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“Well, I’m more than happy to provide them with a little gossip,” Joseph grabs my hand, and we rest them against the chipped center console.
“Besides, people are going to find out about us soon enough. We might as well get ahead of it,” Joseph says.
I nod. “You’re okay with it?” I blurt.
Joseph’s brow furrows. “Why wouldn’t I be? Eleanor, it goes without saying that you’re the best person I’ve ever dated. I’m overjoyed to be starting a family with you. Hell, it started a little sooner than I imagined, but that’s not a bad thing.”
Relief floods my body.
“Okay,” I say.
“Why? Were you worried that I wouldn’t be happy or something? Eleanor, I’m not ashamed about what’s happening. I know you spend your day reading puritanical rants, but you’re not bringing a blight upon my family or whatever you’re thinking.”
I sigh. “It’s silly. I just keep thinking about that letter and how small the island is. In a way, Martin was right. People talk and, ugh. I feel dumb for even saying it out loud, but sometimes, I get this feeling like history might be trying to repeat itself."
Joseph pulls into the driveway and idles there momentarily, considering my confession. It’s haunted me since I found out I was pregnant, the similarities between Beatrix and myself jeering at me like I’m watching my reflection warp in a funhouse mirror.
He inhales sharply. “We’re not Beatrix and Martin,” he says finally.
“Part of me feels irritated that I even have to say that, but I can see where things might feel a little similar. I’ve thought about it, too. Martin, he’s this mythical figure, not only in town but in my family. My grandmother always used to talk about the Idylewylde legacy. The thing is, we’re a part of it now. We have a chance to do something good now, you know?”
“I haven’t thought of it that way,” I say.
“Eleanor, you’re incredible. I’ll tell anyone who asks that. I’ll be sure to tell our children. You amaze me every day.”
“Thank you.”
I lean over the center console and kiss him tenderly, but then the passion grows between us. He knits his fingers through my hair and slips his tongue into my mouth. We continue making out in the car like teenagers until Joseph accidentally leans against the steering wheel and elbows the horn.
The horn blares as we jerk apart.
“I think that’s our cue,” Joseph says, unlocking the door.
We walk into the house holding hands. Iphigenia rounds the corner, wearing a pointy hat and a black velvet dress.
“Joseph, be a dear and help me fill this up. There’s a bag of candy on the dining room table.”
She shoves an orange plastic bowl against Joseph’s chest and smiles at me.
“How are you feeling, darling?”
No one is as excited about these babies as Iphigenia Idylewylde. She cried when Joseph told her, and she’s been misty-eyed all day.
“I’m feeling good! Do you need help with anything?”
“Oh no, it’s okay. I made some caramel apples for the neighborhood children; they’re sitting in the refrigerator. I’m going to check on those. You let me know if you need anything.”
“I will, thanks, Iphigenia.”
I change out of my work clothes and into a pair of leggings and a sweater.
I take the stairs two by two. Josephs in the kitchen. He opens the refrigerator and hands me a prepackaged sandwich from the deli.
“I can’t have you eating popcorn for dinner in your condition.”
I’m about to roll my eyes, but my stomach grumbles in response.
I eat the sandwich quickly, a wrap with hummus, falafel, and cucumber. Joseph munches absentmindedly on the other half.
