by Beth K. Vogt
I WAS SO READY to go home and start the weekend—even after I’d come to work two hours later than usual. I’d pushed back the guilt, reminding myself that Axton was the one who’d encouraged me to adjust my schedule. To work less, if I needed to.
And it seemed that, as my pregnancy progressed, I needed to.
“Johanna, do you have a minute to talk?”
I twisted around in my chair to face my boss. “I guess so. I mean, yes. Absolutely.”
“Are you busy?”
“No. Just finishing up for the day.”
“This won’t take long.” Axton continued to stand in my office doorway.
“Do you want to come in?” I motioned to one of the chairs in my office. “You’re welcome to sit down.”
“Actually, I could use a cup of coffee. Want to walk with me?” Axton took a step back. “We can go get a cup at the staff cafeteria . . .”
“But that’s closed right now while they clean between the day and evening shifts.”
“Don’t tell anyone, but sometimes they let me slip in to grab a cup.”
Exhaustion warred with my desire to accommodate my boss. I swiveled my chair a half turn away. “Why don’t you go and come back . . .”
“But we can walk and talk and—” Axton seemed to be searching for words—“and you said you were getting ready to leave, right? Right. Grab your purse and whatever else you need. If we walk and talk, the sooner we’ll be done and you can go home from there.”
Axton was in one of his not-taking-no-for-an-answer moods. “Fine. I’ll go with you—if they even let us in the cafeteria. Which I doubt.”
This was the first time in a long time that Axton was irritating me. The old Axton Miller had shown up in my office. And now he was glancing at his watch as if he was the one who had someplace to be, not me.
This had better be important.
Axton almost fast-walked down the hallway.
“What’s the rush?”
“Huh?”
“The rush? I’m having a hard time keeping up with you, to be honest. One of us is pregnant here, Axton.”
“Oh. Sorry.” He slowed his pace. “I just don’t want to be late.”
“Late? You said they’d let you in.”
“Right. They will.”
“What are we talking about?”
“Talking about?”
My steps slowed even more. “Are you okay?”
“Sure. I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“Because you asked to talk to me, but you don’t seem to remember that.”
Our arrival at the cafeteria prevented Axton from having to reply. The area was empty of staff. Workers were cleaning. Wiping down the wooden tables. Running several vacuums. Setting out small glass vases with white daisies and sprigs of baby’s breath. Axton bypassed the coffee area, heading toward the physicians’ private lounge area in the back.
I stopped. “Where are you going?”
“Back here. Come on.”
“Why would we go there? The coffee’s over that way.”
“Come on.”
“Axton—” I waved my hand toward the coffee station—“the coffee is right here, where it’s always been.”
He grabbed my hand, tugging me forward. “We’re going this way, Johanna.”
My boss was confusing me, not scaring me, but I had the strongest desire to dig my heels into the floor and demand he explain why he was behaving so oddly.
And then I heard the sound of muffled laughter.
I knew Jillian’s laugh—even if it was out of place. And I was not going to fall for this.
“Who else is here?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.” Axton lowered his voice. “All friends. No foes.”
Hadn’t I just explained to Axton a few weeks ago that I didn’t have any friends? “I’ll be the judge of that. And I’m looking at a foe.”
“It’ll be fun, Johanna.”
“Once again, I’ll be the judge of that.”
Axton stepped aside and ushered me into the area. A jubilant shout of “Surprise!” overwhelmed me.
It seemed all my protests, all my insistence that I didn’t want a baby shower, didn’t matter. I was surrounded by a crowd of people—it would take me a moment to figure out just who was there—all intent on celebrating my pregnancy.
Mom was the first person to hug me. “Do you love it? Payton planned it.”
“Payton?” I still hadn’t seen either of my sisters.
“Of course. She contacted her former business partner at Festivities and they worked their party-planning magic.” Mom motioned Jillian and Payton forward.
My sisters hugged me in rapid succession, and Jill spoke first. “Payton knew you didn’t want a baby shower, so she opted for a French market soiree theme. She set a two-hour time limit.”
Payton’s smile held just the smallest bit of self-satisfaction. “We know you kept saying, ‘No shower, no shower,’ but you didn’t expect us to listen, did you?”
“Yes. I did.”
“Sorry. That was unrealistic.” Jillian laughed. “But you’ll forgive us, right? It’s only two hours—we promise. And technically it’s a soiree, not a baby shower. Try to relax and enjoy yourself.”
Two hours. I could survive two hours. “Promise me there are no games.”
“Not a one.” Payton raised her hand. “It’s conversation, food, and presents.”
“I could have skipped the conversation . . .”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Mom gave me another side hug. “You’re the mom-to-be. Everyone wants to talk to you.”
Perfect.
But Jillian was right when she said this didn’t look like a typical baby shower. Payton had chosen a black-and-white theme—considering how I’d decorated my home, perhaps? A mix of white silk hydrangeas and faux white poppies spilled out of tall pewter containers beside a food table covered in white linen and laden with croissant sandwiches wrapped in white paper. Mixed veggies and olives on skewers were assembled in white plastic cups, and an elegant cheese, meat, and crusty bread selection was arranged on several long white porcelain trays. Short stacks of small plastic boxes wrapped in delicate black cloth ribbon contained macaroons and were arranged on another table—delectable party favors for each guest. And a two-tiered cake was understated elegance, decorated with the faux poppies and the same black ribbon that adorned the favors.
