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I’m far too busy loving her.
She’s smart enough (with a fair amount of Mrs. B’s advice I might add), to charge plenty of money for each installment to any news agency who has the cash.
In just a few weeks, she makes my ex-ball career look like chump change.
That’s right… my ex-ball career.
After some to-ing and fro-ing with the lawyers I sign off on what I promise I won’t talk about to the media and I get a little something in the mail, my own income for once… and all my stuff back.
A check with as many zeros as one of Lois’.
My thanks and keep it quiet retirement from professional sports, for milking my disappearance, wink-wink.
I’m so proud of Lois though, so glad she can work from home as well.
Our home.
I want to buy the old Barnes place, but Mrs. B isn’t having any of it.
“You’ll get the deed to that house over my dead body!” she screeches down the phone to me one afternoon.
I’m taken aback, but not too surprised, she’s always played hardball.
“Unless…” she adds, trailing off with an air of mischief in her voice.
“Unless what, Mrs. B?” I ask her, trying not to smile.
“Unless you put a ring on that girl’s chubby, pregnant finger so I can give it to you both as a wedding present,” she says, a matter of fact. Like she’s talking to a small child.
I feel my hackles go up. I don’t like anyone, not even Mrs. B. referring to Lois as chubby.
Pregnant?
I almost drop the phone, then hear the old woman’s cackling laugh as she takes delight in my own ignorance.
“I knew it that day in the limo. One look at you two and I could see you were hooked, but I know a pregnant girl when I see one… that glow… that look…” she says firmly, before reminding me again that, “No ring… no house!”
I can’t get off the phone quick enough, feeling like either the world’s biggest fool or Mrs. Barnes is just having one of her epic old lady jokes.
But something in me knows she’s right.
I join the dots.
The tiredness… Lois’ late arrivals to the breakfast table and then not wanting to eat…
Her constant reference to her belly.
I love her belly though. I love all of her, so much.
Hanging up, I listen keenly, the familiar sound of the wind moaning through the old house.
Mrs. Barnes hasn’t given it to us, but she insisted we both stay here, clean it up, and tidy the yard.
Something I’ve been doing full time while Lois does what she loves best when I’m not helping her with one of her afternoon naps.
Ah Jesus!
“Lois!” I call out, practically yelling, “Lois! Where are you?”
I can hear her talking on the phone, then watch as her face appears over the edge of the railing of the top floor as I look up.
She shrugs, telling whoever it is she’ll call them back and hangs up.
I breath out sharply, kicking myself I didn’t see any of this beforehand, especially after that night on the train.
“Are you… are you pregnant?” I ask her, not meaning it to sound accusing, but that’s just how it comes out.
As if I don’t know who the daddy is.
She looks puzzled for a moment and then makes a weird, croaking sound. She drops her phone and reels back from the railing.
In two seconds, I’m up the three flights of stairs, holding her in my arms, stroking the hair back from her face.
“I can’t be…” she groans, a sheen of nervous sweat on her brow… my hand rubbing her belly gently.
Me, of course, I’m smiling like a schoolboy.
“How could you not be?” I ask her, thinking of the thousand times I’ve made love to her since we first met not so long ago.
Plus… Mrs. B. said so… it must be true.
“Ah, Jesus,” she cries, sinking to the floor, making me worry and think of calling a doctor.
“What is it, Lois? Do I need to call an ambulance?” I ask, feeling suddenly powerless.
“No!” she shouts, annoyed. “I’ve just gone and burst the button on my last pair of pants that actually fit me!” she cries out, tears forming in her eyes.
I feel my own eyes streaming, but they’re tears of happiness.
Lois is alright, she’s just in a bit of shock, like me.
Not realizing how busy we’ve both been, not realizing that she’s carrying our child.
The one we both know she conceived that night on the train.
The one Mrs. B. was so keen to observe growing inside her just a few hours later.
“Marry me,” I tell her.
I’m not asking, I’m telling.
“I love you so much, Lois. I can’t live a second without having you as my wife. We’re going to have our family, in our beautiful home.”
“Our home,” she reminds me, and I kiss her, feeling more of a thrill than the first time I touched her sweet lips.
