“Please make my thoughts right and pure, Lord,” she whispered. She tested the water, then undressed and slipped into the warm comfort of the tub full of bubbles. She had to admit—Dallas had a point. She’d never been a contrary person by nature, but lately she’d been anything but positive. Who would blame her husband if he was growing weary of her whining? She was growing weary of herself.
“I don’t want to be this way, God,” she whispered into the steamy silence. “Please help me to be patient. Help me to accept whatever your will is.”
It was a prayer she’d prayed many times over the last few years—one she’d been sincere about to varying degrees. She wanted to mean it this time.
She soaked and prayed and wept for almost an hour before Dallas finally knocked on the door.
“You OK in there?”
She sat up in the tub, the bubbles long dissipated. “I’m just getting out. Sorry.”
“No. Take your time. I was just . . . checking.”
The slight tremor in his voice told her he was worried.
“I’ll be out in a minute.” She dried off quickly and put on her favorite flannel pajamas before going downstairs. She poked her head into the darkened media room and found Dallas punching the remote back and forth between ballgames. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to take so long.”
He shrugged. “I was going to watch a game, but . . . would you rather watch a movie?”
“No, you go ahead. I might bring my laptop in here and catch up on e-mail while the game’s on.”
“Great.” He didn’t like watching TV alone. He always wanted her beside him on the sofa. It hadn’t been an issue in the old house, since there the TV room was also the living room, dining room, game room . . . Here, it was more of a challenge to find the togetherness he craved.
But her mom had reminded her that it was a privilege for her husband to feel that way about her, and she tried to honor that, even when sometimes she’d rather be cozied up by the fire in the keeping room, or on her laptop at the bar counter in the kitchen, rooms away from the media room.
“I’m going to make popcorn. You want some?” He smiled at her as if their earlier conversation hadn’t happened.
“I’ll make it,” she said. “I have to go get my laptop anyway.”
“Thanks, babe. Kettle corn, if we have it. Please.”
They were both walking on eggshells, just like Dallas had said, trying to keep the peace, each sorry for the way they’d spoken to the other. It was a waltz that had become far too familiar, each of them just wanting to find the comfortable way they’d had with each other before all this baby stuff tilted their world on its axis.
She went out to the kitchen and put a bag of kettle corn in the microwave. Within seconds the rich sweet-and-salty aroma filled the kitchen.
It reminded her of when they’d first been married and popcorn was a staple. Made from “scratch” on the stovetop back then because that was all they could afford. Strange how a nice bank account, two fancy cars, and their dream house hadn’t brought them any closer than they’d been in those lean years. If anything their wealth, and the privileges it had given them, had put a wedge between them.
Or maybe it was only the months of infertility that had created the wall. At first it had drawn them closer, and she’d felt like she and Dallas were in this together. But lately, it seemed like he was just along for the ride, like he’d given up and was only going along for her sake.
Well, maybe it was time to get off the train. For both of them.
She emptied the popcorn into two bowls and carried them into the media room. A commercial was on, and without having planned to say anything at all, she made a decision. Maybe it was wrought by desperation—as if she might lose him if she didn’t. But she was going to voice it before she changed her mind.
“Hey, can I talk to you for a minute.” Could she really do this and stick by it?
Dallas eyed her as if he was preparing for a battle. But he clicked the remote and the TV went silent. “What’s up?”
“I’m sorry. I—” Her throat closed with emotion, but she pushed it back and continued. “I know I’ve been a real witch lately, and that’s the last thing I want. I think . . . I think you’re right. I need to find something else to focus on.”
He studied her like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
She forced a smile. “I don’t know exactly what it is, but I’m looking. I’m asking God to show me what it is. I’d like to finish out the rest of the year with the meds Dr. Gwinn has me on, but after that, I think we should take a break for a while.”
“Are you sure?” He was frowning, but she read huge relief beneath his pasted-on expression.
