by Sylvia Fox
I cannot let myself panic until I know for sure, so I grab my keys and my purse and zip over to a pharmacy for a handful of pregnancy tests. I can’t help but wonder how many times a week some woman comes in, still in pajama bottoms and beelines straight to the family planning isle.
One test may be wrong, but three tests from three different companies? I think it’s safe to panic now.
The pressure of it all is overwhelming. While I meant it as a joke, I actually do end up back in bed with the covers pulled up to my chin lost in thoughts and worries about the future.
When I finally look at the clock, it’s just after four pm and while Dad won’t be home for hours Mom certainly will. There’s no chance I’m ready to face off with her about this, but one look at me right now and she’ll be like a bloodhound tracking a scent.
The only place I can think to go, the only place to escape, is the one place I’m not sure I’ll be welcome. Or how long that welcome will last after I come clean about the situation.
IB 4:14 PM: Can you come home? We need to talk.
Chapter Fourteen
Ian
We need to talk? Everything was fine when she left last night. What the hell happened between then and now? Calm down, man. First things first.
Me 4:17 PM: I’m on my way.
Me 4:17 PM: What’s wrong?
I hand off what I’ve been working on to Josh. He’s the foreman of this crew and a solid guy, plus I’ve known him long enough he doesn’t even ask for an explanation. I load up the truck and head for home, trying not to overreact.
I pull in to the garage, throw the truck in park and hurry inside expecting to find Samantha, arms crossed, anger on her face, ready to let me have it. About what, I don’t know yet. To my surprise, the house is empty. No Sam. No drama. Just me and still no clue.
Me 4:32 PM: Hey, I’m home. Where are you?
Me 4:32 PM: And what’s wrong?
The phone buzzes at me almost immediately.
S.R. 4:33 PM: I’m home, can I come over? Now?
Me 4:33 PM: Sure.
Me 4:33 PM: What’s WRONG???
What the fuck? I know I’m typing the words. I can see them clearly in the message history. Why the hell won’t she tell me what is going on?
Now, in the safety of my own home, I start to overreact; my mind is running wild, speculating about this or that being the issue.
Sam knocks gently as she enters through the door from the garage and while I still have no clue what we need to talk about, her face says she is anything but angry.
“There you are. For the love of God, what is going on?” I ask.
She runs into my arms, tears streaming down her face.
“Whoa, there now beautiful—whatever is wrong, we’ll figure it out. Just talk to me.”
I grab a bottle of water for her and pour a whiskey for me and take a seat to try and get to the bottom of this—whatever this is.
“Ian. Are you ok? You haven’t said anything in a really long time. I know you must be upset with me, but I promise one hundred percent this was NOT the plan.”
Before Sam’s words can bring my focus back to the present, I flash back to Gail’s pregnancy with Will. It was probably the only time in our marriage I was truly happy. I could dismiss her shitty demeanor as discomfort from the pregnancy, and I even thought our little bundle of joy might be the answer to all the problems she and I had been struggling through for years. Yeah right. I never minded midnight feedings, or the two am diaper changes that followed. Getting back up at five to go work all day was no problem either. I had a family to take care of and that little face looking up at me was all the motivation a man could need to get his ass in gear.
“What? Yes. No. I mean—I’m OK. I don’t know what to say, but I’m OK. More important, how are you, darlin’? How far along are you? Are you taking prenatal vitamins yet? What Dr. are you seeing?” I ask. “I’ve got a thousand questions, but don’t know where to start.”
“You aren’t angry with me?” Sam asks.
“Angry? How the hell could I be angry about something so wonderful?’ I know this is not the time to laugh, but the thought has me almost in stitches. Being angry in this moment, for something I had an equal part in—that’s petty enough to put me right down at Gail’s level. I think not.
“Samantha, I don’t. I mean. I know we haven’t really said it before. And I don’t want this situation to cheapen the sentiment behind the words. But. Well, I love you. Shit. I am in love with you. And. I mean, I don’t know what you’re planning, or if you even have a plan yet. But I’m here. I will be here. For you. With you. Beside you, if you’ll let me.”
