“You don’t keep track?”
No. “It’s not like I have sex all the time,” I said. Until recently. Until Eric.
My sister was diplomatically silent.
Oh. My stomach lurched again. Not the ice cream. Not a stomach bug. Ohno.
CHAPTER 26
Meg
The cashier at the drugstore glanced at the pregnancy test before putting it in the bag. “Good luck, dear,” she said, her tone nicely balanced between congratulations (in case I wanted to be pregnant) and sympathy (in case I didn’t).
“Thank you. Happy New Year,” I said, and hurried to the car.
I’d wanted to spare my sister the awkwardness of running into anybody we knew. Jo was waiting for me at home. Getting started on dinner, she had explained to John when he invited her to go with him and the twins to the park. I’d bought a spiral-cut ham, figuring it would be no work. But Jo was determined to prepare the traditional New Year’s Day dinner. For luck.“Rice for riches, peas for pennies, collards for dollars, corn bread for gold,”our mother would say. Jo had promised to bring a plate to her tomorrow.
Along with the news that she was going to be a grandmother again?
I went in the kitchen door. Jo was stirring a big pot of greens on the stove. “Just like Momma’s,” I said.
“I made collards and corn bread for staff dinner once,” Jo said. “For Eric.”
I nodded. I didn’t know what to say.
Jo’s chin raised. “Right.” She wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Let’s do this thing.”
I pulled the pregnancy test from the bag. “It’s supposed to be most accurate first thing in the morning.”
She ripped the box open. “I have to know now.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
Jo smiled crookedly. “I can pee by myself,” she said in a fair imitation of Daisy. She grabbed a wrapped stick and marched with it into the downstairs powder room.
I remembered taking my pregnancy test, getting up extra early so John would be home to share the results. The anticipation. Our joy when those two little lines appeared.
My poor sister. She’d been in the bathroom a long time. I glanced at the clock. Longer than three minutes.
The back door opened and John walked in, bringing the twins and the cold air with him. And the dog. And...
“Trey!” I said, dismayed.
“Hey, Meg. Happy New Year.” He bent to kiss my cheek, smelling of the outdoors and deodorant and rather pleasantly of sweat.
I looked over his shoulder at John, who had the grace to look a little shame-faced. “He was running in the park. I asked him back for a beer. Not for dinner,” he added.
“Unless you want to invite me,” Trey said.
“Of course, you... That is, I...” I kneeled, hiding my confusion by helping DJ out of his coat.
“Do I smell corn bread?” Trey asked.
“Corn bread, yes. In the oven.” I busied myself with Daisy’s zipper. “Jo made it.”
“Meg.” John was staring at the kitchen island, the open drugstore bag, the distinctive pink box with the top ripped off. “What’s this?”
It was obvious. Even if he didn’t remember the box, the lettering was clearly visible on the side: First Response Early Result Pregnancy Test.
