32. The Secrecy Pact
32
THE SECRECY PACT
DAISY
“Daisy.” I hear a voice that sounds like my mom’s from someplace far away.
“Mom? Is this a dream?”
“It’s me, honey. Mrs. Kowalski.”
I slowly open my eyes, and after the initial blur, her face comes into focus, along with a smile.
“How are you feeling now?”
A groan escapes my lips as I try to sit up, holding my aching head between my hands. “God, how much did I drink last night?”
“Mr. Hawthorne told me what happened. You definitely proved the mayor wrong.”
“Oh gosh! Mayor Coggeshall was being her usual small-town gossip diva, which I usually adore. But last night—God, what will everyone think of me?” I unceremoniously flop back down on the pillow, trying to recall how much of a fool I made of myself, and by association, of Charles.
He must be so freaking angry.
“Don’t worry. From what I heard, others were in no better shape. Plus, it’s a party. That’s one place you’re allowed to let loose.”
I feel the bed dip next to my head as Mrs. K places something cold onto my forehead, immediately dulling my headache.
“Sometimes I feel like you’re my mom.” I sigh without opening my eyes.
“I might not be your mom, honey, but I’m mom-like.” I hear a smile in her voice, which makes my own lips curl. “Plus, I care about you and Mr. Hawthorne as much as I care about my own kids.”
“Thank you so much.” I open my eyes and grasp her soft, cold hand on my head. “Was Charles upset?”
This time, her laughter fills the air. “He loves you too much to be upset with you.”
I sit upright in a flash, headache be damned. There’s something more urgent here.
“Did he say this to you? Like in those words? Did he say that he loves me ?”
Her eyebrows furrow, and a second later, I realize my mistake.
Crap!
Aren’t I playing the part of the girl he’s head over heels in love with?
“I mean, Charles rarely shows his feelings, so I thought if he ever said something to you… I know it’s stupid.” I try to play cool, while my heart races wild.
Mrs. K thankfully smiles. “It’s not stupid at all, sweetheart. We girls love to hear if our men talk about us. I know the feeling. But you know Mr. Hawthorne better than anyone. He never says how he feels. He shows it. And you, my dear, are so good at noticing all his small gestures. That’s what makes you two perfect for each other.”
My gaze drifts from her face to the nightstand, where there’s a bottle of Advil and a small note card.
You’re sleeping so peacefully, I don’t want to wake you. I’ve already called the doctor to make a visit whenever you’re up.
Take care, butterfly. I’ll see you in the evening.
Mrs. K is right. Charles has always spoken in tiny gestures—cooking with Dad, fireworks for me, a tea party for Lulu.
The housekeeper places two white tablets in my palm and hands me a glass of water.
“You get ready now. I’ve texted the doctor, and in the meantime, I’m going to make you my personal remedy for such situations.”
She’s almost at the door when I call her. “Mrs. K, thank you for being here for Charles and me.”
“You never have to mention it, sweetheart.”
Half an hour later, I’m sitting in the living room, nursing a glass of something green that surprisingly doesn’t taste as awful as it looks, when the doorbell rings.
“Mrs. Hawthorne, how are you doing this morning?” The family doctor enters, followed by Mrs. K.
“I’m hoping in a few hours I can respond with a ‘perfectly well’ to that question.”
He chuckles, settling into an armchair beside me. “I heard you gave our mayor some well-mannered alcohol-fueled comebacks.”
“Oh God! Please don’t tell me I’ve already made the news.” I lean forward, burying my head against the pillow on my lap.
“Mr. Hawthorne would never let that happen.” Mrs. K grins when I finally look up.
“So, are you experiencing any nausea, headache?”
“Just a headache, but I already took two Advil and they seem to be slowly doing their job.”
I’m still not sure why someone would need to see a doctor for a hangover. It’s not medical but a behavioral situation, isn’t it?
“Since I’m here, what do you say we run some blood work and check your vitamin and iron levels?” The doctor opens his bag and begins preparing a syringe. “Is there any chance you could be pregnant?”
“No! I’m not pregnant.” The words spill out of my mouth.
A few years back, I always thought whenever a doctor would ask me this, I’d be ecstatic and maybe a little nervous, but never this terrified.
But if Charles’ last reaction has confirmed anything, it’s that this question is his worst nightmare.
“I can’t be.”
The doctor coughs lightly, and Mrs. Kowalski’s brow furrows. They both continue to stare at me in confusion.
Of course they’re confused.
We pose as the happiest and most in-love couple in public, and here I am, freaking out at the prospect of a baby like someone just handed me a manual to a crashing aircraft in a language I can’t read. Panic level: the highest.
“I mean, Charles and I want to have a few more years to ourselves before we start a family. I’m very, very careful and always take my pill on time.”
The doc and Mrs. K exchange a look as something unspoken passes between them.
“What is it?” I ask, dread slowly knocking at the door.
