For a baby.
Ababy.
Ourbaby?
The smile starts slow, somewhere down below my knees, then flies up, overtaking me like a flame to tinder. Head to toe, I'm beaming. "You're pregnant?"
She nods. Her teeth release her lip and she smiles the biggest smile I've ever seen on her face. Like me, her whole body is glowing.
"Holy shit. I'm going to be a dad." My hands run through my hair. "I'm going to be a dad!" I yell this time, for good measure. In my mind I see a small baseball mitt, a gentle toss, a smiling boy or girl in awe as they've just caught their first baseball.
Autumn's palms are pressed together in front of her mouth and her shoulders are quaking with joy. I lift her in my arms, spin her around, then quickly put her back down.
"I'm sorry, did that hurt? Are you okay?" My eyes fall to her belly, looking for any sign that I’ve harmed her or the baby.
She laughs and puts her hand on my shoulders. "I'm not made of glass, Owen. I'm just pregnant."
"Say it again."
"I'm pregnant."
I kiss her, hoping the action shows her just how damn much I love her. She kisses me back, the kind of kiss that asks for more, but the timer in the kitchen interrupts us.
I hold the door open for her, but just as Autumn is about to step from the room she stalls. Her mouth widens in shock and my first thought is that it's the baby.
"What's wrong?" I ask, my hand going to her flat stomach.
She shakes her head, smiling. "Everything is fine. It’s just … I've been waiting to feel my mom again. Her spirit, you know? I felt her when you proposed, but then not again. But I think…" She glances back into the room. "I think I just felt her." Tears line her eyes and goosebumps run the length of my arms.
"She's telling you she's happy for you. For us." Most people think that doctors don’t believe in God, that we are strictly scientific beings who can’t conceive of a higher power.
Not me.
I’ve been in operating rooms, losing a patient on the table, only to have them miraculously come back after all medical options failed. I’ve even had a few patients who were riddled with cancer go into spontaneous remission without any chemo at all. I have no doubt Faith is looking over us with happiness right now.
Autumn nods happily, and seeing her so well adjusted, and content—and pregnant—makes my cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
That night, when dinner is finished and the sun has dipped below the horizon, we sit outside and stare up at the sky. I've pulled the outdoor couch to the middle of the yard and adjusted it so we can both lie down. I've got one arm wrapped around Autumn, and her head rests on my chest.
"Sometimes I think about what I'd be doing now if my mom had never called and asked me to come back here." She laughs dryly. "Probably the same exact thing I'd been doing for the past few years."
"Then I thank God your mom called you." I give her a small squeeze.
Autumn shifts, propping herself on an elbow and looking at me. "Do you think she knew?"
I'm confused. "Knew what?"
"Knew she was going to die? That this time would be the last time?"
"There's no way she could've known it for certain, but each repeated fight with cancer gets a little harder. She knew that, because I told her."
"I was so shocked the day she called me and asked me to come out here. I said yes immediately, without any hesitation. I knew it was going to require me to leave my job, my apartment, my life. And I knew it was going to land me squarely in your path."
I push a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes. "I'm surprised you didn't run screaming in the opposite direction."
She chuckles. "I think I always knew you were my eventuality. I just had to figure out how to move past everything that happened when we were young and find my way back to you."
"I know what you mean. I never could let you go either. I held on to it all, including the anger, until even that disappeared and all I had was an Autumn-sized hole in my heart. The moment I saw you in the kitchen at your mom's house, I wanted to grab you and kiss you until all your breath was mine."
