The Twelfth Child (Serendipity #1)(67)
Abigail didn’t hear the sound of sorrow muffled beneath his words; to her ear it was simply a declaration that he’d found her irresistible. “I always meant to fall in love with you,” she answered, “I knew the day you walked into the library, that you would be my one true love.” She kissed him again, softly, sweetly, with her heart soaring on wings wider than an eagle’s.
“I suppose it was meant to be.” He breathed a sorrowful sigh that rose into the air and splintered like frozen teardrops. At that same moment, a chill touched down on Abigail’s shoulder and she moved deeper into his embrace.
By time they woke in the morning, John had slipped into an unusual mood of seriousness. He braced his hands against her shoulders and once again told Abigail of his love. “I only wish I could make you happy,” he said, then disappeared out the door.
Abigail sighed – deep inside she knew everything would work out fine, he needed time, that’s all, just a bit more time.
She waited two days before calling Gloria again. “You’re wrong,” she told her friend, “John is very much in love with me.”
“He proposed?”
“Well, it wasn’t exactly a proposal – but, he said he loves me and wants to make me happy. Sooner or later we’re gonna get married, but with his job it’s impossible for him to settle in one spot, right now.”
Gloria groaned. “What hogwash!”
“No, it’s not. He’s on the road seven days a week.”
“Nobody works seven days a week.”
“Oh really? And just how many property inspectors do you know?”
“None. But I do know that when a man wants to latch onto a woman, he puts a wedding ring on her finger, job or no job!”
After Abigail hung up the telephone, she decided that although Gloria was her best friend, she had no understanding of John, so they didn’t speak again until almost two weeks after baby Belinda was born and when they did, the issue of John’s intentions was never again brought up. Once they resumed their friendship, Abigail went to visit most every day, except of course, when John was in town. “Look at that sweet smile,” she’d coo and jiggle Belinda in the air even when it was long past the baby’s bedtime.
The first time Abigail noticed the difference in her face was the day before Halloween, as she looked into the mirror and considered what type of candies she’d set out on the circulation counter. Such a thing wasn’t possible she thought and wrinkled her brow. She turned to one side and the other, then leaned in so close her nose touched upon its reflection; but regardless of how she turned or angled herself, the look was still there – the same look she’d seen on Gloria’s face last Thanksgiving. Her skin was the color it had always been, but glowing. Her eyes sparkled like a prism shot through with sunbeams. Her mouth was fixed into a smile and even when she tried to reconfigure it into a frown, such a thing could not be done.
“Impossible,” she muttered and turned away from the mirror. She’d not missed a monthly and John had been diligent about the use of a condom. Abigail shrugged off the thought then sat at the kitchen table with her breakfast of tea and a muffin; before she’d taken a single bite, she was back at the mirror. The look was still there.
On her way to the library, Abigail bounced along the street as if she were dancing on a trampoline. Each step felt as though the next would send her soaring skyward, to pluck loose a cloud the size of a baby pillow. Pots of chrysanthemums were already lining the walkways but Abigail saw roses and daffodils, she caught the fragrance of jasmine and felt the warmth of a summer sun when the sky was drizzling rain. She imagined John tenderly touching his hand to her stomach and stating that although he’d still have to do some traveling, they ought to be married right away. Suddenly it struck her that even though she’d seen the look on her face, there was no other indication that she was pregnant. It would be a terrible thing, she decided, to tell John that he was going to be a daddy and then disappoint him if she’d made a mistake. It would be far better to wait – wait until she was absolutely certain.
But uncertainty didn’t stop Abigail from dreaming and by the time she reached the front door of the library, she’d decided if the baby was a boy, she’d name it John, after his father. A girl, she’d name Livonia. “Livonia,” she sighed as she switched on the lights, “a pretty little girl who will grow up to be just like Mama.” Prompted by nothing but the look she’d seen on her face, Abigail spent that day and the remainder of the week reading about the care and feeding of babies; after which she went on to nine books on lullabies and seven on nursery rhymes.
The following week John came to Richmond for an overnight stay and although it was all she could do to hold back the news, Abigail said nothing. Her monthly was only two days late and twice before it had been a week late.
In the morning John kissed her goodbye and told Abigail he’d been assigned to cover Georgia and the Carolinas for the next month. “But,” she moaned, “that’s so far from Richmond.”
“I know,” he answered. “I’ll try to get back a time or two, but please understand if I don’t.” After seeing the disappointment in her eyes, he added, “It’s only temporary, and I’ll be thinking of you every minute.”
If he hadn’t had one foot out the door, Abigail would have told him the news right then and there, but hollering out to the back end of his coattail wasn’t the way she’d pictured it happening. He stopped for a moment and called back, “I’ll bring you something special,” then he disappeared down the stairs.