Page 40 of The Christmas Keepsake
“Sorry. I remember how Jillian was when she was pregnant,” he said quietly.
Jillian was Ralph’s sister who’d had her first baby the year before.
The moment was awkward as we stood there staring at each other. I realized Ralph was comparing me to his pregnant sister.
The bile retreated to make way for my rush of adrenaline. “You know?” I asked.
He offered a brisk nod, avoiding eye contact. “I’ve known a while. I didn’t want to say anything until you were ready to talk about it.”
I placed a hand on my belly, feeling a host of emotions. Embarrassment. Shame. Anxiety. Hope. “I wanted to tell you.”
“I’m happy for you, Nan. I am.” His voice was quiet as he glanced around to make sure no one was overhearing.
“Really?” He didn’t look happy. Instead, he looked hollowed out and broken.
“Is the baby why you didn’t stay in New York?” he asked.
I rubbed my belly, trying to soothe my nerves. “I guess I would have stayed longer if I wasn’t pregnant, but it would have only been to prove myself. I would havestayed because I was too proud to admit how miserable I was there. This baby is such a gift because it forced me to come home. Which is exactly where I wanted to be just as soon as I made it to the big city.”
I searched his face for any sign that he wanted us. That he was happy to realize he was going to be a father. My heart fell, taking jerky notches on a downward elevator whose wires were snapping one by one.
“Does the—does the father know?” Ralph finally asked.
At first, I couldn’t process the question. Then I realized that no, the father didn’t know. In Ralph’s mind, I had found someone to replace him as soon as I’d gone to New York. Did he think I’d had a one-night stand?
The realization felt like a slap in the face. He knew me. He was the only man I’d ever been with, and it had taken months of dating for our first time together to even happen. Did he think I had changed that much?
“You could have told me,” he said. “I’m guessing it’s hard keeping a secret.”
“I wanted to.” There was still more to tell. My mother had told me I didn’t owe him the truth, but I did. I owed it to him and our child. “I… well, I…”
He cleared his throat and looked off into the distance. “I know how it must look to you. Me dating a friend of yours so soon after… us.” He looked at me again. As he met my gaze, I saw something in his expression. It wasn’t something I was used to seeing in Ralph. “The guys told me the quickest way to get over a broken heart is to jump back into the pond.” A laugh tumbled off his lips, but it seemed more sad than humorous. “Anyway, her father offered me a job, and I guess I got carried away. We’re getting married next month.”
The wooden heart fell out of my hand, hitting the dirt at my feet.
“You’ve moved on,” he said, looking down at my midsection and then away. I watched him swallow slowly and then return to look at me again. “I want you to know that I’m not mad at you. I don’t hold whatever happened up there against you.” His eyes softened. “And if I hadn’t promised myself to someone else, I’d probably try to step in and play the part.”
Play the part. As if this were one big stage.
He clearly knew I was pregnant and clearly thought the baby was someone else’s. It stung. Not that there was anything wrong if that was the truth, but I hadn’t jumped into another pond to get over him. I wasn’t over him.
“I don’t need a pity dad for my baby,” I found myself saying, rising to my feet.
Ralph took a step backward. “Is the father going to help?”
This was the moment. I’m not sure what came over me, but the lie rolled out, fully formed. “He’s an actor. Very talented. He doesn’t want to be involved, and I’m fine with that. Like I said, I don’t want or need a pity daddy.”
Ralph seemed at a loss for words. Then he nodded, as if everything I said had made perfect sense. “Well, I’m here. No matter what. Whatever you need, I’ll always be here.”
It took every ounce of energy I had to hold back the sobs that wanted to rip out of me. They could wait until later when I was alone in my room.
Crouching, he bent and picked up the wood carving and unfolded my fingers to place it in my palm. “You’ll always have a special place in my heart, Nan.”
Chapter Twelve
Theater is, of course, a reflection of life. Maybe we have to improve life before we can improve theater.
—W. R. Inge