“Oh, Ian. I love you, too. I am in love with you, too. Thank you. Thank you for being so understanding. For … being you. I don’t have any plan yet. I don’t know what I’m going to do, about school, or after,” she says, her eyes welling up again.
“OK. Alright. We’ll just take this one step at a time, OK?” I ask while I dig through the contact list on my phone. “I’m with you now. We’ve got this.” I find the name I was searching for and tap out a quick message before turning my attention back to Sam. “How are you feeling right now? Do you need to lie down? Are you hungry? Are you having any cravings yet?” I’ve had all of a couple hours to process this information, and I’m already thinking about craving runs to the grocery for a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, or McDonald’s for a fresh order of french-fries and a strawberry shake just to put a smile on her face. I look forward to those small gestures to remind her that she is the highest priority and whatever, whenever, she needs something, I’ve got it.
“The nausea is gone for now, but I haven’t eaten today. I’ve been in bed all afternoon worrying about how I would tell you and how you would react.”
“Well, love… That’s just silly. Let’s get you fed.”
Thank God for dark tinted windows. I think to myself as Rick waves at my truck as I’m backing out of my driveway and he’s pulling into his next door.
“Shit that could’ve been awkward. I have no idea what I’m going to say to them,” Sam says. “I mean, how do you tell your parents their little girl is about to be a mother?”
“If you never said anything, do you think they’d find out? Kidding. Only kidding,” I laugh. I feel my phone buzzing in my back pocket while we drive to dinner and am anxious to see if it’s the response I’ve been waiting for. With a casual check of the message while we are seated I share the information with Sam.
“Samantha, I took a small liberty before and contacted an old friend, he’s a doctor. I didn’t give him any personal details, I promise you, I only told him I have a friend who’s just found out she’s pregnant. Anyway, he said we can come by his office and he will run some tests and make sure you and the baby are healthy. He can even recommend an OB-GYN in the area, if … I mean, if you were to decide to stay around here that is. Would you be OK with that? I don’t mean to overstep, but I want to know the woman I love, carrying my unborn child no less, is healthy and happy, and has everything she could possibly need or want.”
“OK? Yes, I think I’d be OK with that,” she says sarcastically. “I had considered going to my pediatrician, can you even imagine?”
“Excellent. I’ll text him back and get an appointment set up for tomorrow. Now, about your parents?”
Chapter Fifteen
Sam
Ian and I went to his doctor friend and the examination found baby and mom both to be in good health. He was hesitant to prescribe medication for nausea unless things get worse but did suggest I track everything in a little notebook for a week or so; when I get sick, what I eat, and so on, to try and identify potential triggers. He recommended a local OB-GYN and will get back to us with someone near school so I have options either way. Lexi has become a militant surrogate mom texting me daily to see if I’ve eaten, what I’ve eaten, if I’m taking it easy, and then calling to yell about any answers she doesn’t like. Honestly, it’s a totally new side of her an
d deep down I appreciate that she cares so much.
My parents are pushing for a going away party for me next weekend because the new semester starts in two weeks, so Ian and I have decided to talk to them tonight. Well, technically, my family has been invited next door for a cookout with his family since Will came home from camp yesterday. I can’t bring myself to think about how this is all going to go down. It was bad enough being home with the folks last night and trying my damnedest to act normal. My mere presence at home for dinner was enough to get questions flying, when I didn’t disappear immediately after both parents took notice and assumed something was wrong. Thankfully, today is Friday and I have the house to myself until evening because I doubt I could hide the retching at this point.
By the time six o’clock arrives, Dad is home and sporting his signature casual wear, which consists of a brightly colored polo shirt and golf shorts with a belt. God, he is becoming such an old person. He’s on his second beer of the evening while Mom puts the final touches on a ‘fresh from the bakery’ apple pie and transfers a tub of homemade potato salad into a large mixing bowl, to complete the illusion I suppose.
