Feels like Home (Lake Fisher 2)

“You and Jake seem so happy,” I say to her as I look around at her comfortable home. The open pantry shelves are stacked with board games, and there are dozens of family photos that adorn the walls. There’s even photos of her first husband—the one who died in Iraq—with their first three kids. “You have pictures of your first husband on the wall?” I raise my eyebrows at her.

“It’s important for the kids to have a visual reminder of their dad,” she says. “He’s gone, but he’ll never be forgotten.”

“Jake doesn’t get jealous?” I’m being nosy now. I know that.

She shakes her head. “He knew I’d been married when we got back together. My first husband and I were very happy together.” She gets a dreamy look on her face. “It’s a different kind of happy than what I have with Jake. I can’t explain it. It’s almost like it was a different life.”

A different life. That would be nice.

“How are you and Eli doing?” she asks me. She looks over her shoulder to be sure Eli is still in the living room with Jake.

I shake my head. “Same. No change.”

“Do you want to make it work with Eli?”

I have to think about that. Do I? When I arrived here a few days ago, I wouldn’t have cared if he died tomorrow. Today, I’m not sure I feel the same way. “Eli and I have gone through too much.”

“Like what?” she asks, her voice quiet and steady.

“Just…a lot. It’s not even something I can explain.” Nor do I want to. Ever. I don’t want to tell anyone about the devastation of not being able to carry a child to full term. No one understands how it feels to get pregnant, to even feel that stir of life, and then have it taken from you.

“Why did you and Eli stop trying?”

“To get pregnant?” I ask, astounded at her question.

“Well, that too,” she says. “But why did you stop trying to be married?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Well, marriage requires a certain amount of work. It’s not all sunshine and roses. Sometimes it’s hard. Really hard. Jake and I have things we have to work through too. But we always do manage to work through it.” She pretends to be busy sorting silverware into the drawer from the dishwasher, but I can tell I have her full attention. “We have to at least try…”

“Our trying days are over,” I tell her. “We’re just here until the end of the week.”

“Oh.” She sounds startled by that. “For some reason, I thought you were staying longer.”

“I can’t. I have to get back to work.”

“Oh.” She seems a little disconcerted, but I don’t know why. “I’m glad you came for this week at least.” She smiles at me. “This place, it’s like magic. When I came back here, I knew everything was going to be all right.”

I laugh. “And then you stayed.”

“I stayed. And our family grew. Still growing.” She points to her pregnant belly. But then she cocks her head to the side and grimaces. “Is it hard for you? My being pregnant, I mean.”

“No, no,” I rush to reassure her. “It’s not hard for me at all. It’s fine.” But in reality, I’m jealous as hell.

She smiles. “It’s like I get pregnant every time he looks at me.” She pokes her belly with her finger. “This is the last one, though. Jake’s already gotten snipped. He went as soon as the last pregnancy test came back positive.”

Jake breezes into the room. “Are you ladies talking about my junk?” he asks. He leans over and kisses Katie on the forehead. She scrunches up her face, but there’s joy in her expression, too.

“Not yet, but we are willing to.” She gives him a warning glance.

“So, movie night,” Jake says. “Are we both going?”

I must look confused, because Katie explains, “When the little kids were smaller, one of us would keep them at home while the other one went to the movie with the rest of them. But now, they fall asleep on the blanket as soon as it gets dark out. “We can both go,” she says to him. “If someone gets cranky, one of us can bring them home.”

“I’ll get the blankets set up.”

“Fill up a cooler of drinks, too, will you?” she asks. “And carry some snacks up the hill.”