Chapter 10
Karissa
It’s Mother’s Day.
Last night, Cody handed me a Bible. An early gift, he’d said. I told him I wasn’t a mom yet, but he argued that. Told me not to say it again.
This morning, the first thing he said when he saw me was “Happy Mother’s Day.”
Despite telling me not to think that way, I still felt weird saying thanks. I still don’t really believe I deserve it, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.
I follow Maureen and Addison down the church hall and into a side room. The first thing I see is a pink balloon with a cartoon baby and Congrats! printed across it in bubble letters. Then my eyes land on a table covered in baby gifts and essentials with even more bags and boxes tucked underneath.
Behind it stands a group of women from church, some I recognize and others I don’t. All different ages, all smiling.
“Surprise!” they say in unison.
I freeze. And then I bawl. Ella had told me just last week not to stress. She had baby things from Cora she’d pass along when the time came. I believed her. I wasn’t worried. But I never expected this.
Everyone laughs at me, but the warm kind of laughter—soft and full of joy. I feel a hand on my back and turn toward Maureen, who wraps me in a motherly hug. The kind of hug I’d been needing and didn’t even realize.
“You deserve this,” she whispers.
That makes me cry harder.
The door opens again and Ella walks in, holding Cora on her hip. “Aw, I missed the big surprise!”
I then turn to Addison and Ella, hugging them both tight.
“Thank you,” I manage, though the words feel too small for how full my heart is.
I sit and Maureen starts handing me things to open. It’s slightly overwhelming. I don’t even know what some of the items are for, but I’m grateful for all of it. It’s also a nice reminder that I’m not doing any of this alone. I’m surrounded by mothers and women of all ages.
* * *
Cody’s entire family helps carry all the baby things into the guest cabin. I’m already making a mental list of how I’ll organize it all; there’s plenty to keep me busy. Cody still insists I stay with him until she’s born, though.
“I’m going to go spend some time with Mom, if you’re wanting to organize?” he says not long after everyone leaves and we’re left staring at the huge mess spread across the living room.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I say, gesturing toward the piles. For the last few hours, I’d almost forgotten it was Mother’s Day.
“Don’t do too much,” he warns. “There’s a decent-sized bathtub down the hall. Take a bubble bath or something, read a book. Just…get off your feet for a while. It was a busy day.”
I can’t help but smirk.
“What?” He straightens, like he’s bracing for an answer.
I shrug. “Nothing. You’re just…not who I thought you’d be.”
“And who might that have been?” He crosses his arms and steps just a hair closer to lean against the kitchen counter.
He looks at me with those brown eyes, his smile threatening to grow wider, but he won’t allow it.
“I don’t know. You’re just being really nice is all.”
He shakes his head and laughs, pushing off the counter, “Karissa, I’m gonna find your ex one day, and let’s just say…it’s not gonna be a good day for him,” he jokes, making his way to the door.
And I just laugh.
* * *
“So you and Wesley…you guys serious?” I ask, glancing over at Addison from the passenger seat.
We’re headed to one of my doctor’s appointments. She offered to take me since everyone else is tied up working on her cabin today.
It’s the last one to go up on the family property—makes sense, her being the youngest. Still, I think it’s pretty cool.
Everyone having their own place, all tucked into this land they’ve always called home.
There’s a rootedness to it I can’t even wrap my head around.
Being this close to your family, physically and emotionally.
Having people show up for you like it’s no big deal. Like it’s just what you do.
That’s never been my reality.
Addison smiles, blushes even, but her eyes stay on the road. “Yeah. Definitely plan on getting married one day.”
I clear my throat. “That’s exciting. Will he move in with you once your cabin is done, or are you wanting to live alone for a while first?”
She glances at me, eyebrows raised a little. “Oh, no. He wouldn’t move in until we’re married.”
“Oh.” I nod, trying not to feel stupid. “Right. That makes sense.”
Of course it does. I don’t know why I asked. I guess not everyone grew up the way I did, watching people move in and out of each other’s lives and bedrooms like it was nothing. Commitment wasn’t sacred, it was just…convenient. Something to do until it stopped being fun.
