How to Keep a Secret

Andrea’s eyes filled again. “I’ve been seeing Greg.”

That didn’t come as a surprise. Half the island had seen Greg at one time or another. The other half had seen his partner in the practice, Alison.

“I’m glad you’re talking to someone.”

“Greg is wonderful. You’re lucky being married to him.” Andrea reached for her purse. “He has this way of talking, sort of quiet but firm. Makes you think there’s hope and that you’re going to be able to fix whatever the problem is.”

That voice hadn’t managed to fix the fact that she couldn’t get pregnant.

“He’s good at what he does.” That was true. Greg made a difference to the island. And so did she. Community was important to both of them. Jenna often wondered how her sister could live in a big anonymous city. She knew she wouldn’t be happy doing that. With the exception of a few vacations and her time at college, Jenna had lived her whole life here. She’d married Greg in the Old Whaling Church in Edgartown in the presence of half the community. Her oldest friend had made the cake and Lauren had done her makeup. She’d known most of the guests her whole life.

Jenna stood up. “I’ll keep an eye on Daisy.”

r /> “Thank you. Daisy adores you. You’re all she talks about. Mrs. Sullivan said this, Mrs. Sullivan said that.”

Thank goodness Mrs. Sullivan hadn’t said the F word.

“Daisy is smart.”

“Too smart sometimes. I’m worried she’ll see things I don’t want her seeing.” Andrea stood up, too. “You’re very good at your job, Jenna. You’re going to be a wonderful mother when you eventually decide to have children.”

Jenna managed to keep her smile in place.

She walked Andrea back to the school gates, promised to keep an eye on Daisy and then made her way back to the classroom.

The wind was biting and most of the islanders were longing for spring. Not Jenna. Spring meant buds on the trees and lambs playing in the fields. Everywhere you looked there was new life. This time last year she’d been sure that by now she’d be pushing a stroller along the streets. Instead she was back in her classroom teaching other people’s kids.

Of course it was still possible that spring might be lucky for her, too.

If she and Greg had nonstop sex over the next few weeks she could potentially be pregnant by April or May. That would mean a Christmas baby.

She allowed herself a moment of dreaming, and then snapped out of it.

All she thought about was babies.

Obsess: to worry neurotically or obsessively.

Her obsession had even entered the bedroom. When she and Greg made love she found herself thinking, Please let me get pregnant.

Maybe she’d cook a special meal tonight. Open a bottle of wine. Try to relax a little. She could greet him at the door wearing nothing but a smile and hope Mrs. Pardew across the road wasn’t looking out the window.

She reached the door of her classroom and winced at the noise that came from inside.

Bracing herself, she pushed open the door and the noise dimmed to a hum.

“Good morning, Mrs. Sullivan.” The chorus of voices lifted the cloud that had been hanging over her.

Maybe she didn’t have her own children, but she had them. She loved their spontaneity and their innocence, their bright eyes and smiles. She even loved the naughty kids. Like Billy Grant, who was currently standing on his desk, waiting for her reaction.

He was a rebel with a strong sense of adventure and a cavalier attitude to risk. Fortunately no one knew more about that instinct than Jenna.

“Billy, our classroom rule is that we don’t stand on desks.”

Billy folded his arms but didn’t move. “You’re not the boss of me.”

Jenna arched an eyebrow.

He lasted two seconds and then scrambled off the desk and plopped onto his chair.