“Why ever not? This is what you’ve been hoping for, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Dan’s attention returned to Sarah, and he kissed her hand again. “Praying for, for years.”
There. That proud yet tender, hope-filled look was why she couldn’t deny the man anything. Couldn’t even be too upset that his parents—the ones who had everything—had this information first.
She glanced back at his folks. “We wanted to wait until twelve weeks.”
“Especially after…” Dan stopped.
They hadn’t told his parents about the other miscarriages. They’d told her parents though. She cringed. She could imagine just how well this would go down.
“After what?” Andrew asked.
Good to see he was paying attention.
“It’s good to wait until twelve weeks so the baby is more viable,” Sarah said carefully.
Helen’s eyes widened. “Are you telling me you’ve been pregnant before?”
Hopes at keeping their previous experiences with pregnancy a secret deflated. But she couldn’t lie. “It was only twice.”
“Twice?”
God bless her ability to overshare. She gestured for Dan to take the lead. They were his parents, after all.
He fumbled his way through explanations, bravely taking the verbal bullets when Helen asked if that was why Sarah’s parents had visited last year.
Sarah studied her hands, now in her lap, tension rippling over her, through her. She forced herself to relax. This was exactly what the doctor had warned about. She needed to be careful not to let pressure build up, not to let herself get worried. She tuned out the conversation as best she could. She really needed to contact her parents. She glanced longingly at her phone. Maybe she could do so now, before Helen took it upon herself to spill the beans. Given the mood she was in she likely would, too, as payback for being out of the loop. Ugh. How awful to think Helen would be so petty. Ugh, and double ugh. She was an awful daughter-in-law to even think that.
“Well, Sarah, I can’t pretend not to be a little miffed that you didn’t choose to tell us about the previous pregnancies—”
“I’m sorry, but it was so new, I could barely get my head around it myself,” she rushed to explain. Especially when she’d been stunned by the fact she could even get pregnant. “Then when we lost them—” Her heart panged, her throat filled.
“It wasn’t an easy thing to talk about,” Dan said, coming to her rescue.
That’s what he did. He might be the Leafs’ top defenseman, but he was her protector too. She reached across and held his hand. Oh, she loved this man.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us,” Helen grumbled again.
Heaven forbid Helen hold this against her. Sarah knew she would never measure up to Helen’s other daughter-in-law, Marguerite, who often seemed like she was Helen’s mini-me, albeit a nicer, younger version, and now a mother of two. The gold-plated daughter-in-law.
“It was only six and eight weeks, Mom,” Dan said tiredly.
“And how far along is this one?” Helen asked.
“Ten.”
“Well, practice makes perfect, huh?” Andrew said.
Sharpness stabbed her chest, and she blinked back emotion. How could he dismiss their agony in such a callous way?
He hadn’t seen their tears, hadn’t seen his son’s anguish, didn’t know the atomic bomb-sized emotions they’d experienced. Ecstasy at finally believing God had granted the desires of their heart; then agony when it was ripped away. The hopes, the possibilities, the future they’d dared to dream, then the doctor’s words in that examination room. “I’m sorry, but you’ve lost the baby.”
How crazy that it was a baby when it was wanted; a fetus if it was not.
“Dad, that comment was uncalled for.”
Sarah glanced at Dan. She’d seen that hard expression a few times. Usually when it was directed at an opposing player with a bad attitude. Dan glanced at her, his eyes softening, his eyebrows arching as if asking if she wanted to leave.
