Angels Everywhere - Debbie Macomber [81]
“That’s just fine with me. But I think you should know, I’m going to tell Jeff myself just what kind of wife you turned out to be. He’s going to call me soon, and then I’ll tell him. Then he’ll know the truth about you.”
Fourteen
Leah walked into her house and was greeted with the fresh, pungent scent of evergreen. The decorator had arrived and set up the Christmas tree, and it was breathtakingly beautiful.
The flocked tree looked as if it belonged in the foyer of a classy hotel. Glossy gold bows were strung in one continuous ribbon from top to bottom. Bright red porcelain poinsettia flowers were symmetrically placed. And then there were the angels. Leah counted twelve. In gold gowns with massive white wings, each one playing a musical instrument. One had a guitar, the next a harp, another a saxophone, a tuba, and a flute. A horn and trombone. It became a game to find each one hidden among the heavy white limbs.
“You’re home,” Andrew said, ambling into the living room from the kitchen. “Well,” he said, his gaze following hers toward the Christmas tree, “what do you think?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“I thought so too.”
She hung her coat in the closet.
“Debbi outdid herself this year,” Andrew said, bending over and turning on the tree lights. Ten strings of miniature red globes glowed, casting warm shadows about the room.
The decorator was a friend of Andrew’s mother. As part of her Christmas gift to Andrew and Leah, Shirley Lundberg had their Christmas tree decorated.
“I love the angels,” Leah said, slipping her arm around her husband’s waist and pressing her head to his shoulder.
“How’d your day go?”
There was far more to the question than what he was asking. What Andrew wanted to know was if she was feeling the same queasy sensation she had the last few days both in the mornings and late in the afternoons. He was asking if her period had started. In sum he wanted to know if she was pregnant.
“My day was great, how about yours?” she asked, smiling up at him.
His gaze skirted past hers. “Let’s sit down,” he suggested. With a flip of the switch, the gas fireplace roared to life and tongues of fire licked at the imitation logs.
Together they sank into the soft comfort of the leather sofa. Andrew’s arm was tucked around her shoulders and he rested his chin on the crown of her head. “I’ve been thinking,” he began.
“This sounds ominous.”
He chuckled, but she noticed his laughter contained a dash of concern. “I’d feel a whole lot more comfortable if we got one of those pregnancy test kits,” he continued.
“Why does it matter?” she asked, laughing off his request. “We’ll know sooner or later, won’t we?”
“You’ve been on this emotional high all week and I’m afraid if it continues much longer—”
“But I am pregnant,” she said with supreme confidence. “I know it’s finally happening for us. There’s never been any physical reason why we can’t have children. Dr. Benoit assured us of that countless times. How many times has he claimed all we need do is relax and that it’ll happen when we least expect it? I don’t know about you, Andrew, but I’m floored by this.”
“Leah, please, listen to reason.”
“Our time of waiting has passed,” she insisted, unwilling to listen to his arguments.
“If you’re so certain, then it won’t matter if you take the test now or later, will it?” Andrew pressed.
“I’m not going to buy another one of those awful test kits. I hate them.” She eased herself away from him and stiffly folded her arms. They’d been through this routine countless times and the result had always been devastatingly the same.
Negative.
No matter how long she studied the results she couldn’t make them read what she yearned for so desperately. No, she wouldn’t subject herself to that again.
“Leah, please. I just don’t want you to get yourself worked up over this. You’re a few days late and already—”
“I don’t know that I’m late. You don’t either. To my way of thinking, you’re making more of this than necessary. As you said before, if I’m pregnant, great, if not, well, then I’m not pregnant.”
He was uncharacteristically silent,