Page 113 of Salty Pickle

Dad reaches down to pat her back. “We have the yard. I can shore up the fence. This is no place for a goat. I can’t imagine this man of yours wants her here.”

“She’ll have lots of space to run,” Mom says. “We can put you in your old room and make a nursery out of Jasper’s. I was already thinking of retiring. I’ll get out early. Help with the baby. You can even pursue a career again if you want. Or raise her at our house.”

“Him.”

They look at each other. “It’s a boy?”

“Yes. Julian.”

Mom clasps her hands together. “What a lovely name.”

They’re being so… reasonable. It has to be a ruse. A trap.

But I never knew Dad’s story before.

“Lucy, we’ve had a lot of years to think about how we handled BeeBee’s death,” Dad says.

“You didn’t think about me at all.”

“We did,” Mom says. “Just from our perspective. Not yours. We don’t want to lose you forever. And we’re thrilled to be grandparents. Do you love this man?”

I hesitate. How can I? “I don’t know him that well.”

Another glance between them. I know how it sounds.

“If you want to stay here, we’ll figure out a way to be close,” Mom says. “I can still retire. I don’t think we can afford anything in Manhattan, but maybe we can rent a place in one of the boroughs. At least give you an out if it’s not working with the father.”

I can’t tell them it already isn’t.

“I still have the problem of Matilda,” I say. “And she’s going to have a kid herself in a few months.”

“Oh,” Mom says. “You really need a yard then.”

“We found out about Matilda a few days ago…” I trail off. How did I get in this mess? It’s embarrassing to have my parents know about it.

“We can help,” Mom says. “We’ll get Matilda back to Colorado.”

“How?” I ask.

Dad strokes a preening Matilda. “We flew in, but we can rent a car and a U-Haul or a trailer for her.”

Driving. That makes sense. I can’t fly this late, anyway. “We’ve been getting SUVs with a big dog package in the back. It works well.”

“See,” Dad says. “We can make a family trip of it. We’ll call your mother’s OB/GYN and make sure you can be seen. How much time do we have?”

“A week.”

“A week!” Dad looks stricken. “We should go then. It will take two days to get home, maybe three. Annette, you can book some hotels once we’re in the car. Plan for ten-hour driving days. We can’t push Lucy or her goat.”

“Is that okay?” Mom asks. “Do you want to come?”

And leave Court?

Isn’t this what he suggested from the beginning? He told me to go home and have the baby and send him the test results.

I can do that. We tried my way, and it got too complicated.

Maybe there will be some other time for us. Later, when the baby is proven to be his, and Matilda’s not pregnant, and we don’t have to hide her on a balcony.

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