“I’m so sorry,” Brook sobbed.
“Listen. I’ve burned more meals than you can shake a stick at. Cooking on a wood burner is not easy. It takes time to learn the peculiarities of the beast.”
Brook didn’t answer and Lance tilted her face up, “Sweet Brooklyn. You didn’t do anything wrong. You just tried to help and I appreciate it.” He gave her a soft kiss on the forehead. “Now, how about watching a pro fix a broken meal?”
Brook placed surprised fingertips to the spot his lips had touched. Sweet Brooklyn? She felt as if she was walking on air as she moved to stand beside Lance and watched him make his repairs. Placing the meat in a clean pan, he poured in enough cider to cover the surface and then covered the pan with a lid. He sat the pan on the stove and said, “This will boil quickly. When it boils, I’ll take it off and let it steep for a while. Then we’ll see.” He smiled.
The meat, when it was served, was coated in a thin sweet-salty glaze and was surprisingly good. Only a trace of burnt taste remained. The meal ended up being a cheery affair. The smoke had cleared, the door was closed to newly falling snow, and the room had regained its ordinary pleasant feeling. Lance promised to let her supervise the next several meals and then to set her free in the kitchen once more.
Brook went to bed, knowing it was probably wrong, but still wishing to feel Lance’s lips on her again.
Chapter 41
Brook knew Lance had something on his mind. Several times during the day he had opened his mouth to speak and then firmly shut it again. Finally, she decided to take the initiative. “Is something wrong?”
“What? Why?” Lance stammered.
“I think you want to ask me something, or maybe tell me something. You’ve seemed at odds all day today. I’ve caught you starting to speak and then stopping. What’s wrong?”
Lance blushed deeply. “Well, I’ve noticed something and don’t quite know how to approach the subject.”
“Head on is usually best,” Brook said. She was extremely anxious, wondering what could cause this gentle man to be so concerned.
“Okay. You’ve been here almost two months and I’ve noticed you haven’t needed,” he paused and cleared his throat. “Women’s products,” he finally managed.
“Women’s products?” Brook was puzzled.
“Is it possible you’re pregnant? By…well, you know.”
“Oh! Oh, I see. No, I’m not pregnant. I can’t get pregnant, but I admit to being worried about STDs. So far I haven’t seen any signs, but I’ll be mighty happy to get to my doctor and have her give me a clean bill of health.”
“I’m sorry for prying but I thought maybe there was something we needed to be doing if you were with baby. Maybe upping your doses of vitamins. Something.”
He looked so abashed that Brook rushed to assure him it was okay that he asked. “Don’t worry about it, Lance. It’s actually nice that you were concerned. But, like I said, I can’t have children; I don’t have a uterus.”
Lance harrumphed into his hand. “You don’t have to explain.”
“No, but I think I will all the same.” She stared into the crackling fire in the fireplace, but it was obvious she didn’t see the flames. Slowly, she began to speak.
“When Clark and I decided it was time to have children, I went off the pill. I was one of the fortunate women who didn’t have to wait long before I found out I was pregnant. I was overjoyed, and Clark seemed pleased with the idea.” She paused, reflecting, her thoughts on that joyous time that ended in devastation.
Brook couldn’t wait for Clark to get home. That morning, she had seen her doctor and had been ecstatic to find out she was pregnant. She would sit to read only to jump up and pick up the telephone. Then she would decide she wanted to tell him face to face and would drop the phone back into the cradle. Minutes later she would start to text him on her cell phone but would again stop. Finally, to keep from going totally insane, she took a long bath and then a nap.
Clark came home to find Brook waiting for him inside the door from the garage. Surprised but pleased, he slipped an arm around her waist and said, “Hello beautiful. To what do I owe this honor?”
Bubbling over, Brook grinned from ear to ear and blurted out, “You’re going to be a daddy.”
Clark had frozen, totally surprised by the news. When he finally could speak he asked, “Already? Wow! That was quick.”
Disappointment flooded through Brook. She felt as if ice water were flowing through her veins. “I thought you’d be happy.”
Clark’s face changed. He smiled and pulled her close to him. “Oh, I am happy. You just caught me by surprise.” He held Brook at arm’s length and looked over her body. “You don’t look pregnant.”
Brook laughed as relief poured over her. “Well, I’m only about six weeks along. Just barely pregnant.” She lovingly caressed her tummy.
That night in bed, Clark laid his head on her stomach and gazed up into her eyes. “A baby! Wow.” He began to nuzzle around her belly button, working his way up to her mouth where he kissed her with rising passion. Suddenly he stopped. “Can we have sex?”
“What?” Brook asked. “Oh! Of course. We did last night, didn’t we?”
“It’s okay then?”
Brook showed him in no uncertain terms that it was definitely okay.
First thing the next morning, Brook called home. Her mom was excited she was going to be a grandmother again. “You’re not going to have twins too, are you?” she had asked with a giggle.
“Oh! I hope not.” Then she thought about her adorable nieces and said, “Well, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. I almost hope I do have two babies. I have enough love for more than one.”
“That you do,” her mom agreed.
As the days passed, Clark lost some of his enthusiasm. He still feigned interest, but Brook could tell that his main concern was whether the baby would be a boy, someone to carry on his name. As for her, she didn’t care what the sex was; she wanted to run out immediately and start buying baby things: clothes, furniture, and toys. And, that's what she did, went shopping. There was no way she could wait twenty weeks until the first sonogram to start preparing for the next stage in her life.
Clark gave Brook carte blanche to decorate the nursery. Several attempts to include him in the decorating fell flat and revealed that he didn’t really care what she did to the room; anything would be okay. Brook convinced herself it was probably normal; men weren’t really into teddy bears and mobiles. She opted for a color scheme of green, yellow, and orange. Green for its association with nature, serenity, and growth. Yellow for its association with the sun. And orange because it implied happiness and expansiveness. Since yellow and orange can be too active a color to promote sleep, she decided to use these two colors as accents and in pale shades. The walls would be tea green with yellow curtains. Brook had found a bumper set in a soft orange and commissioned an afghan to be made from the same color to drape over the rocking chair she planned to buy. She picked out a whimsical border of nursery rhyme characters to go around top of the walls.
It had taken three weeks for the nursery to be finished. She had grabbed Clark’s hand and dragged him to the room to see the final result. Brook had stood in the center of the room with her hand on her expanding belly, visualizing the room with a crib, herself holding a cooing baby. Clark had shown moderate interest, but Brook was happy enough for both of them and didn’t concern herself with his less than enthusiastic participation.