John laughed. “Is that it? We can have tea instead.”
Anna placed a hand over her mouth, inhaling deeply through her nostrils until the queasiness passed.
“I haven’t stopped taking my pills,” she faltered.
“Your…No. I didn’t ask you to. I want a family, Anna, as you know, but I’m happy to wait until?”
“Looks like you won’t have to,” she blurted.
“What are you saying?”
“I suppose even the pill isn’t one hundred percent effective, is it? Or perhaps I forgot to take them one day. I don’t know. All I know is—I took a test. And it was positive.”
She felt almost apologetic as she spoke the words, but John did not appear to require any softening of what might be considered a blow.
“Darling! Do you mean you…?”
“I’m sure I am, John. I feel awful, and I can’t eat certain things, and, and, well, I know I am. I just know it.”
He stood up, took the cafetière and coffee cups to the sink and emptied them before returning to pull Anna up by her hands and squeeze her so tightly she squealed.
“You’re brilliant,” he told her, his voice thick with emotion. “Brilliant and beautiful, and I love you.”
Anna was crying now, her tears of relief spilling and splashing onto John’s silk tie. “I was afraid you’d be angry. But I’m happy too. And scared—so scared. But mainly happy. And I love you too.”
“He or she is going to be the most incredible child the world has ever seen,” John said, and Anna giggled. John was already the stereotypical father, bursting with pride. Suddenly she felt that everything was going to be fine—more than fine, in fact. Everything was going to be wonderful.
John sighed and held her by the shoulders, searching her face, his eyes unaccountably troubled. “Damn. Now there’s no way I can leave you alone for a fortnight.”
“Leave me? For a fortnight?”
“Sorry, darling, it can’t be helped. I have to go to Russia for two weeks in August. There’s a man there who can help me develop my machine and I really have no choice.”
“Can’t I come with you?”
“Not really. And I don’t want you flying in your condition.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.”
“Seriously, Anna, this is not a nice place I’m going to. It’s very remote, very inhospitable. It’s a military place. They won’t want to give you security clearance. I’m sorry, darling, I wish I could. But you have to stay here. But I can’t let you stay here alone. If anything happened, I’d never forgive myself.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Oh, Anna, you can’t. What if you invite Mimi? Have her stay for a few days.”
“You…Really?” Anna half frowned. “I thought you didn’t like her.”
“It doesn’t matter what I think of her. You like her. She’s your friend. She will take care of you—I trust her to do that.”
“That’s, well, thanks.” Anna could think of nothing more to say and she beamed up into John’s fond, misty eyes.
“We’re going to be parents,” he said with elation. “The best parents. This kid will have everything. Damn, is that the time? So sorry, darling—I’d love to take some time off to celebrate, but I’ll book a table somewhere special for tonight. Or perhaps we could go down to the Heath again. Just like our first date. Would you like that?”
Anna nodded, blissfully happy, too full of emotion to answer. He kissed her gently, then made a move for his briefcase, step full of spring, eyes full of gleam.
“It’s nice,” Mimi said dispassionately, accepting a mug of steaming coffee and seating herself at an antique card table in the drawing room. “He has good taste. But then, we knew that, didn’t we? Since he married you.”
Anna sipped at a glass of plain water with lemon and nibbled on a ginger biscuit. Eight months to go, she told herself, trying to accept that the nausea would pass and it was all worth it. She had been prepared for morning sickness, but not for the bone-deep fatigue and the bizarrely disturbed sleep. The dreams. Thick and fast, every night, and not one of them comprehensible or coherent enough to describe afterwards.