Carter grimaced. “No, but your father might.”
She almost laughed out loud. She could just imagine her meek, mild-mannered father, prodding Carter down the aisle with the business end of a rifle. Well, here’s a news flash, she thought. It would take more than a rifle to make her marry Carter. Or anyone else, for that matter. Marriage was an experience she had no desire to repeat.
She regarded his profile and sighed. No matter which path she chose, nothing could change the fact that Carter was the father of her child, and as much as she was determined to raise the baby alone, he had a right to know.
A shock like this would serve him right for being such a jerk.
She drew in a breath. “I have something to tell you.”
“Apology accepted.”
“No, you don’t understand—”
The front door to her house opened, and David appeared on the porch. Carter rolled down the window. “Hey, Roth!” he called. “How’s it going?”
David sprinted through the snow to the driver’s side of the car. “Pres, you old son of a gun, when did you get back? Come in for a glass of wine—and stay for dinner. It’s been a while since you’ve had one of my grandmother’s feasts. Either you’re traipsing across the country or you’re out on a date. Bubbe’s cooked up a storm, chicken soup, roast brisket and potato knishes—and you can’t say no to her gefilte fish.”
Becky’s stomach turned over.
“Thanks, but I’ll have to take a rain check,” Carter said. “I’m off to my mother’s. If I don’t show up tonight for dinner, she’ll probably stay awake all night, figuring out new, inventive ways to make me crazy.”
Mothers will do that, Becky thought, opening the car door.
Gertie stepped onto the porch, wearing her lamb’s wool coat. “David!” she called, waving frantically. “Put on a jacket! It’s cold out here!”
Becky turned to Carter. “Thanks for the lift. I can manage from here.”
“Stay put. I’ll help you to the door.”
“I told you, I can manage.” She glanced over at her brother, who hadn’t even acknowledged her presence. What, was she invisible? “God forbid I should come between you and your buddy.” Before Carter could protest, she was out of the car, hobbling up the front pathway.
“Where are your boots?” Gertie scolded. “In this terrible storm you don’t wear boots? And why aren’t you wearing a hat? Get in here before you catch pneumonia. What’s the matter with you, can’t you see it’s snowing? It’s not a blizzard, it’s a disaster!”
Becky followed her mother into the house. You don’t know the half of it, she thought. If she hadn’t felt so miserable, she might have laughed.
Chapter Two
“F inally, a grandchild.” Gertie’s hands flew into the air as though she hoped to embrace the world. “But the word pregnant is so harsh-sounding. I prefer expecting. Even better, in the family way.”
“No matter what you call it,” Bubbe said, “a baby is a blessing. Have some more soup, Hannah. Now you eat for two.”
Aaron stood and raised his glass in a toast. “A finer daughter-in-law there never was. May your son be strong and healthy. May you have many more sons, and daughters, too. May all your children bring you joy. May all—”
“Sit down, Aaron,” Gertie said. “Your soup is getting cold. So, Hannah, when is the baby due?”
“According to the obstetrician, the last week in May. I wanted to tell you all sooner, but David wanted to keep it our special secret a little while longer.”
“You’re supposed to add seven days to the date of your last menstrual cycle, then subtract three months,” Becky said. She knew. She’d looked it up after missing her period. But hoping the problem would somehow go away, she’d put off taking a pregnancy test for another two months. It was only this morning, after studying her disappearing waistline in the diner’s bathroom mirror, that she’d drummed up the courage to confirm her suspicions.
“Watch how you talk,” Gertie reprimanded, handing a plate of sliced challa to Hannah. “There are men here.”
“I wasn’t hatched from an egg,” David said, laughing. “Anyway, Becky is right. That’s the calculation the doctor used. But the ultrasound scheduled for next week will give us a more accurate picture.” Looking at Hannah adoringly, he took her hand as though she was as fragile as a china doll.
Becky could tell that her mother was performing a few of her own calculations. “This is the first week in December,” Gertie said slowly. “That would make Hannah three months preg—in the family way.” She looked at David accusingly. “Right?”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, Ma. The baby won’t dare show his face until the appropriate amount of time has passed.”
“I wasn’t saying anything, so wipe that look off your face.” Gertie pretended to be offended, but her joy was obvious. “Not that I’m complaining, but I have to say, you didn’t waste much time.”
“They didn’t go on a honeymoon to play golf,” Aaron said.
“Shame on you, Aaron. Such a way to talk in front of your children.” She turned to Becky. “Finally I’m going to have grandchildren, and here I thought the first one would come from you.”
It just might, Becky thought. She wasn’t sure of the date of her last period, but she knew exactly when she had conceived: Labor Day weekend, the night of David’s wedding. Which meant that she and Hannah would be delivering around the same time.
“Don’t start on her, Ma,” David said. “She’ll get remarried one day. Besides, she’s a lot younger than I am. She has time. She’ll have a family when she’s good and ready.”
As a matter of fact, before I’m good and ready, Becky thought.
“From your mouth to God’s ears,” Gertie said.
Becky let out a nervous breath. This was as good an opening as any to tell them about the baby. But she had to do it gradually, to soften the blow. Step one, marriage is out. Step two, adoption is in. Step three, forget step two and tell them I’m pregnant. “Actually, I don’t think I’ll ever get married again.”
Gertie dismissed the comment with a wave of her hand. “Of course you will. Jordan will come back. Just be patient.”
When was her mother going to accept the divorce? “I wouldn’t take him back if he crawled on his hands and knees, not after what he did,” Becky said. “He used me, and he used you, too. Without the money he borrowed from you, he never would have been able to go to medical school. And don’t forget, I was the only one bringing home the bacon, you should pardon the expression. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not angry that he went to school while I worked—yes, Ma, I do have some skills—but it’s funny how he dumped me as soon as he got what he wanted.”
Gertie frowned. “Do we have to talk about this at the Friday-night table? Shabbes is supposed to be a time of rest, and that means a rest from all this bickering.”
“You’re the one who brought it up,” Becky answered indignantly. “If you like Jordan so much, why don’t you marry him?”
“Is that how you talk? Listen to how she talks! Aaron, say something!”
Aaron cleared his throat. “First of all—”
“First of all she needs a husband,” Gertie interrupted. “Which she had, I might add, but