“Well… yes.” I pat my bump self-consciously as I give her a semi-apologetic grimace. “Coming up to twenty weeks.”
“I had no idea.” She bites her lip, giving a little shake of her head. “Sorry I seem so surprised. It’s just… I thought you were my age!”
“I’m forty-four,” I say, like a confession. “This wasn’t exactly planned.” She flinches, and I curse myself for my thoughtlessness. If Joelle has been trying to get pregnant, there’s nothing worse than someone basically saying they didn’t want to be. “Unexpected blessings,” I half-mumble. Joelle’s eyes are glassy, and I feel awful.
“They are blessings,” she murmurs, looking away. “Congratulations.” She moves off quickly, and I feel like I’ve lost a friend before I even truly made one. I’m pretty sure I could have handled that a lot better, and I’m sad to think that apregnancy and baby might come between us being friends, even as I understand it.
I sigh and sip my seltzer, wishing I could get a little more in the party mood. Across the room, William is laughing with Peter and a couple other guys, his heartache seemingly not an issue. Rose and my dad are doing a clumsy Virginia reel, which makes me smile, although I make sure he’s steady enough on his feet as he dances.
Josh is deep in conversation with Ed Wilson, probably talking shop, or really, homestead. It occurs to me that our new neighbor, Mike—I am trying not to call him the Prepper, even in my own mind—isn’t here. I doubt Miss Barbara has even met him, but I feel sorry I didn’t think to walk over and mention the party to him. I really do think he might be lonely, and he could have met the whole neighborhood here—and talked all their ears off, I acknowledge wryly.
I let my gaze wander around the room until it rests on Bethany and Ben, who are looking very much like a couple. I know they’ve been dating for a while now—admittedly a little on and off—but for some reason, I am jolted to see them from a distance, looking very together and loved up. Ben has his arm around Bethany, and she is cooing at little Anna Pepper. Robbie says something to Ben, who laughs, and Lily giggles while Bethany also laughs, resting her head briefly against Ben’s shoulder.
I find myself imagining the gist of the conversation—it’ll be you two next, with a little bundle of joy! Oh not just yet, ha ha…
My body floods with adrenalin at the thought. Bethany isnineteen. She’s way too young to be thinking of marriage and babies, and she’s only known Ben for a little over a year.
Of course, she might not be thinking that way. This could absolutely be all in my head. Knowing me, it very well might be.
“What a lovely young couple.”
I turn to see Miss Barbara coming up to me, smiling as she nods toward Ben and Bethany.
“Nothing like young love, eh?”
I chuckle weakly. “Right.”
“I’m so glad Bethany is taking over my business,” she continues. “And it will be wonderful to have someone living here, as well. I definitely wasn’t ready to sell this place, so it’s all worked out beautifully.”
For a second, I can only stare because her remarks seem so disjointed, and they are definitely not computing. I know Bethany is semi-taking over Miss Barbara’s business, with Josie’s help, butlivinghere? What?
Miss Barbara clocks my flummoxed expression. Her lips purse; she looks regretful but also a little amused. “Oh dear, has Bethany not told you yet?”
“Told me what?” I ask like it’s a line from a script.Obviously,she hasn’t told me, whatever it is.
“Bethany has agreed to move in here,” Miss Barbara explains. “To keep an eye on the place, of course, but also to have her own space.” She glances meaningfully at my daughter and Ben. He still has his arm around her shoulders, and right now, I feel like ripping it right off.
Bethany is moving out to live on her own and hasn’t said awordabout it to me? And just how does Ben the Boyfriend fit into that picture? Because I’m pretty positive that Emmy will not approve of any remotelyunconventionalliving arrangements.
“She hasn’t mentioned it,” I force out.
Miss Barbara lays a hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, I thought about asking you first, but Bethanyisan adult.” Her smile is sympathetic but also shrewd. “It’s so hard to let them grow up, isn’t it?”
Chapter five
The next morning, I am curled up in the window seat of our kitchen with a pot of tea and our cat Willow purring contentedly on my lap. Ginger and Marmalade are in their usual spot by the woodstove, curled up like two peas in a pod, and Max is spread out on the floor below me, hoping for crumbs even though I’m not eating anything.
I’m feeling too jumbled up inside to eatorsleep, which was why I got up at five this morning to milk Mabel, when it’s a job I’m usually happy to leave to Josh or William. It’s Saturday, and nobody’s going out to work, although I imagine we will have a busy day at home with all the projects Josh has planned. It’s as though he’s in a race with Mike to become completely self-sufficient, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to lose, but at least he’s giving it a good shot.
It’s peaceful here, watching the first pink fingers of dawn light creep over the tops of the trees and across the yard. Everything is stirring to life—a red-breasted robin hopping from tree to tree, which are just coming into leaf, the chickens emerging from their coop to cluck and peck at the dirt, the goats starting theirmethodical chomp of the fresh spring grass in the meadow, the freshly tilled fields damp with dew. Even this baby inside me gives a little morning kick hello.
All of it would be more than enough to make me feel completely contented with my world… except for Bethany. Why has she not told us she’s planning tomove out? Wasn’t it something she should have discussed with us first? Yes, she’s nineteen andtechnicallyan adult… but back in New Jersey, I have friends who are still making dentist appointments for their twenty-year-olds. We might be homesteading, but we haven’t moved intoLittle House on the Prairieterritoryquiteyet, married at nineteen and a mother at twenty.
I rest one hand on my bump as our little girl kicks again. Am I overreacting? Bethany hasn’t said anything about marriage or babies, but then I recall her and Ben laughing at little baby Anna, the way she laid her head on his shoulder… and now this.Whydidn’t she at least tell us?
With a loud, jaw-cracking yawn, Josh wanders into the kitchen, still in his pajamas and sporting an impressive case of bedhead. “Good morning,” he greets me sleepily. “Thanks for getting up for the milking… coffee?” Already, he’s making a beeline for the French press I left warming on top of the stove. He pauses mid-pour, press in hand, to turn to me. “What’s wrong?”
It’s a credit to my husband that he knows me so well. I haven’t said a word, but maybe that’s why he knows.
