Maggie

The summer sun was high and hot, warming the top of my head and the crest of my shoulders as I walked toward Central Park.

How strange that my life could change so swiftly within a few hours.

I’d marveled over the phenomena before, but the shock of something so extreme, something so unexpected, had swept me off my feet. I felt myself being pulled down the river, too fast to fight.

I wondered if Cooper would feel the same. Would he worry, or would he draw me into his arms and celebrate? A jolt of fear spiked through me, gone just as quickly as it had appeared. He loved me. He wanted children. And I told myself to stop guessing how he would react before I drove myself crazy.

Too late, I thought.

A sign hanging on a storefront just ahead of me caught my eye. Sweet Thing, it read over an illustration of a bundled-up baby. My pulse thumped a little harder as I approached the window. The display was an elaborate creamy nursery, soft and decadent, touched with little items—a rattle, a stack of cloth diapers, a spinning mobile—that invoked a deep longing, an instinctive desire, one that drew me through the doors before I realized I’d done it.

The bell chimed pleasantly as the door closed behind me, sealing off the heat of the day in favor of the cool shop. Over the speakers, a slow, tinkling song played, one that I realized after a second was a Radiohead song.

I was struck with a wave of emotion as I wandered around displays of tiny clothes and stacks of luscious blankets. It even smelled like a baby, an amalgamation of scents—clean, crisp linens, baby powder, lavender. My hand reached out, aching for the texture of mink and chenille, muslin and agora knits. My knuckles were buried in the folds of a blanket when my eyes found the display in the center of the table.

Cream and gold boxes were stacked in a tower, biggest to smallest, and on top of the tower was a tiny pair of booties. They were made of the softest suede, lined with fine fur, sitting dutifully under a sign that said, The most precious things are made from love.

My breath came in shallow sips as I reached for them with tingling fingers, my nose stinging from tears—more tears, so many that I wondered if I’d ever stop crying. They were so small, so terrifyingly small. In me was a baby that would grow, hidden away, and it would have tiny feet to fit these tiny shoes. The delicateness of something so small seized my heart, squeezed it tight with fear.

I’ll break it, I thought. How could I ever care for something so fragile?

And something split my heart open, and love poured out.

He’ll be so fragile, I thought, somehow sure that it would be a little boy with Cooper’s smile and my golden hair. He’ll be so small, I marveled. He’ll fit in Cooper’s hand, just like Hazel fits in West’s. And I’ll love him, every tiny finger, every tiny toe.

My split heart sang as tears slipped from my lashes and down my cheeks. I brushed them away and clutched the tiny shoes to my chest, turning to the store with a new purpose, a new ambition. Before I knew it, my arms were full.

The woman behind the counter looked up from the inventory, tag puncher in hand. “Oh, let me get that for you. Do you need a basket?”

I laughed. “That’d get me in even worse trouble.” I dumped my haul as gently as I could onto the counter in front of her.

She began sorting through the pile, organizing things by their type in neat little stacks. The register beeped when she scanned the first item. “Is this a gift?”

My cheeks warmed. “No.”

She offered a smile. “Congratulations. When did you find out?”

“This morning.” I paused, feeling foolish as I assessed all the baby things I wouldn’t need until winter. The thought of the cold made me wish I’d grabbed a tiny bunting, too. “I probably shouldn’t have gotten so much. But I saw those tiny shoes, and … well, I just had to get it all. Is that strange?”

She laughed. “Not at all. In fact, new recruits are always my best customers.”

“I haven’t told him yet,” I blurted. “My sister-in-law lives just down the street, and I came here first. I couldn’t tell him over the phone, you know? And now I think I might have to wait until tomorrow. Of course, if he finds this bag, he might figure it out. I could probably say it was for Lily though.” I didn’t even think I was talking to her anymore, not as much as I was to myself. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you don’t care.”

“Oh, it’s all right. I didn’t tell my husband for a week when I found out about our first. He still gives me hell for it.”

“I’m telling him this weekend. I think. I’ve just got to come up with a way to tell him.”

“You might want to hide your bags then,” she joked. “Unless you want me to gift wrap them for him.”

A laugh bubbled out of me at the vision of Cooper opening all this baby stuff and subsequently falling out of his chair. “He might have a coronary. Of course, he might have a coronary anyway.”

“Well, wouldn’t anyone? Mine nearly fainted every time, even with the planned ones.” I must have had a look on my face because she added, “I have three. The first and last were a surprise. I swear to God, the man could get me knocked up on sight.”

“Is it always this scary?”

“Not as scary as that first time. But none are as magical either. And I promise, you’ll feel better once you tell him.”

“Lily said that, too. I don’t think I’ve been so nervous in my whole life.”

“It’s the first step in a journey that will change everything you know about life and yourself and relationships. It’s okay to be scared. Just know that, when the time comes, you’ll know exactly what to do.”

The words brought me more comfort than she could possibly know. Or maybe she did.

A little while later, I was out in the sunshine with two bags in hand, a smile on my face, and my mind turned to where the hell I was going to hide the bags. If he found them and asked, I’d just say they were for Hazel. Easy.

I just wondered if I could get away with lying to him. The answer, I knew, was never in a million years. So, after hailing a cab—the excitement of a walk through the park had been used up in the baby store—and finding my way to our apartment, I headed straight to our closet. In the back where my winter coats hung, there was a shelf, its contents easily hidden. But before I nestled the shopping bags in their hiding spot, I found those little booties again and set them in the palm of my hand like proud little sentinels, determined and sweet and filled with the promise of love.