Page 66 of Nineteen Seventy-Six

When he left to give them some privacy, Noah pulled Colleen in closer, enveloping her. “I know you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared.” She squeezed his hands tighter when she felt a tremor start.

“You are,” Noah said. “It’s okay to be scared. We can be happy and scared at the same time, right?”

“We barely have time for Amelia.”

Noah released her and knelt in front instead. “Colleen. Amelia is thriving here. She’s a happy, well-adjusted baby, in good health. We’re parenting and pursuing our futures.”

“We hardly ever see each other,” Colleen said. “I take day classes, you take night classes. If not for the nanny, we’d be a mess, but that’s a whole other problem isn’t it? Amelia probably thinks Saoirse is her mother, for crying out loud.”

“That’s not true. She likes Saoirse, but who does she get excited for?”

“You.”

“Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“You know good and well what.” Noah rolled her hands over in his. Kissed them. “Our life is good. It’s okay, to have life just be good. We don’t always need a disaster to fight.”

Colleen looked at him. “Is that what you think I do?”

“Sometimes,” he said. “I suspect you think it’s the only control you have, fixing what’s broken. But you’re wrong.”

“You’re so wise, are you?”

“Not so wise,” Noah said, this time kissing her on the mouth. Her cheek rested gently in one palm. “But I know you. And I know us, and I know that a blessing is what we make it. We’ll love this baby as we love Amelia, the world will keep spinning. You’ll keep stressing, and I’ll keep pretending I’m not, and we’ll keep on building this beautiful life we chose, together.”

“A boy,” Colleen said, clearing through the lump in her throat. “We’re having a boy.”

“I won’t be so outnumbered, anymore, Deschanel. Better watch it.”

“I’ll do you one better and let you name him.”

“Benjamin,” Noah said, without hesitation.

Colleen cocked her head. “You’ve been waiting for this. What’s the significance?”

“There isn’t any,” Noah said. “Sometimes a name can just be a name.”

“But you have thought of it.”

He nodded. “I have. And I thought, if we have more kids, we should consider not putting the pressure of living up to their ancestors on their shoulders. That we should throw aside any Irish or French names altogether, and go with something solid and utterly unremarkable.”

Colleen watched her husband. Husband, a word she still struggled to wrap her mind around, that she, Colleen, could be satisfied, could feel love that wasn’t simply dutiful, but vulnerable and raw. “You know there’s nothing unremarkable about Benjamin. He was the son of Jacob. Went on to form one of the twelve tribes of Israel.”

“And now,” Noah said, twining their hands together, pulling Colleen closer. “Our son.”

Maureen hardly got the “hello” out of her mouth before Soren had her in his arms, lips pressed to hers between whispers of words that sounded an awful lot like I love you.

“You’re here,” he said, taking a breath, holding her at arm’s length as if taking her in for the first time. “He let you come.”

I love you, Maureen said, in her head, but what came out was, “Yes, but not without an ulterior motive, I’m afraid.”

“What kind of ulterior motive?” Soren slipped her purse off her shoulder and hung it on the rack. “Come, I have a pitcher of mint julep in the parlor.”

Maureen followed him, all the while, as she had on the drive over, wondering just what she would say, and how she’d say it. If she acted like Edouard’s request was crazy, which it was, she risked Soren saying no and never seeing him again. But if she lied, he would know, because there was nothing, not a single thing, about Edouard’s proposal that was remotely normal, or okay. It took something important to her and reduced it to something dirty and unclean. It reminded her of who he was, and how she’d gotten here.

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