Gravity: A Novel (19 page)

“Are you okay, Gemma?”
I heard Rebecca ask.

Without looking up, I grabbed my purse and started toward the door, mumbling on my way out, “I’m sorry, I have to go.”
I drove straight to the only pharmacy at the lake, which shared a building with the post office. A strange concept that I had always been puzzled by but, in the moment, I was grateful that a pharmacy existed at all.

I grabbed a test off the shelf
. There was only one choice, and I threw a stack of bills on the counter, not bothering to wait for my change as I walked quickly to my car.

I pulled into Drew’s driveway, grabbed my purse and the pregnancy test off the passenger seat
, and made my way into Monroe Manor heading straight for the small bathroom just inside the back door.

I was a jumble of emotions while I waited for the results of this simple test.
I couldn’t ignore the crushing feeling that I associated with this routine; the results always the same, no matter how hopeful I was, no matter how careful we had followed all the rules. I felt that same fear now. My stomach twisted in knots as I glanced at my watch every few seconds. Part of me wanted to believe that this time was different because I hadn’t been trying or praying or hoping. I hadn’t been checking my temperature or counting the days, hours, minutes. . . . This time it could be different. And then I scolded myself for letting my mind go there, for letting the hope trickle into my heart.

I stared at the test stick in my hand, completely stunned by the pink plus sign.
I had never had a positive pregnancy test before. Not ever. I instinctively placed my hand on my belly, imagining the life that could be blooming inside me at this very moment. I pushed aside the thought, unwilling to allow myself to think ahead, already preparing myself for the disappointment that would inevitably come. Surely there must be some other explanation.

Twenty-
Six

The following day, I told Andrew that I had to pick up something in town, regrettably explaining to him that I needed some time to myself when he insisted on coming with me.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” he asked again, while he sat on the edge of the bed, watching me get dressed.

“No. I’ll be fine. It’s only a few hours,” I said, avoiding his eyes.

“A few hours that you
need, away from
me
. That’s just great,” he sulked.

I finished buttoning my sleeveless blouse and glanced over at him.
I could see the hurt in his eyes as my words pushed him away, putting space between us that neither of us had wanted or needed until now. The truth was, I didn’t want to be away from him for a single moment. But I had an appointment with an obstetrician in town—a modestly populated city about sixty miles southwest of the lake. Dr. Bradshaw, my fertility specialist, whom I had called immediately after seeing that plus sign, had referred me to a physician there when I refused to come home.

Dr. Bradshaw had said that I was most likely pregnant, that it wasn’t completely impossible, that he had seen this happen plenty of times in his career.
I couldn’t talk to Drew about this until I knew all the facts, until I knew for sure. Part of me feared his reaction, feared what this would mean for us if I was, in fact, pregnant. But I was afraid to think that far ahead, afraid that this wasn’t real.

***

“Well, there’s definitely a baby in there,” I heard her say as she moved the ultrasound probe over my lower abdomen with an almost-painful amount of pressure. Dr. Anita Pennings was an older woman with short, spiky gray hair and an easy way about her.

“See right here,” she said, pointing to a round figure on the screen.
“That’s the head.” She slid the probe a hint to the right and said, “And there’s a hand.”

I was in awe.
I was pregnant and looking right at my baby. Getting a real glimpse of its head and hand and feet. It was incredible. Tears spilled down my cheeks, and, for a moment, I thought of Ryan. We had dreamed of this moment for so long, wanting this so desperately; the need to be parents had consumed us until it had ultimately divided us—breaking us apart. I was going to be a mother; I was finally getting exactly what I had wanted more than anything, but a small part of me ached for Ryan, knowing how bad he had wanted to be a father.

I wasn’t sure what Drew wanted. He seemed completely uninterested in the idea of having children.
Fate had a cruel sense of humor, but I wouldn’t change the outcome. I wouldn’t take it back. Maybe everything happens for a reason. Maybe Ryan’s affair had a purpose. Maybe, just maybe, I was meant to be with Drew, even if only for the conception of this baby. We had had sex more times than I could count, and we had never bothered with protection. I hadn’t really tried to prevent a pregnancy that my body had denied me time and time again, and Drew had never really asked.

“Okay, let’s get some measurements, shall we?” Dr. Pennings asked, more as a statement than a question as she tapped a few keys on the ultrasound machine.
“Well, it looks like your about twelve to fourteen weeks along, give or take. It’s hard to say since you can’t pinpoint the date of conception or your last menstrual cycle.” She ripped a sheet of paper from the machine’s printer and handed it to me.

I looked at her in shock.
“Excuse me?” I asked. Clearly I must have heard her wrong. “What would my date of conception be if your calculations are correct?”

“Let’s see,” she said, picking up a chart and scanning it for a moment.
“Sometime in May, but again it’s hard to say. I’m going to give you the earliest due date possible just to be on the safe side.”

My heart had stopped on
May
. The month that I came to the lake. The same month that I had tried to conceive a baby with Ryan, the same month that I had left my husband, the same month that I had drunken, mind-blowing sex with Drew. I had never considered that this baby could be Ryan’s. I had just assumed . . . I wanted to scream. I had no idea who the father was. How could I have been pregnant all this time and not have known? I cringed at the amount of alcohol I had consumed and the medications that I had taken on occasion. I said as much to Dr. Pennings. She assured me that it was fine, that plenty of woman before me had similar concerns, and their babies were perfectly healthy.

As I left Dr. Pennings’ office
—after several blood tests—I pushed aside the huge issue and tried to focus more on the fact that I was going to have a baby.
I was freaking pregnant!
How did this happen
? I was elated, in awe, nearly euphoric.

