Forever Promised (25 page)

And she waited until she had it confirmed before she told anybody else.

She told Drew first, and he kissed her and held her hand and said, “Holy shit, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

She thanked him for his optimism and then moved on to stage two.

She called an emergency knitting meeting with Amy and Kimmy, because those were her women friends, and while Amy was moving, she would still be on text alert 24/7, and Kimmy was going to be up on base, so she needed to be in the know as well.

Benny hadn’t
had
female friends last time she’d done this. It had been her and Deacon, reading religiously from
What to Expect While You’re Expecting
while they both wrote letters to her stupid brother and pretended Deacon wasn’t focusing all of his energy on her and her impending baby to make it through the first couple months of sobriety. Amy had been there, in a sense, but Benny hadn’t trusted her like she’d trusted Deacon. It had taken a year before she could sit and knit with the older woman and not expect to be judged or censured or lectured in some way.

But the trust had come.

So she was actually looking forward to this, even though Kimmy worked over the weekend, so they had to go to Promise House, and it was a Monday afternoon, so Parry Angel didn’t have soccer practice and had to come as well.

They arrived, and Parry asked if she could sit on the front porch and play on her iPod. (Deacon spoiled her rotten—but in this case, the iPod was the electronic babysitter that masqueraded as learning software. Benny was a fan.) Benny could see her through the window and said that was fine, and she went into the kitchen to where Kimmy and Amy were already waiting.

Kimmy looked—well, gorgeous, because she really was, with those big brown eyes in her delicate face and the waves of gold and brown hair—but also pale and a little sad. She smiled at Benny, though, and offered her chocolate-chip oatmeal cookies and milk, and Benny sank down at the kitchen table gratefully.

Amy looked tired, and Benny had a sudden guilty thought that she’d been sort of consumed with the Deacon’s baby thing and had maybe missed some stuff in her friends’ lives.

So she asked about them first.

“How’s moving?” she said as she dug for her knitting. She’d been planning this cream-colored baby blanket with lots of cables and eyelets since she’d first proposed this idea to Drew. She’d cast on after the doctor’s appointment and had started the beginning of the complex pattern, but she needed her pattern book open and a chance to actually sit down and concentrate in order to work on it. A knitting day was the perfect time to work. “And where’s your children?”

Amy laughed a little and made a deliberate stitch in what was obviously a bright-red sweater for Jon-Jon. “The kids are with my mother, who hasn’t stopped crying since we announced we were going. I think she’s trying to teach them Spanish in two months, because every time Lila comes home, she knows four more words.”

Benny grimaced. “Well, you know, Deacon, Crick, and I will teach her to swear, if you’d rather she learned that!”

Amy laughed, surprised, and patted Benny’s hand. “No, sweetie—I’m pretty sure Jon’s got that covered. But thank you.” She sobered. “God, nobody in DC is going to knit. You know that, right? I’m going to be explaining to all these new people how it helps me concentrate and they’re going to think I’m rude and—” She stopped with a deep breath like she was reminding herself of something. Then she let the breath go all the way. “It’s going to suck,” she said after a moment. “I mean, I get the going for our careers and all, and Deacon was right—it’s the sort of thing Jon and I always dreamed of doing—but we’re leaving our friends and….”

“It’s going to suck.” Benny’s heart fell a little bit. Crap. Who wanted to give good news when your friend was all buried in a funk of her own, right? She looked outside and saw one of the Promise House girls was outside with Parry. Even though the girl was dark skinned and nothing at all like her sister, for a moment Benny’s heart gave a startled lurch.

“Kimmy, Missy’s not here, right?”

Kimmy jerked a little like she’d been daydreaming over her sock as Amy had spoken, and she blinked. “No—no. Missy is at the homeless shelter today, giving out food. It’s the only place that’ll take her right now.”

Benny grunted. “Did you tell her about Bob?”

“Yeah.” Kimmy narrowed her focus and glared at her sock. “She said ‘Fuck him. It’s not like he loved us anyway.’ Stone cold, but you know?”

“First sensible thing she’s said since she got here?” Benny actually felt some sisterly affection for her now. That’s exactly how Benny had felt.

“Yup.” Kimmy wrinkled her nose. “Sorry, Benny. I shouldn’t be that way about a resident.”

