The setback, p.16
The Setback, page 16
I press one finger to his lips. “William Earl, I want you to be close to your animals, your fancy garage, and your parents. There’s more space for our future together and whatever it holds. I choose the farmhouse.”
“But you love this house.”
“I do,” I admit. “But what I loved about it was that it’s mine. It was a place I didn’t have to answer to anyone else about. It’s a place where I can be safe with Aiden, a place where I can decorate any way I want. It’s a place that felt permanent, or you know, semi-permanent.” I glance around the room at the curtains I picked out that Will helped me hang. At the throw pillows on the sofa in the family room. At the little fence around my front lawn. “It was a place I chose, and it’s a place I’ll remember fondly, but now I’m choosing you—us. I’m choosing to move to a place that’s always been your home, near the parents who have always been there for you and who have welcomed me. A place we’re going to change into exactly what we want—together.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod.
“Alright, well, in some ways that’ll be easier. I’ll move in with my parents, and you can stay here while we tear the place up.”
“It’s almost Christmas,” I say. “Is this really the best time to go tearing things up?”
“The baby’s due in mid-April, right?”
“Sure.”
“And what if she comes early?”
Early? I hadn’t even considered it. “It’s Beth’s first baby. They usually don’t come. . .” Then I think about my friend whose baby came eight weeks early and spent weeks in the NICU. And one of the kids in Gabe’s class who said he came a month early, but went home from the hospital right on time. “Oh my gosh. What if she comes early?”
“When were you thinking for the wedding? My mom’s asking, and I was also wondering when we could mention about the baby.”
I close my eyes and inhale slowly. “Okay. Amanda’s wedding is right after Christmas. I was thinking March for ours, but that doesn’t really give us much space for baby stuff, does it?”
“Maybe we shoot for February, and I can try and have the house ready by March.”
I’m nodding.
“What are you guys doing?” Beth’s rubbing her eyes as she walks out of her room. Her eyes drop to the table, and she leans closer to get a better look. “Oh, wow.”
“Will and Steve drew up these sketches.”
“Because he knows about the baby,” Will says.
Beth’s eyes fly wide. “Wait, what did you tell him about it?”
Will freezes. “What do you mean?”
“Did you tell him that I’m giving you the baby?”
My sweet fiancé’s Adam’s apple bobs a little when he swallows. “I told him that after your baby was born, we’d need more space.”
Beth’s mouth is moving, like she’s talking to someone inside of her head. “Okay, but you didn’t say it was going to be your baby, right?”
“What’s going on?” I ask. “Did you change your mind?” My heart contracts, like someone just told me Aiden’s standing on the edge of a cliff. How can I care so much about a baby I’ve never even seen? I need to stop being so ridiculous and remember that this entire plan is predicated on the whims of an eighteen-year-old. The rug could be yanked out from under us at any point.
“I didn’t change my mind,” Beth says. “But I haven’t told Ethan yet.”
Oh.
“If he hears you’re the one getting the baby, then I’ll have to explain that I’m moving, and I don’t know how to do that yet.”
He won’t follow her to Seattle. Or, at least, I can’t imagine that he will. He’s been pretty set on running the ranch here.
“But you have to tell him,” Will says. “Right? I mean, it’s not like your plan is to have the baby and disappear like smoke.”
Beth glares at Will. “Of course not, but he’s going to be so disappointed.”
He’s going to be wrecked. Oh, my heart goes out to poor Ethan, who has done everything right, every single step of the way. “Are you sure you want—”
“I’m sure.” She inhales and then exhales slowly, her face relaxing. “Aunt Donna, since the day I found out I was pregnant, I’ve changed my mind every single day, sometimes every hour, about what I wanted to do. Keep the baby. Give her up. Keep her. Give her up. Run away to Europe. At no point have I felt any sort of peace about any decision, not until I decided that I’d give her to you.”
“Okay,” I say, my heartbeat slowing down a hair.
“You are her mother.” Her hands drop to either side of her small belly. “Once I said it out loud, I realized it was true. I mean, I’m her mother, but you’re her real mom. Kind of like how Amelia’s my mother, but you’ve been much more of a mom to me than she was.” A tear wells up in her eye and runs down her left cheek.
My heart swells. I’ve never said anything like that, but I’ve felt it before. I felt it the day she asked if she could move in with me. I felt it when she told me she was pregnant—that worry, the worry a parent would feel for her child when she was in a tough spot. To hear Beth say it out loud. . .it feels legitimate now. As if it’s not all in my head.
“I haven’t even wobbled since I decided to give her to you two. Everyone in the world deserves parents as good as you will be.”
Now I’m crying, too. “But Beth, are you sure you have to leave?”
Will stands, picking up a piece of paper. “You shouldn’t! I’m adding two more rooms to the existing three bedrooms in that house. We’d have plenty of space for you to stay.”
“I feel at peace with you keeping this little girl.” Beth wipes at her tears. “But I don’t think I could live there, watching you both do what I couldn’t. I don’t think I could live my happy, carefree teenage life while you’re doing all the work I should be doing for her. I’d feel. . .I don’t know. Guilty, maybe. Or left out.”
