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“Could you—” how to ask this question without sounding like she was trying to hide even more “—not tell them about the baby?”
The corners of his mouth fell as his smile turned suspicious. As he should be, Vivian thought, only not with regard to the baby. “Any particular reason to keep it a secret?”
“I’d always heard it was bad luck to tell anyone before the third month.”
“Miles knows—or at least guesses. He saw the book.”
“Just between us for now. Okay?”
* * *
KARL DIDN’T USUALLY lie to his mom, but he knew how to keep something from her. He’d hidden his impending divorce from her almost until Jessica had served him with the petition. It wasn’t something he liked doing—his mom had been angry about the secret of the divorce for months—but he made it a habit not to answer questions people didn’t ask. It hadn’t occurred to his mother to ask if he was getting a divorce. However…
“Is she pregnant?” his mom asked in a whisper as she handed him a platter of sauerkraut pierogies to take to the dining room.
“Why do you ask?” If he could avoid answering the question, he wouldn’t have to lie to his mother. He didn’t want to. But he understood Vivian’s reluctance to share the news—though his reasons were different. The fewer people who knew about the pregnancy, the fewer people who would insist on showing him adorable baby booties and maybe the fewer chances he’d have to think of all the horrible ways children die. As long as only he and Vivian knew about the baby, he could ignore the risk childhood posed to a child whenever he wasn’t around his wife. Or so he told himself.
His mom grabbed the waistband of his pants, preventing him from walking out of the kitchen. He sighed in response. Some days, you are still five years old to your mother. “You married a woman I’ve never met. What am I supposed to think?”
“Mom, even if she were pregnant—and I’m not saying she is—I wouldn’t tell you until she was three months along. It’s bad luck.” At least Vivian had been kind enough to give him something to tell his mother while he lied to her.
“What do you know about this woman you’ve married? Where’s she from? What’s her family like? How do you know if you have anything in common with her?”
He removed his mother’s grip on his pants and turned to face her, surprised when her expression held fear. “We’re here for family dinner. You can ask her all the questions you want. Get to know her. You’ll probably like her.”
I do. More than the curve of her lips and line of her neck. He could relax in Vivian’s calm presence. She had a quiet, efficient manner and he found himself watching her move about the apartment instead of enjoying his view of the Chicago skyline. He had even changed the chair he sat in while in the living room so he could watch her knit or play solitaire.
“She’s just—” his mom halted “—different, and I’m not sure she belongs.”
Of all the things he expected to come out of his mother’s mouth… “Are you saying you don’t like Vivian because she’s not from Chicago, not Catholic—” at least, he didn’t think she was “—or not white?”
“I just think marriages work better when the couple shares a common background.”
He set the pierogies on the counter in exasperation. “You complain about Tilly and Dan not even planning a wedding yet—”
“‘I’m building my business’ isn’t a reason not to get married,” she interrupted.
“And you’re a devout Catholic wishing your sister could marry her longtime female partner.”
“She’s my favorite sister. Their relationship has lasted longer than most marriages I know.”
“Vivian and I have done what Aunt Maria and Josie can’t do and what Tilly and Dan haven’t cared to do. Be happy about that.”
“I just wish I knew her.”
“No, you wish you’d had the chance to approve of her before I married her.” Like you approved of Jessica because the two of you wanted the same things out of me, and they weren’t what I was willing to give. The marriage you approved of led to divorce. And Jessica and I had a lot in common.
