It Happened One Night (20 page)

Lana looked away, embarrassed. “Well, sometimes I think I feel…”

“What?”

“Gas!” Lana blurted, embarrassed but glad to finally be able to talk about her pregnancy with Karin. “At least, I think it
is. But then, there’s no—you know. No actual gas.”

Karin laughed, her eyes lit up now with the first real enthusiasm Lana had seen in ages. “That’s the baby!”

She looked down and gave Lana’s belly a gentle nudge with the heel of her palm, and at once, Lana felt a slight pressure like
a small firework popping inside her. It made her laugh.

And when Karin looked up from her belly, Lana’s whole vision was filled with the warmth of her sister’s brown eyes, so much
like their mother’s. Karin hugged her, lightly patting her back. “I’m happy for you, little sis. I really am.”

Lana squeezed her sister tight, tears coming to her eyes for how right and good it felt to have Karin’s company and friendship
once again. And yet here Karin was, saying she was happy for her, while Lana was feeling only the tidal conflict of her emotions—the
sudden shock of realization that the baby inside her was a life of its own, and the desperate fear that came with it. She
held her sister tighter and squeezed her eyes closed. “I’m afraid.”

“Don’t worry,” Karin said. She pulled away to look into Lana’s eyes. “This baby is going to have a great life. We’re a good
strong family, you and I.”

“I don’t know if I’m going to keep it,” Lana said.

“You mean…” A flicker of fury raced across Karin’s face.

“I might give it up for adoption. I’m not sure yet.”

She watched Karin’s face fall. And she knew she’d caused yet another injury to her sister’s heart. Karin must have glimpsed
their family’s future, a future with Lana’s baby in it. And Lana had hinted she was going to spoil even that small happiness.

“I can’t be a mom,” Lana said, watching her sister’s face to gauge her reaction, to see if Karin agreed.

Karin’s face was unreadable. “No. I can’t picture you as a mother.”

A pang of disappointment shot through Lana’s heart. She was hoping that Karin would have contradicted her, that she might
say, “I think motherhood is something you can do.” If Karin believed Lana could be a good mother, then Lana knew she could
do it. But true to her nature, Karin didn’t sugarcoat the truth: Lana
would
be a bad parent. Karin had all but said it aloud.

“It wouldn’t be right to raise a child if I knew I was going to do a bad job,” Lana continued, twisting the knife further.
She didn’t
want
a kid. So why did it hurt so much to admit what she already knew, that she wasn’t mommy material? “I mean, it would be cruel,
wouldn’t it? To have me as a mom?”

“A child needs someone steady. Someone who can give it the life it deserves.”

Lana nodded. A crack was opening in her heart. “Adoption seems like the only way.”

Karin withdrew her hand. “Well, it’s your decision.”

“Thank you.”

“But in the meantime, no more of this being in denial about the baby. It’s coming whether you want it to or not. Trust me.
It’s all going to be okay.”

Some of the worry drained out of her.
It’s all going to be okay.
Karin was on her side once again. And Lana knew that they—the two of them—could get through whatever obstacles they faced,
even if those obstacles were each other from time to time.

“Thank you,” Lana said. There was still a lot to talk about. About Eli. And about his betrayal. And about Ron. But for now,
she simply took what comfort was before her. And she hugged her sister tight.

That evening Karin went back to church. She kneeled in the second row and bowed her head low over her hands. From now on she
would try harder to be a better person. To put her family first and to cherish the ties of blood. To be more forgiving and
generous. To stop stressing so much about the future and to trust it to God. Why hadn’t she realized it before? The future
stretched out before her like a sunlit path. She knew what she was meant to do.

September 5

The sky above City Hall Park was overcast and chilly, gray that was nearly violet. Despite the weather the farmers’ market
was crowded when Eli arrived. The smell of fresh produce sweetened the air. Apples, carrots, kale, turnips, and other early
fall fare gleamed in the sun. People shouted and reached over one another’s shoulders to hand money to busy vendors.

Eli headed to the back corner of the park, past the circular concrete fountain toward Lana and Karin’s booth. He pulled his
light brown jacket closer to his chin, his thoughts focused with knifelike precision on finding Lana.

