Quadruplets Make Six

I took both tests and capped them off. Then I turned them over and read the word that had popped up onto the little digital screens. I felt my world spinning around my head as my body went numb. Tears sprang to my eyes as my hands began to tremor. Time seemed to stop, and at the same time my heart was racing, thumping a hundred miles a second to try and pump the necessary oxygen through my body

to jar my brain back to reality.

Positive.

Both of the tests were positive.

I was having Graham’s baby.

Fourteen

Libby

I knew Graham was back in town, but he kept telling me he was busy with things. Work, or meetings, or he was simply tired. He had never been tired. Work had never tired him out so much that he didn’t want to spend time with me. And it only served to worry me more about this situation. I had booked an appointment at the free clinic in town to make sure the pregnancy tests were right, and I came away with prenatal vitamins, a booklet on what to expect, and a roll of glossy black and white pictures.

It was official.

I really was pregnant.

I kept trying to get Graham out to dinner, so we could talk, but he kept dodging me. My calls went unanswered and my conversational text messages were met with one-word answers. I couldn’t figure out what in the world had happened. I knew he couldn’t know. It wasn’t possible for him to know I was pregnant. But he was avoiding me for a reason and I wanted to know why. I wanted to know why, at the moment I needed him most, he was nowhere to be found.

But all I had was his stupid dating profile and his phone number.

I knew I could ask Logan for help, but I was so embarrassed. I didn’t know how to tell my favorite cousin I was pregnant. And oh yeah, the dad? His groomsman.

The only thing I could do was try to go to his work, but I was swamped with my own. And even if I showed up at his workplace, there was no guarantee that he would see me. For all I knew, he would have me escorted off the premises by security and want nothing more to do with me.

I was stuck.

Another week rolled by before an opportunity presented itself. According to the doctor’s office, I was nine weeks into my pregnancy. And the nausea was bad. Really bad. Worse than I’d ever experienced in my life. There were some days where the only thing I could keep down was fluids, and I was dropping a drastic amount of weight quickly. The doctor at the clinic advised me to keep an eye on things. If I started vomiting blood or throwing up in my sleep, I needed to get to a hospital.

But I couldn’t afford a hospital bill. I’d never be able to pay the damn thing off. Not without Graham’s help.

It was Saturday morning and the small cafe across town was bustling with life. They had this soothing decaffeinated tea made especially for women who were going through pregnancy issues. It was supposed to help with the nausea enough to help me eat something, and it did. Every chance I could get, I would drive the thirty minutes from my apartment to this place, drink two cups of their tea, and have a small bowl of fruit. Holding down that fruit was the highlight of every single day, and there were moments when I cried into my tea simply because of how relieved I was to eat something.

Then, I heard it.

I heard his voice.

“A large coffee with a shot of espresso and one of those cinnamon rolls, please.”

I looked up from my book and stared at him. There he was, in all his splendor, with his strong shoulders and his tailored suit and his large hands that had picked me up as if I was nothing. My eyes raked down his form, studying the whole of him and taking him in. I had missed him, more than I was willing to admit to myself. But he was clearly lying to me. He was clearly not very busy. This cafe was an easy twenty minutes from his work, and I felt hot tears of anger rising to my eyes. I finished off the fruit as I watched him, silently begging him to turn and see me. To lock his eyes with mine and explain to me why the hell he was dodging me so badly.

But instead, he grabbed his things and headed out the door.

I chugged the rest of my tea, grabbed my book, and left. I walked out and saw him get into a car, then I rushed to mine and began to follow him. I pulled out behind him in traffic, not really knowing what the hell I was doing. But I followed him turn for turn, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible.

And my heart thundered in my ears when the car he was in turned and headed further out of the city.

I followed it, trying to stay a few cars back. I was crazy. I knew I was. There was a battle raging in my mind, telling me to go home. That I had options. That if Graham wanted to see me, he would. He could. But my rolling nausea and the bags pulling at my eyes reminded me of the secret my body was harboring. The secret my body was growing. He had a right to know what was going on, but more than that… I had a right to look him in the eye and ask him what in the world was going on with him.

He had a right to know I was pregnant, but I had a right to choose how to tell him.

The car pulled into a driveway that sank back into the trees. I passed the driveway and slowed down, trying to see through the thick foliage. I kept traveling down the road and went to turn around, whipping a U-turn in the middle of the road. And when I did, the most spectacular sight came into view.

A beautiful house on top of a luscious, green hill.

I had to pull over and gawk. It was so grand and so beautiful that it brought tears to my eyes. I cursed my pregnancy hormones for making me so emotional, but it was gorgeous. The sun was shining down onto the house as if the house itself was a beacon of safety. A haven for those who were hurting and lonely to come and seek rest within its walls. I felt a peace drape over me as I pulled from the side of the road, then I turned up the driveway and started for the house.