“Joy, you’re not their mother,” Thomas sighed. “You’ve got a husband who misses spending time with his wife.”
“And you’ve got a wife who finds joy in helping those in need,” she retorted. “Surely there’s a compromise to be had.”
“Perhaps,” Thomas conceded. “But what of the dinner parties, the social calls, the clients who expect—”
“Thomas,” Joy cut in, “I work hard to make sure I’m home for all the things you need me for. Surely you understand that the children will be starting school in a few days, and things need to be done immediately to get them ready.”
“I love your generous heart, but Boston society has its expectations,” Thomas countered.
“Then let Boston society learn a thing or two about unexpected joys,” Joy declared. “What do you say, Mr. Worthington? Shall we shake up the world together?”
“Shake up the world?” Thomas mused, finally allowing a full smile to grace his lips as he looked into her bright eyes. “With you by my side, Joy, I believe we just might.”
The following day, Joy knelt in the orphanage’s expansive garden, her hands gently cradling the heavy squash blossoms as she hummed a cheerful tune. Her heart swelled with a blend of pride and affection for the flourishing plants.
She tried to stand, but a wave of nausea seized her. She paused, pressing a hand to her mouth, and Mrs. Graves was by her side in an instant.
“Are you all right?” the older woman asked.
“I shouldn’t tell you because Thomas doesn’t know yet, but I’m expecting. I plan to tell him this evening.” Joy stood up slowly and carefully. “I find the nausea isn’t limited to the mornings, though I’ve always heard it referred to as morning sickness. What a misnomer!”
Mrs. Graves smiled. “I have some ginger cookies in the kitchen. Ginger does wonders for nausea.”
“I don’t want to take food from the children.” Joy shook her head. “I think I may need to stop here for the day, though. Do you think you can guide the children in finishing the harvest of the squash? I’ll be back tomorrow to help you can.”
Mrs. Graves nodded. “Yes, of course. Go home. But don’t forget your shoes this time!”
Joy laughed. “I hate shoes. If Thomas wasn’t so insistent that I wear them, you would never see me in them in the summer.”
“You’re just like the children. I swear little Andrew has lost his shoes fifteen times this summer. I find them all over the garden.”
“I knew I liked Andrew,” Joy said, smiling. She pulled her shoes on and tied them quickly. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“I don’t know what we ever did without you, Joy.”
By the time she was home, Joy was feeling sick again. She went into the parlor, removed her shoes, and put her feet up. Her feet were covered in dirt again, but she couldn’t do anything about it with how she was feeling.
Thomas found her there an hour later when he returned home. “Are you unwell?” he asked, obviously surprised to find her inside.
“Actually,” Joy began, her eyes dancing with secrets, “I believe I’m expecting something that will keep me unwell for a few more months.”
“Expecting?” Thomas echoed. “You mean—”
“A child, Thomas.” Joy’s face glowed with happiness. “Our own little sprout!”
Thomas gaped at her for a moment, obviously thrilled. “A child!” he exclaimed. “Oh, this is wonderful news! But you must rest, no more gallivanting off to orphanages or tending gardens. You’ll stay home where it’s safe.”
“Safe and sound like a winter apple, eh?” Joy teased, though her heart sank at the thought of being confined. “But the children—”
“Were fine before you started helping there, and will be fine when you stop,” Thomas insisted.
“Thomas, I’m not some weak woman who can’t work,” she protested. “I will lose my mind if I stay inside, and you know it.”
Thomas knew arguing with Joy was pointless. With an affectionate shake of his head, he relented. “Just promise me you’ll be careful?”
“I wouldn’t do anything to risk our child,” she said. She stood up and put her arms around his neck. “We’re going to have a baby!”
He laughed, wrapping her up in his arms. “I couldn’t be happier.”
