom when the others went outside, to read a book while the teacher graded papers and prepared for the next lesson. When Grace left home after high school, she was, of course, free to speak at will to whomever she chose. But after a few months of talking to everyone she met, she pulled back in. The consequence of Grace’s quietness and seeming aloofness was isolation; Grace had few friends.
Shannon emptied her glass of lemonade with a long drink. “Well, since you’re going to tell your boss tomorrow, it looks like I have one more night to change your mind.”
“You’ve already tried, haven’t you?”
“I have,” said Shannon, “but it appears as if I haven’t been successful.”
“Do you want more lemonade?” asked Grace, reaching for the pitcher. When Shannon nodded, Grace refilled her glass and then her own. “Let’s review what it is exactly that you want to talk me out of—having the baby or depending on Bradley to help?”
“I’m still not convinced your reasons for having this baby are reasonable.”
“According to whose standards for reason?”
“Grace, let’s lower the wall, just a smidge. If we’re going to have a conversation about this, you might as well be a willing participant.”
“Shannon, we’ve had this conversation. I may not have another chance at this,” said Grace. “And Bradley has the potential to become much more than a summer fling. Or he may become nothing more to me than a pleasant memory. It doesn’t really matter. I want to have the baby.”
Shannon stood and wrapped her beach towel more securely around her waist and then sat back down. “It’s precisely this kind of reasoning that bothers me. You’re not having this baby because you’re in love with the father and want to start a family. You’re having this baby to prove a point. If you were me listening to you talk about this, you’d be skeptical, too. It’s simply not like you to think or act irrationally. Having a baby, Grace, is permanent.”
“I know that,” said Grace, “or at least I know as much about that as someone who’s never had a baby knows. And yes, you’re right that I’m having this baby to show that I can be a good mother. But maybe I really want to be a good mother. Maybe I want someone to love who loves me back. Maybe I want to have a healthy, nurturing, educational bond with someone.”
“I was with you until you said educational.”
Grace smiled at Shannon. “Okay, so maybe I’m not expressing myself as clearly as I might. But you know what I’m saying. I want to have family. You should understand that, Shannon. Your brothers and sisters live nearby. You get together with all of them, and your parents, all the time. I’ve never had that. I’m still the nerdy kid at the lunch table who has no one to sit with—and I’m forty-two years old. I don’t want to be lamenting my loneliness when I’m seventy.” Grace sipped her lemonade. “I want someone to share this house with me. I want to cook and eat with relatives on the holidays—take no offense at this; you know how much I love your family and enjoy my time with all of you—but I want my own family. And if Bradley is a part of that, great. But if he’s not, I want it anyway.”
* * *
After Grace announced her pregnancy to Paul in her meeting with him the next morning, telling him that she planned to keep the baby, and that Bradley was the father, he said nothing. He closed his mouth, which had involuntarily gaped open in the middle of Grace’s discourse; he was, momentarily, short of breath.
“Paul?”
He leaned forward and, putting his elbows on the desktop, rested his chin on his hands. He offered Grace a slight smile. “This is not,” he said, “what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“Anything,” he said. “Anything but this.”
“I’ve surprised you.”
“Yes, Grace Trumbull, you have surprised me, and for this, I applaud you. I am, as you know, not easily surprised. I had no idea you and Bradley were an, uh, item.”
“It’s new,” said Grace, “and I know it’s not a good idea to date a coworker. He and I have talked about this, and we both agree that work comes first, meaning that if our relationship dissolves, it won’t affect our output at the office.”
“I think very little could affect your output, Grace,” said Paul. “But let’s talk logistics. How do you want to handle telling your colleagues?”
“I’ll write an e-mail,” said Grace. “I’ll run it by you first.”
“Okay, good,” he said. “The baby’s due when? March?”
“Yes,” said Grace. “I anticipate working right up to my delivery date, and then I’d like to take advantage of your very generous four-month maternity leave policy.”
“Good enough,” said Paul. “We have lots of time to figure out how to temporarily transfer your duties.”
“I’ll work that out,” said Grace, “and send you a spreadsheet when I am done.”
Paul stood, signaling the end of the meeting. “Well, I think that about covers it,” he said, reaching across his desk to shake her hand. “It appears that congratulations are in order.”
