Chapter 7 #2
Gabriel closed her door, walked around to the driver's side, and slid behind the wheel. “The coffee shop on Main Street? They have those muffins you like.”
“Perfect.”
They drove through town, past the storefronts and the library and the elementary school where Beth had once imagined sending her own children someday.
That someday was almost here. In a matter of days, she would have two babies who would grow into toddlers who would grow into children who would walk through those doors and learn to read and make friends and become people she couldn't yet imagine.
The thought was overwhelming. Beautiful, but overwhelming.
Gabriel parked in front of the coffee shop, and Beth pulled out her phone while he went inside to order. She found Emily's number and pressed call.
Emily answered on the third ring. “Beth. Is everything okay? You don't usually call in the middle of the day.”
“Everything's fine. I just had a doctor's appointment and wanted to talk to you.”
There was a pause. Emily processed information differently than most people. She took her time, considered her words, didn't rush to fill silences with meaningless chatter. It was one of the things Beth loved about her.
“What did the doctor say?” Emily asked.
“That the babies are healthy. That I could deliver as early as next week.”
Another pause. “That's soon.”
“That's what Gabriel said.”
“Gabriel and I agree, then. That doesn't happen often.”
Beth laughed. It was true. Emily and Gabriel had a respectful but slightly wary relationship, two people who cared about Beth but approached the world in very different ways.
Gabriel was all warmth and intuition, making decisions with his heart.
Emily was logic and systems, needing to understand the reasoning behind everything.
They had learned to navigate each other over the years, but it was not a natural fit.
“Have you thought about what I said?” Beth asked. “About coming to stay with us?”
“I've thought about little else.” Emily's voice was measured, careful. “I've made a list of pros and cons. The pros are longer, but the cons are significant.”
“Tell me the cons.”
“I might be in the way. I don't have experience with babies. My social skills are not always appropriate for stressful situations. I might say the wrong thing when you're tired and overwhelmed.”
Beth closed her eyes, picturing her half-sister as she spoke. Emily would be sitting somewhere quiet, probably with a notebook in front of her, her thoughts organized into columns and categories. It was how she made sense of the world.
“Now tell me the pros,” Beth said.
“You need help. I need purpose. We enjoy each other's company.
The orchard needs attention, and I know more about sustainable agriculture than anyone else in your immediate circle.
Gabriel's father and brother are focused on the furniture business, which means the farm operations are understaffed. I could contribute meaningfully while also being present for the babies.”
“That's a very thorough analysis.”
“I spent two days on it.”
Beth smiled. “Emily, I'm not asking you to come because I need a farmhand. I'm asking because I want you here. Because you're my sister, and I love you, and when my children are born, I want you to be part of their lives.”
The silence on the other end of the line stretched longer than usual. When Emily spoke again, her voice was softer.
“You mean that.”
“I absolutely mean it.”
“Most people say things like that because they feel obligated. Social convention. But you don't do that. You say what you mean.”
“I try to.”
“It's one of the reasons I trust you.” Another pause. “I'm coming. I've already looked up the drive from Vermont. It's approximately four hours. I can be there Saturday if that works for you.”
Beth felt relief wash through her, warm and sweet. “Saturday would be perfect.”
“I'll bring my reference books on infant care. I've been reading extensively, though I understand the practical application will be different from the theoretical framework.”
“We'll figure it out together.”
“Yes.” Emily's voice had steadied, taking on the focused quality it got when she had decided and was ready to execute. “I should go. I need to finish packing and inform my friend that I'm leaving earlier than expected.”
“The one with all the books?”
“She's down to four boxes. I consider it a personal accomplishment.”
Beth laughed. “Safe travels, Emily. Text me when you're on the road.”
“I will. And Beth?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For asking. For wanting me there. It matters.”
“You matter,” Beth said simply. “That's the whole point.”
They said goodbye, and Beth sat with the phone in her lap, watching through the coffee shop window as Gabriel stood at the counter chatting with the barista. He gestured with his hands as he talked, the way he always did, expressive and animated. The barista was laughing at something he said.
Her husband. The father of her children. The man who had walked into her life when she wasn't looking for anyone and had somehow become the center of everything.
In a few days, they would be parents. Their family would grow from two to four in a single moment. Emily would be there to help. Beth's mother would be there to guide. Grandma Sarah would be there to dispense wisdom and opinions in equal measure.
The babies shifted inside her, a rolling motion that made her catch her breath. She pressed her hand against her belly and felt a tiny foot push back against her palm.
“Almost time,” she whispered. “Are you ready?”
No answer came, of course. Just another kick, another reminder that she was not alone, had not been alone for months. She was a vessel, a home, a bridge between what was and what would be.
Gabriel emerged from the coffee shop with two cups and a paper bag that undoubtedly contained muffins. He slid into the driver's seat and handed her a cup.
“Decaf,” he said. “Before you ask.”
“I wasn't going to ask.”
“You were going to give me the look.”
“What look?”
“The 'if you brought me caffeine, I might drink it even though I'm not supposed to' look.”
Beth took a sip of the decaf, which was terrible but warm. “I don't have a look.”
“You have many looks. I've catalogued them.”
“That's creepy.”
“That's love.”
She smiled despite herself and leaned her head back against the seat. The babies were quiet now, perhaps lulled by the motion of the car or the warmth of the heater. In a few days, they would be here. In a few days, everything would change.
But for now, there was coffee and muffins and the man she loved beside her. For now, that was enough.