D iana

I’m in the conservatory, watching the early damselflies dart around the lily pond, when it comes to me: a dawning certainty, settling over me all at once .

Green tea stopped tasting right to me last week. Today, it’s marmalade, bitter on the tongue where it ought to be sweet. And I’m tired: I could chalk it up to the endless cycle of balls and drives and fundraisers—even a half-marathon I somehow got roped into, for a new women’s shelter—but that’s not it. Or not all of it .

We’ve been so careful: I’ve been on the pill all along, and we’ve used condoms every time, but I can feel it. Something went wrong, somewhere down the line, and everything’s about to change .

I push my plate away, and sip my water instead. I’ll have to tell James—and who knows how he’ll react?—but first, I need to think this through, myself. Life can’t go on the way it has been, if it’s not going to be just the two of us. Everything’s fine on the surface, but there are serpents underneath. Nasmith’s been a plague lately: I’ve seen the dark sedans following me into town, the flash of cameras where none should be .

James has been stressed, too, hounded at work and at home. It’s like they’re trying to squeeze the last of his usefulness out of him before the hammer comes down. And I have no doubt it will: for all we’re living like saints, if you dig long enough and hard enough, there are going to be worms in the soil .

It’s time to put a stop to this. I’ve been taking down the license plates of every suspicious car, tallying up the phone calls outside working hours. Maybe we could make a case for harassment. Tom might be able to help. He still hasn’t warmed to me, but he’d at least do it for James .

Something tugs at my heart: a faint stirring of excitement. This...might not be bad news. It might even be just what we need to break free of the shadow that’s hung over us from the start. I’ve always wanted kids, and James—he hasn’t said as much, but I’ve seen the way he smiles at the families in the park .

I push back from the table and head upstairs, checking out my reflection in the hall mirror on the way past. I’m not showing at all, but I suppose it’s early. I’ll have to go to the doctor, find out just how early—I suppose that means Nasmith’ll find out, too .

No. This should be a happy time. Will be a happy time. The moment will soon come to confront those serpents, but until it does, they have no place in my thoughts .

My phone vibrates, bringing me back to reality. “Hello ?”

It’s James. His voice is faint and crackly, like he’s calling from underground. “Hey—can you hear me ?”

“Yeah, just. Where are you ?”

“St. John’s Trail—kinda—“ A burst of static crackles down the line, and for a moment, I think I’ve lost him. “Sorry—you still there ?”

“Yeah. What are you doing all the way out there?” Something cold coils in my gut. “Did something happen at work ?”

“No, just...one of those days. Had to get out of there .”

“Nasmith?”

“Yeah.” I hear shuffling, the snapping of twigs. “Some shit about—you don’t want to know. The things that come out of that man’s mouth... It’s like he’s got his anus on the wrong end.” He sighs, deep and defeated. “Listen, I thought we could do something tonight. Something nice, away from it all. Are you free ?”

“I can be.” There’s a library committee meeting, but I can’t imagine the roof’ll cave in if I blow that off. “What’d you have in mind ?”

Static hisses again, louder this time. “—a surprise. Five o’clock ?”

“I can’t hear you, but—yes! Just get home! I’ll be waiting .”

I hang up, more disturbed than I’d like to admit. It’s not like James to run out of work in the middle of the day. Something must’ve got to him, more than he wants to let on. And now I’ve got to tell him—maybe I should wait .

Maybe there’s no time to wait .

I’ll take a test: if that strip’s anything but bright, clear blue, I’ll hold off. If it’s for sure, I can’t hide it. Not with so much at stake .

* * *

J ames pulls up around five. Right on schedule. Hope I’m dressed right: never did find out where we’re going. That’s kind of the least of my worries, but, hey. One thing at a time. If he’s in a terrible mood—If something really has happened —

He steps out of the car. Opens the door for me. He’s smiling—nothing in his demeanor suggests disaster. So, that’s a start. I sink into the bucket seat, fighting the compulsion to close my eyes. If I do, I might drift off. Not the best start to our evening .

We’re halfway down Haist Street before I think to ask where we’re going. James just winks and turns us in the direction of St. Catharines. I try to think of what’s out there, where he could possibly be taking me—the university? A restaurant? But it’s not till we sail past downtown, all the way to Lake Ontario, that I get the idea .

“The carousel ?”

“Damn—busted!” He shakes his head. “Hoped you’d somehow never been .”

“I’ve never ridden it .”

