As I pull away from her, she steps out of my embrace and lays the blanket on the grass. “Let’s sit, and you can tell me more about the moon.” Her smile reads mischievous, but I follow her down as we lay on our backs. Scarlett shifts to her side a little, taking the pressure off her spine, and places my hand over her belly. Sprout rolls around inside her.
“Hope he’s not getting any ideas to come early.”
My head turns, catching her eyes. “You’re still feeling okay, right?” I don’t want anything to happen to the baby, but I also don’t want anything to happen to her. I hate to feel as if I’m prioritizing, but if she lost the baby now, I’d give her another one. We’d try again. I won’t quit on her like I felt I quit on Jen. We’d just start over.
A sense of losing Scarlett when we were miles apart while she was suffering near Burlington and I was on my way to her really put things in perspective for me. I will do nothing that might risk losing her. I will not jinx what we have by proposing or asking for more. I don’t want us to lose where we’re at or where we’re going. I will keep my emotions in check in order to keep her by my side.
“So tell me more, moon-master,” she teases, interrupting my thoughts.
“Well, the word month comes from the term moon because of its phases lasting almost thirty days. Each month has a specific full moon name, did you know that?”
“I didn’t,” she admits, turning her head from mine to gaze up at the sky again. “So what moon is this one?”
“It’s late July, so this is the Buck Moon. It was termed by Native Americans for male deer who begin to regrow their antlers at this time. Sometimes, it’s also called the Hay Moon because it occurs around hay harvesting or a Thunder Moon because of all the thunderstorms that can occur in the summer heat.”
“That’s so interesting,” she says, still staring up at the sky as it turns darker as a backdrop to the yellow circle.
“There’s also a Strawberry Moon. It was back in June to celebrate strawberry season. Some cultures call it the Rose Moon, though, while others call it a Hot Moon because it marks the beginning of summer.”
Still watching the sky, Scarlett speaks. “My father called me Strawberry when I was little.” Her tone softens around the memory.
“Have you spoken to them?”
She squints at the sky. “I haven’t. And I don’t expect to, but I’m okay with it.” Her head rolls to face me again. “As long as I have your family, Bull, that’s all I’ll need. Your brothers are like the siblings I never had, and your father has been kinder to me in a matter of days than my parents have in my entire life.”
“They aren’t saints,” I remind her but smiling at her comfort with my kin.
“No, but they’re real. They’re not putting on a façade like my parents. Not asking me to play a charade.”
I nod to agree and decide I don’t want to discuss her parents. “Speaking of wolves, February was the Wolf Moon month.”
“Really? What moon was in March?”
“A Worm Moon.”
“Worms?”
I chuckle. “We prefer Sap Moon in these parts as it’s the time to tap trees for sap.”
“I think it should be renamed sperm moon.” She giggles at herself.
“Why?” I laugh.
“Because that’s when you got me pregnant.”
I laugh harder. She’s really on a roll tonight. “Well, the Egg Moon is actually in April, but that month is also called the Pink Moon for wildflowers or sprouting grass.”
“Sprout has a moon.” Scarlett smiles. “I like that as that’s my birth month, though.” Guilt hits me that the month of April I hadn’t known Scarlett was still in Vermont, and I missed her birthday.
“As an October baby, my moon is the Hunter Moon. It’s the preferred month for hunting. It’s a particularly bright moon that month.”
Scarlett still watches me as I describe these moon names, absorbing all I tell her. “So, you’re a hunter?”
“I’ve been known to go out on occasion, but it’s been a while.”
Scarlett perches up on an elbow, glancing down on me. “No, you’re a hunter. You go after what you want.” Her eyes meet mine, trying to tell me something, but she doesn’t explain what she sees.
“I have something for you,” she says as she bites her lower lip. Her face nearly glows with excitement.
“What?” I tease, finding the gleam in her eyes contagious. She pulls two envelopes from her dress pocket, and I wonder how I missed those inside her clothing. She holds them both upright. One is pink and one is blue.
“Pick one.”
“Is this a test?” I question, playing along with her. We’ve been referring to Sprout as him, but he could just as easily be a she. For a moment, I picture waves of red curls running through this field, giggling as I chase a little one in cowboy boots and ruffles to the fort off in the trees. I’ll need to reinforce that thing before any child of mine climbs up to the platform. Snatching the pink one from her fingers, I ask, “Are you trying to tell me something with these?”
“Yes.” Her voice drops a little, and I stare up at her.
“Did you find out about the baby’s sex?” We had agreed to wait unless it was obvious with her next ultrasound. However, the doctor warned the amniocentesis test would tell us the DNA of our baby, thus revealing the gender.
“Like a gender reveal? No, this isn’t something like that.” She smiles to reassure me.
“But you know I’d be just as happy with a little girl as I would a boy,” I say. She smiles larger.
“I know, Bull.”
“As long as he or she is healthy, that’s all I really want.” And if the baby isn’t perfect by some societal imposed standard, Scarlett and I will love Sprout no less.
“I know, honey.” She nods at the envelope in my hand. Opening it, I pull out a thick set of folded papers. The top line reads divorce decree. My eyes blur as I attempt to read the remainder of the page.
“What is this?” I ask with a shaky voice, although I should recognize it. I have one of these myself with Jennifer.
“It’s my divorce. It’s over with Shelton.” I drop the papers and sit up, forcing her back and kissing her hard. Our mouths fuse, and my tongue surges forward. I don’t think I realized how relieved I’d be once her divorce was final. It’s over. She’s really free of him. She’s free to be mine.
The thought pulls me back from her, although I still grin a goofy smile of relief.
“And what’s in the other envelope?” My voice shakes as I think I know what’s inside.
Scarlett holds it to her chest while I perch over her, balancing on an elbow to keep my weight off her.
“No matter what it says in here, you’re Sprout’s father. In my heart. In his heart. You will be his dad.” She tips the envelope at me. “I haven’t opened it.”
Nodding, I take the slim form from her and peel back the flap. My heart races as I pull a paper from the envelope and open it next. Again, my vision blurs as I scan the numbers and the explanation until I find what I need.