I could tell something was wrong by the look on Marguerite's face. She'd been working for me for a long time, so I knew whatever it was couldn't be good news. Marguerite ran my law office with true efficiency, making sure I didn't waste my time on stupid shit, or people, who could fall into line and wait their fucking turn.
"James, there's a Dr. Cassandra Wilton on the line. She's calling from the South Boston Clinic on Munroe where…ahh…Winter is there with her. She says you need to come down right away and pick her up." Why couldn't she call me herself?
She. Was. Hysterical.
I didn’t know what I was expecting when I walked into that clinic, but Winter bursting into tears that streamed down her face wasn't it. The instant she saw me, she broke down into sobs and turned away, refusing to meet my eyes.
I was a problem solver by nature. Always had been. Especially when it came to people I knew, because I wanted to help them fix their problems. That's something important to me as an attorney, one of the better parts about my job. But this situation was far beyond a job. This was Winter—the woman I loved—behaving completely out of character. Winter didn't have emotional breakdowns or hysterical bouts of crying that I'd ever witnessed over the twenty-plus years I'd known her. She was terribly upset, yes, but what really struck me was how she would not look at me.
As if she was ashamed...
So, I assessed.
Winter was in a medical clinic around the corner from where she volunteered…having a motherfucking meltdown. But she didn't look hurt or sick, or injured in any way that I could tell. So, my inner Sherlock Holmes took it a step further and studied the evidence in the room. A small plastic cup of what looked like probably urine, swabs, long thin white test strips with blue ends, and most importantly, one shell-shocked girlfriend. My mystery-loving, deducing-ass figured it out as my heart thumped out of my chest and flopped around still beating on the floor of that exam room.
She's pregnant?
"Winter? Can we talk about why you're so upset? I'm here…and you need to know there is nothing you could tell me right now that will change how I feel about you or…us." I knelt on the floor in front of her and picked up her hands to hold them in mine. I caressed the back of her hand and stroked my finger over the scar along her thumb, remembering the night when she'd come to me bleeding and terrified. Everything had started between us because of it. That one event could be the difference between us as we were now, and never finding our way to be with each other.
So, I'd have to take that one as fate. And I fucking love fate right now.
I take this new surprise as fate, too. If we were having a baby together, then all my self-doubt pondering if I could keep her was in my fucking past. Winter would be my wife and the mother of my children. I'd just been given the keys to the kingdom of my happily ever after…with the love of my life.
This was one enormous thank you to God, from me. I'll be sure to thank you in person next time I'm in church, big guy. I might have to make a special trip to St. Clement and light a candle before then, though, because I didn't show up there very often.
"I love you, Win. Focus on that while you find your words to tell me what's got you so upset. I'll wait until you can." I didn't coddle or try to force her; I was patient…and simply continued to trace my finger up and down her scar.
She shifted her head and turned toward me, her long hair falling forward and clinging to her tear-streaked cheeks, eyes still tightly closed. I gently tucked her hair behind her ears to get it out of her face, but nothing else. Winter had to be the one to go first.
She let me finish fixing her hair before leaning a bit more toward me, as if closing the physical distance between us was giving her strength. I really hoped that was the case. Then, on an anguished whisper she said, "James…" Simply my name. Then, a terrible shuddering breath came out from her chest and her sad green eyes finally opened to mine.
I was waiting with a smile, ready to wait forever if I needed to.
"I'm pregnant." She whispered it, utterly devastated as she spoke those two words out loud.
"I kind of figured that one out all on my own, beautiful, and I can see just how much it's upset—"
"It's my fault. I did this—oh my God. James, I told you that first time…when we were together…I said I was protected, but I wasn't. My shot—I missed getting it after Dad died and I just didn't go and get another one. I…I…I…lied…and I don't even know why I lied. I'm sorry—I am so…s-s-sorry for doing this to us—"
She broke down into more crying and couldn't speak anymore after that, so I held her in my arms until she was able to walk out of that clinic with me and let me take her home.
Winter might be devastated now, but I hoped it was temporary devastation. We had a lot to discuss and major plans to make. We could start just as soon as the shock wore off and she was ready. Why was she so…devastated and why had she thought she’d lied? That wasn’t Winter’s MO at all, so she must be in need of some time to evaluate and process. It was certainly much more of an issue for her than it was for me. I couldn't do anything about changing that part for her, though. She knew what was in her own heart, and she would have to come to terms in her own way.
For the second time in my life I'd been given the same news. Leah’s announcement had blindsided me with doubt and filled me with worry. This time, with Winter, neither was present. Instead, the news was my salvation. The answer to prayers I'd never have the balls to actually say, even to myself. Complete opposite reactions coming from me.
I hoped she could come around in her feelings about the baby we'd created; reasoning as simple as the fact she could never leave me if she was having my child. My reasoning was flawed, of course. But then, that was often the case when reasoning with your heart’s desire. Winter was my heart’s desire and she always would be.
It wasn't what I'd expected to happen, or an outcome I'd sought. But it had happened. We were having a baby, and we were getting married, and now, in my mind, those two things were certain. The deep Catholic roots had taught us the rules. Rules that destined us to carry pregnancies to term. Rules that dictated we marry the person we made a baby with if it was legally possible. This was the way it was done. We both knew it without having to voice the points at all. Our families would demand it from us regardless.
Once I had her back to my place, I did something nearly identical to the night she came to me after cutting her hand. I took her into the bathroom, sat her on the countertop, and talked to her. But unlike that night, she wasn't falling in and out of consciousness. Rather, she was hyper-aware, experiencing a much different sort of trauma. And I could clearly see just how traumatic it was for her, which was what worried me the most. She hadn't spoken a word to me in the car on the way home, because she wasn't able, and I knew better than to push. Instead she'd been quiet, staring out the window at the winter gloom and the sprinkling of rain blowing from the clouds. My very traumatized Winter on a wintery day in January.
"I'm running you a bath, okay?" She nodded once, her face a storm of emotion and worry. "It'll be okay, Win. I know we will all be okay."
"But…how do I…how do we have a baby right now?" she asked finally, the suffering in her voice very clear.
"We just do." I took her face in both hands, so she would see me when I said the most important part. "We'll do it…together." It made me realize why I felt nothing but calm at that moment. We’ll do it together. Nothing really mattered now I had Winter as my own, because from now on, everything was with Winter. God. She truly had no clue how much she’d brought to my life.