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It was Mackenzie; Louise’s granddaughter.
My wife tore her eyes from me, turning in the direction that I stood, “Call me Mia, Mackenzie. Mrs. Galdur is too formal for you.”
The girl smiled and continued, “I prepared a quick lunch. I thought you would be famished when you returned.”
Mia nodded, excusing her. My wife enjoyed Mackenzie’s presence around the house and so, she was privy to every raw emotion my wife experienced.
Her efforts to take care of my wife didn’t go unnoticed. I rewarded such loyalty and dedication.
“Come and join me,” Mia said, looking over her shoulder at me.
I smiled, putting my hand on the small of her back as we walked to the dining hall to see our plates at our designated seats, the delicious aroma of Mia’s favorite pasta dish warping the room.
Mia paused in her heels as she began to dry heave. She put one hand to her mouth and one to her stomach before she ran to the closest bathroom.
Leaving me to follow her as she dropped to her knees inside the guest toilet, her face over the seat.
Confusion and concern etched on my face when she began to throw up the little she had eaten this morning, followed by the stench of her gastric acid.
I held her fluff of curls and rubbed her back, hoping that eased a bit of her discomfort.
When she successfully emptied her stomach, she looked at me. Her eyes were watering and searching mine for an answer.
“That smell,” she whispered, almost gagging at the mention of it.
“The pasta?” I asked. That was the only thing I smelt. There was no horrid smell that should have elicit this reaction.
She nodded, turning her head to the toilet once more, spitting what was left into the bowl before flushing everything down the drain.
I lifted her to the feet, guiding her to the facet to wash her mouth while I took my phone from my jacket to call John.
Within an hour, the doctor was at our doorstep, as I led him to our room.
He smiled as he approached her, “I heard you weren’t feeling well, Mrs. Galdur.”
She nodded as he sat at the edge of our bed, gently feeling her forehead while I stood to the side, my hands folded in front of me.
“Mh-hmm,” he said and bent to his bag to retrieve some box. When he placed the box in her hands, Mia looked at me, her eyes wide causing me to take it from her.
It was a pregnancy test. It didn't go unnoticed by me how broadly the doctor smiled. I figured he knew that was the reason for her unusual state before he made the house call.
“First thing tomorrow morning, take a wee on this and I’m sure we’ll know the reason for your vomiting.”
He patted the bed, and grabbed his bag, “I’ll see myself out.”
Replacing his position on the bed, I threw the box to the side and leaned down to kiss my wife’s lips. It was soft, gentle.
“I hope it’s positive,” she muttered as we pulled away, but I still heard her.
To her, it was a bittersweet day as she tried to hide the excitement that was packed in her face but my wife couldn’t hide from me. I knew her.
I kissed her again, my lips lingering for a bit savoring the taste of her strawberry-like lips. Pulling away, I smiled. I didn’t hide how I felt because as we buried her brother, another had possibly bloomed in his place. It was the circle of life.
The happiness that bubbled in every corner of a man like me made me feel like a giddy teenager. I was desperate to see my wife swelled with our children. To know I created life with the woman that I loved. The only woman that I would love.
"I love you, sweetheart," I whispered against her lips.
I won't say that the words were mindlessly stated because they weren't. It was intentional and every bit of what I felt for this woman before me. In fact, I don't think love was the most accurate description for what I felt for Mia. What we shared was something deeper, more sacred. There was no dictionary that could provide the words to describe how strongly I adored my wife.