But Addison’s not like that. Neither is Wesley, and neither is this entire family.
I stare out the window, then sigh as I reflect back on my life. “You know, you’re better off doing that. Don’t be like me and get knocked up by some lowlife you’re only in love with because the sex was good.”
“Karissa!” She practically chokes.
“What?” I laugh. “I’m just being real.”
“I appreciate that but…” She laughs. “Definitely don’t need to hear any more information.”
Her innocence is the cutest thing. I want to wrap her in bubble wrap. Protect her from everything the world could throw at her.
* * *
Addison and I ended up stopping at the store and then grabbing dinner after my appointment. It was nice to get to know her more. She’s super sweet and loves to talk, especially about Wesley, which is so cute.
Cody asked how my appointment went when I got back. I told him it was good, my blood pressure’s still a little high, but they just told me to take it easy and watch for the signs of preeclampsia.
Now he’s upstairs, working out. All I hear is loud music and weights dropping to the ground every so often.
While he’s doing that, and I’m alone, I pick up the Bible he got me from its spot on the coffee table and sit on the couch.
One of the dogs—Rosco, I think—comes and lays his head on top of my thigh.
I pet him for a minute until he walks off and lays down on the corner of the rug.
I sit back on the couch and open up to a random page and start reading.
A few minutes go by and my brain feels like soup. I don’t understand what I’m even reading.
The music upstairs cuts off, and a moment later I hear Cody’s footsteps coming down. He’s a little out of breath, the ends of his hair damp, his shirt clinging in spots where it’s wet with sweat, showcasing his muscles and ink.
He walks straight to the sink and gets a drink. No cup. Just leans down, mouth under the spigot.
Finally, he looks over at me, hands on his hips, still catching his breath. His eyes flick to my Bible, and his eyebrows lift. “Oh, cool. You’re reading it.”
“Trying…” I mutter, looking back at the tiny print.
“Well, if you have questions, let me know. I’m gonna shower and grab something to eat before bed, but I’ll be up for a while. Just…come in.”
“Okay. I will.” I give him a soft smile, watching as he heads toward the bathroom—only for him to turn back again.
“You eat?”
“Yeah.”
“Enough?” His brow arches, like he’s already guessing the answer.
I laugh. “Yes. I’m full. Promise.”
“Just making sure.” He nods and disappears around the corner.
I keep reading, still trying to make sense of all these names—who’s going where, why, and with who. After a few more lines, I give up and flip to another random page instead.
Closing my eyes, I murmur, “Okay…show me a page I need to read right now.”
When I open them, my finger’s landed on Matthew. Okay, that’s a promising name. I can get on board with that. The book I was in before I couldn’t even pronounce…something like eucalyptus, or escalators. I don’t know. Whatever E-c-c-l-e-s-i-a-s-t-e-s spells.
The bathroom door opens a few minutes later. Cody comes out, towel around his waist and no shirt, his hair wet and pushed back.
“Wait, Cody.” I stop him before he reaches his room.
“Hmm?” He turns toward me and comes closer.
I point to the Matthew scripture that has me newly flabbergasted and read it to him. “It says if your hands, feet, or eyes cause you to sin…that you should cut them off and throw them in fire.” I look back to him.
He laughs softly. “It’s not being literal.”
“But it doesn’t even say anything in the footnotes. It doesn’t say it’s not being literal; it says—”
“Trust me. We don’t have to amputate any of our body parts tonight.”
“Then why would it say that?” I press. “Like, why phrase it that way? That’s terrifying. Wrong person—barely educated, like me—reads that…we could have a problem.”
He chuckles but walks closer. “It’s meant to make a point,” he says. “That sin is serious. That you don’t let it fester. You cut it off at the source. It’s to show us how far we should be willing to go to protect our souls.”
I glance back down, rereading the words. ”Okay. But why not just say that?”
He laughs again. “Because Jesus didn’t sugarcoat things. He said what needed to be said.”
“Oh.” I look back at the scripture.
“Any more questions?”
“Not right now.”
“Alright, then I’m making a sandwich and heading to bed. Night.” He disappears to get dressed.
“Night,” I reply as I carefully underline the verse I almost took way too seriously.