(Find previous chapters and a description of the project here.)

               It is 11:17. She glances at the clock as she puts the car into park. Jesse has driven separately, and parks his Taurus next to her. The boys tumble from the backseat. She will need a new car in a few months, maybe even a minivan. She feels the blood draining from her face as she considers this. She imagines buckling a baby into a car seat. She unbuckles herself and exits the car. Peering through the back window, she assesses whether she could fit a car seat in the middle. Her sedan is not narrow, but the boys take up most of the room. Maybe Brett could ride shotgun. She smooths her hair back, checking how she looks in the window glass. She looks terrible, as if she hasn’t slept in a week.

               “Hey,” Jesse says from behind her, “are you sure you’re okay?” He touches her arm lightly as he asks. She wants to melt against him, but she can’t bring herself to in public.

               “I’ll need a car seat,” she says softly.

               Jesse nods slowly. “We’ll worry about all that later,” he says, as if he hasn’t also been worrying.

               He leads her from the car to the restaurant. The boys have already spotted her mother and sister and are heading for the table. Cindy stands as the boys approach, throwing her arms out wide. Brett and Finn oblige their aunt, letting her squeeze them both to her bosom, then slink towards her mother so she can kiss their cheeks. She watches, heart fluttering and full. Jesse motions for her to walk. She steps ahead of him and makes her way to the table.

               “You don’t look good, Bec,” Cindy says.

               “Oh,” she says, feeling slightly flustered that Cindy has pointed out her discomfort so quickly. “It’s nothing,” she says, swallowing down the sickness.

               “Jesse! I didn’t expect to see you!” her mother exclaims.

               “I hope it’s alright that I’m crashing your family brunch,” Jesse says, as he casually pulls out the chair for her. She sits and then slowly scoots it forward. Jesse lowers himself into the chair next to her and places his napkin in his lap without looking at her.

               “You’re always welcome, Jesse, you know that,” Cindy says. Cindy watches her for a moment, but she doesn’t comment. She feels like she must be the shade of pea soup. She wonders how she will make it through the meal without running to the bathroom.

               The server comes before Cindy or her mother can make any more small talk. She is lithe and has waist long dark blonde hair. Her brows are penciled. She wears gold rings on 6 of her fingers. “Can I bring you something to drink?” she asks happily. There is a wet mark on her blouse, on her right breast. Rebecca can’t keep herself from wondering if it’s breast milk.

               “Water’s fine,” she croaks. Her mouth feels dry as dust. “Lemonade for the boys,” she adds.

               “Black coffee,” Jesse says. She’s not looking at him, but she knows he is smiling. He is almost always smiling.

               “No mimosa for you, Rebecca?” her mother asks.

Her mother must have missed her lurid coloring; or maybe she isn’t actually as green as the wicked witch of the west. It’s hard to know for sure. She feels like she could put a parrot to shame. “Not today, I think,” she answers, attempting to sound cheery.

“Really, Bec. What’s wrong? There’s something off about you,” Cindy says. At this, her mother studies her more closely, peering over the gold rims of her glasses. “Are you sleeping? You’re not having those nightmares again, are you?”

She doesn’t know what to say. She feels her heart beginning to race. Any moment now she will burst out of her own skin. She hides her shaking hands under the table, smoothing the fabric of her skirt. Subtly, Jesse reaches his hand out, covering hers with his own. He hides the motion well. His hand glides over hers, then across her leg. He rests it at the top of her thigh, near her hip. She calms somewhat, but now she is nervous someone will see him touching her underneath the table. She shifts, making it look like she is moving up to the table, but really she is scooting towards Jesse, so he doesn’t have to reach as far.

“No nightmares,” she says evenly. “Just not sleeping much this week.”

“You still seeing that doctor?” her mother asks. She reaches for the mimosa before her and tenderly sips from the glass.

“When I need to,” she answers. Jesse is now rubbing her leg, slowly moving down her thigh to her knee, then back up. “I haven’t seen her in a few weeks.”

“Make an appointment,” her mother suggests. “It can’t hurt, can it?”

“I probably should,” she admits, though she does not say why. She hears her phone buzz from her purse. She reaches down, digging in the bag with one hand. Jesse takes his hand from her leg. She pulls out the phone and glances at the screen. The text is from Anna. Can you have coffee today around 4?

