Chapter 18
Maddie had no idea how long she sat in the restroom stall at the airport, staring at the stripes on the wand.
She kept thinking it must be a mistake. Surely these things weren’t perfect.
She was forty-five years old—time for menopause, not motherhood.
Wasn’t it? Maybe something got mixed up with her hormones and resulted in the wrong reading.
Oh, sure, she’d read about “older” women getting pregnant, but those were tabloid stories, weren’t they? Either exaggerated or simply made up?
Then again, it could be why her black dress was too tight.
She had no clue when her last period was, but it definitely had been a while.
September? October? She and Rex first had sex the day after Cranberry Day—four months ago—and only twice since then, both times in mid-December.
Maybe the mysterious symptoms she’d felt in the fall had been this.
But what were the odds that she’d gotten pregnant the first time with him?
The first time for her in a very long time?
It wasn’t as if she was a fertile Gen Z girl.
Rex, she thought. He was three thousand miles away, barely out of a coma, and might love someone else “so damn much.”
How would he react?
Her hands flew to her cheeks as she thought: My God, what should I do?
When she and Owen were married, she hadn’t needed a stick and a couple of blue lines to tell her she was pregnant: For nearly two years, they’d been trying to start a family.
Maddie hadn’t felt at all nauseous—and she waited more than three months before seeing the doctor.
After her appointment, and the positive results, she told Owen.
His face had turned crimson. He’d slammed down his wineglass, nearly cracking the stem. They were having dinner—seared scallops on a bed of baby spinach with pomegranate glaze. Among other things, he was a food snob, though, as it often did, the meal had come from his favorite restaurant, not her.
“When the hell did you plan to tell me?” His tone was a tick shy of shouting.
Maddie was shocked. She took a sip of ice water; she’d thought he’d be happy. Or at least grateful that she would contribute to his family’s privileged line.
“I … I wanted to be certain. Most miscarriages happen in the first trimester, so I …”
“So you were going to wait and tell me if you did? That you’d say, ‘By the way, dearest husband, I was pregnant but didn’t bother to tell you’?”
Too baffled to think of a comeback, she tossed her napkin onto the table, fled the dining room, grabbed her purse, and flew out the back door to her car.
Though she knew Owen was self-centered, his reaction seemed over the top.
Once out of the driveway, she drove to the Victorian, knowing that at least her father would be happy with the news.
“I’m so pleased,” Stephen predictably said.
His cheeks had brightened, partly due to the wee dram of scotch he held in one hand, the single pleasure he allowed himself every evening.
“Your mother would have been thrilled.” His eyes misted, and Maddie hugged him; she knew then that everything would be fine.
And it was. By the time she got home, Owen was in the living room, rubbing the back of his neck. He tripped over an apology, claiming he would have wanted to share in her excitement from the start. It was a watered-down excuse, but Maddie accepted it.
Rex, however, wasn’t Owen. At least, it didn’t seem like he was. Unless it was why her intuition in October had tried warning her it was too soon to sleep with him.
Suddenly, the words he’d written on the card in his drawer mattered more to her than a panic attack.
Then came a sharp rap, rap on the metal door of the stall.
“Are you okay in there?” a woman’s voice called from the other side.
Maddie fought to compose herself. “I’m fine.” The words squeaked out, false as they were. “I’ll be out in a second.”
“No problem. I work at the airline counter and saw you run in here a while ago. I got worried when you didn’t come out. I’m not trying to pry—but there’s not much action in the terminal this time of year, so it’s easier to notice things.”
Right, Maddie thought. And she doubted that many women raced into the restroom and then didn’t come out for God only knew how long she’d been in there. She’d forgotten the part about living on an island where, like it or not, people paid attention to each other. Cared to ask if they were okay.
Which was nice.
“I’m fine,” she repeated, feeling stronger that time. “But thank you for checking.”
“Okay.”
The restroom door opened, then quietly closed.
Maddie sighed. After another minute, she stuffed the test and its results back in the pharmacy bag, tossed it into the trash, and left the restroom.
Out in the terminal check-in area, she noticed a young, redheaded woman behind a counter.
The woman waved; Maddie smiled and gave a thumbs-up to her ministering angel.
