spilled garbage. He put the pregnancy test aside and went back to picking up the trash. Something about the mundane task soothed him. By the time the floor was clean, he felt calmer, although too many thoughts and emotions still filled his head. He poured a glass of chocolate milk and went to find Dena.
She was curled up, sleeping, on the couch. Moving slowly so he wouldn’t wake her, he sat down and placed her head on his lap. Ever so softly, he stroked her hair, gently pulling his fingers through the silky blond strands. She stirred, and her eyes blinked open.
“I’m sorry,” he said as she sat up. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“’S okay. If I sleep now, I won’t be able to at bedtime.”
He took the glass of milk from the table he’d put it on and gave it to her. She sighed a happy sigh and took a sip.
“Thank you.”
“I didn’t know if it’d make you sick.”
“No. I’ve been craving milk.”
“In that case, I’ll get you more when you finish that.”
She smiled at him, a bit hesitantly, and drank some more.
He waited until she’d finished half the glass before asking, “How late are you?”
She wiped away the remnants of a milk mustache but missed a tiny bit at the corner of her mouth. He thumbed it away.
“Week and a half,” she said in answer to his question.
That long and she hadn’t said anything? He knew her periods were usually as regular as clockwork. If she was ten days late, he thought there was very little chance it was a false positive. His stomach knotted, but he did his best to push those feeling aside and focus on her. She’d set her glass down, so he took her hand.
“I’m in a bit of shock right now,” he said. “The very last thing I expected to find in the dumped-out garbage was a pregnancy test.”
Her eyes searched his. “Much less a positive one.”
“Yes. So I’m going to need some time to work out this news in my head. But, Dena.” He cupped her chin. “We’re in this together. I’m here for you. For you both.”
She nodded and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Thank you.”
“It’s just … Wow.” He still didn’t think he could form the words. “A baby.”
“I know,” she whispered.
The night grew silent around them. He didn’t know how it would all work out, how they would make room in their very content and settled life for a child. He just knew they’d do it somehow.
Dena couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. No matter how often she told herself she was making it up, she never felt at peace with the pregnancy. She was nearly twenty weeks along, and the feeling had only grown worse lately.
Jeff, of course, had been wonderful, once he came around to the whole idea of fatherhood. Now he was fully engaged, scouring the Internet for baby names, making sure she got plenty of rest, and taking time off work to go with her to the doctor’s office. She had thought he’d propose since she was pregnant, but so far he hadn’t brought marriage up. He was probably waiting on her, looking and waiting for some signal she’d be receptive.
Her second-trimester ultrasound was in a few weeks. They were both looking forward to it. They’d decided not to find out if they were having a boy or a girl, though Jeff insisted it was a girl.
She rubbed her belly. As long as the baby was healthy, that was all she cared about. She frowned. Had long had it been since she felt movement? Should she lie down and see if she could feel something?
A quick glance at the kitchen clock told her Jeff would be home soon. He worked only half days on Saturday and said he’d stop weekend work altogether once the baby came. She decided to make a few sandwiches so they’d be ready when he got home. Food would probably wake the baby up and get it moving around. That would make her feel better. Plus, she had something she’d wanted to discuss with Jeff, and sitting down to lunch with him would give her a chance to do it. She could lie down later in the afternoon.
He walked into the house right as she finished the sandwiches. As always, she was his first stop. He met her with a sexy smile, hooked a finger through the metal loop in her collar, and captured her lips in a kiss.
“You made lunch,” he said when he pulled back. “Any particular reason?”
Normally he did all the cooking, especially since certain smells had made her queasy in her first trimester. Plus, she didn’t cook.
“It’s just sandwiches.”
He raised an eyebrow.
Damn man. It was like he could read her mind. “Yes, Sir. There’s something I’d like to discuss.” Hopefully, the ‘Sir’ would give him an idea of what.
They’d had sex since finding out she was pregnant, but he’d been so gentle, he treated her like she was fragile glass. On top of that, they hadn’t been in the playroom at all since the positive test turned up.
She saw the desire flash in his eyes and knew he missed it just as much as she did.
“Well, now, Angel, why don’t you set the table while I change and we can talk over lunch.”
His use of her nickname made her heart race and her knees tremble. “Yes, Sir.”
He kissed her hard and quick before walking to the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. He didn’t look at the closed door to the playroom, but surely he was thinking about it as he passed.
That’s when the first sharp pain pierced her belly. She had turned to grab the plates from the countertop, and instead she had to grip it to steady herself. But it passed, and she moved to pick them up when the second hit. It hurt so badly, they slipped from her hands. The plates fell to the ground and shattered. She doubled over, not caring about the broken glass, just wanting the pain to end.
“Dena?” Jeff called from the bedroom. “Everything okay?”
“I’m fine. Just dropped a dish,” she called back, hoping she sounded convincing. “Just fine,” she added in a whisper.
For what seemed like forever, she stood, hunched over and breathing deeply through the pain. When it subsided, she timidly walked to the kitchen table and sat down.
Everything’s okay, she told herself. Just twisted the wrong way. She’d just sit here for a minute; then she’d get the broom and clean the floor. And Jeff would be hungry; she needed to get the sandwiches.
Just the thought of food made her feel queasy, but this queasy was different from before. Before it hadn’t made her heart race and her body feel clammy all over. A wave of nausea swept over her, and she jumped up and ran down the hall, hoping she would make it in time.
“Are you okay?” Jeff asked as she pushed by him in the hall.
She couldn’t talk, couldn’t open her mouth. Almost there. Almost there, she repeated in her head.
Finally making it to the bathroom, she jerked the door open, slammed it behind her, and reached the toilet just in time.
“Dena!” Jeff pounded on the door. “What’s wrong? Let me in!”
He couldn’t see her like this. She took some toilet paper and wiped her mouth. “No. Go away.”
The pain hit her stomach again. She groaned and rocked back and forth, hoping that would help make it subside.
The pounding on the door continued. “I swear to God, Dena, open this door or I’ll bust it down!”
She crawled to the door and opened it. Jeff rushed in, took one look at her, and fell to his knees.
“What do I do? Where does it hurt?” His hands ran over her body, looking for a way to fix everything, to make everything better.
Hot tears filled her eyes. Oh, Jeff. I’m sorry.
There was no fixing this.
The grief was overwhelming. Jeff felt it dragging him under, and he was unable to stop it. Every so often, he would float to the top and see Dena drowning in her own sea of sorrow, but he wasn’t strong enough to reach her. Much less rescue her.
It was his fault, he knew, for not being excited about the baby in the first place. If he’d only embraced Dena’s pregnancy from the start inst
ead of being uncertain and worried. Maybe then he wouldn’t be mourning his firstborn child. Their daughter. His perfect little girl who had never opened her eyes in this world before passing into the next.