This should make her smile, but it doesn’t. She shouldn’t have coffee at all for the next 8 months. Sounds good! Where should I meet you? She tries not to sigh as she silently tells herself she can drink herbal tea.

The server comes back. “Water for you,” she says as she deposits the glass in front of her. “Coffee for the gentleman,” she adds as she places Jesse’s cup and saucer on the table. She fishes in her apron, then brings out two creamers and a sugar packet and places them next to the cup. “What are we having for lunch today?” She continues as she flips to a new page in her notepad.

She hasn’t thought about lunch. She scans the menu. Nothing appeals to her.

“Mom, can I get an adult meal?” Finn asks.

She nods her head in affirmation. “Sure, get whatever,” she says impassively. The menu is written in a foreign language. She doesn’t know if she remembers how to eat.

“What’s the soup of the day?” she hears Cindy ask.

“We have chicken and wild rice and ten vegetable,” the server answers.

“Nah,” Cindy says to herself, glancing up and down the menu again. “I’ll do a salad instead.”

The server is quiet for a moment. “House or Caesar?”

This is distracting. She does not care what her sister orders. What is she going to order? Soups seems safe. She wishes she could get away with ordering only toast.

Jesse leans his head towards her. “They have a grilled cheese on rye,” he says quietly.

She smiles. It’s still amazing how he can guess exactly what she needs. She turns to him. “Is that what you’re getting?” she asks.

“French toast, I think,” he says smoothly. She wants to brush her finger along his cheek. She wants to kiss him. She wants to stop hiding with him.

“Too sweet,” she comments, laying the menu down. She doesn’t need it anymore. She checks her phone again, looking for a response from Anna. At Crossroads?

Her fingers hover over the screen. See you then! It is 11:31. She puts the phone back into her purse.

They finish ordering, and the waitress collects the menus before moving off. Cindy prattles but Rebecca hardly hears her. She is thinking of the midwifery appointment she scheduled. On Tuesday they find out if the baby they made is living. She is chewing her thumbnail. Once she notices, she drops her hand beneath the table.

“What’s the matter?” Cindy asks her.

“Nothing,” she answers, taking a sip of water.

“You were chewing your nails,” Cindy says, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“Leave her alone, Cindy,” their mother says. “She already told you she’s not sleeping.” She takes another sip of her mimosa. “This really is good, Rebecca. Sure you don’t want one?”

“I don’t want one,” she answers too hastily. Her nausea is raging. She is briefly fearful that the smell of food, when it comes, will make her hurl.

Jesse’s hand is back on her leg. This time, she clasps it in her own, to prevent him from running it up and down. She clears her throat. “Brett has some exciting news,” she says, trying to steer the conversation away from herself.

Heads turn towards her son, who looks like he’s been caught sneaking candy before dinner. For a moment he seems confused, then he smiles at her. “I made honor roll again?” he asks slowly, wanting her to confirm this is the news she wants him to share.

“That’s great!” says Cindy enthusiastically. Her mother smiles proudly. “What about you Finn?”

Her other son shrugs, not offering any other explanation. Rebecca watches her mother pat him on the back. “I’m still proud of you too, Finn,” she says. He tolerates her one-armed hug.

“It’s not that hard to get honor roll, Finn,” Brett says, nudging his brother.

She regrets bringing this up. Finn’s journey through grief has been vastly different that Brett’s. It has hampered him in many ways. “Brett, stop picking on your brother,” she instructs.

The family is quiet. Rebecca moves her gaze from the boys to Jesse. He is looking out the window. “I never made honor roll when I was in grade school,” he says.

Rebecca is still looking at him. She still feels sick, but it is beginning to fade. She imagines Jesse as a father and she can’t help but smile. She squeezes his hand.

He turns his attention to her. “It was actually Rebecca who encouraged me to be a better student,” he says.

She feels Cindy’s calculating gaze move over them. “Rebecca could tell water not to be wet and it would find a way, I’m sure,” Cindy comments.

She frowns. “Don’t make me sound like such a tyrant,” she says, not sure if she’s annoyed with the assessment.

“I think she’s saying you bring out the best in us,” Jesse explains quietly.

She smiles. She appreciates the sentiment, but she isn’t sure it’s true. She is mired in the consequences of her choices, and it feels like she and Jesse might drown in the swamp. She notices Finn watching Jesse, a mix of admiration and awe in his expression. Under the table, Jesse squeezes her hand again. She breathes easier, the queasiness finally lifting.