“Wait a minute . . .” I stopped in front of the table piled high with gifts for my baby, each one wrapped in a different type of white paper, but all with the same black ribbon. “How did you manage to coordinate my gifts?”
“Payton told the guests to select any type of white wrapping paper they wanted—keeping it simple.” Mom stood beside me. “And then we supplied the ribbon when they arrived.”
My sisters . . . everyone . . . had put a lot of thought into this soiree.
One hour down. One hour to go.
I’d survived the “conversation” part of my one and only baby shower. It didn’t matter that they were calling it a soiree. We all knew what it was. I’d mingled until my lower back ached and my smile strained my lips. I knew everyone. They were all the people I saw throughout the day. The people Axton had taught me to value as more than expendable employees who could be replaced by someone else with a decent résumé. Of course, Mom and Payton and Jillian were a hit. And even Axton’s wife was there, playing hostess and plying everyone with more food, more drink, and plenty of nonstop conversation.
But now I had to open gifts.
“Where are you going?” Payton stepped forward, blocking my escape.
“To the bathroom.”
“You just went to the bathroom.”
“I’m pregnant. I have to go again.”
“Even if you were pregnant with twins—and you’re not—you wouldn’t have to go to the bathroom every two minutes.” She looped her arm through mine, attempting to turn me around. “It’s time to open your presents.”
�
�Can’t I just take them home? Open them there? I promise to write a thank-you note to every single person here.”
“No, you can’t do that. What is wrong with you?”
“This is going to be so awkward, sitting around, unwrapping gifts while everyone’s watching me. Telling me to just tear the paper! I do not tear wrapping paper, Payton. You know that.”
“Then don’t tear it. I even have a small pair of scissors so you can cut through the tape.” Payton produced a pair of craft scissors, accompanied with a conspiratorial wink.
I could have hugged my sister. “What do I do if I don’t like something?”
“Johanna, I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation. Mom raised us right. Jillian will be sitting next to you, writing down who gave you what. Just say something like, ‘Oh, look at this, Jill,’ and hand it to her.”
“‘Oh, look at this’ is code for I don’t like it?”
“Yes. But no one else needs to know that, not even Jill.” She tugged me forward. “Let’s go, momma-to-be. Everyone’s waiting on you.”
“You had to say that, didn’t you?”
I would not tell my sister how I felt like a fish in a fishbowl—a very pregnant, introverted fish in a fishbowl. But the crowd wasn’t standing outside, looking in. No, the crowd had climbed into the glass bowl with me and was getting closer and closer.
And now I did have to go to the bathroom again. But Payton would never believe me.
Before I knew it, I was down to one last gift—and I hadn’t once needed to use the “Oh, look at this, Jill,” code. My daughter had a delightful ensemble of dresses and sleepers, as well as a car seat, high chair, and an assortment of books, plush animals, and bibs.
“Here. This is from Mom. And me. And Payton . . . and Pepper, too.” Jillian whispered the last name so only I could hear it.
“Pepper?”
“Open it. You’ll understand.”
As I had with every other gift, I took my time. Slipped the black cloth ribbon off the rectangular package, handing it to Jillian. Cut through the tape and removed the wrapping paper, folding it so it could be used again.
“This is a . . .”
“Turn it over.” Mom’s voice trembled.
I did as she asked, running my fingers over the smooth glass covering a series of black-and-white photographs.
Mom’s baby picture.
My baby picture.
Jillian’s baby picture.
Payton and Pepper—so identical, even as newborns.
One blank opening in the mat. A small neon-pink Post-it note was stuck on the glass. I peeled it off to read the words printed on it.
We’re all waiting to meet the one who starts the next generation of Thatcher women.
Those words, written in Jillian’s script, welcomed my daughter into our family as a blessing, not a mistake.
The photos were glimpses of our individual beginnings.
Which was more important? The beginning or where we were now?
26
IT WOULD BE FAIR to say Payton had avoided celebrating her birthday for years, when it was too tangled up with loss and guilt. Her birthday had always been their birthday, the day she and Pepper were born. It seemed wrong to open presents and sing and eat cake when her sister was dead.
But Zach had overruled Payton’s insistence about not making a big deal of the day, telling her to leave it to him, that he’d plan everything. That her twin sister would want her to have fun on their birthday. And this year, she could accept his offer.
“I have to admit this was quite an unusual way to celebrate my birthday.” Payton pulled her hair out from the high ponytail she’d styled it in earlier, shaking the strands loose around her shoulders.
“What? An escape room doesn’t say, ‘Happy birthday’ to you?” Zach laughed as he closed the car door behind her.
“Locked in a room with family and having to solve puzzles to defuse a bomb? Um, it’s different . . .”
“It wasn’t a real bomb—”
“I was very thankful they made that clear at the beginning of all the fun.” Payton laughed.
