“This must be how England felt when Henry II married Eleanor of Aquitaine,” Maisie says.
Nell looks at Emily in horror. “You’re giving himFrance?”
“I’ll take the goats if I get France,” Benny says.
“Aren’t any of you afraid I’m going to run out the door screaming?” Emily digs through the refrigerator for the pizza kits I’d ordered for the occasion.
“We always know where to find you,” Maisie says ominously.
“By the time Richard the Lionheart is born, the two of you will rule all of northern Michigan.” The history of the British monarchy is Joe’s winter hobby, and it thrills him to see that hisgirls have been listening, in the same way I imagine it would thrill me if they could sew.
Emily and Benny turn their heads towards one another. They don’t raise their eyes. Maisie and Nell are busy with the salad but Joe sees it and he looks at me, thinking the same thing.
“Are you pregnant?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth I wish I’d waited until after dinner, wish I’d pulled Emily into the pantry and whispered the question in her ear, but I have asked her and so we all stop, hold our breath, those wineglasses still within reach.
The blush rises straight from Emily’s heart, and even though I would have sworn that Benny had been standing on the other side of the table, he is there beside her, his arm around her shoulder. “Nope,” he says, pressing his hip lightly against hers.
Emily looks at Benny. She is saying nothing but is also asking him a question and without answering he is saying yes.
“We’re getting married and we’re not having a baby,” Benny says. He picks up Emily’s wineglass. “Proof.”
“We’re not having a baby,” Emily says, and I understand that she’s telling us there will be no babies.
“Plenty of time for all of that,” Joe says.
The happiness in his eyes makes my eyes fill up, and I hope for his sake we can leave this alone, talk about whatever it means on some other, less celebratory day, but forestalling conversation is not a skill in our family’s wheelhouse.
“Or not,” Emily says.
“Or not what?” Joe asks, teasing her. “Not enough time? Is this going to be a very long engagement?”
Everyone is waiting now. Hazel is waiting. Emily opens her mouth but nothing comes out.
“We’re not having children,” Benny says.
Joe shakes his head. “You don’t know that.”
“I know that,” Emily says.
We should have one night that is not about the future or thepast, one night to celebrate these two people and nothing else but we’ve blown it. “You don’t want children?” I ask her.
Emily tips back her wineglass. She drains it. “I don’t know if I want them but I’m sure I’m not going to have them.”
I am making our three daughters quilts from my grandmother’s dresses, from their grandmother’s dresses and my dresses and the dresses they wore when they were children. I started collecting the fabric when I was a child because even then I knew I would have daughters one day and I would make them quilts. My daughters will give these quilts to their daughters and those daughters will sleep beneath them. One day they will wrap their own children in these quilts, and all of this will happen on the farm.
“I know this isn’t the way you planned things,” Emily says. “I know it’s not what you want.”
“It isn’t about what we want,” I say, but that’s a lie. These children we’ve never spoken of? We want them very much. We long for them.
“Crops used to fail once every fifty years,” Benny says, his voice quiet because all of us are silent. “The crops have failed twice since I was born. The winters are milder, the lake is warmer, the trees aren’t staying dormant long enough. They bloom too early, the freeze kills the buds.”
Joe holds up his hand. “Why are you saying this? What do you think we don’t already know?”
But Benny doesn’t stop. His voice comes without drama or demand and still, he keeps talking. “Sooner or later we’re going to have to stop putting in cherry trees.”
“No,” Joe says.
“I really cannot stand this,” Maisie says.