“Thank you, Paul,” she said. “I’ll get to that e-mail right away.”
Paul remained standing after Grace left his office. He crossed his arms over his chest. He thought about the team meetings attended, of course, by Grace and Bradley. He thought about his recent interactions with both of them. He thought about the morning, just a week or so ago, when he had walked into a meeting between the two of them in Grace’s office. And he came up with nothing, no clue that they had any feelings for each other. They certainly made a handsome couple, both gorgeous human beings. But Grace was so mature, and Bradley was so . . . well, he was getting there. Paul shook his head. He was, indeed, surprised. He sat back down at his desk. His wife would get a kick out of this story.
* * *
Back at her desk, Grace composed the e-mail to her colleagues and sent it to Bradley, with a subject line reading tell me what you think.
Dear Colleagues,
A quick note to share some wonderful news—Bradley Hanover and I have been seeing each other and are now expecting a child. I’m due at the end of March—and anticipate taking a four-month maternity leave. By the end of the year, I will work out who will be doing what in my absence. If you have any preferences, please send them my way for consideration. Please send, too, any pregnancy and parenting advice, as Bradley and I are both new at this!
Best regards,
Grace
Bradley responded that he thought the e-mail, as well as Grace, was perfect. And that he was pleased that they would no longer have to keep their relationship or the baby a secret. Grace next sent it to Paul, who had already sent a text message to Dana, who was traveling. Paul gave her the go ahead to send it out via the company-wide distribution list. Within minutes, people throughout the building popped up out of their workstations or out of their offices and walked to Bradley’s desk and into Grace’s office to share in the excitement. Their colleagues who were out of the office or in the middle of phone calls and meetings responded throughout the morning with congratulatory e-mails. The one person who was sitting at her desk and received the message seconds after Grace hit send but didn’t respond was Rachel Spitzer, who was devastated by the news.
CHAPTER 23
Rachel Spitzer had been attracted to Bradley from the first moment she saw him. What young woman wouldn’t be, with his perfectly proportioned face and killer eyes, his taut body, and his rock-star status at the office? She couldn’t believe her luck when Bradley walked into Dana’s office, where Rachel was sitting at 9 a.m. on her first day at Broadbent & Shapiro, and announced that he had been assigned as her tour guide and lunch date. Even though this was six months ago now, she could still remember that he was wearing a navy blue suit, a light blue shirt, and a red tie, and that his hair, still wet from the shower, was combed away from his face (shiny and rosy from the
cold), away from his perfectly shaped ears. Dana had told Rachel what to expect—that Bradley would introduce her to the twenty or so B&S employees who were in the office that day, including Patty, the payroll and benefits person who would set up her accounts, and, Philip, the supply and maintenance chief, who would see that she had everything she needed for her work space, which was already equipped with a new laptop computer and the balance-ball desk chair she’d requested. As soon as Bradley walked into Dana’s office, Dana dismissed Rachel into what he called Bradley’s very capable hands, with his warmest wishes for an enlightening first day.
As soon as they were out of Dana’s office and into the hallway, Bradley asked Rachel if she drank coffee. Even though she’d had two cups already, her daily ration, she said she’d love a cup. “Good,” he said. “I’m running late this morning and didn’t have a chance to get some on the way. There’s a great coffee shop a few blocks down the street, if you’re willing to brave the cold.”
“Absolutely,” said Rachel, sweeping her wool cape from its draped position on her right arm over her head and onto her shoulders. When it grazed her head, her gelled black hair, which, she noticed, was the same length as Bradley’s, didn’t shift out of place. “I’m ready when you are.”
Waiting for her skimmed milk latte, Rachel told Bradley that she was twenty-six; that she had worked for another media relations company before getting the job at Broadbent & Shapiro; that her best intellectual asset was her creativity; and that her favorite downtime activity was running. Bradley told her he was a runner, too.
Coffees in hand, they walked to the condiment station for some sugar. Rachel ate nothing but what she called real food: no preservatives, no growth hormones, no genetic modification, no additives, nothing but what the farmers would put into their own bodies and those of their children. She subsided primarily on vegetables, fruit, cheese, nuts, meat, and fish. But she did have a sweet tooth, she told Bradley in a confessional tone, which meant sugar in her coffee and homemade cookies before bed.
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