Allowing her privacy, I ambled to the sunny bank of windows flanking the bed. The view was astounding. A thread of sandbars stitched the waterway to the ocean, and invisible breezes plucked whitecaps from the water like tufts of seagull feathers.
On the patio below, Betty napped in the sun while the puppies milled around and Eileen helped Adam set the table. The windowpane muted her animated chatter, but as I watched, she grabbed his arm for emphasis and a moment later he mussed her hair. Old buddies already.
“Cara? I hate to be nosy, but didn’t your doctor at least check for anything unusual when you told him you weren’t as far along as he thought?”
“It took me so long to go see her . . . she assumed I’d mistaken spotting for my last couple of periods. I was too scared to tell her that I hadn’t had . . . ” her voice was muffled, and then clear again, “ . . . wouldn’t have believed me, anyway.
“I really needed Trent. But I had to send a letter because wherever he was, he wasn’t allowed to call or use a computer. And I was afraid to be specific because I knew they’d read it . . . ” Her voice dropped to a whisper so faint it barely made it out of the closet, “I don’t even know if he ever got it.”
“I’m so sorry, Cara.” I hated to press, but needed more, “At least you had Adam. Did he ever go with you to the doctor?” She didn’t answer, and not being able to see her face, I hurried to explain. “Y’all were joking about the sex of the baby. Didn’t the amniocentesis tell you anything? I mean, if the doctor thinks you’re eight months along, wouldn’t she have done a test a while ago? Isn’t that still standard?”
Cara came out, dressed, but with a sheen of tears under her lashes. “I didn’t want the test done. I was afraid of what it might show . . . and it’s easier not knowing for sure. I told Dr. Klein that I had a religious objection to the test—and ultrasounds.” Her mouth twisted. “I’m crazy, right?”
I shook my head, reconsidering the petite young woman in front of me. “Not at all. You’re brave. Shockingly brave.”
She blushed, and another growling gurgle filled the room. “Ugh. Junior’s getting impatient. Time to waddle downstairs.”
In the hall, we passed a closed door. A guest room maybe? I was curious since Adam had designed the house, but didn’t want to be rude and ask for a tour. Maybe she’d offer later if she felt well enough to walk around. She seemed to be doing pretty well, all things considered, and I wondered why Adam had implied she wasn’t. Of course, I was only witnessing a short scene in her life, whereas Adam saw the entire show. She might’ve had a rough morning, poor thing.
I moved ahead as we reached the landing. “Let me walk first, just in case.”
“I don’t know . . . you’re tall, but I’m—”
“I’m stronger than I look, and I’m not about to let a pregnant woman fall.” I took each step first, sideways with a firm grip on her elbow, and as we reached the bottom, Eileen spied us through the French doors.
Opening them, she welcomed us onto the patio. “Hi, Mom! I missed you! Hi, Cara! I’m Eileen!” Her voice was pitched high and excited—clearly she’d been having a fabulous time with the dogs—and Adam.
“Missed you, too! Sorry we were upstairs so long, but Ms. Cara needs lots of rest.” Maybe I needed to compromise on the addressing-your-elders thing. Adam didn’t seem to care, and Cara was most likely too young to care. Based on her brother’s picture, if he was seven years older, she was probably only about twenty-six.
“It’s nice to meet you, Eileen! You can call me Cara—if your mom doesn’t mind.”
Guess I was officially old now.
Adam waved us over to the table and chairs, where he’d started to serve big platters of grilled vegetables, veggie patties, buns and all the fixings. Festive yellow napkins were beside each plate, and a pitcher of lemonade was perched within easy reach. He was so domestic!
“Anything I can do?”
“Nope. Eileen was a huge help. We’re a good team, huh?” He tousled her hair again, and she beamed. In another year, she’d hate for someone to mess with her hair, but right now, she basked in the attention. The attention of a father-like figure. Ouch.
“You okay, Mom?” Eileen was too perceptive to my moods.
“Yep. Hungry! It all looks so good . . . ”
Her eyebrow twitched, but she bit her lip and chewed on a smile instead of calling me out on my lie. I braced myself, but didn’t have to wait long. As soon as everyone had taken their first bites, she piped up.
More to Chew On
“This is fun being with people. Usually it’s only me and Mom.” Eileen nibbled at a strip of zucchini, then, as if struck with inspiration, pointed it at me. “Next time we should invite that guy! You liked him, right?”
That kid. Of course, maybe she’d done me a favor.
After I shot her a look that said we were going to revisit this at home, I answered, “He was nice . . . ” I looked at Cara, who seemed dismayed by the forkful of food on its way to her mouth. “What did you think?”
“I didn’t like him.”
But it wasn’t Adam’s opinion that I wanted. “About your age, right, Cara? Ever seen him around?” I widened my eyes in what I thought was an innocent expression, and Eileen’s head swiveled to watch her answer.
Cara chewed and swallowed. “No . . . ”
“That sounds more like a yes.” Adam was watching her now, too.
“He reminded me of someone . . . ?” Her forehead dented with a frown as she poked her fork into a large potato wedge.
“Who?” Leave it
