She was surprised to find that the dream of motherhood was still there, wispy, uncertain, afraid, but there, tangled up with the hope she thought she’d lost.
It hadn’t come the way she’d expected, or with the man she’d expected, but nonetheless, it was a miracle.
A new life.
“Okay,” she said.
He pulled her close and kissed her so deeply, with such love and passion, she found herself believing in him. In them.
“We’ll have to tell my parents—”
“No time like the present,” he said. He turned and shut off the oven, covered the skillet on the stove.
Frankie didn’t want to tell her dad this news, that she was “in trouble,” and getting married, but what choice did she have? Pregnancy wasn’t the kind of thing that could be hidden for long, and the clock was already ticking.
“I’ve got you,” he said, taking her hand. “Trust me.”
She nodded.
Even though it was cool by Southern California standards, Frankie and Henry walked down the street, holding hands, not bothering with sweaters or coats.
Cars rushed past them, headlights on. The beach was a vast, empty swath of black to their right, with a rising moon cut into the sky. The houses along Ocean Boulevard were decorated for Christmas, with Santas and reindeer and white lights wrapped around the palm trees.
At her parents’ house, they crossed the backyard, which was aggressively decorated for the holidays, and went into the house, which boasted even more decorations. A huge tree dominated the living room.
Dad stood beside Mom at the bar, holding a silver martini shaker.
“Frances,” Mom said. “Happy birthday, darling! We didn’t expect you tonight.”
Frankie couldn’t let go of Henry’s hand; he felt like her lifeline. “Dad. Mom. I think you know Henry Acevedo. We’re … dating.”
“Henry,” Dad said, striding forward, smiling that big, inclusive smile of his, the one that made everyone feel welcome and important. “Good to see you again.”
“Dr. Acevedo,” Mom said, practically beaming.
Henry said, “Could I speak with you a moment, Connor? Privately.”
Dad frowned briefly, then nodded. “Of course. Of course.”
While the two men walked down the hallway, Mom sidled close to Frankie. “Is this what I hope it is?”
“Mom, I have never been able to divine your thoughts,” Frankie said. It had never occurred to her that Henry would formally ask Dad for her hand in marriage. It felt so old-school, so Ozzie and Harriet in this Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice world.
Moments later, Henry and Dad walked back into the room. “Bette, we will have a son-in-law! Welcome to the family, Henry!”
Mom gave Frankie a fierce hug. When she drew back, there were tears in her eyes. “A wedding. A grandchild. Oh, Frances, your whole world will change when you hold your baby in your arms.”
Henry moved in, put an arm around Frankie, held her so close she wondered if he thought she wanted to leave.
“Welcome to the family, Henry,” Mom said. Then she looked up at Dad. “We need champagne!”
When her mother limped away, Frankie turned to Henry, put her arms around his neck, and stared up at him. “Are you sure we need an actual wedding? How about a quick zip in and out to the justice of the peace?”
“No way. This baby is a miracle, Frankie. Love in this screwed-up world is always worth celebrating. When Susannah died, I thought it was over for me.”
She felt his love for her, for their child, felt his dream for them unfold and take flight. It filled her with hope.
“I want to see you walk down some aisle toward me and hear you say you love me in front of your family and friends. I want a baby girl who looks just like you.”
“Or a boy who looks like Finley,” she said, daring to dream it. “I guess that means there’s a honeymoon in our future.”
“Baby,” he said, “our life is going to be one long honeymoon.”
Twenty-Eight
December 20, 1972
Dear Barb,
Thanks for the birthday card!
I’m writing an identical letter to Ethel. Should I call? Yeah. Sure. Of course.
I just can’t. Maybe I’m becoming a coward in my old age, I’m not sure.
Anyway, I’ll cut to the chase. I’m pregnant.
Who saw that coming, right? Although I do recall you mentioning birth control a million years ago when I lost my virginity.
Henry and I are getting married. I know, it’s a lot, and fast, and I’m a modern woman, I can raise a child on my own, but, well, there’s something special about Henry. I think I’ll learn to love him. More importantly, it seems impossible, but I’m already in love with the baby in my womb. How can that be? Sometimes I’m giddy and embarrassed by how much I want this. （Her, I think.）