Chapter 3 - THE FLIGHT HOME FROM HAWAII
Jenna called me from the Honolulu airport.
I was six centimeters dilated.
It was not an ideal time for family diplomacy.
But she looked furious.
“I changed my flight.”
Behind her, people moved through the terminal carrying rolling suitcases.
“What?”
“I’m coming home.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Jenna—”
“My brother lied to me.”
She took a breath.
“And I participated in spending money that wasn’t mine because of that lie.”
I looked at Megan.
She shrugged.
Jenna continued.
“I canceled the rest of my hotel nights.”
“Can you get a refund?”
“Some.”
“How much?”
“About twenty-seven hundred for my part.”
“You don’t owe me eighteen thousand.”
“I know.”
Her eyes filled.
“But I’m sending back what I can.”
Something in me softened.
“Thank you.”
“Mom isn’t coming.”
Of course she wasn’t.
“What did she say?”
Jenna’s expression hardened.
“That everybody is overreacting.”
I closed my eyes.
“Sounds right.”
“She said Nathan gave her a gift and now you’re punishing her because you don’t like how he paid for it.”
Megan muttered:
“Unbelievable.”
Jenna heard.
“Hi, Megan.”
“Hi.”
“This is terrible.”
“Yes.”
Jenna looked back at me.
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should’ve asked more questions when he offered that much money.”
“Why would you?”
She hesitated.
“Because Mom has been talking about this trip constantly since Dad died.”
I waited.
“She’s asked Nathan before.”
“How many times?”
“At least three.”
That was new.
“What did he say?”
“Usually that he couldn’t afford it.”
I looked toward the hospital-room door.
Nathan was still outside.
“Did she ask him after I got pregnant?”
Jenna looked uncomfortable.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Fourth of July.”
I remembered the barbecue.
Carol had spent half the afternoon showing me baby blankets online.
“What did Nathan say?”
“He told her it was a bad year because you guys were saving for maternity leave.”
There it was.
Carol knew exactly what the money was for.
Not generally.
Specifically.
I felt strangely calm.
“Did she get angry?”
Jenna looked away.
“She cried.”
Of course she did.
“What did she say?”
“That Dad died before they got to do anything they planned.”
Jenna swallowed.
“That she’d sacrificed her whole life for us.”
Nathan had heard guilt.
Then found eighteen thousand dollars that belonged to both of us.
The next contraction shut down the conversation.
I breathed through it.
When I looked up, Jenna was crying.
“Oh my God. I’m bothering you during labor.”
“You really are.”
She laughed through her tears.
“I’ll let you go.”
Then she became serious.
“Allison?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m on your side.”
“I don’t need sides.”
“I know.”
She nodded.
“But you should know I don’t think you’re crazy.”
That mattered more than I expected.
I ended the call.
Megan handed me ice chips.
“You married into a circus.”
“Helpful.”
“I specialize in timing.”
The door opened.
Nathan stood there.
He had been outside for hours.
His face looked awful.
“Can I come in?”
I looked at Megan.
She looked at me.
My decision.
Not his.
“Five minutes.”
Nathan entered.
He held a laptop.
“I found a way to replace some of it now.”
I immediately felt tired.
“Nathan.”
“Just listen.”
He sat in the chair near the foot of the bed.
“I have eleven thousand four hundred dollars in an individual brokerage account from before we got married.”
I knew about it.
It was mostly old company stock.
“I’m selling it.”
“Don’t make another unilateral financial decision to repair your unilateral financial decision.”
He stopped.
Megan actually nodded.
“Fair.”
Nathan looked at me.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Ask.”
His eyes filled.
“Allison, would you be okay with me selling the stock and putting the proceeds into the account?”
I thought.
There would be taxes.
Probably a small capital gain.
But it was his separate asset.
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
“My condition is that you don’t pretend that fixes this.”
“It doesn’t.”
“And you don’t empty something else we might need.”
“I won’t.”
“Your word isn’t enough today.”
He looked down.
“I know.”
The honesty helped.
A little.
