Brandy glances between us. Her professional composure slips, and her eyes widen. “Angela, you can’t go announcing things like that for other people.” She shakes her head and turns to Janey. “Did you tell her, or…” She cups her hand around her mouth and whispers, “Is she in her own world again?”
Janey swallows, then shakes her head. “It’s weird. She guessed. We haven’t told anyone yet… it’s early and…”
Janey doesn’t finish her sentence, but Brandy offers a kind but startled smile. “Well… congratulations.” She looks between us once more, then her expression softens. “We should catch up properly while you’re in town. I’d love to hear how you’ve been.”
Janey nods, still gathering herself. “I’d like that.”
They exchange numbers before Brandy excuses herself to continue her rounds.
After that, the visit winds down quickly. Mom grows tired and confused again, her attention drifting toward the window as though what’s beyond the glass has called her away. I kiss her cheek, promise I’ll come back soon, and Janey squeezes her hand with a tenderness that nearly undoes me.
“Goodbye, Angela,” she says softly.
Mom looks at her for one clear, fleeting moment, then her gaze lowers again, briefly, to Janey’s stomach. “Sweet baby,” she murmurs.
Janey goes very still. I place a hand at the small of her back, gentle enough that she can step away if she wants to, but she doesn’t, and we leave the room together.
***
Janey stares out the window, one hand resting on her belly and her mind lost elsewhere as we drive home. I don’t push her to talk. I know better than that by now. Some thoughts need room before they can become words. Still, every now and then, I glance over at her.
She seems shaken, but there’s more in her expression. Wonder, maybe. Or fear. Mom, for all her cognitive challenges, gave the baby a name, and that name has made it real.
When we pull up to the house, Mason emerges from the barn.
Janey kisses him, and she makes her excuses to freshen up inside, but I know she needs space to process.
I tell my brother everything, and Mason listens carefully, arms crossed, his attention fixed on every word. When I mention that Mom called Janey “Melissa” twice, then pointed at her stomach and said “the baby,” his eyebrows shoot up.
“She knew?” he asks.
“Seemed like it. Janey’s barely showing, and you saw what she was wearing. There’s no way mom could tell she’s having a baby.”
Mason rubs his jaw, quiet for a long moment. Then a slow, awe-filled smile spreads across his face.
“Melissa,” he murmurs. “Could be a girl.”
The possibility settles between us, warm and startling.
A daughter.
Do I believe that Mom felt the pregnancy? Like a second sight. Has she made a prediction, or was she babbling?
I look toward the house, where Janey is moving around in the kitchen. I can see her through the window, one hand braced on the counter, her head slightly bowed as if she's still feeling the impact of what happened. The thought of a little girl with her honey eyes, Mason's stubborn streak and my love of books makes my chest ache with fierce protectiveness.
Mason claps a hand on my shoulder. “One day at a time, brother.”
I nod, but the idea stays with me long after we head inside for lunch.
A girl.
Our girl.
I already know I would move heaven and earth to be part of her life.
Chapter 19
Janey