“Hon, it’s getting to be that time, are you joining us this evening?” Dad yells up from the base of the stairs.
This is it chick. You’re about to inform your parents you’ve been sleeping with a man twice your age, have since become pregnant by said man, and in case Dad is still conscious, it’s his friend and neighbor of two decades. Should all be fine, right?
“K Dad. I’ll be down in just a minute.” I know he’s rolling his eyes, he’s heard that line a bazillion times and knows it implies a time range from five minutes to quit bugging me. This time, however, I don’t make him wait because I have been without my Ian for almost an entire day already. I head down and we all walk next door together, a walk I have made countless times over the summer. So many times, I have to fight the urge to use my ninja skills of sticking to the shadows and avoiding our windows. Somehow, I just know my parents would find it unusual.
We are greeted at the door by both Ian and Will and exchange pleasantries about how much Will has matured, and his experiences at camp while Dad snaps back beer number three or four. By the time we move out to the deck I’m starting to wonder if he’s going to make it long enough to hear our news. I sit down at the table with Will to catch up and regret my outfit almost immediately because his eyes can’t seem to focus on anything except my tits. Yeah, this isn’t going to be weird at all.
“So Will, what rank are you in the Scouts now?” I ask trying to bring his attention to something else.
“While I was at camp I completed the community service requirements for the Life rank, and have all the merit badges I need so I will meet with the board of review this fall.”
“Wow, that’s great. So, um what does it mean then? Life rank?” Dad interjects.
Thank you, Daddy—way to take one for the team!
Before my window of opportunity closes, I slip away to grab him another beer so they can keep talking and immerse themselves in Scout philosophy and procedures. When I return, I hand Dad his beer but continue on to the grill where Mom is chatting up Ian as he flips the burgers and dogs. He has managed to play things very cool so far, this evening. I’ve had a stray glance, or quick smile when absolutely no one else was looking, but otherwise, he must have his head in the game because he’s paid me very little attention. Maybe it’s the hormone change, but all I want right now is to kick everyone else out so I can curl up in his arms. I’ve been spoiled with the time we have had to ourselves this summer.
Dinner is served amid topical conversation and the evening continues on with a light enough feel, which leaves me wondering how and when are we going to drop this nuclear bomb, and what will happen after? Mom has finally downgraded Dad to sweet tea, and as soon as he sits back down with his second piece of apple pie Ian stands, requesting everyone’s attention.
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.
“Everyone, I want to take a moment to thank you Rick and Lilly, and Samantha of course, for joining Will and me this evening.”
Dad tries to talk through a mouthful of pie but Ian continues on. “But there’s another reason I wanted to get this group together. I want to share some news that affects every one of us…”
“We’re not moving, are we?” Will asks.
“No son, that’s not the plan, but let’s see how things go before we lock that down, OK? Where was I? Uh, well, this summer has been ... Um, Rick. Lilly. I want you both to know that…”
I interject. “Shit. Mom. Dad. Ian and I have been seeing one another all summer and we’ve fallen in love.”
Mom brings her hand to cover her mouth but doesn’t seem nearly as surprised at the news as I expected. Dad, on the other hand, pushes back from the table in a huff shouting every curse word he can muster in Ian’s direction, only to catch a leg of his chair on the decking and flip himself right over onto his back. Guess mom didn’t cut him off soon enough. She moves to help him up but gives him an ear full to let him know she is irritated with his drunkenness at this moment.
“Wait, there’s more,” I say before pausing. “I’m pregnant,” I blurt.
Ian moves to my side, putting his arm around me, and resting his other hand on Will’s shoulder.
“But! Oh, Samantha, what about school? What about your career? Your life hasn’t even started yet.” Mom asks. If she wasn’t fully surprised by the news about my relationship with Ian, the second piece of information seemed to do the trick.
So much for the light feel of the evening.
