The Way Home (38 page)

Her hands were rarely idle, he thought, his eyelids drooping. She always seemed to be knitting or sewing bits of fabric together to make a quilt. The sweater he was wearing now was a result of her busy hands, her Christmas present to him. He hoped she was half as pleased with the silver-backed dresser set he’d given her as he was with the heathery gray crewneck.

“Ty?” She spoke again, making him aware that he was hardly providing her with the most alert of conversational companions.

“What?” He forced himself to sit straighter and turned his head to look at her.

“I have something I want to tell you.” Her knitting needles flashed rapidly in and out of the yam, the smooth ivory making almost no sound.

“Okay.” He was watching her face, admiring the soft glow of the firelight on her skin.

“I wasn’t sure before but I’m practically sure now,” she said without looking at him.

“Sure about what?”

Meg didn’t answer immediately but only continued to knit at the same frantic pace. Ty realized that her fingers were trembling and his lazy contentment slipped a notch. She was upset. Shifting his position so that he sat on the sofa next to her, he reached out to put his hand over hers, stilling her movements.

“Is something wrong?”

“No. Yes. I don’t think so.” She kept her head down, staring at his hand where it covered hers. “I’ve thought it might be but then I thought it was too soon. And maybe it’s still too soon but I’m sure. Almost sure, anyway.”

“Meg, what is it? What’s wrong?” Her nearly incoherent speech alarmed him, coming as it did from someone who was usually calm to a fault. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. At least,
I
don’t think anything’s the matter, but I don’t know how you’ll feel.”

“Meg.” There was both warning and plea in the way he spoke her name.

She drew a deep breath, lifting her eyes to his face. “Do you know what I’m making?”

The apparent non sequitur threw Ty off balance. But she was looking at him so intently, as if the answer really mattered to her. He looked at the mass of pale-yellow yarn in her lap.

“A sweater?” he guessed. It could have been a circus tent for all he knew. Or cared.

“It’s a blanket,” she said. When he continued to stare at her blankly, she drew a quick breath and then clarified. “It’s a baby blanket.”

It took several seconds for the import of her words to sink in on Ty. His first thought was that she must have a friend who was going to have a baby, and why did she feel it necessary to tell him about it now? Hard on its heels came the truth.

“A baby blanket?” His eyes widened and then dropped to the pile of yam, seeing it in an entirely new light.
“Our
baby blanket?” he asked in a hushed tone.

Her teeth tugged at her lower lip as she nodded. “I’m almost positive. I know it hasn’t been that long since we … since you …” She flushed and abandoned that line of speech, but Ty knew exactly what she meant. It hadn’t been that long since their marriage had become more than writing on a piece of paper.

“Six weeks or so,” he said, as much to himself as to her. “Isn’t that too soon?”

“It could be for some, I guess, but I… I’ve always been very … regular. And I’ve missed twice now.” The red in her cheeks rivaled the flames in the fireplace at the necessity of alluding to something so personal.

It struck Ty that, for all they’d shared a bed, there were still levels of intimacy they’d yet to reach. It had never occurred to him to wonder about the absence of certain events.

But then, he’d never been married before, never been privy to the private rhythms of a woman’s body.

“Are you feeling all right?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound as dazed as he felt.

“A little tired but other than that, I’m fine.” Meg’s eyes searched his face. “Are you upset?”

“No. Of course not.”
Stunned, maybe, but not upset.

“Are you … are you pleased?” she asked hesitantly.

“Of course. This is wonderful,” he said, conjuring an enthusiasm he didn’t feel, at least not quite yet. She needed reassurance, even if his mind was still reeling with the impact of her news. He put his arms around her and drew her close.

“I can hardly believe it,” he murmured, hoping it sounded like more than the bald-faced truth.

“We didn’t talk about having children,” Meg said without lifting her head from his shoulder.

“No. I guess we didn’t.”

