10. Chapter Ten #2
The Aria Springs Pharmacy was impossible. Wendy had known the pharmacist since school, and at least three employees had watched her grow up. Even if no one took a photograph, kindness would show on their faces, and kindness could become a question before Wendy was ready to give an answer.
“We can’t buy a pregnancy test in town,” she told her mother.
“There’s a late-night pharmacy in the next town.”
Wendy nodded before fear could turn the choice into another delay.
The drive took them beyond the familiar streets of Aria Springs. Her mother kept the radio off and didn’t fill the silence with comfort Wendy hadn’t asked for. The dark beyond the windows gave Wendy nothing to study except her own pale reflection.
At the pharmacy, harsh white light covered long rows of ordinary things. Shampoo, cold medicine, birthday cards, candy near the register. Wendy found the tests and froze in front of too many bright boxes with instructions in different sizes and fonts.
Her mom picked up two different brands.
“Two?” Wendy asked.
“I know the box says one is enough. I don’t care.”
“Very scientific.”
Her mother added water, plain crackers, and ginger candy to the basket. At the register, the young clerk barely looked up from the scanner. No recognition crossed his face. Wendy had never been so grateful to be ordinary.
Her mother put the paper bag between Wendy’s feet for the drive back. It weighed almost nothing. Wendy felt it with every turn.
In the guesthouse bathroom, Wendy read both sets of directions even though she understood them the first time. Her mother waited in the bedroom.
“Door open or closed?” her mom asked.
“Halfway.”
“Do you want me to talk?”
“No. But don’t go anywhere.”
“I won’t.”
Wendy set the tests on the edge of the sink and started the timer on her phone. Her wedding ring caught the bathroom light when she placed her hands on the counter.
She stared at the first test. The second line appeared before the timer finished.
Wendy stopped breathing.
She looked at the other test. Its small screen blinked. Then one word appeared: Pregnant.
“Mom!”
Her mother came through the half-open door and stopped next to her. She didn’t reach for Wendy until Wendy caught her hand.
“Both gave the same result?”
Wendy nodded.
For one bright, terrible second, she saw Hunter’s face. He’d go still. His green eyes would search hers as if he needed permission to believe her. Then joy would break through him. He’d laugh, pull her close, drop to his knees, and put both hands over a body that hadn’t changed yet.
They’d wanted children. Every talk about when had ended in the face of another album cycle, a tour, a launch, or one more promise that life would calm down after the next milestone.
Wendy had stopped raising the subject because another quiet delay hurt less than hearing their future discussed like a scheduling conflict.
Now there was a baby.
There was also a closed door between the baby’s parents.
Joy rose in Wendy so suddenly it hurt. Fear followed, then anger, love, grief, and a fierce need to protect something no bigger than hope. Her free hand drifted to her stomach. Nothing felt different under her palm. Everything was.
Her mother’s eyes filled with tears, but she kept her voice steady. “Do you want to call Hunter?”
Wendy’s phone lay on the counter. His blocked contact was still inside it, one choice away.
“Not yet,” she said, swallowing heavily.
“All right.”
“He’d come here.”
“I think he would.”
“Immediately.” Wendy tightened her hold on her mother’s hand. “And then I’d never know. I wouldn’t know if he came because he chose his wife or because he felt responsible for his child. I wouldn’t know if every change after that was love or duty.”
“You don’t have to decide tonight.”
“The baby can’t decide the marriage for me.”
“No.” Her mother squeezed her fingers. “And needing time doesn’t mean you’re keeping this from him forever.”
Wendy shut her eyes. “I need a doctor to confirm it. I need one thing to happen before Hunter’s feelings fill the whole room.”
“Then that’s what happens next.”
Wendy leaned into her mother and let herself be held. She cried without knowing why.
Later, she asked her mother to tell her father.
“I can’t say it again tonight. But I don’t want you hiding it from Dad.”
“I’ll tell him, don’t worry,” her mother said as she tucked Wendy into bed and took out her phone.
From the bedroom, Wendy heard her mom call him from the living room. Her mother’s words were soft and plain. Wendy was all right, two tests were positive, and they would arrange medical care. Her father didn’t need to come unless Wendy asked him to.
When her mother returned, she sat on the edge of the bed with a blanket and made clear she was staying until Wendy fell asleep. Wendy thanked her and reached for her phone while her mother stroked her hair to calm her down.
Hunter’s number remained blocked. She imagined telling him. The joy on his face came as clearly as memory, and she pressed her lips together against the ache of loving a man she couldn’t yet trust with this happiness.
Wendy opened her calendar and scheduled the first medical appointment she could get outside Aria Springs. Then she set the phone facedown and rested both hands over the life she’d only just discovered.
“One day at a time,” she whispered. “You and me.”