Page 15 of Tastes Like Watermelon Moonshine
“We’re waiting. We’ll find out tonight with my parents.”
“Sounds like a fun time.” Jenn situates herself on the little rolling chair. “So, everything looks amazing on the ultrasound. Baby is growing perfectly.” She smiles and makes the hands that chefs make when they have a perfect recipe. Like when they do theokaysign but with both hands. Because it’s more than okay, it’s perfection. “So, did you decide if you’ll be delivering at the hospital or at home?”
“Since the hospital is so far away, the plan is for Baby Bean to be born at home.” I feel so confident with my choice. I’ve even started watching some home birth videos. I don’t feel quite as squeamish about it as I had initially.
“Yes!” Jenn pats my arm. “I love homebirths.” She smiles dreamily. “I’ll be sending you home with a list of things to order that you’ll need to have before thirty-six weeks.”
I nod in understanding, avoiding Chrissy’s wide eyed stare. I knew between her and Jaimie that she would be more shocked over the home birth than Jaimie would. Jaimie has been delivering animals on her ranch for years, just like I have on mine. But Chrissy grew up in town and never showed an interest in, or got excited about, an animal birth like Jaimie and I have.
“You’re really going to have a baby at home? Not in a hospital?” Chrissy’s voice rises in pitch. “Who even are you? This isn’tDr. Quinn, Medicine Woman.”
We all laugh at Chrissy’s comment. “No, but women have given birth at home, sometimes even on their own, for years. If they can, I can too.” I raise my shoulders then drop them, showing her that it’s not something that I’m opening to changing. “Mom and I talked it over. And we’re both cool with it. She’ll be my support person.”
“Well, you let me know once Baby Bean has been born.” She shivers. “I’m not doing any of the birth stuff. And I’ll come support you once you and baby are clothed.” Chrissy leans forward as she speaks. “I’ll bring you food and drinks, and hold the baby while you sleep.” She winks and gives me a thumbs up. I just laugh and roll my eyes.
Dishes clank as I stack, then carry them to the kitchen sink. The aroma of dinner still hangs in the air. Steak, baked potatoes, and Parmesan garlic green beans, my favorite dinner.
Before we get to find out Baby Beans gender, and eat cake, we’re going to play a game. It’s a tradition in this house. On special occasions before we can eat dessert, we play a game.
We settle on Ticket to Ride as the game for the evening. Tears prick my eyes as the game brings back memories from last year… Playing this specific game with Austin. I wish he could be here. I wish… No, I hope for so many things. I hope that I work up the courage to tell him that he’s a dad. I hope that he wants to be a dad. Tears threaten, but I’m saving them for later. I’m pretty sure my pillow has come to expect a healthy dose of tears every night. I don’t have time for those memories right now, so I push them away, I can think about them when I’m in bed. When I have the time, and the privacy, to let the tears fall.
Mom brings the cake to the table, and hands me the knife. I blow out a deep breath and gently slide the knife through the German Chocolate Cake. I make German Chocolate Cake all the time at the café, but for some reason, it always tastes better when Mom makes it.
I hand out all the slices of cake and sit back down in my seat. My hands are sweaty as I hand the envelope over to Mom.
“Should we have a drumroll?” Mom asks, her eyes sparkling. Robert and Riley are the first to start thumping their palms on the table. Jaimie joins them, then Chrissy, then Dad, and finally me.
Mom slowly runs her finger under the seam of the envelope, her brows raised, her eyes wide. She pulls out a piece of paper. She glances down at it, grins, then moves her eyes around the room. “Baby Bean,” she pauses, the anticipation thickening the air in the room. My fingers clench around my necklace. “Is a girl!” She lifts her arms and dances in her seat.
Chrissy grabs me in a bear hug, rocking me back and forth. I’m a little worried she might make me fall out of my chair. Jaimie raises her fists in the air. “Yaaaasssss!”
Oh, Baby Bean. You’re so loved. I couldn’t ask for a better family. For better friends. I don’t deserve their support. Tears bubble up, and I can’t stop them. I should be married. I should’ve done things in the right order. But I can’t, no Iwon’twish Baby Bean away. I love her. I can’t wait to be her mama, but oh, how I wish I’d done things God’s way.
I wave goodbye to Chrissy and Jaimie as they leave. The November air feels good on my skin as I stand in the open front doorway. There’s mistletoe already hanging above me. It’s tradition to put it up at the beginning of November. I stare at it, and my skin begins to tingle as memories of Austin and mistletoe try to push themselves to the front of my mind. But my heart hurts. Because those memories are all I have of Austin. Well, I’ve got Baby Bean now too. But he’s not here, and I wish he was. I wish he still wanted me more than baseball.
Chapter 8
Austin - The Present
Mydufflebagfeelslike a two hundred pound weight on my shoulder. It’s more the fact that I’m standing on my dad’s front porch about to ring his doorbell. Also, probably because I nearly drove past the house that I grew up in. The house that once contained all happy memories… Until Dad ruined them.
Last time I saw Dad was at my graduation. We fought and then sort of hashed things out, but I honestly haven’t wanted to see him since I moved back. Coach talked with me a lot about what forgiveness is and what it looks like. And I’d like to think that I have forgiven my dad. But now that I’m standing here, waiting for him to answer the door… I’m not sure if I really have.
When Mom and Dad were married we all lived in a massive house in Tuxedo Park. Anyone with money lived in that area. This house is definitely smaller, but Dad still makes a ton of money, so he’s in Chastain Park, not too far from our old home. As I pulled onto some familiar roads I was tempted to check onthe old house. To see the green lawn where I caught my first baseball, the childhood bedroom where I hung baseball posters, the pool I learned to swim in… But I ignored the pull. There’s too much hurt already, I don’t want to make my wounds deeper.
I almost refused to come out here and visit Dad. The thought of Thanksgiving alone wasn’t appealing, and I honestly don’t want to go back to Clear Creek and run into Raegan. I don’t want to be rejected. I don’t want her mad at me. Even though that moment, that twist of fate, was a mutual choice, I wonder if I pushed her into it. Like I was a bad influence on her. We both could’ve said no, could’ve stopped. But neither of us chose to stop. And then after… I didn’t know what to say. So, I just let her go.
After staring at the doorbell for several minutes, I finally reach out and press the button. I close my eyes and rock back on my heels as I wait. I’m expecting Virginia to answer.
The bolt scrapes in the lock and I open my eyes. I just stare at my dad as he swings the door open. “Hey, Dad.” The entryway behind him is open and modern, and appears to either have recently been built or updated. “Wow, this place is-”So white.Almost blindingly so. I’m not a fan.
“Come on in.” His cheek muscles twitch like he wants to smile, but isn’t sure if he should. His face is more lined than before, like he’s aged ten or more years since I saw him at graduation. His large presence and grand stature are gone. He seems almost timid, and shorter. “I got a guest room set up for you.” He waves a hand, directing me to enter the house and then toward a long hallway. “Uh, you’ve got a TV and everything in there. Feel free to invite any friends or teammates over if you want to.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I swallow awkwardly. The walls are bare, and boring. It’s a house, but not a home. “I assumed Virginia wouldbe the one greeting me,” I say, trying to think up something to break the silence.
Dad looks down at the floor as he stuffs his hands in his pockets and his eyes get misty as they lose their focus. “Uh, we’re not together anymore.”
My eyebrows have got to be up on the ceiling. “What–” I clear my throat, choking on my words. “What happened?” I finally ask.