Ty stared over her head at the steady glow of the Christmas tree. How could he have been such a fool, not to have even given a thought to this possibility? Of course she was pregnant. He hadn’t done anything to prevent her from getting that way.

A baby. In a few months, he was going to be a father. He’d always assumed he’d marry someday, but he’d never given much thought to the idea of children. He supposed, if he’d thought about it, he’d have assumed he’d eventually be a father. He just hadn’t anticipated “eventually” coming quite so soon.

Hardly aware of his actions, Ty flattened his hand over Meg’s stomach, trying to absorb the idea that she carried a new life inside her. A baby. His son or daughter. A son to play ball with, to teach to fly. Or a daughter who’d play with frilly dolls and kiss him good-night.

The shock lingered but there was a feeling of rightness starting to creep through it, a sense of completion. Meg’s small hand settled over his as if completing the link between the three of them — her, him, and their child. Ty felt his mouth curve in a smile. A baby. Maybe that was a pretty nice Christmas present, after all.

CHAPTER 17

The weather continued warm and sunny after Christmas and into the New Year. Sometimes, when Meg was reading one of Patsy’s letters, which described the cold, snowy weather besetting Iowa, she’d look out the window at the blue sky arcing over Los Angeles and find it hard to believe that she and Patsy were even on the same planet, let alone in the same country.

Iowa and the life she’d known there seemed impossibly distant, both in time and space. Two thousand miles and a few short months and her life had changed beyond all recognition. A husband she loved and who cared for her, even if he didn’t love her the way she longed for him to. Friends who’d become more of a family than she’d ever known. And a baby on the way. Life was so nearly perfect that it scared her.

The first weekend of the New Year, there was another air show. The bulk of Ty’s work was in ferrying passengers and packages up and down the coast, a relatively dull routine that kept money coming in. And it was certainly better than not flying at all, he’d told her. But his real love was for the aerobatics he and Jack performed as a team. One or two jobs for the movies and the occasional air shows were the only opportunity they had test the limits of their skills.

As far as Meg was concerned, if she never saw Ty loop another loop or fly again, it would be just fine with her. Max’s assurance that Ty was one of the best pilots he’d ever seen went only so far in assuaging her fears. After all, even the best could make mistakes.

But she’d rather have cut her tongue out than say anything to Ty about her fears. So when he asked if she wanted to come to the air show, she did her best to look thrilled. Of course, nothing short of death could have kept her home. The only thing worse than being there to watch him would be to stay home and wonder if he was all right.

Since Joe had asked Millie to go to the show, the two women went together, with Meg driving the little Ford Ty had given her. Millie chattered nonstop all the way to the airfield. Meg let the words roll over her, merely contributing the occasional comment that was all Millie needed to carry on a conversation.

She wasn’t feeling particularly well, hadn’t been for a couple of days. It was nothing definite, just a general malaise that left her tired and vaguely nauseated. It seemed as if it were going to take awhile for her body to make peace with its new condition. If she could have, she would have curled up in bed and slept the day away. But if she’d said as much to Ty, he would have been worried about her. He’d want to take care of her, just as he had time and again over the past few months. More than anything, Meg wanted him to see that she could take care of herself. If there was any chance of Ty loving her the way she loved him, it wouldn’t happen as long as he thought of her as a helpless child.

So Meg blended on a little extra rouge to conceal her pallor and determined to enjoy the air show. If turning somersaults in a plane was what made Ty happy, then she’d just have to learn to live with it.

She found a place to park the car and she and Millie made their way to the bleachers, finding seats about halfway up. Meg was amused to see the looks thrown in Millie’s direction. She wore a trim little knit suit in her favorite shade of bright pink, and the contrast between the suit and her hair was eye-catching, to put it mildly. A dashing little hat in the same pink completed the outfit, complete with a black feather that angled back jauntily from the brim.