Benny turned her gaze back to her knitting, making sure the yarn was coming smoothly from the bag so she didn’t have to put it on the kitchen table. “Crick and I haven’t been allowed to see her for a couple of years,” she said, wondering why she felt so compelled to apologize for this. “We….”

“You were getting on with your lives,” Kimmy said gently. “It’s okay. You all had your own problems—it’s what families do.”

Benny smiled at her, feeling some better, and she thought maybe now would be a good time to fill them in.

“Uhm, speaking of families and moving on and….” She trailed off and grinned, so happy she couldn’t quite contain it.

Amy guessed first. “Yeah?” she said, bouncing up and down. “Jon said you’d gone to see the doctor, so… so
yeah
?”

Benny did a little chair dance, knitting needles and all. “Yeah!”

Kimmy looked completely nonplussed. “I’m sorry—what doctor?”

“I’m pregnant!” she said, fully expecting Kimmy to celebrate with her. “I got inseminated, and I’m going to have Deacon and Crick’s baby!”

Kimmy’s expression was not quite what Benny expected. She blinked rapidly a couple of times and then pulled in her lower lip to keep it from wobbling. “Deacon and Crick’s baby?”

Amy looked at her worriedly. “Yeah, hon. This was sort of big news—Crick and Benny had to do some fast talking to get Deacon to agree.”

Kimmy sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, giving a pale smile. “I’d forgotten about that.. Congratulations… that’s….” Her voice wobbled. “That’s generous of you,” she managed. Suddenly she dropped the sock she was working on and stood up, and Benny watched her, hurt and a little alarmed.

“Kimmy?”

Kimmy shook her head. “I’m sorry. I… I’ll be back in a minute, okay?”

She practically ran out of the room, and Benny shared a helpless look with Amy. “Maybe you’d better go check on her. I… I don’t know what I said…?”

Amy grimaced. “I’ve got sort of a suspicion.” She got up and followed Kimmy, and Benny stood up unhappily. She wandered to the front door and stuck her head out, and saw the girl she’d seen out with Parry was sitting next to her, a skein of acrylic yarn in her lap, making little yarn dolls for Parry to play with.

“Oh, aren’t those clever,” she said, sort of at a loss. “Can I help you make those?”

The girl looked up at her, startled, sort of like Benny had been when Amy had first sat down and knit with her.

“Yes, ma’am,” she said, and Benny had to look behind her to see if the girl was talking to somebody else.

“Do you make clothes for them?” Benny asked, taking the skein of light-coffee-colored yarn and wrapping it around her fingers the way she saw the girl do.

“Yeah, Sweetie,” Parry said excitedly. “Clothes! Can we make clothes?”

Sweetie—apparently that was her name—looked a little embarrassed. “We’d need some felt and scissors and a glue gun,” she said, shrugging. “That’s how my nana did it.”

“Maybe we can bring that stuff by next week,” Benny said, and then she remembered why she was out here. “That is, if Kimmy’s up for it.”

Sweetie suddenly looked at Benny with an uncomfortably adult expression. “I don’t think it’s anything you did,” she said, and Benny fought the temptation to squirm.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She’s been… I mean, she hides it real good, but there’s something sad going on. I don’t think….” Sweetie shrugged. “It ain’t my place to bear tales, right?”

Benny was dying to know. She was. But she remembered how hard it had been to know right from wrong. She’d been pregnant and desperate and watching Deacon wander into the liquor store while she just
wished
he would look at her, hanging on the corner, hoping for a handout. It had only been a week, but she’d stolen during that week. She’d cried.

Doing right after that—it had seemed such a huge thing.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Benny said, feeling noble. “It would hurt Kimmy’s feelings, and we don’t want that.”

She and Parry immersed themselves in the fun of tying the little dolls around the neck and waist, and of making the little bundles for the arms, and, for the boys, splitting off the legs. It was soothing, and although Sweetie wasn’t much on conversation, some of the hurt washed away. Kimmy was really good at pointing out when something wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t Benny’s fault her parents sucked ass. It wasn’t Benny’s fault Deacon was a little too wonderful not to fall for, even if she knew better. It wasn’t Benny’s fault something had hurt Kimmy when Benny hadn’t been trying.

Kimmy would know that, right? She’d know whatever Benny had done, she hadn’t been trying? For a moment, Benny fought that terrible childish fear, that heart-sinking moment of knowing you’d done something wrong.

