I nod, feeling too numb to say anything, or cry, or do anything other than stare at the image on the screen of two little blobs moving around in there. Everything about my poorly thought-out plan comes crashing down in this moment. Lying about one secret baby was bad enough, but I can’t bring myself to keep on lying abouttwo.
The ultrasound finished up, I stay to do a few more tests and bloodwork. Dr. Gideon says that everything else looks great. She adjusts my due date a bit, tells me a few of the risks associated with carrying multiple babies at once, and how it can raise the chance of an early delivery. She gives me a few vitamin samples, a few more words of sage advice, and then sends me on my way until my next appointment.
“Dr. Gideon,” I ask just as I am about to leave her office. “Does this mean that I am going to gethuge?”
She stifles a chuckle and smiles. “Well, you’re certainly going to start lookingverypregnant very soon.”
Great.
By the time Sunday rolls back around again, I need to get out of my cottage before I go stir-crazy. I’ve done nothing but pace the inside perimeter of my bedroom, trying to figure out what to do. So, I take a quiet afternoon to go downtown and wander around in the village shops for a little while. Being around art always gets me out of my head. And it’s not like the problem won’t still be waiting for me when I get back home. I also decide that I will pick up some more paint colors, even though I still haven’t finished using the ones that I already bought. Painting always helps me deal with stress.
While there, I stop in the little shop with all of the miniature paintings and frames. It’s the same place where I bought the tiny frame for the ballerina painting that I made for Lilly. This time, the older woman who owns the shop walks over to me with a smile and asks me when I’m due.
There goes trying to hide this anymore.
Just as I am about to answer her, someone else comes into the shop and greets her by name. I’m grateful for the diversion of her attention so that I can get out of having to answer that question.
“Good morning, Lorna,” the other customer calls out. The woman turns and smiles at them.
So, this isLorna, the woman that Tom was talking about when I first wandered around the downtown shops. He said that she was the one who made her own paints—that’s impressive. And the colors that he had in his store were incredible. I wonder if she uses all of her own paints to make these miniature paintings. It would make sense. She seems old, wise, and very artistic.
The other customer starts talking and asking questions, and already seems pretty needy, so I slip away while I have the chance to go and look at some artwork over in the corner.
Lorna takes the cue and goes ahead to help the new customer, not returning to where I am standing until they have checked out and left her shop.
I really don’t want to tell this woman when I am due. I really want to avoid the whole issue of my pregnancy for the entire rest of the afternoon. It’s literallyallthat I’ve been thinking about and I need a break.
But there is something about Lorna that makes her seem approachable in a grandmotherly sort of way. The kind of grandmother who might be an ancestral spirit guide hiding up here all tucked away in the mountains—not the kind that sits crocheting in a nursing home. And suddenly, I find myself not only telling her my due date but also pouring out my whole story and situation to her. I have no idea what possesses me to be so upfront with this woman, and for some reason I don’t even stop to think that she might blab it to the rest of the town, including Chad. But at this point, there doesn’t seem much sense in hiding the matter further. It’s very obvious that I am pregnant.
“Oh dear,” she says when I finally stop talking to take a breath. She wraps a friendly arm around my shoulders and pats me gently on my back. “There, there—it’s a difficult situation that you found yourself in. I suppose sometimes life happens to us while we’re not paying attention, doesn’t it?”
I have no idea what that is supposed to mean, but it almost makes me feel a little bit calmer. Maybe it’s because she is a fellow artisan, or maybe she just seems more approachable than anyone else I’ve met. But something about standing here in the corner of her little shop and telling her my whole story, makes me break down into tears that I have been holding in for too long.Maybe it’s just because she gave me a hug.
“Come on,” she says. “Let me make you a cup of tea.”
I laugh, almost pitifully so, thinking about how many contemplative cups of tea I’ve had as I’ve tried to figure this out on my own.
But while she gives me the tea, she also gives me some advice.
I sit behind her desk with her, and thankfully the shop is quiet while we talk.
Just in case, she has flipped the sign to “closed” to ensure that there are no interruptions. I barely know this woman, and already I feel like she is the grandmother I never had.
“You say that you’re carrying twins, and I can see that’s quite obvious,” she says as the steam from her cup wafts up around her nostrils. “It’s all in the way that you’re carrying, makes it easy for me to tell. My great gran used to be a midwife and I have a knack for these things. And you say that the father is Chad? He is well-known here, even though he’s only been living in Asheville for a couple of years. He is the kind of man that has big ambitions and has already accomplished most of them but will still never quite be satisfied until he does more—seeks more. Story has it that he’s also a widower. That’s a pretty tough combination of things if you ask me.”
I sigh because she’s right. It’s all the same things that I’ve already been turning over in my mind. And it’s exactly the reason why I kept this pregnancy a secret from Chad.
But now that I know I’m carrying twins, it seems like an entirely different situation now. Not just for me and my ability to be able to care for two babies instead of one, but also the guilt involved in keeping the equivalent of two secrets instead of one. Denying him the right to knowtwoof his own children if I don’t tell him anything about it. I’m just not sure that I can go through with it.
“If you ask me,” Lorna continues. “You’re better off ditching the billionaire while you still can.”
I look at her sharply because that wasn’t at all what I expected her to say. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice guy and all, but he is still a billionaire. He will wind up resenting you for trapping him into a life that he didn’t want.”
“But it’s not like I’ve gone and gotten myself pregnant on purpose,” I say. “He played a large part in this too. I didn’t want to get pregnant yet.”
“Oh, I know dear, I know. But men don’t see it like that, especially notrichones. They’re always thinking that women are trying to latch onto them for money and security. Even though Chad is a nice guy, I can guarantee you that he would rather give up his money than his freedom.”
I can feel my face drop into a frown at what she said because it is entirely disheartening. It is the exact opposite of the fairytale that I think deep down I had still been hoping for.