“Alright,” I say. “That’s fine. But if you change your mind—”
“I won’t.” She shakes her head. “But thank you for wanting me to.”
Will takes two steps and wraps an arm around Beth’s shoulder. “Our offer always stands. Next week, next month, next year. When you want to come back, you’ll have a room. You’ll have a place. Always.”
Her crying redoubles. So does mine.
Which is right when Ethan walks through the door. “Whoa, what’s going on in here?”
14
Beth
My Aunt Donna likes to make plans. I watch her with her lists, with her calendars, and with her paperwork. She tallies the costs of things. She sketches out the sequence in which events should happen. It’s probably why she was good at her job at the retreat build-out before, and it’s definitely why she’s good at helping run Mrs. Earl’s hotel.
But the thing about making plans is that something always comes up that wrecks them.
I had a plan, too.
Now I have a baby.
And a boyfriend whom I love.
Sometimes the things that wreck your plans are the best things that happen in your entire life. Occasionally, it’s even something you never thought could happen. My biggest problem for the past few months has been that I couldn’t see a clear path for both me and for my daughter.
How can I give her the family she deserves? How can I find a place where I can also thrive? If I keep her here, everyone will know she’s not Ethan’s baby. Everyone will know she was the result of a one-time mistake. That’ll be her story.
I hate that story.
I want to change it. Since the fishing tours dried up, I’ve just been working a few shifts a week at Brownings. I throw a big apron on during each shift and so far, no one has noticed. If I can stop doing that soon and just hide in Donna’s house until the spring, maybe I can have the baby and people can just assume she and Will adopted with no specifics about where. When I head out for Seattle to take some photography classes, she’ll have a good story, and it won’t strangle mine.
It’s not a bad plan, but there’s collateral damage.
Ethan’s the brightest patch of light that has ever shone on my life. He’s the freshest breeze. The joy in my misery. He wanted us to try dating, to see whether what we have would work, but his promise has always been forever.
I just don’t see how we can work, not here. Not in Manila.
The bad thing about small towns is also the good thing about them. There are so few people that they know everything about everything. They gossip like nothing else in the world. And in this place where most everyone goes to church, there’s more judgment than anywhere else I’ve been.
Not that I’ve been many places.
So the one remaining piece in the puzzle of how to resolve my plan-wrecking miracle has been figuring out how to tell Ethan. “It’s not goodbye,” I practice saying in front of the mirror. “We’re just hitting pause.” Tears roll down my face as I say it. There’s no way he’s going to understand.
Ethan and his family are the kind of people who see a problem and muscle their way through. They work, and they fight, and they slay dragons. The Ellingsons don’t slay things. They don’t attack things head on. We slink away and circle back around later. We hide and hope and wait.
But when I hear people talking outside, I have to at least peek out and see what’s going on. Will isn’t usually over here quite this early.
“Of course I want her to stay,” Will says.
I realize he’s talking about me.
“Do you really think she’ll be better off in Seattle with her parents?” He sounds so irritated at the whole idea, like my departure would be the worst mistake ever.
“I mean, not with Patrick and Amelia, but she’ll definitely have more opportunities in Seattle.” Aunt Donna sighs. “She’s studying photography, and there are only so many times she can photograph the Gorge or the tourists who visit while they’re holding a fish, right?”
She’s right about that. There are so many things I’m learning in even just my online classes, but I’m kind of limited here. No downtown area. No parks. Just big open ranches, broad sky, and lots of cows.
“Sometimes the everyday things are the most beautiful,” Will says.
Donna laughs and slaps his arm. “That’s just something boring people say.”
I love watching them. I wonder whether that’s how Ethan and I look. I hope it is. They’re so effortless and carefree around one another. No guarded looks or pensive thoughts before each word they speak. There are no fraught secrets or ultimatums like my parents. There’s no manipulation like with my grandparents.
Just joy and support and teasing.
“Well, I think she’s better off here, where people love her,” Will says. “But you’re the fancy college girl, so if you think she should go to college and experience what’s out there, then maybe you’re right. Maybe Seattle really will be better.”
Donna’s brow furrows, like she’s not at all sure, but then she nods. “How can she even decide what breakfast she likes best when she’s only ever had eggs?”
“I still love eggs,” Will says. “and I’ve had lots of different things, but I do see your point.” He pushes some papers in front of her. “Just take a look at these.”
Donna squints, shifting the papers slightly. “What exactly are. . .” But then her eyes widen and her mouth forms into a little ‘o.’ “Who drew these?”
“Steve helped me come up with a little more space than just the garage,” he says. “And we also talked about how, on the lot this house has, we could add two rooms and a bathroom here. Or we could add one room and another living area. I just need you to decide where you’d rather live, and then you can see how each of them could be renovated so that—”
She grabs his arm. “I love you, Will Earl.”
My heart flips inside my chest. I should not be watching this, but it’s helping me, too. How nice would it be to have parents who adore each other? Parents who are both smart, hard-working, and capable. That’s what I’m doing for my little girl. That’s why I haven’t wavered since choosing Donna.
