Page 118 of Salty Pickle

I almost hug her, but I’m not quite ready to reach out yet. “Is Matilda okay?”

Dad looks up. “She’s living it up in the yard. I won’t have to mow again for a long while.”

Mom walks over to the window to look down. “She ate all my roses, but we’ll call it restitution.”

“Oh, no! You loved those.”

Mom shrugs. “I never tended them, anyway. Hired a man to come do it. She’s saving me money.”

I walk up beside her. Matilda stands in the shade on a milk crate Dad must have put out for her. She presides over the yard.

“She looks happy,” I say. It’s probably just as well we’re not next to each other all day right now. She’s still avoiding me. I’m hoping it wears off.

“She’s doting on your dad, that’s for sure,” Mom says, turning back to the room. “I’d be jealous, except she’s already knocked up by some other male.”

We all laugh at that, and I think, this is going to be okay.

“Did you milk her?” I ask.

“Your dad did,” Mom says. “Don’t forget, he was raised with goats.”

“I was!” Dad turns the swing upright and pushes the button. It moves smoothly back and forth.

“Look at that!” Mom says. “It’s perfect.”

“It makes a weird sound, doesn’t it?” I ask.

“I don’t think it’s the swing,” Dad says. He shuts it off.

The strange pitter-patter continues, and then I realize something’s crawling on my ankles.

I look down.

No, my ankles are wet.

It’s raining on my ankles.

Mom lets out a shriek. “Your water broke! Bradley, get the bag. We’ll call the neighbors to feed the goat. Lucy, let’s get you dried off and to the car. I’ll call Dr. Fresno and tell him you’re coming. I sure hoped we would make it to the appointment tomorrow so you could meet him, but here we are.”

I feel stunned, and the tears fall all over again.

The baby’s coming. Julian’s coming.

And Court isn’t here.

I left him.

I shouldn’t have left him.

“Where’s your phone, Mom?” I ask.

“In my bag. We’ll call Dr. Fresno’s office from the car.”

“I want to tell Court.” I’ll have to look up his office number. I never memorized his personal number, and I left it in my old phone.

“We’ll let him know,” Mom says. “Let’s get to the car.”

By the time I change and load up, the first contraction has hit. Fear overwhelms me. This is happening. I’m having a baby.

---