Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
Fortunately, I avoid any embarrassing accidents.
I finish the reel with Hooch with some almighty Braxton Hicks contractions, though, but by the time we are heading home, everything has settled down.
It is a beautiful night, the sky spangled with stars, the air still and drowsy.
The moon is nearly full, like a bright silver coin in the sky.
Ben is taking Bethany home, and I wish we’d had more of a chance to chat, but she’s agreed to come over tomorrow to talk things over and also be at the dinner with Mike and Diana, along with Ben. There really is a lot going on.
By the next afternoon, when I am rolling out pie crust for a raspberry pie—the raspberries picked by Rose and Jack only that morning, as bright as jewels in their bowl—I am feeling a little more accepting of everything.
Well, sort of. I’d still like to talk through things with Bethany since we never got a chance before and also broach the subject of wedding plans.
There’s a lot to discuss before Mike and Diana descend on us. I hope my daughter is up for it.
It’s mid-afternoon before Bethany breezes in, smiling easily, seeming like someone who is floating on top of the world. I smile just to see her, some of my nebulous worries assuaged… for now.
“Hey, there,” I greet her. “Still floating?”
“A little,” she admits, and swipes a raspberry from the bowl, popping it into her mouth. “It all feels like a dream.” She shakes her head slowly, then holds up her left hand. “Look at that!”
I give the ring a closer examination since I wasn’t able to look at it properly last night. It’s tiny and beautiful.
“Perfect,” I pronounce.
Bethany grins before propping her elbows on the counter.
“Seriously, Mom, are you freaking out?” she asks in a tone that suggests she would expect me to.
“I’m not freaking out,” I reply carefully. “You know Ben asked for Dad’s blessing? So, we had a heads up.”
“Still.” She sounds like she almost wishes I was freaking out, which leaves me a little bemused.
“I’m not freaking out,” I state firmly. “But—”
“I knew there would be a but!” she cries, exultant.
I sigh. Right now, I am wondering if my daughter has the emotional maturity to be married. Why does she want me to be in a tizzy about this?
“There’s no but, Bethany,” I tell her a little sternly.
“I suppose I wish we could have talked about it first,” I add more gently.
“Not for us to grant permission or anything like that, but because we’re your parents and we love you, and we hope that you might seek our advice and what wisdom we have to offer when you make one of this life’s most important decisions. ”
I didn’t mean to pile on the guilt, but I obviously did, because Bethany’s eyes suddenly fill with tears.
“I didn’t think about it like that,” she whispers, looking wretched.
“I’m so sorry, Mom. I was just thinking about how…
how surprised you’d be, and I don’t know.
” She sniffs and wipes her eyes. “I was excited. But I didn’t think…
I didn’t think about talking to you guys about it first. I should have. ”
“Well,” I reply, keeping my voice gentle, “there are a few things you haven’t thought about talking to us about.
” I pause while Bethany bites her lip. “It feels like you’re afraid of our disapproval, Bethany,” I continue quietly.
“And I know that motivated you in a negative way back in Princeton, but I promise you, Dad and I are not disapproving. We just want to be involved, but more than that, we want you to want us to be involved.”
Tears spill down my daughter’s cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” she chokes, and I put down my rolling pin to envelop her in a floury hug.
“You don’t need to be sorry,” I murmur against her hair. “I promise.”
“Still—”
“This wasn’t meant to be a guilt trip. Let’s just go on from here, agreeing to talk to each other, okay? That is, if you want to. If you want our advice. Hearing it doesn’t mean you have to take it, you know.”
“I do want it,” Bethany mumbles, wiping her eyes. “I guess… I guess part of me wanted to show you that I had life figured out, you know? That I wasn’t just a loser who dropped out of high school and failed to get into college.”
“Oh, Bethany.” I shake my head sorrowfully. “We have never thought of you like that.”
“I guess I thought of myself like that,” she admits. “And by proving it to you, I was proving it to myself.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t even think of it like that until now, but I’m pretty sure that’s what’s been going on.”
“I didn’t think of it like that, either,” I confess. “I suppose I just felt hurt you didn’t want to talk to us about anything.” She flinches, and I smile. “I’m not saying that to make you feel badly. I just think it’s time we were both honest.”
“I know.” She smiles through the last of her tears. “I promise I won’t keep things secret from you anymore. I can’t wait for us to plan my wedding together!”
I smile at that. “You’re thinking May, Emmy said?” I kept my tone light, but Bethany winces all the same.
“She asked. I was going to talk to you about that first, I swear.”
“It’s okay, Beth.” I feel a lot lighter after our conversation. There was no need for me to hold on to any hurt, and I’m glad for my girl. “May seems like a good time. And I think having a longer engagement is wise. You guys have only known each other for a year, after all.”
“I know.” She takes another raspberry, and I playfully slap her hand away.
“I know it might seem like we did, but we didn’t rush into this.
Ben and I have talked through a lot. I still plan to do my midwifery course at Shenandoah, which means moving up there in September.
So, we’ll be long-distance for a while, but three and a half hours isn’t that far, right?
And after we get married, Ben’s willing to move to Winchester so I can complete my degree.
Then we’re thinking we’ll move back closer to home.
He wants to start his own sustainable forestry business, and I’ll be a midwife. ” She beams at me. “It’ll be great!”
“It sounds great,” I tell her, although as a mother, I am wondering how Ben will pay for gas to and from Winchester to visit and where Bethany intends to live.
