Page 44 of Her Baby His Gift

Carter pulled up into the driveway behind a pick-up truck. The second he cut the engine, the screen door to the modest home opened, and an attractive older woman who looked a lot like Harlem came running out towards them.

“Elijah! They’re here.” Seconds later, Elaine barreled into Harlem, pulling her only daughter into a tight embrace. Then, she stood back to take a good look at her. “My goodness! You’re glowing.”

“Am I?” Harlem asked. “I look the same to me.”

“You’ve definitely got that pregnancy glow.”

Elaine moved away from Harlem and turned to Carter. “Nice to see you again.” Harlem’s dad finally made it out of the house and was now standing next to his wife.

“Nice to see you again, Mrs. Thomas.” Carter nodded. “You too, Mr. Thomas.”

Harlem’s dad didn’t respond to his greeting right away. There was an awkward silence that hung between them. Elijah’s face was hard as stone as he sized Carter up. Elaine knew not to say a word until he was done–Harlem too. Finally, he extended his hand. “I wondered if I was going to see you again.”

Relieved, Carter smiled and gripped his hand firmly.

Elijah still didn’t crack a smile. There wasn’t a hint of warmth, but he was at least cordial. He hadn’t released Carter’s hand when he started asking a series of rapid-fire questions. “I’m not sure how all this in-vitro shit works. What type of relationship are we supposed to have? You’re the baby’s father, but you’re not. What is your relationship with my daughter? I like things uncomplicated and clear-cut. Nothing about this situation is simple.” He said honestly.

Carter nodded. “I think we can both agree that this is a confusing situation. What I can tell you is that I’m here to honor Damian’s wishes and to support Harlem.”

There was another stare-off between the two men. Elijah held his gaze as if searching for the truth in his eyes, and Carter didn’t blink.

The moments ticked by like a melting glacier.

Finally, Harlem couldn’t take it. She leaned over and spoke softly. “Mom.” Her eyes pleaded for help.

“Elijah,” Elaine said in that voice that her husband understood all too well. “We are not going to have this conversation outside, in the cold, in front of all of our neighbors.” She turned away from her husband and back to Harlem and Carter. “Come on inside. I made an early dinner, and for dessert, I have some of that black-walnut ice-cream that you’ve been craving.” She specifically addressed Carter. “I hope you’re hungry.”

Elijah finally released Carter’s hand. He did something that was supposed to resemble a smile, but it looked more like a painful grimace as he spoke to him. “Elaine is a good cook.”

Carter nodded as if the two men had a mutual understanding and Harlem was relieved. That was her dad’s version of a concession. He would hold off on any more questions until later.

Carter smiled warmly at Elaine. “Harlem raves about your cooking all the time. I’m looking forward to dinner.”

Harlem was happy he didn’t wilt under the pressure of her dad. Other men had. Not Damian, though. He hadn’t bowed to the pressure either. Still, Harlem wondered what was going through Carter’s mind. She more than appreciated that Carter didn’t have tomeet the parents, but he had anyway. He could be living his best life but felt a sense of duty and responsibility to her and this child. With every passing day, Harlem’s respect for Carter kept climbing.

*****

Carter walked into the Thomas’ home and was immediately struck by how it made him feel. Aside from the fragrant food coming from the kitchen, he was surrounded by a warm and soothing energy.

“Can you bring my bag to my room?” Harlem asked.

Carter nodded and followed her lead. As they made their way to her bedroom, Carter noticed pictures of Harlem were everywhere. It was clear she was the pride and joy of her family. So very different from his own.

“Here.” Harlem stopped in front of a closed door, opened it, and walked inside. “You can just put my bag on the bed.”

“Shit, Harlem,” Carter said as he crossed the threshold and looked around.

“What?” She looked genuinely confused.

“Did the nineties throw up in here?” He laughed and placed her bag where she’d told him. Carter was struck by two things – all of the vision boards on her walls and how orderly everything was. Carter knew that Harlem had a touch of OCD, but this was ridiculous.

Carter took a closer look at her vision boards. “You literally have a board for every damn thing. How old were you when you started making them?”

“Umm . . . I think thirteen. It was easy to visualize my lists, and making the boards lessened my anxiety.”

“That explains it.”

“What?”

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