There were customers at the Wildflower Barn booth when he arrived, a crowd of people watching Lana assemble impromptu flower
arrangements while Karin rang up orders. He stood off to the side of the line and watched her. Her skin reflected pinkish
in the glow from the canvas over their booth, and she was wearing a Wildflower Barn T-shirt under a brown jacket. At her neck
was a simple choker made of wooden beads, and her hair fell around her shoulders.

He watched her work. Unlike other flower arrangers, Lana had no patience for symmetry and uniformity. Her bouquets were always
wild, unkempt, sprigs of thistle and willow branches sprawling in barely controlled chaos. How many times had Eli gone home
with a fistful of flower stems in his hand from this market? And how many times had he thought to himself:
I love her
and tried to convince himself he meant it only as a friend?

He waited his turn to speak with Lana, watching her hand wrap long stalks in brown paper and hemp twine. The smile she gave
him when he said hello might have looked entirely warm and genuine to anyone else, but he saw a subtle wariness in her eyes.

“We have to talk,” he said.

She looked past his shoulder, where a line had formed. “What about?”

Karin stopped ringing up customers to stand at her sister’s shoulder. A protector if Eli ever saw one. “She’s busy. Come back
later.”

“I can’t. I only have a minute. Lana, come with me?”

She said nothing. He moved around to the other side of the table. “Lana.”

Her eyes met his, full and blue. She shook her head and Eli tried not to lose heart. Years of damage had built up. Years of
denial that wouldn’t be cleared up in five minutes. But he had to try.

“Please?” he asked.

He saw her eyes flicker toward the line of customers and then toward her sister. Karin shrugged her shoulders as if to say,
“It’s up to you.”

“
One
minute,” Lana said.

He took her hand and held tight as they walked around the table and through the crowd. Her fingers didn’t tighten around his,
but still he held on. He could feel the calluses on her fingertips and it made him ache to feel the rasp of them on his skin.
He led her down the path through the park and only when they stopped in a shady spot away from the crowd did he let her hand
go. The leaves overhead made the dry, whispering sound that meant autumn was near. He felt as if his senses had been adjusted,
set to exquisite sensitivity. He felt the breeze that stirred with the sway of her hair. He heard the cotton of her jacket
whisper against her skin. He was painfully aware of the natural parallel lines their bodies made when they stood face-to-face.
How easy it would be to take one step forward, to close the distance between them and make two lines one.

“I’m mad at you,” she said, slipping her hand out of his.

He nodded, oddly relieved that she’d admitted it so easily, that they could simply get it out in the open.

“You didn’t tell me you got in a fight,” she said.

“No,” he said. “I figured I got what I deserved.”

Her face flooded with concern. “Are you… are you okay?”

“Better every day,” he said.

“Why would you do that? You never fight.”

“I don’t know. Some sort of caveman gene.”

He thought he saw a slight smile pull at her lips.

“You missed me,” he said.

“Maybe.”

“You did.”

She pushed lightly against his arm. “
You
missed
me
.”

“Yes,” he said, “I did.” He held his breath, not wanting to break the moment of easy flirtation. A leaf, red as poppy petals,
swung down from the top of a tree, fluttering before it veered sharply toward the ground. It was such a relief to see her
smile. But there were serious issues at hand. “So tell me what Ron said.”

Her grin faded. “He’s out of the picture. It’s my problem as far as he’s concerned.”

Eli nodded. He’d expected this. “Are you relieved?”

“Why would I be relieved?”

“Because you don’t have to answer to anyone else now. Just yourself.”

She sighed. “I guess you’re right.” She reached up to scratch her throat, and the movement made her jacket fall open just
a little, and her belly was suddenly
there
, between them, arcing gently, no longer hidden by big dresses or overalls. She nervously put her jacket back into place.
And when his gaze returned to her face, he could see that she was feeling self-conscious that he’d looked so blatantly at
the evidence of her mistake.

“Do you… do you think it’s terrible?” she asked, her voice full of vulnerability and hope.