I drove robotically, following each curve that would lead me back to Monroe Manor, completely lost in
thought. I had so many decisions to make and a sudden deadline as the baby’s due date of early February was now marked on the calendar. My mind was whirling as I drove back to Andrew. I knew that I had to tell him that I was pregnant, but I was scared of what this would mean for us.

Not only had Andrew never expressed any interest in having children, but he seemed to detest the idea.
Uncertainty clouded my mind as I considered what I should do. Do I tell Ryan? Can I forgive him for what he did, and, more important, do I want to? Would Ryan still want me if this baby was Drew’s? And will Drew want me at all, knowing that I was pregnant? I was finally getting the one thing that I had wanted more than anything in my life, and my joy was tarnished with these questions, tarnished with fear of how this would change things for Drew and me.

***

As I walked into Monroe Manor, I set down my purse and car keys on the kitchen island, calling out Drew’s name. I found each room empty as I slowly walked through the first floor, peering around every corner, searching for Drew. My excitement was masked by the dread that hung in the balance from the anticipation of telling Drew that he was possibly going to be a father. I stood at the wall of glass and looked out, scanning the deck, the beach, and finally the dock.

My heart skipped a beat or two when I spotted Drew perched on the end of the dock in only a pair of shorts.
His beautiful tanned skin stretched tightly across the cut of his muscles as he leaned back, his hands splayed out on the dock, supporting him as he looked out across the lake. His hair was wet, and beads of water rolled down his back as if he had just finished a swim moments before. He was beautiful. The magnitude of my love for him hit me full force. I walked slowly toward him and sat down only inches away, dangling my bare feet in the water.

“How was the drive?” he asked without turning to look at me.

“It was fine,” I said, looking down at my feet as I kicked them back and forth in the water.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked in a clipped tone, a
double-edged sword exposing how hurt he was.

“Drew, I didn’t need to buy anything
, and I didn’t need time to myself. I’m sorry that I lied to you.” He turned to look at me, and I looked dead into the limpid blue of his eyes, feeling guilty for keeping something from him—again.

“We said that we wouldn’t do this, Gem.
That we would always be honest with each other.”

“I’m being honest
no
w
,” I admitted, wanting desperately to ask him if he was being honest with me but afraid of his answer.

“Well, what was today all about then, Gemma?” he asked, the hurt still in his eyes.

“I’m pregnant,” I blurted out before taking a deep breath to prepare myself for his reaction.

I could see his mind processing my words, his gaze unflinching as he stared deep into my eyes, the rise and fall of his chest heavier, strained.
My heart was on the verge of crumbling the longer he stared at me in silence, my worst fears hovering, waiting for confirmation. My own chest was heavy, my breath long and labored, as I searched his eyes for some kind of warning of what was to come. The world around us was at a standstill—a dead calm—while I hung on his every breath.

“Say something,” I whispered when I felt like I couldn’t hold on another moment, the anticipation nearly shredding my heart in two.

He reached out and caressed my cheek with his hand, as his mouth turned up into a lopsided smile. “That’s incredible, Gem. I know how much you want to be a mother, and, just for the record, you’re going to be an amazing mom.” He brought his other hand to my face and kissed me so deeply that I could feel it in my bones.

I felt wet tears on my cheeks as relief flooded my heart.
I had been so afraid of his reaction that I had not fully accepted my new reality, this miracle that was growing inside me. My heart filled with love for my unborn child.

Drew pulled
back gently and wiped away my tears with his thumbs. I saw the genuine smile on his lips and heard the reassuring words that he spoke, but something in the vacant, solemn depth of his gaze extinguished my earlier sense of relief. I didn’t elaborate on the rest, on the fact that Andrew may not be the father. I didn’t say another word about pregnancy or babies or how rare and unexpected this news—this gift—was.

The look in his eyes bore the truth of what he felt in his heart, the one place that he could not hide from me
, and, though I wasn’t sure exactly what that truth was, I knew him well enough to feel completely shattered in that moment.

I pulled away from him abruptly and stood, running back toward the cabin.
I could hear him calling my name, his voice getting closer as I reached the side door. “Gemma, what’s wrong?” he asked when he reached the door. I continued to the master bedroom, tears blurring my vision as I grabbed my suitcase out of the walk-in closet and laid it open on the king-size bed.

“Gemma, what in the world is going on?” he asked, breathless, with his hands on his hips.

I began to pull clothes from their hangers, stuffing them in my suitcase as quickly as I could. I didn’t bother with folding them. I just wanted to get out of here, to figure out what I was going to do, but I couldn’t stay here anymore. I couldn’t stay here with him and pretend anymore. I was a grown woman with real responsibilities and now even bigger responsibilities, and I couldn’t afford to act like a teenager anymore, to play this game with him.

I felt his hand on my arm before he whirled me around to face him.
He wrapped his hands around my arms to hold me in place. My gaze was focused on his chest; I was too hurt to look into his eyes again, afraid of what I would see.

His voice was calm and direct.
“Gemma, talk to me. What are you doing?”

“Stop
, Drew. Just let me go. I want to leave. I can’t stay here anymore,” I said as I tried to pull away from his grasp.

He only gripped me harder, as his voice became more demanding.
“You’re acting crazy. Slow down and talk to me.” He was gritting his teeth in frustration.

“Talk to you, Drew?
Talk to you? What do you want me to say?” I asked, finally looking into his eyes. What I saw was unexpected—complete agony . . . regret . . . sadness. I paused, my chest heaving as I lost myself in his eyes. “You want me to be honest with you?” I whispered. “Why don’t you try being honest with me for once, Drew. I know that you’re keeping something from me. I know that you don’t want this baby,” I choked out.