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Standing in front of the full-length mirror in our shared stateroom I pull my shirt tight over my, now, bulging tummy. I look like I have eaten a small cantaloupe. It’s insane and much too soon. I cannot stop staring at my reflection.
“Good thing we paid for the all-you-can-eat plan.”
I jump back and stare at my grandmother. She is supposed to be taking a walk on deck, not stealthily sneaking in and watching me gaze at myself.
Bubby puts a hand up to her chin and scratches lazily. “Although you can’t eat seafood now, right? So, I suppose all-you-can-eat would be a waste.” She shrugs her narrow shoulders. “The rules weren’t so tough when I was pregnant with your father, but we didn’t know better back then.”
Everything hits me. I can’t hide anymore. The truth is out, and soon everyone will know. I drop my hands over my little bump as a tear squeezes out of my eye and runs down my cheek.
Bubby shuffles forward and takes me into her arms. “Hush, child,” she croons. “It’s a perfectly natural thing that is happening to you. It’s all going to be just fine.”
“No, it’s not!” I wail. My mouth is directly at Bubby’s ear, and she flinches.
The fact that I hurt her hurts me more, and the sobs start coming hard. My whole body shakes with grief. What the fuck am I doing? What kind of idiot gets pregnant with her boss’s child and then runs away to Alaska?
“Now, now.” Bubby pats my arm and then runs a hand over my hair. “Come sit down on the bed here and tell me all about it.”
She guides me with her frail arms to the closest twin in our shared stateroom, plops me down and sits next to me. One of her thin hands moves down to my lap to hold my hand, while she pulls my head down to her shoulder with the other. I can smell her rose-scented perfume and the mild soap she uses. It’s a combination of smells that suddenly makes me feel like a little girl again — which strikes me as ridiculous at the moment.
“Come now, Amanda. Open up and tell me what happened.”
I lean into my grandmother more, letting go of my tension and feeling the soft caress of her hand over my hair. Soon the sobs let up a bit, and I can breathe again. But still, I can’t find the words to tell her how stupid I have been.
“Take a deep breath, child.” I do as she instructs. “Is this that Christian fellows child?” she asks. I nod, pushing my head further into the curve of her neck. She nods back, squeezing the hand that holds mine tightly. “I see. Have you told him about the baby?”
My breath hitches, and more tears come to my eyes. I shake my head, unable to explain.
Bubby shifts away from me. Her frail hand reaches under my chin and brings my eyes up to hers. “Look at me, Amanda.”
It’s the second time she’s used my full name. That means I am to do as she instructs. My eyes look into hers. I expect to see judgment, but instead, there is just love and concern. There are tears in her eyes too. Bubby doesn’t like to see me hurting. That realization crushes my last wall.
“Why would he want a child with a poor girl?!” I howl.
My grandmother’s eyes go wide. “What the fuck?” she snaps. “Amanda, you are not poor. And besides, what does money have to do with anything? Did Christian tell you that you were poor?”
I shake my head. I can’t quite catch my breath. “Jered said it.” My words come out in gasps. “He told me I was too poor to be his wife!” A long moan escapes my lips, causing me to lean forward. My whole body feels torn with my sorrow.
Bubby keeps running her hand over my head, petting my hair with gentle strokes. “I don’t understand, doll. You said this was Christian’s child. What does your ex-boyfriend have to do with anything?”
“Before. He told me that before. When I was pregnant the first time. Then he left me.”
I can feel her body stiffen, and her hands stall. “You were pregnant before? Oh, my child! Why didn’t you tell me?!”
I shake my head wildly. “I couldn’t. I was too ashamed after he left me.”
“Oh, love, you can tell me anything. You know I will help with whatever you need. But Amanda, what happened—”
“I miscarried.”
Silence feels the room. It’s the first time I have ever told anyone or admitted it to myself. Back then, the doctors said that word, it was on the hospital paperwork, but I never said it out loud. To do so felt too real.
Bubby pulls my head into her lap. She holds me close as she can, humming lullabies and combing her fingers through my hair over and over. “Shhh, now, doll,” she murmurs. “I had one too. Before your father came to us. Carrying babies is a hard business. But that was then, and this is now. This little baby that is in your tummy right now? He or she is staying put. Do you understand?”