He felt his fist tighten, thinking of the way her body was changing, and of how it had nothing to do with him. The child wasn’t
his; the primal, territorial male tucked away inside his DNA would not let him forget that fact. There was something instinctive
in his blood that wanted the swelling of her body to be because of
him
, because of something he (and she) had done. And yet, through the pangs of jealousy came a complicated feeling of tenderness,
love, and even devotion. He felt as if he’d been charged with taking care of Lana and her baby—that she needed him. And it
felt good, to think he could do some good for her.

“I think it’s amazing what your body is capable of. And what you’re capable of,” he said. “You’re beautiful. And your baby
will be beautiful too.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

He spoke as gently as he could. “You’re still thinking of adoption?”

“It’s the only way.”

He tried to keep his feelings from showing on his face. He’d heard her talk about adoption before, but not with so much sadness
and resignation in her voice. “I don’t believe that. Listen to me, Lana. I think you’d make a wonderful mom, the best, if
you decided to raise the child as your own.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s just that I can’t stop thinking about Calvert. About how he didn’t want us, but got stuck
with us anyway. And seeing Ron reject this child… It just brings everything back all over again. I don’t want growing up to
be as hard for this baby as it was for me.”

“But you can give it a good life.”

She shook her head. “You have to be dependable to be a parent. And me? I’m a flight risk. Other than Karin, you’re the only
steady relationship I’ve ever had.”

“But you
are
steady with me. So that proves it. You can raise the baby, if you want.”

She hesitated. The wind sent a wave of brown leaves tumbling at their feet. “Are we?” she asked.

“Are we what?”

“Are we
steady
? I mean… you don’t want anything to change?”

His heart beat painfully hard behind his ribs as silence stretched long between them. How to answer her? He was challenging
the boundaries of their friendship, deliberately, more each day. And while he didn’t plan on retreating, he did want her to
know she was loved, safe, and that he wanted to be there for her and comfort her even while his demands increased.

He moved closer to her, leaned down. Her hand was close to his. He let his fingers brush hers. He thought if he could look
down, he would see tiny blue sparks leaping between their hands. “Do you know why I broke up with Kelly?”

“No?”

“I think you do.” His heart beat hard. He’d all but told her the truth—that he loved her. But would she hear it? And accept?

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” she said, but even though her voice was strong, he knew her well enough to read the discomposure
in her eyes, the slight clip of her breath.
Good
, he thought. He wanted her senses on their most sensitive setting.

“Eli?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m glad we’re friends.”

He smiled, no longer fooled. Then he leaned down and kissed her cheek, so close to her mouth that the corner of his lips brushed
hers. It nearly killed him to draw back. “You’re a flight risk I’d take on any day.”

Her eyes widened. “I… I have to get back.”

He nodded. As she walked away, the light caught her hair, gleaming white gold. He watched her until she disappeared into the
crowd, and then he hummed a little under his breath as he headed home.

September 16

On Wednesday of the next week, Lana was giving a seasonal talk at the local library about preparing home gardens for the winter.
She usually enjoyed the friendly, intimate conversations about soil and weather. But today she felt a little distracted from
what she was saying. Days later she could still feel the imprint of Eli’s kiss—so light it was barely a kiss at all—but it
stayed with her, a warm press on her skin.

To make matters worse, the secret that she was pregnant was now as prominent as her belly. Over the last few days, she’d “popped.”
Mrs. Montaigne had wanted to know which of her boyfriends had done it and which Lana planned to say did it. Fred Daly, who
worked the front desk at the post office, gave her the business card for his church—he said they had a program for helping
unwed moms. Jenn O’Toole said she could loan her a homemade cradle, and she asked to be invited to the shower.

The shocking fact was that of everyone who knew about the baby, only Karin had implied that she wasn’t fit to be a mom. The
whole town had assumed she was going to keep the child. And amazingly she found herself thinking,
What if I did?

For her entire life she’d believed that she never wanted kids. And, like Karin, she didn’t believe that people could totally
and fundamentally change who they were. But she was beginning to see that it was easy to confuse a change in one’s personality
with discovering the truth of it. She wasn’t
changing
into a person who suddenly wanted to have a child. She was merely discovering the possibility that maybe she’d been interested
in children all along.