I smile sadly at him. “Me neither.”
With a sigh, he leans in and kisses my temple. “I guess if we took my grandfather’s money, we could start looking for a house right away.”
“I guess we could,” I answer neutrally, slowly rotating the cup between my palms.
The sound of traffic in the distance fills the space between us until he says, “The girls could have their own rooms.”
“They could.”
“And there’d still be enough left over for college funds.”
“And for things like braces,” I add.
“And a new roof for this house,” he says, sounding resigned.
The night’s noises engulf us again as he blows on his own cup of ponche. Before it makes it to his lips though, he puts it back on the table with a clunk. “Am I crazy for not wanting to take the money? For wishing we could do everything on our own?”
“No, not at all.”
“I just feel like all the years that I’ve been pinching pennies would be for nothing. It took me so long to save that money.”
“Well, it’s not like we’re going to make a bonfire with it here in the back yard, Scott. You could use it for something you want, like a new truck.”
He blows out a breath laced with amusement. “That’s a low blow, Opal. You know how much I’d love that.”
“And it’s practical. The girls aren’t going to fit in the one you have for much longer.”
He groans. “Do you have to be so logical about this?”
Resting my head on his shoulder, I let the love I feel for him suffuse me from head to toe. “Well, I have to maintain my reputation as Sister Opal, the Wise. It’s one of the reasons you love me.”
He lowers his head to rest on mine. “Yes, it is,” he says and I can hear the smile in his voice. “One of too many to count.”
Scott - Seven years later
Seemingly engrossed in the stormy weather, Ellie stares out into our back yard. The rain-streaked glass of the patio door and the grey sky beyond serve to frame her profile from head to toe as she absently strokes the ear of our black lab cross, Lucy.
Lucy’s tail gives a few happy thumps against the carpet, announcing my presence before she comes to say hello. Ellie turns and I watch a gentle spark ignite in her tired eyes and bring a touch of color to her slightly-off pallor. After all these years, she’s still happy to see me. “You’re home early,” she says, her palm circling her belly as she smiles.
After a few cursory pats for the dog, I cross the room, my gaze roving over my beautiful wife, trying to assess everything from her state of mind to her level of exhaustion.
“Stop that,” she says softly, amusement tinging her tone. “I’m pregnant, not dying.”
Leaning in, I nuzzle her neck and inhale her scent before I finally kiss her sweet lips. “You’re supposed to be resting,” I accuse, but there’s no heat to my words as my hands slide down to rest on her very pregnant belly. “How are you feeling today, Mrs. McCarthy?”
She waves the question away with a casual hand as if to say it is what it is. My poor Ellie has had a rough pregnancy, plagued for the duration by morning sickness and insomnia.
I change tack. “How’s my son feeling today?” Just saying the words has me grinning from ear-to-ear like a fool. I can’t believe our baby is a boy. After living my entire life surrounded by women – because even the dog is female – I was one hundred percent certain we would have a girl. I was happy and so very excited at the prospect until the doctor threw me for a loop by announcing it was a boy. My stunned reaction of ‘Are you sure?’ had made Ellie laugh.
“He’s restless,” she says, guiding my hand higher to feel what can only be a heel jabbing at his mother’s abdomen. It evokes the same emotions in me that it always does; wonder and concern. I spent so little time with Lolita when she was pregnant, so everything is new and awe-inspiring this time around. And a bit stressful. I feel irrationally guilty for even suggesting the idea of having a baby in the first place. Ellie and I had been content with the girls until I opened my big mouth.
“He’s not the only one who’s restless,” I say, giving her a pointed look. “A little birdie tells me you haven’t been following the doctor’s orders.”
“A little birdie named Carmen?” she asks with a touch of exasperation.
“Maybe. But I got texts from Daniela and Rosa, too. They all worry about you. You know that.”
Ellie’s always been able to maintain a positive relationship with the girls, probably because she’s not into boundary setting or rule enforcement. Ellie and I hit a few rough patches in the first few years; I didn’t like always having to be the bad guy while she thought I needed to chill out more. Eventually we found our groove. Since all three of our girls are still in one piece, living at home, working toward college and not pregnant as far as I know, I’m going to say our groove has been successful.
Their three personalities all developed along the lines that were pretty much set from birth. Carmen, who’ll be sixteen in a few weeks, continues to be the most reasonable. Daniela has managed to push every button I have and then some. She’s even tried Ellie’s patience a time or two. And my sweet little Rosa, who’s now fourteen, falls in somewhere between her two sisters. In my honest opinion, I think she’s been observing everyone for so long that she now knows exactly what does and doesn’t work to get her own way. I have the feeling my battles with my daughter haven’t even started yet.
Ellie grimaces slightly, pulling me from my thoughts. “Why don’t we sit down?” I suggest, sliding my arm around her back.
“I’m just uncomfortable,” she says in protest, though she lets me guide her to the loveseat where she’s got a nest of sorts set up. Now that she’s supposed to be on bedrest, she spends most of her time here in the rec room which is currently decorated to the gills for Christmas. With its many windows and view of the yard, it’s her favorite room in the house.
We took my grandfather’s money. Of course we did. Though we didn’t go crazy and buy a mansion, we didn’t hold back either; each kid has her own bedroom, there’s a pool, and it’s in a great neighborhood. And best of all, we’ve been happy here.
Settling into her spot, she sighs, though it sounds more like with resignation than relief. With only ten days left, I don’t know which of us is more eager for the baby’s arrival.
I sit beside her, carefully pulling the throw blanket over us both and she lays her head on my shoulder. “I hear your mother made an appearance earlier,” I say.
She gives a hum laced with amusement. “It was fine. She means well.”
I snort. “I’m surprised she deigned to drive the fifty minutes out here, let alone step foot in the house.” Ellie’s mom never liked where or how we chose to live, our middling existence far below her hopes for her daughter. Though I’ll admit to developing a deeper appreciation for her perspective every time I meet one of Daniela’s boyfriends.
Ellie shrugs, conceding the point. “I appreciate her effort. She says she just came to drop off the Christmas presents, but I think she’s secretly excited about the baby. She’s not as appalled about becoming a grandmother as she’d like us to believe.”