The Lies That Bind(74)

“Congratulations!” my sister finally says. “How far along are you?”

“Almost twelve weeks,” I say.

“Twelve weeks?” my mom says, her eyes wide with shock and hurt. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

    “We wanted to tell our families together,” I say, now starting to sweat.

“In person,” Matthew adds. “So I know this isn’t traditional—or what we planned—but we didn’t know we were pregnant when I proposed.” He’s making this point for me, just as I asked him to.

“Right. So it’s really not a shotgun wedding,” I babble. “Because we aren’t getting married because we’re pregnant….”

“Well. It is what it is,” Mrs. Capell says, her smile looking more like a grimace.

“Mom,” Matthew says, giving her a death stare. “Isn’t there something else you’d like to say?”

“Well, yes, of course, I’d like to say congratulations,” she says, looking at Matthew, then me, then her son again. “You’ll forgive me for needing a moment…to switch gears….When are you due, dear?” she says.

“In late June,” I say.

She nods and says, almost to herself, “Okay…so nobody will really think to do the math after the wedding.”

Matthew’s face turns rigid as he says, “Actually, Mom. Cecily and I were thinking about announcing our news tonight.”

“Tonight?” she says, looking aghast. “To everyone?”

“Yes,” he says. “To all one hundred and sixty people that you invited.”

“Oh, honey. I would really prefer you didn’t do that,” Mrs. Capell says, glancing at her husband. “Walter?”

“I tend to agree,” Mr. Capell says.

“Why?” Matthew says, looking at his dad.

“Because your mother has gone to a lot of trouble to plan an engagement party.”

“Right,” Mrs. Capell says. “Not a baby shower.”

“Nobody said anything about a baby shower,” Matthew says.

“Good,” Paul says. “Because I didn’t bring a baby gift.”

“You didn’t bring any gift,” Scottie says with a smirk.

    I can tell both of them are just trying to keep things light, but my mother shoots them a look, then says, “I agree with the Capells. Let’s just focus on your engagement…and take in this pregnancy news as a family for a moment. Privately. What do you think?” She looks at me with pleading eyes.

I shrug and say, “That’s fine, Mom. Whatever you guys all want.”

“No. It’s what we want, Cecily,” Matthew says.

“Look, sweetie,” Mrs. Capell says, staring at her son. “It’s just a bit…inappropriate to announce a pregnancy at an engagement party.”

“Wow,” Matthew says. “Sorry to be so inappropriate.”

“You know what I mean,” she says. “Now. Come on. Stop pouting and please don’t spoil the party.”

“Sure,” Matthew says, just as the doorbell rings. “You got it, Mom.”



* * *



—

The rest of the evening unfolds exactly according to Mrs. Capell’s impeccable script. Her well-heeled guests arrive, elaborate appetizers are passed, expensive champagne is poured, toasts are given, dinner is served, fine wine flows. Meanwhile, Matthew and I mingle and pose for photos, thank everyone for coming, and play our parts as the perfect couple.

To be fair, we actually are a rather perfect couple tonight, united in our disappointment with our parents’ reaction to our news. We stay together as much as we can, and when we are separated, we exchange glances across the room. At one point, we also share a sidebar in the back hall in which Matthew asks if I’m okay. I tell him that I am, just a little sad.

“It’s going to be all right,” he tells me. “They’ll get over it.”

I nod, but can’t help thinking that our baby—the Capells’ first grandchild—isn’t something that anyone should have to get over.

    Oddly enough, the saving grace of the evening turns out to be Amy. She seems to know everyone and is the life of the party, charming and funny, making such a genuine effort to bring my family and Scottie and Jasmine into the fold. I also really like her parents, especially her father, and I can tell my family is taken with all the Silvers, though my brother seems to have ulterior motives. I catch him bringing a drink to Amy, and I quickly nip it in the bud, informing him that she’s a 9/11 widow and he should lay off.

Even Scottie and Jasmine, who have every reason to feel uncomfortable knowing what they know, seem to gravitate toward Amy, and at one point, as the evening winds down, the four of us end up in a tight circle, discussing my favorite wedding dress—which Scottie has dubbed the “Elizabeth Bennet” gown.

“We heard that you predicted that would be the dress,” Scottie says, clearly impressed.

“I did,” Amy says, nodding.

“How in the world did you do that?” he asks her.

“I don’t know. It’s just so her,” Amy says. “Elegant and feminine and understated and timeless.”