She might have gotten financial aid, but it doesn’t cover accommodation.
But those are problems for another day. Right now, all I need to be is happy for my daughter.
“All right, I need to finish this pie,” I tell her. “Can you pick some lettuce from the garden? Mike and Diana are going to be here in an hour.”
An hour later, the raspberry pie is cooling on a rack, the fluted crust perfectly golden.
The roast chicken is in the oven, the salad is tossed, and the fresh bread is ready to be sliced.
I’ve gotten out two bottles of elderberry cordial as well as a bottle of wine, and Bethany set the table beautifully with napkins shaped like swans and a large bouquet of wildflowers in the center.
I breathe out, trying to ignore the twinges that are shooting through my belly. It’s just from all the exertion, I tell myself. My due date is still three weeks away. Rose wanders into the kitchen, reaching for a piece of crust to break off and pop into her mouth, and I slap her hand away.
“Ouch!” she cries, surprised, and I give her a mock glare.
“Did you really think I was going to let you do that? That pie looks perfect.” I have finally mastered the fluted crust. It’s taken years.
Rose grins and rolls her eyes. Deciding she needs to be put to work, I tell her to check that the chickens have water. She groans, fairly good-naturedly, and heads outside just as the doorbell rings.
“Well, hello there!” I hear Josh call jovially. “You must be Diana.”
Checking one last time on the chicken, I turn off the stove, then go to greet our guests.
Mike has arrived as I come into the living room, bearing his usual bounty—a bouquet of wildflowers tied with twine, a dish of black walnut butter, and a small tin of red raspberry leaf he made himself. The man really is resourceful.
“I’ve heard the tea is good for pregnant ladies,” he tells me.
“Not that I know!” He laughs a little too heartily and looks almost anxiously at Diana, whose blue hair has faded to a very pale gray with just a tinge of periwinkle.
She’s wearing a loose cotton sundress and Birkenstocks.
Mike is in a plaid shirt and khakis, and they are both clearly sizing each other up, which makes me smile.
“Thank you, Mike, that’s so kind,” I tell him as I take the gifts. “I don’t believe you’ve met our new neighbor, Diana? She’s moved into the cabin at the bottom of the valley, right by the creek.”
“Oh!” Mike wipes his hand on his pants, then sticks it out for Diana to shake. “Very pleased to meet you. Nice to have another neighbor!”
“And I’m pleased to meet you,” Diana replies, taking his hand. She’s blushing, and I can’t help but smirk a little at Josh. So far, my matchmaking plans are off to a pretty good start.
I wish I could say they continue to develop, but after that promising start, things descend fairly quickly into tension and even animosity. The wine doesn’t help—Diana has two glasses during dinner, and after an hour of affable chitchat, her friendly, mild way of speaking turns a little aggressive.
When Mike starts going on about the upcoming apocalypse, she rolls her eyes and lets out a loud laugh.
“You’re not actually serious?” she demands, her elbows on the table while Mike looks both startled and affronted. He likes to pontificate, but I’m not sure he enjoys being challenged.
“I am serious,” he replies with dignity, and I feel a welling of affection for him. “Very serious.”
“An apocalypse? Really? Are there going to be zombies?” She laughs and reaches for her wine.
Mike presses his lips together, then responds in the same dignified tone, “No, I don’t anticipate zombies.
This isn’t some Marvel movie. The actual definition of an apocalypse is from the Greek for revelation or disclosure, and it now has come to mean a world-altering, cataclysmic event.
” He manages to smile briefly. “Not necessarily with zombies.”
Diana has the grace to look a little abashed. “Okay, and what will this world-altering event be?”
Mike raises his eyebrows. “A world war? The loss of global supply chains, leading to widespread famine that’s exacerbated by extreme droughts and floods caused by climate change?
The bottom falling out of the markets—it practically already has—so money becomes useless?
” He leans forward, his eyes alight as Diana listens with obvious interest. “Most people have no idea how to survive for so much as a day without modern conveniences—a car, a fridge, a grocery store, the internet. If any of the things I just mentioned happened, and I truly believe it’s likelier day by day, ninety-five percent of the people in this country would be utterly lost.”
“Mom,” Rose whispers, “do you really think those things are likely to happen?”
“Not anytime soon, Rose,” I say, then chirp brightly, “how about dessert?”
I ask Rose to get the ice cream while Bethany clears plates, and I get the pie.
I’m hoping the activity will put an end to the apocalyptic talk, but when I come back to the table, Ben, William, and Josh are all talking about the best way to butcher a hog—not exactly polite dinnertime conversation, and my husband and son at least have no idea what they’re talking about, anyway—and Mike and Diana are deep in conversation, their heads bent together.
I hear Mike say something about zombies, and Diana lets out a trill of laughter.
Hmm. Interesting. Maybe it’s going to be a case of opposites attract, after all.
The rest of the evening goes smoothly enough, Mike and Diana seeming to have agreed to an amicable truce, and it’s after eleven by the time they toddle off together. They both walked, and Mike kindly offers to see Diana home. Ben drives Bethany back to Miss Barbara’s.
The other kids and my dad have gone to get ready for bed, and Josh is clearing the rest of the table while I am stacking plates in the dishwasher, when I feel a tug low down.
I’ve been having little twinges all evening, but this feels different.
I straighten, one hand on my bump, only to feel a gush of fluid between my legs.
My waters have just broken.