Page 56 of Counting Backwards

When I finally began to quiet, she sat back regarding me.

“That’s better,” she said, handing me a napkin to wipe my face. “Now, let’s talk a little bit about blame, shall we?” She looked at me pointedly, as if I should already know what she was trying to convey. But I didn’t have an inkling, so I just stared back. She sighed in the way of a teacher repeating a lesson to the child who hasn’t paid attention in class.

“You are not the only one to blame here, Jessa. Maybe I gave you bad advice. I was the one who encouraged you to keep our family secret to yourself. I thought it was the right thing to do. But perhaps...” She paused, her eyes searching my face. “Perhaps that was just my own childhood trauma influencing me.”

“Are you saying I should tell him?” I asked.

She was quiet another moment, and I watched as her expression changed. She was going back in time, and I could almost see the file drawers opening inside her head as she pulled out old memories.

“Mother told us we were never to talk about our past, that we were to forget where we came from. I did love my father. I can’t say that I didn’t. But I can never forgive him for what he did, the evil he brought into the world. I did everything I could to remove myself from it, including keeping it secret.” She looked down at her lap for a moment before meeting my eyes again. “I didn’t want you to ever feel the kind of shame I did, not when it wasn’t your shame to bear. But I see now the toll it’s taking on you, keeping this secret from Vance. I’m beginning to think that keeping it tucked away is doing you more harm than good. And now with a baby on the way... Maybe it’s time to sit down with Vance and just tell him everything.”

After she’d been so adamant about keeping our history to ourselves, doing otherwise felt nearly impossible to consider.

“But you said—”

“Forget what I said.” Gram swatted an invisible obstacle in the air. “I’m just an old fool. You have to do what’s right for you. And for your marriage.”

I took a deep breath as I digested her words, trying to decide how I felt about them. I leaned closer to her, resting my head on her shoulder and closing my eyes. Of course I would tell Vance about the baby. If I told him about the baby but nothing about my great-grandfather, I was certain he would come back. But I didn’t want to bring our child into the world knowing I was keeping other secrets from his or her father. That was not the type of parent I wanted to be, nor the type of person. Once Vance knew the whole truth, would that be the end of our marriage?

***

Vance wasn’t answering my calls. I’d been trying for two days. Not until I texted him saying I needed to share important news did he finally call me back. Now we were sitting across from each other at a crowded Starbucks near our apartment building. Several people were lingering at the counter, waiting to retrieve their orders. We had managed to find the last empty table, wedged into a corner close to the restroom. My throat felt tight as I held the wrapper of my straw between my fingers, twisting it into a tight coil.

“Well, I’m here.” Vance sounded frustrated. I noticed that the circles under his eyes were darker than usual.

I stared back at him, still unsure what to say first.

“Jessa,” he groaned, “is there anything you actually need to share? Or was this just some kind of ploy to get me to return your call?”

His unkind words shocked me into admission.

“I’m pregnant.”

He shook his head like he had water in his ear, like he hadn’t heard me properly.

“What?” he asked, his voice still laced with irritation.

“I’m pregnant,” I repeated, and I watched his face slowly begin to change. As the words sank in, the accusatory glare melted away, and in its place appeared an unfettered expression, as if he was opening himself up to the news, to possibilities, to me. A cautious smile grew, slowly overtaking his face.

“Jess!” he nearly shouted, his voice full of joy. His eyes darted around the room as if he was looking for other people to include in his celebration. The older man at the next table was focused on his laptop and didn’t look up.

I was so relieved by Vance’s excitement and his complete 180. Moments before, he had looked at me like I was gum on the bottom of his shoe. I nodded back at him with a goofy grin on my own face.

He reached across the table and took hold of my hand, gently pulling the straw paper out of my grasp before closing his fingers around my palm.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, “for the way I left. For storming out on you and not giving you the benefit of the doubt, for not waiting longer to figure things out. I should know better. We’re going to make this work. Whatever you need. How long have you known? Did you call the doctor? What do we do next?”

I found myself getting caught up in his excitement, nodding and laughing at how frenzied he sounded. I’d been so worried about his reaction that I hadn’t imagined the great pleasure I might take in finally sharing the joy of the pregnancy with him. But then I remembered the rest, that there was more I needed to tell him.

“Wait, Vance, slow down.” I smiled sadly. “There’s more.”

“Is everything okay with the baby?” he asked, fear creeping into his voice.

I shook my head. “Yeah, no, the doctor said everything’s fine, although it’s super early. It’s something else.”

“You don’t want to drop the case? Or Hendricks already fired you for good?”

“Vance, just let me talk!”