Not knowing if she really was sure, she merely shrugged. “It’s not like we can’t go back and try again. And who knows, maybe they’ll come out with something new, some big breakthrough. But I think we need a break. I need a break.”
“Danae, if you’re sure . . .” He closed the gap between them and wrapped her in the most genuine hug she could remember since the early months of keeping temperature charts, taking pills that made her bloated and cranky, and scheduling sex around her “fertile” days, which apparently were a joke.
She pulled away to look him in the eye. “I’m sure. Don’t think I’m giving up. I just think we need a break and—”
“No. Of course not. We’re not giving up,” he parroted. “We’ll keep trying. That’s the fun part.” He shot her a grin and wriggled his eyebrows at her. The old Dallas. That was all she needed.
She went back into his arms. “I love you. So much.”
“I love you too, babe.”
She wished she could feel as relieved as the husband in her arms obviously did.
* * *
Audrey carried the lasagna pan into the kitchen, keeping one ear tuned to the conversation floating up from the pergola in the backyard. The October weather had been warm and sunny and she’d convinced Grant to eat outside one last Tuesday before they stored away the lawn furniture for the winter.
Now she regretted it because she couldn’t hear what was being said. She had a feeling the big announcement was about to come. But surely Corinne and Jesse would wait for her to get back outside before they told the others about the coming baby. She hurriedly covered the pan and put it in the fridge. Grant could finish it off for lunch tomorrow.
She started outside with a trash bag for the paper plates but met Corinne on the back deck with Simone in tow.
“I hafta go potty, Gram.” The little girl held herself and did a little dance.
Audrey laughed. “Looks like you’d better hurry.”
“Potty training is not for the faint of heart. How did you do it five times, Mom?” Corinne rolled her eyes and hurried down the hall after her toddler.
“Just be thankful this is your last one,” Audrey called after her. She felt a little guilty setting a trap like that, but if Corinne didn’t hurry up and announce her news, Audrey was going to pull rank and ask her outright. Being a mother came with certain privileges, after all.
Either Corinne didn’t hear her or she wasn’t taking the bait.
She stopped to fold a small load of forgotten dish towels from the dryer. When she finished and opened the door to go outside, Simone dashed from the bathroom and beat her through the door.
“Where’s your mommy?”
“Mommy hafta go potty.”
That proved it! Corinne had excused herself to the bathroom not twenty minutes ago. If she wasn’t pregnant, Audrey was going to recommend she see a urologist. “You wait here with Gram, sweetie. Mommy will be out in a minute.”
As if on cue, the toilet flushed and the sound of water running in the sink preceded Corinne’s exit. “Oh,” she said, when she saw Audrey. “I thought you already went out.”
“I was just waiting for you.”
Corinne eyed her suspiciously. “Is everything OK?”
“You tell me. Are you OK?”
Cori
nne lifted Simone into her arms and gave Audrey a smile that told all.
“That’s what I thought. You’re pregnant.”
“What’s pwegnut?” Simone tilted her little blonde head to one side.
“You never mind,” Corinne said, her eyes still smiling at Audrey.
And Audrey couldn’t help but mirror her daughter’s smile. A new grandbaby was the best news she could think of. It never got old. She put a hand on Corinne’s shoulder. “Everything’s OK? You guys are happy about this?”
Corinne sighed, but her smile didn’t fade. “We are. It took a little while to get used to the idea. And I don’t have a clue where we’re going to put this kid. But we’re happy about it. Maybe this will be Jesse’s boy.”
“Poppa would be thrilled if it was a boy.” Audrey pressed a hand against Corinne’s stomach. The swell that filled the space of her palm surprised her. “When are you due?”
“May or June. I’m not sure about my dates and we haven’t had a sonogram yet. We’re not sure what our new insurance will cover.”
“Were you ever going to tell us?”