She supposed if she didn’t come up with a solution for this dilemma soon, she could always return to the airline counter and ask the redhead if she knew a good island ob-gyn—with the emphasis on the OB.
When Maddie got back to the cottage, her father wasn’t there.
He’d left a message on the table that said he’d be back around two, that he’d driven Evelyn to one of her committee meetings, and he was going to putter around in some stores until she was done.
Maddie was glad he was gone; his absence meant there would be no need to try and mask her emotions—at least for a while.
She flopped onto the new sofa that Grandma pretended to like but probably didn’t; would the old woman act the same way with a baby?
How could Maddie raise a baby around her if that was the case?
It was bad enough that Maddie would be over fifty when her child started kindergarten …
and ready to retire when he or she was Rafe’s current age, and ready to graduate college.
And unlike Rafe, this baby would hardly get to know its grandfather before Stephen died, even if he lived to be as old as Grandma was now.
And there was Rex. She didn’t know if he hadn’t had children because he hadn’t wanted them or because his relationships hadn’t gone in that direction.
But what about now? He seemed content with his life, with his restaurant, his friends, his Chappy family.
And he was a little more than a decade older than Maddie, so …
She scrunched her eyes and let out a yelp.
“I can’t do this!” she shouted to no one. Even discounting Rex’s age, she did not have the courage to tell him. Nor could she bring herself to google Pregnant over 40, for fear of learning too much about potential complications.
One thing would be certain: Though Grandma and Rex had a special bond, this circumstance might complicate that—and might be perceived as Maddie’s fault.
And there was Rafe. How would he feel about having another half-sibling? He was a wonderful, caring young man, but still … he was her son. He might be embarrassed. Enough to leave the island and return to predictable Green Hills?
Ugh. She dropped her face into her hands again.
The only things she did know were, first, she was pregnant, and second, she would not marry Rex.
She barely knew him. He barely knew her!
Besides, where would they live? She couldn’t operate the bookshop from Edgartown, nor could he operate the Lord James from Menemsha, especially in summer when the commute either way would take forever.
And why was she worrying about all of this when she was not even sure if Rex could—or would want to—come back from California?
Above all else, however, the most important question was: Could she really go through with this—and, if so, should she?
As she took another shallow breath, a cry bubbled up in her toes, then swept up her legs, weakened her knees, and gripped her four-months-pregnant belly, where it paused for a moment until it continued its path to her shoulders, up to her face, and, finally, spilled from her eyes and ran down her cheeks.
She curled up in a ball as if she were the baby.
A short while later, she did not hear the back door open. Nor did she sense the footsteps coming closer. It wasn’t until the intruder squatted beside her and took hold of her hands that she realized Rex was there.
He leaned forward, took her in his arms. She buried her face in his chest.
“Sssh,” he whispered, rocking her gently. “Sssh. It’s okay. I’m home now.”
She raised her head, meeting his eyes. “I’m pregnant,” she whispered.
He tipped his head and conjured a slight grin. “I know.”
“But how …”
“You’re not the only one with intuition.”
Then he swooped her up off the couch and hugged her so tightly she feared she and the baby might break.
Laughing, she pushed him away. “When did you get back?”
He looked awfully good for someone who’d been in a coma for weeks. And his voice sounded normal, as if he had not swallowed gravel.
“I flew home as soon as I figured it out.”
“Liar. You had no idea, did you?”
“Yes, I did. I talked to Taylor. She said you looked like crap.”
Taylor? Was he joking? And yet she knew he must be right about her looking like crap. Especially now with her tear-streaked cheeks. “What if I look like crap for the next five months?”
“Then you’ll look like happy, pregnant, glowing crap.”
Together, they laughed. Then Rex tucked her hair behind her ears; she looked in his eyes and saw love looking back. And when he leaned down and kissed her, a soft, passionate kiss, she utterly melted.
Then he rubbed his hand over his bald head. “So, what do you think? Shall we get married?”
She gulped so loudly he must have heard it.
Then the front door opened. And Maddie woke up.
“Sorry. I didn’t know you were sleeping.”
“It’s okay, Dad,” Maddie said, gently rubbing her eyes, not yet wanting to erase her dream.
“How did the weekend go?” he asked.
“Fine. Great. Busy.” At least that was true.