“You see, Meg, people pay attention when a girl knows how to dress,” Millie said as she sank onto the wooden bleacher. She preened a little, like a movie star accepting adulation from her public. “It’s like I was telling you, if you’d just let me take you shopping, liven up your wardrobe a little, give it some spice.” She paused to give a cool smile to a teenage boy who was staring at the dead fox she’d tossed around her shoulders to complete her ensemble.

“I don’t think I’m the spicy type, Millie.”

“Nonsense. Every girl’s the spicy type. All it needs is somebody with the right touch to bring it out. Now, for me that was my aunt Gussie. She was my father’s sister, only the family didn’t like to admit it because she went on the stage, back in New York, you know — the real stage ‘cause they didn’t have movies in those days. Aunt Gussie — her real name was Augusta but everybody called her Gussie, which really suited her much better than Augusta, which is a stuffy kind of name and nobody was less stuffy than Aunt Gussie. Anyway, she told me when I was thirteen that she saw great things in my future and that I should move to Hollywood because she thought I had ‘It.’ You know, like Clara Bow, only now that everybody’s making talkies, I’m not so sure she’s really got ‘It’ anymore. You know what I mean?”

Thus taxed, Meg mumbled something noncommittal and hoped that Millie wouldn’t ask for a more specific opinion. She needn’t have worried.

“I knew you’d understand,” Millie said. She adjusted the fox stole around her shoulders. “Anyway, Aunt Gussie said that I — “

The start of the show prevented Meg from finding out exactly what words of wisdom Aunt Gussie had bestowed on her niece. Ordinarily, she didn’t mind Millie’s nonstop chatter, but today it was getting on her nerves. Probably just the combination of worry about Ty and the tiredness that seemed to be an unavoidable symptom of pregnancy was making her feel a little cranky.

She tensed as the first plane went up and hardly drew a breath until it landed safely again. But as time passed and each plane went up and came down again just the way it should, Meg began to relax. Max might have been right that part of the excitement of such demonstrations was the danger inherent in them, but these were all experienced pilots and the chance of a crash was undoubtedly not nearly as great as it seemed.

“Oh, look, there’s Ty,” Millie said, about an hour into the show.

Meg followed her pointing finger to see Ty and Jack standing on the ground, heads tilted back as they searched the crowded bleachers.

“I bet they’re looking for us,” Millie said. Without waiting for Meg’s response, she stood up and waved her arm, oblivious to the annoyed complaints of the people behind them. Flushing, Meg grabbed one comer of her friend’s jacket and tugged firmly enough to topple her back into her seat.

“There now, they saw me,” Millie said as Jack and Ty began climbing toward them. “It’s a talent of mine, being able to get people’s attention. Star power, Aunt Gussie called it.”

Privately Meg thought that it would have taken a blind man to miss that bright pink suit and the punctuation of dead fox and red hair. Millie stood out like a stoplight. The magnificent clash of colors might cause a few people nightmares, but it had served to get Ty’s attention. She tilted her head to smile up at him as he and Jack reached them.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be here,” he said, smiling his thanks as the man sitting next to Meg slid over to make room for him. Jack found a seat on the other side of Millie.

“I said I would be.” Meg slid her hand through his arm, wondering if she’d ever lose the feeling of amazement that he was hers.

“Yes, but you didn’t look like you were feeling very good this morning,” he said, his eyes searching her face.

So much for not worrying him, she thought wryly. “I feel fine.” She smiled to prove it. “Your son is just using up all my spare energy, that’s all.”

“Maybe you should have stayed home to rest,” he said, concern lingering in his dark eyes.

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

“Aren’t you two going to fly today?” Meg was grateful for the distraction of Millie’s question. “I was looking forward to seeing Joey do all those tricks you boys do in those cute little airplanes, but then he had to fly to Phoenix today and I was so disappointed, but then I figured that it would be nearly as good to see you two do tricks, because I know you. It won’t be the same as if Joey was up there but wishers can’t ride horses, you know.”