“Mom, I’m only six or seven weeks along.” For the first time, Corinne’s smile faded. “We’re telling everyone tonight. But we want to keep it real low-key.” Her face crumpled. “I feel so bad for Danae, Mom.”
“I know. But she’ll just have to accept it.”
Corinne cringed. “She already knows.”
“Oh?” Audrey’s mouth slipped open. “You told her? When?”
“A couple days ago. But I didn’t tell her. She heard it from a friend.”
“What?”
Corinne explained, and Audrey winced inwardly, knowing how that must have hurt Danae.
“Oh, dear,” Audrey said. “How’d she take it?”
“She was pretty upset. But she’s been really sweet to me tonight. Honestly, it would almost be easier if she hated my guts for it.”
“Corinne! You don’t mean that. Besides, who could ever hate your guts?”
“Just pray please, Mom. We want to tell everyone, but I don’t want it to be uncomfortable for Dallas and Danae.”
“That’s very sweet of you, honey, but you just tell it like it’s the wonderful news that it is. God will take care of—”
The back door opened and Grant hollered in. “Audrey? Where are you guys?”
“Thanks, Mom,” Corinne whispered. She took a deep breath and hiked Simone up on her hip. “OK . . . here goes.”
Audrey gave her a quick hug around the toddler then took Simone from her. The three of them met Grant in the hallway. “We’re coming, we’re coming.”
“Come on, Dad.” Corinne playfully turned him back toward the door. “You’re not going to want to miss this.”
Grant gave Audrey a questioning look. She winked at him and hurried ahead.
Sari and Sadie were playing down by the creek under the climbing tree. “Do you want them here?” Audrey asked, angling her head in their direction.
“They don’t know yet so we probably ought to get them in on this.”
“Grant, go get the girls and bring them back up to the table.”
Audrey looked down to the pergola where the lights Grant had strung through the trumpet vine twinkled. Link was holding court, telling one of his stories, and his brothers-in-law were laughing, egging him on. Danae and Landyn cleared away the last of the paper cups and napkins. Bree held one of Landyn’s twins—Audrey still couldn’t tell them apart from a distance—and the other one was playing with Huckleberry at Bree’s feet. She couldn’t help imagining what it might have been like if Tim and Bree could’ve had children before he’d lost his life in that desolate desert in Afghanistan. Oh, to have a flesh-and-blood legacy for their son.
She shook the thoughts away. How much more difficult it would have been if Bree had been left with a child to raise by herself. They were so blessed that Bree was still a part of their lives, their family. She was the legacy Tim had left to them. And tonight was a happy night. Good news was about to be delivered and celebrated.
Jesse looked up and saw Corinne coming and quickly pushed back his chair and came to her. “Hey, guys,” Jesse said. “Everybody gather around. We’ve got something to tell you.”
“Whoa . . . whoa!” Link said. “Last time you made an announcement you were downsizing and trading houses with these two.” He pointed to Dallas and Danae. “You can’t be downsizing any more unless you’re moving to Dad’s shed.”
Grant had just herded Sari and Sadie to the table. “Wait, wait. What did I miss? Who’s moving into my shed? And over my dead body, I might add—whoever it is.” He aimed his glare around the circle at each in turn.
That got a good laugh. Audrey watched Danae closely, sending up a prayer that she would handle what was coming well. And praying that it wouldn’t be long before she and Dallas were sharing their own good news. They were laughing together right now, and if Audrey didn’t know what was coming, she would never have guessed that they were hurting.
“Don’t worry, Grant,” Jesse said. “Your shed is safe. For a few more months anyway.” He wrapped his arms around Corinne and kissed the top of her head. “But there’s going to be another chair at our Tuesday night suppers this time next year. A high chair, that is.”
Happy chaos broke out as everyone congratulated them and asked questions about when the baby was due. Audrey saw Bree slip over to where Danae was sitting. Still smiling, their dear, dear daughter-in-law put an arm around Danae, squeezed her close, and whispered something that looked to Audrey like, “You’ll be next.”
