Page 7 of The Un-Apparent Heir

“Your mother got very irritated waiting on the two of you in here for forty minutes.”

“And how did she guess why we were in here?” Sanne followed up.

“Because your husband has no self-restraint and is convinced you’re pregnant. That’s my guess.” Linnea cracked the box open. “Two tests. I can take one if you will like old times?”

Sanne and Linnea used to pee on a stick if they got worried in college. Unfortunately, the one time they did this thinking they were being hypochondriacs, Linnea was actually pregnant. That baby was now almost nine.

“No need,” Sanne said. “I’ll piss. You pray.”

“Pray for what?” Elisabeth asked. “For baby or no baby?”

“I don’t even know. I do know I want to throttle my husband. Can you give me a sec?” Sanne shooed them out.

She took a moment, followed the directions, washed her hands and waited. Linnea popped her head in.

“Yes, you can come back in,” Sanne said. “I am struggling to be here in Michigan doing this. Something about it feels off. Like, we must tell Robbie about it but we’re here and?—”

“Deep breaths. Deep breaths,” Linnea said.

“If I am not pregnant, well, I will feel like I let Paul down.”

“You needn’t worry about that,” Elisabeth said.

“Why?” Sanne asked.

“Because the thing is already positive.” Linnea cackled. “You’re pregnant, Sanne!”

“What?”

“You’re having a baby.”

Sanne smiled amid tears. “I’m having a damn baby. Okay, this has to stay here. We cannot mention this to Marie. Because there is a chain of command and I’ve already broken it.”

“I think Robbie and Vanna will understand.” Elisabeth had tears, too.

Sanne stared at the test. She wiped her tears, the pink lines brightening in an instant. She tossed it in the bin, satisfied, and proceeded back into the living room where Paul and Hannah argued about the names of buildings in London and whether they fit the architecture.

“Natalie calls it… well, she uses a rude word I cannot say because little ears,” Paul said.

“Are we talking about the gherkin?” Sanne asked.

Paul nodded.

“You’re talking to two lesbians and two women who are no strangers of that sort of thing,” Linnea said. “It does look like a D-I-L-D-O.”

“Mom, I’m not an idiot. I don’t know what you’re talking about but I can spell.” Marie, Sanne’s niece, rolled her eyes.

“We’ll talk about it when you’re older.”

“Paul, can I talk to you?” Sanne asked.

“You feeling any better?” He asked.

“Meh. Not really,” Sanne answered.

They stepped out of the living room into the kitchen and kept their voices low. Well, Sanne kept hers low. Paul never understood how loud or how well his voice carried. Sometimes, it was hard to see the family resemblance between Paul and his father. However, their voices were remarkably similar, and neither was good at a whisper.

“So, I’m feeling shitty. So, Thanksgiving will be fun.”

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