“Honey, I can’t sleep,” I tell Mick, tossing in bed.
“Is something the matter?”
“My back is killing me.”
“If you want a massage, you don’t have to put up such an act, just ask.”
“Mick, I’m being serious, my spine isn’t properly aligned. I should try that knee pillow thingy again.”
“Oh, Lilly, when will you stop buying everything you see on infomercials? Are misaligned spines even a real thing?”
“They are because I have one, and I was talking with Dorothy Brown the other day, and she swore the knee pillow works. I must’ve been too quick in dismissing it. I’ll go grab it from the storeroom.”
“All right, Sweetheart, just promise you won’t spend the night kicking me in the shins.”
“I promise.”
I kiss my husband on the nose and get out of bed.
The storeroom is adjoining to Kate’s room and, from the hall, I can hear the kids’ voices inside. I still remember the days when Mick and I would stay up all night talking. Well, not just talking. Ah, young love.
I open the storeroom door and grope to find the pull wire switch lamp—another one of my infomercial purchases that actually comes in handy. My fingers finally close around the wire and I pull on it. The lamp comes to life—just about. I must’ve forgotten to change the batteries. I make a mental note to do that tomorrow. But for now, the lamp produces enough light for me to search the back rack where I should’ve stacked the knee foam support pillow. Ah, there it is on the bottom shelf.
I grab the pillow, and I’m about to leave when I overhear Kate’s voice in the other room enunciate the word “grandkids” clear as day.
I pause and, I know I shouldn’t, but I lean closer to the bedroom wall. The voices aren’t exactly distinct; I can only make out a few words of what Chuck is saying in response.
“…to tell Mom… have a baby…”
Oh, dear me… is Kate pregnant? Am I about to become a grandma?
“…we did a test on campus… results… and you’re virile.”
Virile? Is that what Kate said? I can’t be sure. But it must be. My Honeybun took a pregnancy test, and it was positive.
Chuck mumbles something I can’t discern. Kate replies, but I only catch the ending.
“…is making me sick to my stomach.”
So that’s why she looked so pale all day, and why she stomped around in such a horrendous mood this afternoon. Now it all adds up: she has morning sickness. How many weeks along is she?
“Sweetheart, are you okay?”
Mick’s voice makes me jump.
“Shhhh!” I grab my husband and pull him into the storeroom, closing the door behind him. Without the light coming from the corridor, the wire lamp is doing an even poorer job, and we’re in semi-darkness.
“What are you doing?” Mick asks, understandably confused.
“Eavesdropping on Kate and Chuck.”
“I’m not sure you should—”
“Kate is pregnant, Mick. We’re going to be grandparents!”
His smile lights up the storeroom better than the wire lamp ever could. “Really? When? How?”
Hands on my hips, I stare my husband down. “Mick Warren, do I really have to explain to you how?”
Mick pulls me into an embrace and nuzzles my neck. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind a practical lesson. I bet it would also solve all your back problems, too.”
I kiss him on the lips, and we get a little carried away. Until the kids mention a name on the other side.
“Did they say Margot?” I ask Mick. “Oh my gosh, they’re having a baby girl!”
Mick ignores my deductions and goes back to kissing my neck, and I stop paying attention to the kids and concentrate on my husband.