Chapter 5
Harper
The grocery store felt like a gauntlet.
I'd been coming to Willowbrook Market ever since I moved to town.
Mrs. Whitaker, behind the deli counter, always asked about my latest design projects.
The teenage baggers knew to use paper, not plastic, because I composted.
The store manager, Mr. Reed, had popped out from his office to congratulate me when I'd started showing.
Today, everything felt different.
I pushed my cart through the produce section, my hand resting on the curve of my belly where our daughter was growing stronger every day.
My belly had stayed flat for the first month or so, suddenly popping out almost overnight.
At eight months, the pregnancy was now very obvious, beautiful, and, apparently, the subject of considerable town speculation.
"...keeps rushing off to the city..."
The whisper came from behind the apple display, where two women I recognized from various community events were examining fruit with theatrical concentration.
"...poor thing, having to do everything alone..."
"...on their anniversary, can you believe it?"
I selected a bag of apples with deliberate care, refusing to acknowledge that they were talking about me. About Jack. About the fact that my husband had been spending more time in the city than at home lately.
"Harper, dear!"
I turned to see Mrs. Finlayson approaching, her expression warm but edged with something that might have been pity. She'd worked at the grocery store for twenty years and knew everyone in town, which made her both a valuable friend and a dangerous person to disappoint.
"How are you feeling, sweetie? You look... tired."
"I'm fine, Mrs. Finlayson. Just the usual pregnancy stuff." I smiled, hoping it looked genuine. "Baby's been keeping me up at night with all her moving around."
"And Jack? How's he handling the countdown to fatherhood?"
The question was innocent enough, but I caught the way her eyes searched my face, looking for something I wasn't sure I wanted to give her.
"He's doing well. Busy with work, but excited about the baby." The words came automatically, the same explanation I'd been giving for weeks now.
"That's wonderful. Men sometimes get nervous as the due date approaches." She patted my arm gently. "You know, if you ever need anything... my daughter went through the same thing when her husband was deployed."
The comparison to military deployment felt both generous and pointed. Mrs. Finlayson was offering support while also acknowledging that Jack's absence over the last month was noticeable, problematic, worth commenting on.
"Thank you. That's very kind, but Jack's been great. He's just helping a friend through a difficult time."
"Of course, dear. That's what good men do."
But there was something in her tone that suggested she thought good men also stayed home with their pregnant wives.
It was a thought I’d had myself, a little flicker of resentment I’d quickly extinguished.
I was just tired, I told myself. With the baby pressing on my lungs and my energy at an all-time low, I slept more than I was awake.
It wasn't fair to blame Jack for being absent when I was barely present myself. It had to be the hormones.
I moved through the store with growing awareness of the looks, the whispers, the careful way people approached me. The checkout clerk, a young woman named Louise who'd always been friendly, packed my groceries with extra care and avoided eye contact.
"How's everything going, Mrs. Henderson?" she asked, her voice gentle in a way that suggested she thought things weren't going well at all.
"Great, thank you."
"That's good. My sister's about as far along as you are with her third baby, and she says the last few weeks are the hardest. Lucky she has her husband to help with everything."
The comment felt like a small knife, precise and unavoidable. Louise wasn't being malicious. She was being kind in the way that people are kind when they're trying to acknowledge difficult circumstances without directly confronting them.
"I'm sure she appreciates the support," I said, handing over my credit card.
"Oh, she does. He goes to every appointment, helps with the nursery, and does all the heavy lifting. She keeps saying she doesn't know what she'd do without him."
I nodded, feeling the weight of comparison settling on my shoulders. Other women had husbands who went to every appointment. Other women had partners who helped with nursery preparation. Other women didn't have to explain where their husbands were every time they went to the grocery store.
But other women didn't have husbands who would drop everything to help someone fighting cancer.
The thought steadied me as I loaded groceries into my car. Jack wasn't absent because he didn't care about me or our baby. He was absent because he cared too much about everyone.
That was the man I'd married.
My phone buzzed as I drove home. A text from my friend Lisa: Baby shower planning meeting tonight at 7? Sam said we could use The Copper Fox after the dinner rush.