“Seriously? How does that happen ?”

I glance out the window, toward the glimpses of water visible between the buildings. “Well, first I was too scared, then I was too cool for baby stuff—Last time I came out here was in high school, and I was going to ride it, for sure, but ....”

“But...?”

“I got dumped .”

James snorts. “Sorry! That’s not funny, but you? Dumped? At the most romantic place this side of the Falls?” He shakes his head. “That’s just not fair .”

I shrug. Somehow, the memory’s lost its sting. “Well, we’ll make up for it tonight. You and me, on the horseys .”

“And the giraffes. Don’t forget the giraffes.” He reaches over and pats my leg. Whatever was bothering him this morning seems to have passed. Maybe he just needed to walk it off. I feel a good mood sneaking up on me as he noses into the parking lot. The carousel’s nostalgic tune’s drifting in the window already. I can hear children shrieking and laughing. I guess if there was ever an ideal place to break my news, this might be it .

“Can’t believe it’s still five cents a ride.” James digs in his pockets. “Shit—can’t believe it. Got a nickel ?”

I toss him one, rolling my eyes. Only James would plan a trip to the carousel and forget to bring change. “I’ll take the white horse .”

“Gray for me, then.” James hops up next to me, grinning as the ride grinds to life. I close my eyes and savor the warm spring evening. There’s a fresh breeze off the water, carrying a faint beachy smell. It’s comforting. Reminds me of holidays and Dad’s rubber boots, the ones he always wore to the shore. Didn’t like the water, but he’d sit for hours, watching —

I blink the memory away before I can start to tear up. James is getting right into the experience, holding up his phone to record me on my horse. I wave for posterity, wondering if our kid might be watching this someday, knowing he—or she—was there with us, sharing the moment .

I find myself slipping further into the fantasy, picturing James holding a laughing little boy on his lap as his horse glides up and down on its pole. It feels almost real, like I could blink and watch it come to life .

I feel almost robbed when the ride comes to an end. Stepping off feels like letting go of something—something that could be mine, but isn’t yet. Something that could still be snatched away .

After the carousel, we wander down the beach. The afternoon’s dwindled to a hazy glow, sunlight dancing on the water. We take off our shoes and walk hand in hand in the shallows, tiny waves breaking over our feet. It’s still cold as hell, even late in May, but James doesn’t seem to mind, and neither do I .

When we run out of sand, we head down the pier. Gulls cry overhead. No one else is out here. Voices carry from the beach, but they seem to belong to another world, one we’ve left behind .

“So, I....” I look out over the water. I don’t think James will react badly, but if he does, this could be our last happy moment. I slip my arm around his waist, pull him in for a kiss. He responds warmly, holding me so close the breath goes out of me. I let him take his fill, long, lingering moments stretching into the golden hour .

“Were you going to say something?” he asks when he finally pulls away .

“Just that I’m—“ I can’t say it. The moment’s here, and the words are stuck behind a lump in my throat, refusing to break free .

“You’re...?”

I take his hand and place it on my belly, palm flat. He stares, jaw going slack. Slowly, slowly, a grin spreads over his face .

“Wait, you—But how ?”

“The usual way.” I try a wink, but I’m still too nervous—I just about manage an owlish blink .

“But we used....” He leans in for another kiss. “Oh! Who cares? It happened—it really did? Are you sure ?”

I nod. “Took the test this afternoon. Three of them, actually. All blue .”

“Wow, that’s—that’s perfect. That’s....” He sweeps me into his arms, spinning me around till I start to get dizzy. “I was having such a shit day, and I thought—I just wanted—Y’know, I figured we’d come here, flash back to a simpler time, but now.... Now, we have all that to look forward to, for ourselves .”

We really do. For the first time, I let myself think about first steps, first words, first days of school—with James on board, it’s all real. All possible .

He squeezes my hands. “We have to celebrate. Champagne, or—no. Sparkling grape juice. A bubble bath. Whatever you’re craving—is it too soon for cravings? Whatever you want .”

All of that sounds great. I’m not sure it’s an official pregnancy craving, but I could use some ice cream. Maybe in the bath. With James holding me in his arms, feeding me tiny, sweet spoonfuls .

The walk back to the car feels very different, charged with a new kind of excitement. James is practically beaming with pride, and I’m more resolved than ever to winkle us out from under Nasmith’s heel .

No one’s going to spoil this for us—no one and nothing .