Josh and Gemma Make a Baby(83)

She pulls me into a hug and tugs on my hair. “There. Life is wonderful, isn’t it? There, there, Gemma.” She pats my back and I realize that I’m sniffling back tears.

“I lost an early pregnancy last year,” my sister says. “It’s why I was so down at Christmas and New Year’s.”

I pull out of my mom’s arms. My mom nods at Leah. She already knew.

“It was hard,” she says.

My mom nods again.

I look at them both. “Sometime soon, do you want to go out, all of us, just us? It’s been years. I miss you.”

My mom smiles and a little spark enters her eyes that I usually only see right before she’s about to suggest another match. “You can tell us all about IVF.”

A few minutes later Leah is called away by Colin, his remote-control car’s battery died. Then my mom is called away to replace the seven layer salad and refill the punch bowl. I’m left alone in the kitchen.

I sit quietly for a moment and take in how much has happened.

I still don’t believe in quotes, and I’m not sure about love, but I do know that I’ve been doing some things wrong, and I have work to do. First, I need to find a new job. Second, I need to apologize to my friends. Third, I need to ask Josh if he’ll forgive me, and if he could possibly maybe want to try again. My heart thuds at the thought.

I’ll give him time.

We both need some time.

I walk back toward the dining room. When I do, I see Josh in the living room talking to Father Gibbly. I stop and just watch him.

“Gemma. Wow. You look great.”

I shake my head and turn to find Greg Butkis looking over my new dress and my figure appreciatively.

“Your mom mentioned at New Year’s that you’re looking to date. There’s a new steak place in town, what do you think about—”

“She’s not available,” my mom says. She’s carrying the punch bowl and pushing past us.

Greg turns to her and his mouth drops open. “Huh?”

“Buzz off, Greg. Gemma isn’t for you.”

I press my lips together and hold back a laugh.

“But, you said, my mom said—”

“Buzz off,” my mom calls. She plops the punch bowl down and it sloshes over the edges. “What do you think my Gemma is, a buffet you can browse at your leisure?” She picks up her towel. “Shoo.”

Greg looks at her like she’s lost her mind. Which maybe she has. I hold back a laugh. My mom winks at me and then hurries back toward the kitchen, “Gemma, dear, I’m getting more barbecue sausages. If he bothers you, you can drop them on his shirt.”

I cover my mouth with my hand. Because my mom knows about New Year’s and Mort and all of that mortification. She saw and she’s telling me, in her own way, that she’s on my side.

I look out over the living room with a wide smile on my face.

At that moment, Josh looks up and meets my eyes.

My smile falters. I hope he’s okay.

I mean, how can he be?

But I hope he’ll be okay.

He says something to Father Gibbly and then starts to walk my way.

I twist my hands together and wait for him to reach me.

“Hey,” I say.

He smiles. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course I came. Look at all the people that are here. So many people cared—”

“I meant last night.”

Heat prickles over my skin as I remember the feel of his warm chest.

“Are you staying in town tonight?”

I shake my head but my chest pinches with disappointment. I wish I could stay. “I have to work tomorrow. And I have a lot of things to take care of in the city. Are you…are you staying up here?”

He nods. “For a bit.”

He doesn’t say anything more and my stomach drops.

“Oh…” I pause and look around the living room. At all the people in black and all the flowers brought back from the service. “Do you think…will I see you soon?”

Josh studies me, as if he’s trying to read a code that he doesn’t have the key to. So, I say, “I’d like to see you.”

Josh closes his eyes for a moment, then he peers at me.

I shift in my heels and say, “Thank you for the comic you drew. It was beautiful. You can’t know how much it meant to me.”

He nods and starts to say something, but then one of his dad’s friends comes over to give Josh his condolences and in seconds Josh is surrounded by a group of people that doesn’t thin up for more than an hour.

At that point in time, I have to head out if I’m going to make the last train to the city.

Josh looks at me through the crowd around him and gives me a half-smile. I hold up my hand and wave to him.

He really, really isn’t anything at all like I believed.

When the taxi pulls up to the house I say goodbye to my mom, dad, sister and brother.

As I’m walking down the drive, the front door opens. I turn back and watch Josh jog toward me.

“What is it?” I ask, my heart in my throat.

He isn’t wearing a coat. Tiny snowflakes fall around him.

“I wanted to say goodbye,” he says.

“Oh. Okay. Goodbye.”

“Bye, Gemma.”