Epilogue #2
“So have I.” Summer pulled him a little closer. “You’ll have to carry the baby. I’m going to want both hands for taking pictures.”
“I’ll want some with you in them.” He kissed her again before straightening. “We can ask Mom.”
By eight, the younger children had gone home and the street had grown quieter between groups. They turned off the porch light when the candy ran out. Summer took a final cookie from the box and ate it on the way upstairs, too tired to find a plate.
She paused at the open nursery door. Jonah had left a little pile of clean clothes on the dresser that morning, and she’d meant to put them away before work. The room smelled faintly of the new rug when the heat came on.
There were still things to buy. The chair they’d ordered wouldn’t arrive until November, and the picture Lorraine had given them was leaning against the wall while they argued, mildly and intermittently, about where to hang it.
But the crib was assembled. Summer had run her hand along its rail the evening they finished, then come back upstairs later to look at it again.
Jonah found her at the dresser, trying to remember which drawer she’d decided to use for pajamas. He picked up a small green sleeper from the pile and held it by the shoulders.
“This one isn’t going to fit for very long,” he said. He laid it against his forearm, frowning at the distance between the neck and the feet.
“It might be too big at first.” Summer took it from him and folded the sleeves inward. “I keep forgetting how small they are.”
Their first baby’s striped socks were still in the wooden box in her wardrobe.
She’d thought about bringing them in here, then decided to leave them where they were.
When she’d told Jonah, he’d asked if he could look at them for a while.
The sweater Kylie had bought had been donated to Goodwill, and Summer was glad to have it out of the house.
They’d sat on the bedroom floor together with the box between them, his thumb caught inside one tiny ankle cuff.
The socks in this drawer were new, bought by Summer on a wet afternoon when she’d gone into the shop intending only to look.
She’d picked a package of three pairs and stood with it in her hand until an assistant asked whether she needed help.
At the register, she’d nearly said they were a present.
Instead she’d told the woman she was due in February and bought the green sleeper too.
Jonah reached past her to put a stack of undershirts away. Summer shifted to give him room and felt a firm movement beneath her ribs, enough to make her stop with her hand on the drawer.
“Here,” she said, catching his wrist. She settled his palm against the side of her belly. “Wait a second.”
He stood very still. For several seconds nothing happened, and she was about to move his hand when the baby kicked again.
“Oh,” Jonah said. His fingers spread against her sweater. “That was a proper one.”
Summer laughed at his expression. He’d felt movements before, usually after a long wait during which he tried to look as if he wasn’t disappointed, but this one had been unmistakable.
“There’s another,” she said. She kept her hand over his and watched him feel it. “Did you get that?”
“Yes.” Jonah was smiling down at their hands. “Yes, I did.”
She leaned against him while they waited for more. Downstairs the heating clicked off, and somewhere outside a group of teenagers shrieked with laughter. Summer could hear a car moving slowly past the house, its music fading as it turned the corner.
They’d decided to try again during a weekend away in the spring.
They’d been lying in bed too late for the breakfast they’d paid for when she asked whether he still wanted to.
He’d said yes so quickly that she’d started to cry.
Later they’d gone out for eggs and pancakes, starving and shy with each other in a way she hadn’t expected.
Now his hand was warm beneath hers, resting over a child they would meet in February. She wanted to see the baby’s face. The thought came with such sudden eagerness that she closed her eyes and pictured the moment, letting herself imagine Jonah beside the hospital bed, leaning in to look.
“What are you thinking?” he asked. His cheek brushed her hair.
“I want to know who we’ve made.” Summer turned toward him, keeping his hand against her. “I want to see you holding our baby.”
“I think about that at work,” he said. He smiled a little, looking almost embarrassed. “Sometimes I have to read the same thing again because I’ve stopped paying attention.”
She kissed him, and he drew her close with his free arm. Her belly kept them farther apart than she’d intended; she shifted sideways, laughing against his mouth, and he followed her until she’d found a comfortable place to stand.
“We should go to bed,” Summer said. She smoothed the front of his shirt where she’d caught it in her fist. “I want to lie down while I can still reach you.”
Jonah kissed her once more before releasing her. He waited in the doorway while she put away the green sleeper, leaving it on top so she’d see it when she opened the drawer.
In bed, she fitted herself against him and pulled his arm around her. They’d left the curtains open a few inches, and light from the street fell across the quilt. Summer could hear him trying to find a place for his other arm without disturbing her pillow.
“Give it here,” she murmured. She lifted her head, settled again, and reached back to kiss him. “Better?”
“Much.” Jonah tucked the quilt over her shoulder. “I love you, Summer.”
“I love you too.” She drew his hand down over her belly and laced her fingers through his. Just as she began to drift off, the baby moved beneath their hands, and she heard him laugh softly behind her. Summer opened her eyes, smiling in the dark, and stayed awake with him a little longer.