“You aren’t here to break up with me?” Becca half asked half spoke.

Except for one person, the amused grins the women in the class had been wearing fell, and curious stares took their place. Jadine, who had helped Donovan get Becca to the class, nudged the woman next to her. “This is where it gets good. Look at his face. He never saw that one coming.”

And she was right. All this time, Donovan thought Becca’s distance was anger with his harsh words. After several rounds of beer with three other extension agents that knew Becca, and threats from Lloyd to sabotage their marriage so he could have Becca for himself, Donovan texted his wife. “I’m a jerk. Call me.” But she never called. He assumed her silence was the way women punish men. The “don’t talk to him, and he’ll miss me” strategy. He pleaded his case to the women. “I never said anything like that.”

“You accused me of sleeping with another man,” Becca quickly responded. "You said that we were done."

He felt the blood rush to his face. "I may have been hasty with my words.”

Becca’s mouth fell open, and she raised her eyebrows in confusion. "You think I'm supposed to come running back to you because you changed your mind. I may be wider than your past girlfriends, but I am not a yo-yo." 

One of the women said, “This would be a good time for some popcorn or something,”

Donovan took Becca by the elbow while glancing at the room of eager observers. “Can we talk about this in private?”

She followed without argument while he guided her back toward the corridor that led to the bathroom. She opened her mouth to speak, and he interrupted her, “I know I’m the father.”

Her mouth closed, and she eyed him suspiciously.

“Vasectomies can reverse themselves.” His tone was matter of fact mixed with “I’m surprised you didn’t know it too.” They had something more pressing to discuss. “And while we’re getting everything out in the open, why didn’t you call me back?”

“I replied to the text messages I received.” She showed him her phone. There were a couple of texts from Abigail, her mother, and her brother. In there was the one from Saturday evening that asked if she was okay. It was followed by her response that she was fine. All the other texts he sent weren’t there.

“I swear I called you Friday night and several times Saturday. It went straight to voice mail.”

It was her turn to point out the obvious. However, her attitude lacked the zeal of defense. She sounded exhausted. Not angry. “You realize the network booster is at your house. I don’t have a cell signal when I’m at my house.”

As soon as she said it, he remembered it was true. One of the necessary evils of living in rural Montana was the dodgy cell service. Donovan helped her set up the booster years ago. Since hers was stronger than the one he had at the house, they brought it with her when she moved in. 

“You weren’t avoiding me?”

“I’ve been making myself busy, so I wouldn’t be lonely.”

“You’ve been lonely?” he perked. He thought for sure in the absence of his presence she would have created a list of reasons of why she’d be better off without him. It was what he taught her to do after every breakup.

A hesitant voice joined the conversation. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but a couple of us needed to use the restroom. We were wondering if you were going to be done arguing soon.”

“As a matter of fact, we are.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded envelope. “This. This right here will fix everything.”

The older woman rolled her eyes and went to the end of the corridor. “It’s going to be a while. Maybe we can use the bathroom at the senior center across the street.”

Donovan unfolded the envelope and ran it across his thigh to straighten the crease. He held it out for Becca to take. When she refused to touch it, he waved it toward her. “It isn’t going to bite you.”

Becca accepted the card. When she pulled the card out of the envelope the wrinkle in her brow deepened.

To emphasize the significance, Donovan said, “I got a new envelope. The one that came with the card had a cute picture on it.”

Her fingers traced the lettering on the front of the card. She felt herself grin in recognition at the picture of a cat holding a balloon. The text inside the balloon read, "Get Well Soon."

“That was the day I knew I was in love with you. I didn’t do anything about it because I didn’t think I had a chance.”

She made a face that said she didn’t believe him. To which he responded, “Okay. I was afraid your father was going to kill me.”

Her slight grin was the first sign of the possibility of the evening ending with three people in the Garrison household.

“Open it. See what it says inside.” Donovan knew what it said. On the bottom of the card was a note from Becca that read, “I can help you with whatever you need until you have recovered. Just let me know what I can do to help you. Get well soon.” On the side of the card, Donovan wrote, “I'm sorry about the morning sickness. I know it is my fault. I'm sorry about not trusting you. The idea of you being with another man made me crazy.  Please come home so I can heal what I have broken."

Tears welled in Becca’s eyes.  Donovan knew what she was going to say next.

"It's a beautiful card Donovan, but I cannot be with you. You'll end up resenting both me and the baby. I don't like the way it happened, but us separating is probably for the best."

That was not what he expected. His fear that she figured out that life was better without him came to confront him.

He stammered. "Why? I'd never resent."

Becca's arched eyebrow challenged him. She would accept nothing less than the truth.

He couldn't look her in the eye as he admitted the truth. "I resented the baby.” His grandmother said the truth would forge the cracks he made in the foundation of their relationship. Donovan hoped beyond hope she was right.

Becca’s voice contained the softness of understanding. “I get it. Which is why it’s better for all three of us if we weren’t together.”

He had to interrupt her before she got too attached to the idea of them living apart. “Because it was a baby’s fault I never had a mother.” The words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“What?”

“My mother died in childbirth.”

“No, she died in a car crash when you were ten,” Becca corrected.

“That was my step mother. She adopted me when I was four. My real mother died in child birth.”

Becca’s mouth fell open.

Donovan didn’t want her pity. He wanted her to understand his hesitance was a result of his issues. He continued, “I didn’t want to be like my father—stuck raising the child that killed his wife. I still don’t know how he did it.”

“How did I not know this?” She had her hand pressed against her heart, and her eyes darted back and forth like they were trying to find a lost memory.

“It isn’t like people go around telling sad stories from their childhood.” He shrugged, “Unless they’re drunk.”

Becca wrapped her arms around his waist and nuzzled her forehead into his chest. He inhaled the fragrance of her shampoo and exhaled in relief. Even though she hadn't said it, Donovan sensed it was a matter of time until he brought his wife and son back into his house where they belonged.

He pulled her toward him. "Best friends forgive each other."

She replied, "Best friends trust each other."

“I will from now on.” Not wanting the hug to end, he held her tightly.

When she pulled out of the hug Donovan held out his hand for Becca to accept. “Are you ready to come home?”

He felt like the king of the world when she gave it a little squeeze and said, “Let me tell the chef.”

Donovan waited by the door for Becca to join him. When he saw how tired she was, he made a silent promise to do everything in his power to make her feel better. He’d make her some peanut butter toast and a cup of tea when they got home.

With her key fob in her extended hand, she stepped outside the door. Becca pressed the button, but no sound followed. Unfazed by the lack of response she said, “The battery must be dying,” and walked in the direction of where she last parked her pickup.

She stopped short when she found Donovan’s Chevy in its place. “I could have sworn I parked here.”

The grin on his face grew wider. “You did.”

“Where is it now?”

“At our house. Kent drove it home for you.”

As if she didn’t believe Donovan, she backed away from the parking space and searched the parking lot. “You didn’t know I was coming home with you.”

Donovan looked down and covered his mouth to hide his smile. If things hadn’t gone as he planned, he would have driven her to her house. His heart told him that the suggestion wouldn’t be necessary.