I'd completely forgotten about the baby shower meeting. Lisa and Rowena had been planning it for weeks, coordinating with other friends to create what they'd promised would be a beautiful celebration of our daughter's approaching arrival.
I'll be there, I texted back.
The Copper Fox was quieter than usual when I arrived, the dinner crowd having moved on to other evening activities.
Sam was behind the bar, polishing glasses with the methodical precision of someone who'd been doing the job for years, which I guess he had.
He looked up when I walked in, his expression immediately shifting to concern.
"Harper. How are you feeling?"
"Fine. Just tired." I settled onto one of the barstools, grateful to be off my feet. "Lisa said you offered to let us use the back room for planning?"
"Of course. But first..." He reached under the bar and pulled out a tall glass filled with something pink and frothy. "I've been working on this for you. Virgin raspberry mojito with a splash of ginger for the nausea."
I accepted the drink gratefully, touched by the thoughtfulness. "You didn't have to do that."
"I wanted to. You've been looking worn down lately." He paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. "Jack still in the city?"
"Madison had a late treatment. He's staying overnight to make sure she's okay."
Sam's jaw tightened slightly, but he just nodded. "Well, the girls are in the back waiting for you."
I made my way to the back room, where Lisa, Rowena, Jennifer, and Maria had already spread out notebooks and magazines on one of the tables. The space felt cozy and private, away from the main bar area.
"Harper!" Lisa stood up to hug me. "Perfect timing. We were just getting started."
"We were thinking the weekend of the 15th," said Jennifer, consulting her phone calendar.
"Perfect," I said, settling into the chair they'd saved for me. "What can I do to help?"
"Nothing!" Lisa waved her hand dismissively. "This is your party. We're handling everything. You just need to turn up!"
"Will Jack be able to make it?" asked Maria, pen poised over her planning notebook. "We wanted to make sure we schedule around his availability."
The question hung in the air, and I felt the familiar weight of having to explain Jack's schedule, his priorities, his absence.
"He'll do his best," I said carefully. "You know he's been helping a friend through some medical issues, so his schedule has been unpredictable."
"Oh, that's right," said Jennifer. "Madison something, isn't it? The woman who came back to town?"
I nodded, wondering how much these women knew, how much they'd heard through the Willowbrook gossip network.
Did they know Madison was Jack's ex-girlfriend?
I hadn't asked him about it. Partly because I trusted him, and partly because he'd hardly been home in the last few weeks.
We'd barely managed more than a hello here and there.
"Cancer, right?" Lisa's voice was sympathetic. "That's so awful. And so good of Jack to help her."
"It is," I agreed. "She doesn't have family here, so Jack's been driving her to treatments and appointments."
"That's a big drain on his time," said Maria. "Those treatments can take all day sometimes."
I just shrugged, feeling the need to defend him but not knowing how. "That's the kind of person Jack is."
"He's the best kind of person," Lisa chimed in immediately, her voice warm and supportive. "Honestly, would we want a husband who wouldn't help a friend in that situation? That's our Jack. Always the first one there when someone needs help. Madison is lucky to have his support."
"You're right," I said, feeling a wave of gratitude for Lisa's immediate defense. "She is."
The other women quickly agreed, but I could still see them processing this information, their expressions a mixture of admiration for Jack's loyalty and a quiet, unspoken worry for me.
"Well," said Rowena finally, "we'll plan the shower for a time when he's most likely to be available. Maybe we should avoid treatment days?"
"Madison's treatment days are Tuesdays and Fridays," I said automatically, then immediately regretted sharing such specific information about Madison's schedule.
I might not know the woman, but I wouldn't want strangers knowing the ins and outs of my hospital appointments.
Then again, I lived in a small town where everyone knew everyone's business.
"Perfect," said Lisa, making a note. "Saturday the 15th, it is then. That way, Jack can definitely be there."
But even as she wrote it down, I caught the looks passing between the women. The careful way they were navigating around Jack's absence, the gentle acknowledgment that my husband's availability had become something that needed to be planned around.
"What about decorations?" asked Jennifer, clearly trying to move the conversation to safer ground. "Any particular theme?"