“I love you, too. I have loved you for a very, very long time now. I just want to make you happy.”
“The next few months are going to be really busy, and probably really hard,” Aunt Donna says.
I duck back into my room then. Really busy months for them as they do everything necessary to get ready for this baby. As they get married. As they work and play and visit.
I realize that I don’t really want to hide in this house for all those things. If I don’t want anyone to know I’m pregnant, I’ll miss all the fun stuff. Their wedding. Amanda’s wedding. Christmas parties.
My parents finally know the truth about most of it—Dad threatened to drive down here until Aunt Donna got on the phone and talked him down. They’re not happy, but they’re relieved I’m not keeping it.
But how am I going to tell Ethan? As soon as I do, he’s going to realize that it’ll be awkward for me after she’s born. He’ll ask about my plans. My plan to hide and leave will impact him, too. He’ll be stuck inside as well. . .
I finally force myself back out into the family room, and I reassure Aunt Donna and Will that I’m not going to change my mind about the baby. They’re as great about it as they always are, trying to convince me to consider sticking around. Will even wraps an arm around my shoulders and says, “Our offer always stands. Next week, next month, next year. When you want to come back, you’ll have a room. You’ll have a place. Always.”
It makes me cry, and Aunt Donna and Will are crying too, but in a good way. Happy tears, mostly.
Of course, that’s when the door opens and Ethan walks through. He takes one look at Will and me, both of us with tears rolling down our faces, and he asks, “Whoa, what’s going on in here?”
I scramble around for anything I can say that won’t force the truth right this very moment, but I’ve never been good at that sort of thing.
Aunt Donna’s eyes keep panning from Ethan back to me, and she looks sick.
“I’m giving my baby to Aunt Donna,” I say. “And Will.”
“Oh.” Ethan nods. “Actually, that makes a lot of sense. Did you decide that a few weeks ago?”
I straighten my shoulders, Will drops his arm, and I step toward Ethan. “I did.”
“Why didn’t you tell me then?” He knows. I can tell by the way he’s standing, by the stiff way he’s holding his head, that he knows there’s more.
“Can we go for a walk?”
Ethan glances at the door to Aiden’s room, from which he will emerge any moment. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”
I’m sure Aunt Donna and Will breathe a huge sigh of relief when we step outside, but I almost wish I could carry them in my pocket. Aunt Donna’s great at smoothing things over.
“Alright, that’s the part I’m not getting. I thought that, if you’ve stuck with the decision to give Donna the baby for a few weeks, you’d be happy, but you look. . .sad.” He takes my hand. “And you’ve been crying.”
“I’m mostly happy,” I say. “I was crying because they love me, and I know they’ll love this baby.” My free hand rests against my stomach. I have no idea why that makes me happier. It’s not like the baby knows.
“That’s good.” He walks with me then, both of us heading out toward the creek that runs just past town. Ethan knows me well enough not to press for more. If he pushes, I’ll just do what Ellingsons do best. Hide deeper.
But eventually, he has to be told. And now that the Band-aid’s half off. . . “I don’t think I can stay here, after I have the baby, Ethan.”
He stops walking, his hand stopping me, too. “Why not?”
I sigh. “Can you imagine what it would be like, me living in the same house with them?”
He shrugs. “Sure. I’ve been in a house with a baby before. When Gabe was born—”
“It’s not the same.”
“Not exactly.”
“Not at all.” I try to pull my hand away.
But he won’t let me. “No. Not this time.”
“What?”
“If you have that baby and you have to leave, fine. Last time you had big news, something you didn’t want to tell me, you hid. You wouldn’t let me near you. You wouldn’t tell me what was going on, and you kept it all to yourself. But now we’re together. You love me, and I love you. That means we share what we’re feeling. You’ve told me you’re worried that after the baby comes, you won’t be able to live here.”
I nod.
“That’s fine, but you don’t really know what it’ll be like, and you aren’t leaving yet. So you’ve told me what you want to do, and I’ll keep holding your hand, rubbing your feet, bringing you breakfast, and taking you on dates right up until this little girl makes her glorious entry into the world.”
“But Ethan, what I’m saying is that I want to keep this a secret. No one can know it’s my baby. That means we’ll be hiding for months.”
“Okay, so we’ll go for walks and I’ll get a lot of takeout.”
“And after the baby’s born, I’m moving to Seattle. I’ll take photography classes. I’ll live—”
He kisses me then.
Not a peck on the lips to keep me from talking. A real kiss. His arms slide against my cheeks, they pull my face toward his just as his lips ignite feelings inside of me that I’ve rarely felt before.
And then he releases my mouth, and his hand slides back into mine again. He upends my world, and then he goes back to walking.
“Ethan.”
“If you talk about moving again, I’ll just kiss you. It’s a win-win for me, so feel free.”
My free hand tightens into a ball.
“Okay,” I say. “Maybe you need time to think about it, to process that—”
And he spins me around and kisses me again, this time longer, more intently than before, which I hadn’t thought possible. He runs one hand through my messy hair, and then he sighs against my mouth. “Definitely a win.”