“Do you use any other form of contraception, Mrs. Hawthorne?” the doctor asks carefully.
My mind immediately goes to the sunroom. That was the one and only time we did it without a condom.
But you know one time is all it takes, Daisy.
“Not always,” I reply slowly. “But isn’t the pill one of the most effective ways?”
“It normally is. But you were on antibiotics for a long time because of the flu, and those medicines are known to reduce the effectiveness of hormonal contraceptives.”
“Wh-what? How…how did I not know this?” My hands instinctively curl around my stomach before I look down.
I know it’s silly and stupid, but I swear I feel like my belly has grown a little, and there’s a warm sensation inside me.
Yeah, that’s the booze from last night, Ms. Daisy Hazy.
“I’d recommend that we run a test, Mrs. Hawthorne.” The good, patient doctor gets up.
“Can you—I mean, can we not tell Charles anything right now? I—I don’t want his hopes to be up for nothing. And if it does happen”—the shiver that courses through me is equal parts worry and hope—“I’d like to tell him myself.”
“Of course. That’s totally understandable.” The doctor places a tight band around my arm as I sit there feeling confused.
It feels like an important moment, like I should wish for something, but what? A positive or a negative?
I’m still holding the cotton ball on my arm when the doc finishes packing his bag. He’s about to leave when he turns to me. “I see this is probably coming as a shock, but if you want a faster result, you can always take a pregnancy test, Mrs. Hawthorne.”
My heart leaps out of my chest. Suddenly, peeing sounds like the most dangerous activity.
The doctor leaves while I’m stuck in place. My friends were right the other day. My dream has always been to start my own big family. I’d imagined the moment I’d miss a period and would take a pregnancy test. It was supposed to be magical.
My husband, who never had a face in those fantasies, would hold me in his arms. We would count each other’s heartbeats while the clock hands moved too slowly. And finally, I’d ask him to check because I would be too freaking scared. He’d turn to me with a huge smile and show me the stick with a pink line, which would just be the starting line of our happiness.
Tears race down my cheeks, dropping onto my hands. My pounding heart is filled to the brim with feelings and emotions of unlived dreams. But maybe this is my chance.
How can you be so cruel, Mrs. Hawthorne?
Your husband, a man who always aims to do what’s right, doesn’t want kids. What do you think will happen when he finds out? Do you expect him to say, “Okay, now you’re pregnant, so let’s live like a happy family”?
When did your dreams become bigger than his fears?
You were never so selfish, Daisy.
Okay, enough! You can’t accuse me of something I haven’t even done.
I push away my inner critic, currently scaling the ladder of morality, and grab my phone.
Me: I need to invoke our childhood secrecy pact. You have to do something for me without asking questions.
The reply comes immediately.
Willow: Shoot.
Me: Are you home?
Willow: I’m at the inn, but I can be home in twenty minutes.
Right now, I’m grateful for that summer evening when, sitting on my parents’ porch, Violet proposed a secrecy pact. Once in our lives, each of us gets to ask the other three to do something, and no questions will be asked. We finished with a pinky swear and blew over our linked hands, sending our pact to the fairies for authorization.
Me: Okay, I’ll see you in 20. Can you also bring a pregnancy test?
The phone trembles in my hand as I see her typing and deleting. I almost feel sorry for Willow. She must have so many questions, especially after witnessing my drunken antics last night at the party.
Willow: Got it. But you know I’ll have to tell Vi and El about it, right? The pact only works when all of us are involved.
Me: I know. You do that.
Twenty minutes later, Steve drops me off at Willow’s place. Three untouched pregnancy tests sit ominously on the table. No one speaks for several moments, and in the quiet room, the hum of the fridge booms like a distant drum.
“So are we just going to stare at them or do something?” Vi, sitting cross-legged on the floor, breaks the silence.
“Why do we have three?” I turn to Willow instead.
“I thought you might want to be completely sure.”
“But I don’t know if I can pee three times.” I grab the water bottle I brought along. It’s already half-empty.
“You don’t have to pee multiple times, Daze.” Elodie gently places her hand over my shoulder. “Once will be enough.” She hands me a disposable plastic cup and takes away the bottle. “But do you not want to talk about it first?”
“That’s not how the pact works,” Vi immediately jumps in, and for once, I appreciate her general sense of overenthusiasm. “Plus, what kind of question is that? Daze is definitely pregnant. Duh.”
“And would you rather not take the test with Charles? I’m sure he’d prefer knowing about it before us, especially if the tests come out positive.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” I whisper while my friends stare at me, their gazes filled with unasked questions. “I need to do this on my own.” My hands tremble as I pick up the tests from the table.
Moments later, I place the three sticks on the edge of the basin, waiting for the chemicals to do their work and predict my future. When I walk out of the bathroom, I’m met with the anxious faces of my friends.
“And?” Willow runs her hands over her arms.
