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Authors: Maryanne O'Hara
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can get fitted for a diaphragm.”
He flushed at her use of the word. “Excuse me?”
“It will help us wait until the time is right.”
“Why would we want to wait?”
“Why are
you
in such a rush for a baby?”
The question took him by surprise. He opened his mouth then closed it again. But she could think of a dozen reasons. Because an immediate pregnancy said a lot about a man’s virility. Because he just plain wanted one. Because maybe, unconsciously, he feared she would indeed leave, like Abby had suggested. A child would tie her to him forever, they both knew that.
“We’re getting old,” he said. “I’m thirty-three. I don’t think it’s smart to wait. When my mother died, she died worrying about me, worried that I was wasting my time waiting around for you.”
Dez looked away. “That sounds so bitter.”
“Well, you were always breezing in and out of town, and she was always reminding me that my uncle Nat and his wife waited too long, and then, when they tried, it was too late. And I think for the number of times we’ve done it—” He flushed again. “For the number of times, something should have happened. I think something’s wrong. I think you need to see Dr. Proulx.”
“It’s common for first children to take their time coming, you know.”
“No, I don’t know.”
“There’s nothing wrong, Asa.”
The telephone rang, two quick jangling rings. Neither of them moved to get it.
It rang again.
She listened to his footsteps across the carpet, the hallway, the linoleum, the persistent double jangle, his hello.
Zeke, it sounded like he was talking to Zeke.
A rainy breeze blew in through the window and she turned to it, wanting to turn herself into it, into something that could float out a window. The hard rain had turned misty, a veil thrown over the night. Hairline cracks of lightning etched the sky, one after another like new constellations until one turned rigid and blasted bright for a full few seconds. The room lit up, catching the gleam and luster of Portia’s casket, high on its shelf.
A child will make a difference in your life
.
“That’s the truth,” she said aloud. And thunder dropped like a boulder inreply. It shook the house, the plates on the table, it turned the radio to static. She backed reflexively into the doorway, looking around as if she might see a ghost.
Dad?
Was this some kind of sign? That her deception was wrong, her glass thermometer, hidden in her bedside drawer, was wrong?
Of course it was.
And there was her answer: the least she could do was be honest, tell him the truth, tell him there was nothing wrong, that she had been keeping charts. He would simply have to accept that she wasn’t ready, give her a few months.
She walked into the kitchen with determination, with a cleansed and contented conscience. When the end of September came, when Jacob left, life would be grim enough. She would revisit the idea of a baby in the fall.
6
A sa was standing by the telephone box, the receiver still in his hand, looking at it with disbelief.
“That was Zeke,” he said. “He said it’s official. The legislature has passed the bill, it’ll be in the Boston papers tomorrow.”
It took a moment for Dez to comprehend the news, to grasp it and grasp at straws at the same time. “The project could still stall.”
“No, they’re pushing on. For some reason, it’s all speeding up. Now they’re on course to make a decision on which valley, us or Whistling Falls. Zeke’s called a special town meeting for next Wednesday.”
He was dazed-looking, but only in the way of someone who was quickly taking stock of his situation. “Why did I let people doubt me? We’ve been waiting around for months, and haven’t I been saying right from the start that we should have been fighting this thing so that Cascade would never end up as an option like this? Wasn’t that my instinct?” In January, Asa had tried to organize a protest trip to the State House, but
He flushed at her use of the word. “Excuse me?”
“It will help us wait until the time is right.”
“Why would we want to wait?”
“Why are
you
in such a rush for a baby?”
The question took him by surprise. He opened his mouth then closed it again. But she could think of a dozen reasons. Because an immediate pregnancy said a lot about a man’s virility. Because he just plain wanted one. Because maybe, unconsciously, he feared she would indeed leave, like Abby had suggested. A child would tie her to him forever, they both knew that.
“We’re getting old,” he said. “I’m thirty-three. I don’t think it’s smart to wait. When my mother died, she died worrying about me, worried that I was wasting my time waiting around for you.”
Dez looked away. “That sounds so bitter.”
“Well, you were always breezing in and out of town, and she was always reminding me that my uncle Nat and his wife waited too long, and then, when they tried, it was too late. And I think for the number of times we’ve done it—” He flushed again. “For the number of times, something should have happened. I think something’s wrong. I think you need to see Dr. Proulx.”
“It’s common for first children to take their time coming, you know.”
“No, I don’t know.”
“There’s nothing wrong, Asa.”
The telephone rang, two quick jangling rings. Neither of them moved to get it.
It rang again.
She listened to his footsteps across the carpet, the hallway, the linoleum, the persistent double jangle, his hello.
Zeke, it sounded like he was talking to Zeke.
A rainy breeze blew in through the window and she turned to it, wanting to turn herself into it, into something that could float out a window. The hard rain had turned misty, a veil thrown over the night. Hairline cracks of lightning etched the sky, one after another like new constellations until one turned rigid and blasted bright for a full few seconds. The room lit up, catching the gleam and luster of Portia’s casket, high on its shelf.
A child will make a difference in your life
.
“That’s the truth,” she said aloud. And thunder dropped like a boulder inreply. It shook the house, the plates on the table, it turned the radio to static. She backed reflexively into the doorway, looking around as if she might see a ghost.
Dad?
Was this some kind of sign? That her deception was wrong, her glass thermometer, hidden in her bedside drawer, was wrong?
Of course it was.
And there was her answer: the least she could do was be honest, tell him the truth, tell him there was nothing wrong, that she had been keeping charts. He would simply have to accept that she wasn’t ready, give her a few months.
She walked into the kitchen with determination, with a cleansed and contented conscience. When the end of September came, when Jacob left, life would be grim enough. She would revisit the idea of a baby in the fall.
6
A sa was standing by the telephone box, the receiver still in his hand, looking at it with disbelief.
“That was Zeke,” he said. “He said it’s official. The legislature has passed the bill, it’ll be in the Boston papers tomorrow.”
It took a moment for Dez to comprehend the news, to grasp it and grasp at straws at the same time. “The project could still stall.”
“No, they’re pushing on. For some reason, it’s all speeding up. Now they’re on course to make a decision on which valley, us or Whistling Falls. Zeke’s called a special town meeting for next Wednesday.”
He was dazed-looking, but only in the way of someone who was quickly taking stock of his situation. “Why did I let people doubt me? We’ve been waiting around for months, and haven’t I been saying right from the start that we should have been fighting this thing so that Cascade would never end up as an option like this? Wasn’t that my instinct?” In January, Asa had tried to organize a protest trip to the State House, but
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