Oh, please. From Bree’s lips to your ear, God.
5
Danae was quiet in the passenger seat beside him. Dallas reached over and squeezed her hand in the dark. “You OK?”
She nodded, but he sensed she was close to tears. He pressed her palm to his again, and she squeezed back.
“It really wasn’t as bad as I feared,” she said, surprising him. “Bree was so sweet about it. Did you hear what she said?”
“No. I saw her whisper something, but it was too noisy to hear.”
“She just said, ‘it’ll be you guys next.’ ” She smiled up at him. “You know, I kind of think it will, Dallas.”
He tensed and gripped the steering wheel tighter, not wanting to encourage what seemed a little superstitious and—after two years with no hope of a pregnancy—unrealistic. Still, he wanted to be supportive too.
He curbed a sigh. He’d be so glad when their marriage wasn’t such a tightrope between saying the wrong thing and getting it right. “I’m praying for that,” he said finally.
“I know. Me too.” She settled into her seat. “Hey, what did you think of that new salad Mom made tonight?”
Where had that come from? “Um . . . the tomato one? It was OK. I wouldn’t drive too many miles to eat it again.”
She laughed, and he felt like he’d dodged a head-on collision.
But then she did a quick U-turn and they were right back on the subject. “I’m not giving up on this, Dallas. I’m just . . . taking a break.”
“Woman, you’re giving me conversational whiplash. Are we talking about salads or babies?”
She ignored his joke. “I just know too many people who finally got their baby after five years of trying. Or ten.”
“Hey, I’m not asking you to give up on it.”
“OK.” A long pause, then, “Can I ask you something?”
He didn’t like the change in her tone.
“Sure, what?” He kept his eyes on the white line at the edge of the curvy road.
“Would you just consider putting our name in with an adoption agency? It could be . . .”
His gut clenched. So much for dodging that collision. “Danae, please. We’ve talked about this. You know how I feel about that. It doesn’t—”
“Would you just hear me out?” She adjusted her seat belt and shifted in her seat to face him. “Please. Just this once, and then I won’t bring it up again.
”
He was sure she’d already made that promise in the past, but he kept that to himself. “OK. What?”
She took a deep breath. “Bill Presky at church was telling me about this place their daughter and her husband adopted from. It was a church organization. Non-denominational, I think, but I’m not sure. They have a huge waiting list so it’s a long shot—I think Bill’s daughter waited four years. But they only deal with healthy infants and their adoptions are open.”
“Open? Meaning we’d meet the parents?”
“Well, the mother. I don’t think they usually involve the birth father.”
Figured. Maybe if his birth father had been involved, things wouldn’t have gone the way they had. His collar felt too tight and he had to make an effort not to squirm in his chair. “Even if I was willing to consider adoption, I don’t know if I’d be comfortable with an open adoption.”
“But here’s the thing, Dallas”—excitement animated her gestures—“we wouldn’t have to make a commitment. It would just be to get our names on a waiting list. It’s almost guaranteed we wouldn’t be faced with a decision for years. And hopefully, I’ll be pregnant long before that. But at least we’d have started the process if we end up having to go that route.”
“A last resort kind of thing, huh?”
She tipped her head in question.
Against his better judgment, he engaged. “It sounds like you’re saying, if worse comes to worst, we could at least take this last resort option of adopting. How’s that supposed to make a kid feel?”
“Dallas, that’s not what I meant. You’re the one who’s been so negative about adoption. I’m not saying it’s a last resort. I only said any of that because I know you’re so leery of the whole idea.”
“Well, can you blame me?” He did not want to talk about this. Any of it. He looked at the speedometer and tapped the cruise control up a notch. They’d be home in five minutes and maybe he could wiggle out of this conversation. “I’m totally on board with you finishing out the meds to the end of this year. But I thought you were going to take a break after that.”
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