Then Nathan said:
“There’s something else.”
I immediately hated those words.
“What?”
“My manager called.”
“About what?”
“The bonus.”
My stomach sank.
“What about it?”
“The company had a bad quarter.”
Of course.
“How bad?”
“He told me not to expect what I got last year.”
I stared at him.
“How much?”
“He doesn’t know yet.”
“Ballpark.”
“Maybe eight.”
I laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
“The twenty-thousand-dollar bonus you were definitely replacing the money with.”
Nathan looked sick.
“Yeah.”
“Might be eight.”
“Yes.”
I looked at Megan.
She said nothing.
She didn’t have to.
This was exactly why savings existed.
Nathan rubbed his face.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
He looked at me.
“You were right.”
That sentence should have felt satisfying.
It didn’t.
“I didn’t want to be right.”
“I know.”
“We had thirty-six thousand dollars because we didn’t know what might happen.”
“I know.”
“And you gambled half of it on a paycheck you didn’t even have.”
He nodded.
Tears filled his eyes.
“I was so sure.”
“About what?”
“That I could fix it before you knew.”
There it was.
The real plan.
Not that everything would be fine.
That he could erase his decision before I was aware there had been one.
Nathan continued.
“I kept thinking if I could make Mom happy and put the money back, nobody would lose anything.”
I stared at him.
“But I already lost something.”
His face changed.
“What?”
“Being able to believe you when you say our money is safe.”
He looked down.
Another contraction hit.
This one made me groan.
Nathan immediately stood.
Then stopped himself before touching me.
“Can I?”
I knew what he meant.
My hand.
I hesitated.
Then nodded.
He took it.
Not tightly.
Just enough.
When the contraction passed, I didn’t pull away immediately.
That did not mean forgiveness.
It meant I was in labor and he was still the person I had expected to do this with.
Life was rude enough to make both things true at once.
My doctor came in twenty minutes later.
Grace’s heart rate had dipped during two contractions.
Not dangerously.
But enough that the room suddenly became more serious.
They repositioned me.
Adjusted medication.
Watched.
Nathan stood in the corner.
He looked terrified.
So was I.
For the next hour, nobody talked about Hawaii.
Nobody talked about money.
We watched the monitor.
The tiny line representing our daughter’s heartbeat.
One hundred forty.
One hundred thirty-eight.
One hundred forty-two.
Steady.
Finally my doctor relaxed.
“She looks happier now.”
I started crying.
Nathan did too.
He moved closer but waited.
I reached for his hand.
Because fear stripped away pride.
Because betrayal did not erase the fact that he loved this baby.
Because I still loved him.
That was the worst part.
It would have been easier if I didn’t.
By midnight, I was eight centimeters.
Megan slept curled in a chair.
Nathan sat awake.
His stock sale had been submitted.
The transfer would take time to settle.
But for once, he wasn’t trying to sell me a future solution.
He simply sat there.
At one in the morning, he whispered:
“I’m sorry I made you worry about money while you were doing this.”
I stared at the ceiling.
“That’s not the part I’m most scared of.”
“What is?”
I turned toward him.
“That someday Grace will marry someone who thinks loving his mother means his wife comes second.”
Nathan flinched.
“That’s not what I think.”
“It’s what you did.”
He looked down.
For a long time, he said nothing.
Then:
“I don’t want her to marry someone like I was this week.”
Not am.
Was.
I noticed.
I didn’t know if he had earned the past tense yet.
But I noticed.
At 3:41 a.m., my doctor came back.
She checked me.
Then smiled.
“Allison?”
“Yes?”
“It’s time.”
Nathan stood so quickly the chair hit the wall.
Megan woke up.
Everyone started moving.
The room filled with nurses.
Equipment.
Instructions.
My heart pounded.
Nathan looked at me.
“Do you want me here?”
Not “I’m staying.”
Not “I’m her father.”
Do you want me here?
I looked at him.
“Yes.”
His face broke.
He came to my side.
And for the next hour, Nathan Bennett did exactly one thing right.
May you like
He listened.
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