Castle of Water: A Novel(57)

“Are you sure?” he finally muttered, with eyes punch-drunk and unable to focus.

“Yes,” Sophie replied.

“Really sure?”

“Yes.”

“Really, really sure?”

“Oui, putain! I haven’t had my period in two months. And it’s been regular ever since we built the boat and started to eat better. I’ve been getting sick in the mornings, and even my tits are twice as big, if you’d even bothered to notice.”

“But we were careful. I mean, really, exceptionally careful.”

“Well, I guess your little spermatozo?des are like Harry Houdini. I don’t know. I don’t know how it happened. But it did.”

“Jesus. Oh, Jesus.” Barry sank off the edge of the cot, gripping fiercely at the matted unruliness of his hair. “What the hell was I thinking? I knew better. It’s all my—”

“Ta gueule, Barry. Believe it or not, it’s not always about you. We’re both adults. We both knew what we were doing when we got into this, and I don’t regret a single thing we’ve done. But if this is going to happen, we need to deal with it. Like adults. If we’re going to have a child, we can’t act like children. Especially not given the circumstances.”

Barry stiffened and regained his composure; he knew she was right.

“You said it’s been two months?”

Sophie nodded. “Oui.”

“That means we have seven months to go?”

Sophie nodded again. “Oui.”

“Is that why you got so upset when I wanted to eat the mother sea turtle that we found laying eggs?”

“Tu es vraiment trop stupide, Barry.”

Barry sighed and, with the inhalation that followed, steeled his nerve for whatever was to come. This was it. Not the crash, not the tidal wave, not the octopus. This was the big one. The truest test of his manhood he would ever face. He swallowed back the fear and then answered.

“I guess we won’t be going out looking for ships, then.”

Sophie shook her head. “I’m willing to put my own life at risk, but we’re responsible for another life now, too. Maybe neither option is ideal, but as parents, we have to go with the one we’re most sure of. Staying here on the island isn’t great, but at least we’re safe.”

“I could go out by myself, you know. I did it before and—”

She cut him off again, with a maternal firmness that ended the debate. “No way. I almost lost you once in a storm, Barry, and I won’t let that happen again. And with this baby inside me, it’s too much of a risk. For our child to even have a chance here, it’s going to need both of us. Once the rainy season is over, once we have the baby, then maybe we can start talking about other options. But for right now, we’re staying right here. This is our home.”

Barry recognized the truth in what Sophie was saying. And he did also feel no small sense of relief, just as he had when he’d made the decision to turn back to the island rather than paddle after the lights. That settled it, then. His heart calmed, the tension eased; the terror of the open seas receded before him. Their course was set. They would stay on the island.

“We’ll just have to take it one day at a time,” he said at last, following a shared moment of pensive silence. “Like everything else here. And there is still a chance that somebody might find us before the day comes.”

“Do you think?”

“Anything’s possible. We might end up on rue du Chateau d’Eau after all.”

“Your ‘Castle of Water’?” Sophie teased him, managing a smile.

“Yes. My ‘Castle of Water.’” Barry paused for a moment, a thought suddenly occurring to him. “You know, that’s not a bad name for the island, either.”

“What do you mean?”

“If we’re having a baby here, we have to give the island a proper name. And besides, this way, we can still say we live on Chateau d’Eau, even if it’s not quite Paris.”

“Pfff. Okay, Barry. ‘Chateau d’Eau’ it is.”

“Perfect. I’ll be sure to put it on the birth certificate.”

Sophie snickered at the thought. “And speaking of names, we’ll need one for the baby, too, you know. I’m not going to name it after some stupid street in Paris.”

“Jacques Cousteau Bleecker?”

“Be serious,” she scolded him, although she was anything but annoyed.

Barry beetled his brow. Nothing immediate came to mind. “What do you think?”

“If it’s a boy, we could name him Barry, after his father.”

“Well, we could name him Barry, but he wouldn’t be named after his father.”

“Your name isn’t Barry?”

“I go by Barry, but my real name is Bartholomew.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I was named after my grandpa in Illinois, but I was always ashamed of it. It sounded too old-fashioned. Barry was easier.”

Sophie shrugged. “I think Bartholomew is a nice name. Especially for a world-famous artist like yourself.”

“Ha. Very funny.”

“I thought so.”

“But what if it’s a girl?”