Several minutes pass in silence leaving my words to linger in the air around the table. Finally, my dad who has been slumped over in his seat nursing a fresh bruise on the back of his head, looks up at Ian and coldly asks, “What are your intentions with my daughter, you son of a bitch?”
“DAD.”
“No Sam, it’s a fair question, and your dad is right to want to know,” Ian replies. “Rick, we’ve known each other a long time. You’re a good man and I know you love your family. You want only the best for them and you’ve put in the time and energy to provide just that. Well. To answer your question, I guess my intention is to take it from here, if I have your blessing that is.”
My brain hasn’t processed what his words mean, but I look to my dad in time to see his face relax slightly. When I turn my attention back to Ian, he is digging around in his pocket, fumbling for something. Nothing about this moment is registering for me until he finds what he is looking for and raises his eyes to meet mine. They have a sparkle in them as he drops to his knee and presents me with a small, red velvet box.
“Samantha Rogers, I’ve had the rare pleasure of knowing you since you were a young girl. Even then, something about you stood out as special. As you grew and became a young woman, I appreciated how intelligent and driven you were in achieving your goals and chasing your dreams. But when I saw you standing at my door this summer, it was like I saw you for the first time. The freckle-faced girl with pig tails was gone, replaced by a kind and caring, beautiful woman. As we spent time together, I fell deeply in love with that woman. And darlin', if you’ll let me, I want to spend the rest of my life making you smile. So, will you make me the luckiest man in the world, and do me the honor of being my wife?”
“Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes,” I say, hugging him.
Finally, Mom speaks up, “So, I’m going to be a grandma? Rick, you’re going to be a grandpa. Oh my goodness, it’s all so exciting.”
Mom and Dad weren’t all too pleased to hear I was putting school on hold, but let’s be honest, compared to all the other information, there wasn’t much left to say. After a couple of days hearing the morning sickness firsthand, they came around. Besides, their daughter is going to end up local after all, and how much closer could they really want than right next door?
Epilogue
Lilly
Some days it’s hard to believe my little angel has a little an
gel of her own. Motherhood may not have been in her five-year plan, but let me just say she is a natural. Max is eighteen months now and he’s become so active, always wobbling about from here to there with a smile painted on his face. The best smile. I just don’t think there’s ever been a happier baby. It’s amazing how different little boys are from little girls. Samantha was a wonderful baby, always happy like Max, but he is curious about things in a completely different way than she was. I swear he is fearless; always finding some crazy thing to do. When we took him to the ocean the first time this summer, he took off for the water the moment his little feet touched the sand. Oh my, never a dull moment these days, that’s for sure.
I can’t wait for our Labor Day cookout get together this weekend. Even with them right next door, it’s a modern miracle to get everyone from both families together in the same place at the same time. Will is in his senior year of high school now and between his eagle scout project, sports, and, well I don’t want to gossip, but I think there’s a girl he hasn’t told anyone about. Either way, he’s gone more than he’s home.
Ian is the consummate father as if he hadn’t already proven it true with William, but Samantha and Max want for nothing. That new black BMW SUV sitting in the driveway? Oh yes, that’s hers. Of course, it is. Ian gave her carte blanche when they were ready to upsize from her Honda. His only stipulation was that it be something safe for mom and baby. Good thing they opted for the full size too, what with little Danielle due this Christmas. Then there’s that old cabin of his. I don’t know what it is about that place, but the two of them have remodeled it from top to bottom. It was a nice getaway before, but now it’s a full-fledged weekend retreat. I wish Rick wasn’t still so busy with work so we could get up there with them more often.
That’s not to say Samantha hasn’t done her part to earn the life they have, even before she finished her degree online, she put her business background to work for the landscaping company and … Well, business has exploded. I don’t know if it’s the marketing, the website, or good old-fashioned word of mouth, but his company has nearly doubled in size trying to keep up with demand. A couple of his crews are working jobs almost a hundred miles away.
