Page 95 of Harper

I have uneventful ultrasounds in mid-October and mid-November (thank God!), and spend my quiet October and November days swapping rooms with Reeve. I move back intothe lodge, while Reeve moves into the cabin with Parker. I need the space and privacy for me and the baby, and I’ll appreciate being closer to Gran and Dad as I find my way as a single mom. Hunter and Tanner help me put together a rocking chair, changing table and crib, while McKenna, who learned how to knit from her Mimi, starts making me sweaters and caps in various pastel colors.

The days slide by with my belly growing larger and rounder, and mostly—mostly—I am content. Except—

I miss Joe.

I miss him all the time.

It’s not that I don’t see him. I do. I see him at the baby’s wellness ultrasounds, of course, and I often see him in his patrol car when I’m in town, or bump into him while I’m shopping. He’s always civil. Always polite. He inquires about my health and tells me to say hello to my family. But he almost never looks me in the eye, and keeps our conversations as short as possible.

We have come 180 degrees, me and Joe. From me avoiding him to him avoiding me. And I don’t like it at all.

But I go back to Gran’s steps for forgiveness and practice them as best I can. I remember that no one is perfect, myself included. I try to put myself in Joe’s shoes, telling myself he needs time to process the decision I made not to tell him about our first child and to find adoptive parents for her. I tell myself that someday, God willing, Joe will let go of his pain and forgive me. But in the meantime, I have a life that needs to be lived and a baby on the way. So, I dry my tears, and I keep moving forward.

But as a rule, Joe doesn’t seek me out…which is why I’m surprised to hear someone ring the bell at the lodge one afternoon, and find Joe standing on the porch. I am pretty sure, at this point, that endorphins will always flood my brain when I’m close to Joe. There will never be a time I don’t feel that high just to be near him, and that will be my punishment for hurtinghim—a lifetime of ceaseless longing for the love I once had but lost.

“Hey,” I say, opening the screen door. “What’re you doing here?”

“Hi,” he says, taking off his hat. His eyes fall to my stomach and linger there for a second. I’m eighteen weeks pregnant now, and I’ve recently “popped.” When I wear leggings and a T-shirt, as I am today, there’s a very noticeable swell to my belly. “Look at you, Harp! You look great.”

“Thanks.”

“You doing okay? Feeling good?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. What’s up? Are you okay?” I ask, gesturing to the seating area in the dining room that we expand once the summer season is over. Joe sits down in one of the easy chairs.

“Yeah,” he says. “Just, um….just wanted to run something by you.”

“Okay.” My heart drops. I’ve been worried about this conversation since the night of Tanner’s engagement party. “Want coffee?”

“If it’s not trouble?”

“None at all,” I say. “It’s always on. I’ll be right back.”

In the kitchen, Reeve and Parker are baking a cake for Tanner’s upcoming birthday, Sawyer’s on the office computer, and Gran is leaning on the counter, watching her soap operas on the old, black-and-white TV.

“Who’s here?” she asks.

“Joe.”

Gran’s eyes light up. “Oh?”

“I’ll go say hello!” says Reeve.

“No, you won’t,” says Gran. She turns to me. “What’s this about?”

“He wants to run something by me.”

“Good something or bad something?”

“I don’t know yet,” I say, grabbing two mugs and filling them both with coffee. But I do know. I’m almost positive I know what this is about, and I’m going to be as gracious as I can, no matter how much it hurts me. “I’ll let you know.”

“Good luck,” says Reeve, her nose smudged with flour.

“Thanks, babycakes,” I say, pushing the kitchen door open with my hip and returning to Joe. I place his coffee mug down on the table in front of him. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” he says, wrapping his hands around the hot ceramic. “Chilly out today.”

“Thirty-six degrees, I think. That’s what the weather channel said.”

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