“There are still a few minutes.” I show them the timer on my phone. “But I’m too nervous. Can one of you please check it for me?”
“You got it.” Violet takes my phone and heads toward the bathroom, walking past me.
As I stand between Willow and Elodie, the timer goes off. The otherwise gentle sound of church bells feels like war music to my ears.
“It’s negative.” Violet shrugs, glancing up from the tests.
All the anxiety of the last hour washes away, leaving an unexpected feeling of bereavement and disappointment in its wake. It’s as if I just lost something very precious.
“Negative on all three?” My eyes betray me, and I repeatedly blink to get rid of the wetness.
“Not exactly. You’re pregnant. All three tests are positive.” Vi’s downturned expression slowly morphs into a grin.
“What? Why would you do that?” My heart ricochets against my rib cage with relief, feeling as though I’ve just accidentally met a long-lost friend.
“So you could truly understand how you feel about this.” Violet points in the general direction of my belly. “You seemed confused before.”
“Vi! That’s insanely cruel.” Willow smacks Vi’s shoulder, eliciting a groan.
“What? Haven’t you seen Friends ? When Phoebe did it, Rachel thanked her, but I get shoulder hits. No point in doing good these days.”
“You’re crazy, do you know that?” I tug on Violet’s arm before she can walk away. “But your craziness is good sometimes. Thank you. It really helped clarify things.”
“And?” Violet raises an eyebrow.
“I’m having a baby. You’re all gonna be aunts soon.” Saying it out loud makes it extra real.
“Yay!” My best friends take me into a group hug, and I don’t bother hiding my tears.
“Are we finally going to talk about the rest of this? Like why you’re doing this here and not with Charles?” Elodie tips her head to the side when we pull back.
My heart thumps like a drumroll in my chest. My secret has grown too large to keep from my friends any longer. “Can we sit down first?”
Around half an hour later, I’m back in the same spot on the couch, with my three best friends staring at me, mouths wide open. I’m not surprised, since I just broke their long-held belief about my boss being in love with me.
They’re aware that Charles proposed to me because he was cornered, but after seeing Charles on TV asking for my dad’s permission, like everyone else, they were convinced this was the most epic love story of the century. And I know deep down they think this thing between Charles and me isn’t one-sided.
I never had the courage until today to say the truth, that my marriage came with an end date.
The silence becomes heavy and suffocating, and I’m the first to break it.
“You can judge me. I won’t mind.”
“We’re not judging you, Daze.” Elodie fidgets nervously. “But this sounds like something out of a movie. A contract marriage.”
“I still can’t believe you guys managed to even fool me.” Violet’s brow furrows in disbelief. “Are you absolutely sure you don’t love each other?”
She places her phone onto the table, and there’s a candid photo of Charles and me on the screen. My heart skips a beat watching his beautiful smile as I brush snow from his woolen coat.
“How could you fake that look?” Violet asks, and I’m not sure if she’s referring to me or Charles.
“Vi is right, Daze. We’ve all seen how Charles looks at you and how much he’s changed since your wedding.” Elodie’s voice is soft, filled with hope and concern.
“It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t want kids.” I nervously rub my clammy palms against my thighs.
“What does that mean? This is his kid, right? He must have done something to get you pregnant.” Willow balls her hands into fists.
My teeth dig into my bottom lip. Was it something he did or was it my own lack of knowledge?
“Do you know birth control pills are as effective as a Tic Tac if you’re on antibiotics?”
“What?” My friends let out a collective gasp, which is oddly comforting.
Since this morning, I’ve been wondering if this information was something I should have known already. Maybe they taught it in sex-ed class while I was dozing off on the back bench. But thankfully, it’s news even for my friends.
“So what now?” Elodie’s words pull me out of the brain fog.
“I can’t impose this on Charles, especially after knowing how he feels about kids. I’m going to tell him he can be as involved as he wants, and I’m not expecting him to be running for the Best Dad Award. I—”
Elodie’s hand on my knee stops me mid-sentence. “I’m not asking what you’re going to do, Daze, but what do you really want?”
I close my eyes, and an image of a childhood dream dances before me—my own family, and this time my partner has a face. Charles. My heart races, my body trembling at the sight of the image before everything dissipates like smoke.
“You know you can tell us anything, Daze. This is a judgment-free place, even without the secrecy pact.”
My eyes open at hearing Willow’s voice.
“It seems like everything in my life comes with a ‘but.’ Parents who brought me into this world but can’t love me. Jax, who claims to love me but can’t stop fucking around with the whole town. Charles”—my voice cracks—“who can’t be more perfect but despises the thought of family and kids. Why can’t I have a relationship where I have it all, just for once?”
“Maybe you do have it now, Daze.” Willow tips her head toward my stomach.
I wrap my hands around my waist, and there’s a click in my chest as if something broken has found a tiny fix.
“Maybe I do.”