“—and we all sang to you once we beat the clock.”
“There was that.” Payton wrapped her arms around her husband. “It was great. A complete surprise.”
“And we won.” Zach gave her a quick kiss.
“Yes, we won, and that made everyone very happy. You can’t say we’re not a competitive bunch of people. And you did tell me we were going to dinner after.” She scanned the restaurant’s parking lot. “Are we the first ones here?”
“I think so. No, wait. I see Geoff and Jillian waiting by the front door.”
“Great.”
Zach and Geoff exchanged high fives with cheers of “Bomb defused!” as Payton and Jillian shared a hug.
“I think the guys took the whole ‘There’s a bomb’ scenario more seriously than we did.” Payton whispered the words loud enough for Zach and Geoff to hear.
“Geoff talked through an entire replay of everything we did—right and wrong—on the drive over.” Jillian shook her head.
“We need to go again.” Geoff’s grin mirrored Zach’s.
“Maybe you and Zach and Dad should go. Pick out a different scenario.”
“That’s a great idea.” Zach pulled out his phone. “What other room themes were there?”
Payton covered the phone with her hand. “Before you do that, would you go check on our reservation?”
“Sure thing.”
“I’ll go with you.” Geoff followed Zach into the restaurant.
Jillian shook her head. “We can only hope they remember your request to check on our dinner reservation.”
“It seems like my birthday surprise was a hit with everyone.”
“I have to say I’m surprised Mom and Johanna joined in.”
“I was, too, at first. But Mom and Dad enjoy board games, so why not this?” Payton motioned to a bench positioned outside the restaurant. “And Johanna, well, she’s the most competitive Thatcher there is, so I couldn’t see her sitting out in the lobby while we all tried to beat the clock.”
“She was a big help, too.” Jillian sat beside Payton.
“You know what? I think she even had fun.” Payton smiled. “Pepper would have loved it.”
“I wondered if you were thinking of her.”
“I think of her every day, but especially on our birthday. All she’s missing out on. I wonder if she’d be married now. If she’d still be involved with volleyball. If she’d still be living in Colorado like the rest of us.”
“I’d like to think all the Thatcher sisters would still be living here.”
“Me, too.” Payton settled back on the bench. “How are you doing, Jill?”
“Me?”
“Are you and Geoff doing better?” Jillian and Geoff came to some of the Sunday dinners and they seemed fine. Not back to normal, but then their life had been anything but normal for months.
“You don’t want to be talking about this on your birthday—”
“I asked, didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then . . .”
“Nothing’s changed.” Jillian leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees. “Geoff and I still want different things. But I’m trying to remember that, despite our differences, we still love each other. I’m hoping that’s enough.”
She should have talked to Jillian about this sooner. They were both facing challenges. Both new at living life as believers. That changed how they acted and reacted to things.
“Have you been praying about it?”
“No.” Jillian flushed, her voice small.
“Jillian, why—?”
“It’s hard, Payton. I thought believing in God would make things easier. That I’d have hope. And nothing’s changed. I wake up to the same hard things every day.”
“I should have asked you sooner. I’m so sorry.” Payton pulled her sister into a hug. “Here I’ve been
worrying about whether I’m saying and doing the right thing in Bible study—”
“What?”
“Believe me, we’ll laugh about it later.” Payton kept Jillian close. “You’re more important. We’re both new at this and we should be encouraging each other.”
“Oh, Payton, I’d love the chance to talk to you about all this. And to pray, too.”
“Here come Mom and Dad and Johanna, so we’ll have to talk more later.” Payton offered Jillian another smile before standing. “But we need to remember we’re not on our own in this—we’ve got each other.”
“Now hearing you say that gives me hope.” Jillian whispered the words just as their parents and Johanna came up.
It was funny how admitting she was struggling too encouraged her sister. How being less than perfect brought them closer together.
“Happy birthday to me—imperfections and all.” Payton waited while Jillian went and greeted their parents. “And happy birthday to you, too, Pepper. Miss you.”
27
I’D COME TO APPRECIATE the Fourth of July more while I’d dated Beckett.
He didn’t just wear his uniform—he believed in the military. Was proud to serve his country. If we went to an event and the national anthem played, he stood at attention. Being with Beckett for eight years had instilled a sense of patriotism in me. Even though our relationship had ended badly, an appreciation for men and women who served in our country’s military remained.
For my family, the summer holiday was all about a cookout, sometimes with friends, sometimes not. Mom’s potato salad and baked beans. Dad’s burgers. Watermelon. And now that Payton was a vegan, there were always more untraditional side dishes. She’d arrived today with two recipes she promised the entire family would enjoy.
Mom came to stand beside me, just inside the sliding-glass doors off the family room. The rest of the family was outside, with Dad prepping the grill while Zach and Payton paired off against Geoff and Jillian in a game of cornhole. “What do you think of the new deck?”
“You and Dad made a wonderful decision. You’ll never regret the composite. It’s going to be so easy to take care of.”
“That’s what your dad keeps saying every time we sit out there in the evening after dinner.” Mom sighed, her shoulders relaxing. “We’re both happy. Zach and Brandon did a beautiful job.”