But Amy came out then, and although her eyes were wet, she smiled at Benny reassuringly.

“It’s okay, hon. I think today just wasn’t a great day for us to come over.”

Benny bit her lip against the disappointment. “Yeah, okay.”

Amy plopped down on the porch steps at Benny’s feet. “Those are
darling—
can I make?”

Sweetie raised her eyebrows like she hadn’t been expecting to host a crafting party just by being nice to a little girl. “Yeah, sure. Be my guest.”

Amy took the yarn and started to wind her own bit around her fingers. “So,” she said, “when are you due?”

Benny breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted to celebrate so badly. “About a week after finals,” she said. “The end of May.”

Amy nodded. “I can’t wait to tell Jon—he’ll be so relieved.”

“It won’t replace you guys,” Benny said, fighting off irrational tears. Not now. She could cry when they moved, but not right now.

Amy shook her head. “No, I know it. But it’ll be good for Deacon to have something to look forward to. Something to plan.” She stopped winding the yarn and very practically broke it with a sharp jerk between her hands. “So,” she said, her eyes twinkling a little. “Do I get to know how you convinced him this was a good idea?”

Benny’s blush took her completely unaware.
I told him it was the way I could stop being in love with him and live my own life.
Mortified, she shook her head, and to her relief, Amy didn’t look hurt at all. Instead, she patted Benny’s knee.

“So see, baby? Secrets, things we’re afraid of seeing the daylight—that’s part of being a woman, you know? You’ll tell me when you’re ready. Kimmy will face us when she’s ready. It’ll all be okay.”

Benny wiped under her eyes with the back of her hand and pulled out the yarn scissors from her knitting kit and snipped her yarn neatly.

“Of course,” she said, her voice only a little thick. “Sweetie, do you want us to bring you some felt and a glue gun next time we come by?”

Sweetie blinked at them. “Yeah,” she said, surprised. “That would be really nice. And more yarn if you got it—and maybe some needles. I seen Kimmy knitting. I wouldn’t mind doing it myself.”

Benny grinned. “Deal,” she said, and they all kept working quietly in the suffocating heat.

K
IMMY
came out eventually, and they had a stilted conversation about the weather with a hope for a cool-down while they pretended Benny had not somehow accidentally broken her friend’s heart.

At the end, though, Kimmy went to give Benny a departing hug, and it was long and hard. “I’m really happy for you,” she said quietly into Benny’s ear. “I am. And I’m happy for Deacon. I think what you’re doing, it’s a good thing. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

Benny nodded and wiped her eyes and then smiled brilliantly. “You too.”

Kimmy’s smile was a little stronger than it had been. “Yeah.”

By the time Benny got to The Pulpit to tell Deacon, she was pretty sure she could do this surrogacy thing, sisterhood or not.

Deacon

“R
EALLY
?”

“I told you!”

The ginormous
chestnut gelding Deacon was leading around the ring jerked against his halter, and Deacon cast the animal a stern look. Pickles subsided, and Deacon nodded his head decisively. Pickles had a good future as a jousting horse—he was generally calm and obedient, and he had a streak of vanity as wide as his dinner-plate-sized feet.

“The first time?”

Benny grinned from her perch on the side of the metal pipe fence that surrounded the practice ring. Deacon had a flash to her brother doing the exact same thing when he’d been barely older than Parry Angel, and to Benny watching him as he worked when she’d come to live with him, and to Parry herself, who could watch Deacon work a horse for hours.

But Benny wasn’t a child, and Deacon’s sense of time telescoped shut, leaving him with this moment, and this one alone.

“Yeah,” she said, quietly, her lip curled up cockily like she knew she’d done a good job.

“You’re pregnant the first try? How often does that happen?”

“About 20 percent of the time. Would you like a math lesson now, or can we start jumping up and down?”

Deacon felt his cheeks stretch in a smile. He couldn’t help it. “Let me get the halter here so I don’t scare the fuck out of old Pickles, and I’ll hop the fence and celebrate, how’s that?”

Deacon called a halt to the horse’s paces and unhooked the bridle from the halter. He took a few steps from the horse, scaled the fence in two steps and a vault, and landed on his feet in the dust not far from Benny.