Chapter 6

That evening, Rachel cooked dinner. She was an excellent cook, and Joshua loved to observe her at work. As he sat at the dinette table, skimming the newspaper, he watched her.

Dressed in a flannel shirt, lounge pants, and slippers, she flitted around the kitchen like a hummingbird around a flower garden, adding a sprinkle of spices here, tasting the sauce there, all the while singing in a soft, soothing voice. Under normal circumstances, she derived great pleasure from cooking. Tonight, she seemed to be in an especially buoyant mood.

It puzzled him. That morning, he’d been convinced that she was keeping something important from him, and he’d planned to watch her closely at dinner, just to be sure nothing was amiss. At lunch, Eddie had advised him to let it go, and Joshua wanted to—but he couldn’t. Not while the uneasiness still lingered in his stomach, like an undigested meal.

But Rachel wasn’t acting like a woman who had anything to hide. Unless her apparent joy was a ruse to deceive him . . . .

No,I don’t believe that. I can’t believe she would scheme like that to mislead me.

“Dinner’s ready,” Rachel said, taking silverware out of the drawer. “Go wash up, baby.”

Joshua pushed away from the table. He nearly knocked over the chair, and caught it before it hit the floor. Coco, who’d been resting nearby, scurried away and hid between Rachel’s legs.

“Sorry, Coco,” Joshua said. “Scared you half to death, didn’t I?”

He glanced at Rachel, habitually expecting a rebuke for his clumsiness, but she only smiled—a smile of love and infinite patience. Not the smile of a woman who nursed deception in her heart.

He decided, once and for all, that his suspicions about her were totally off base. He was going to let them go.

When he returned to the kitchen after washing his hands, Rachel was setting dinner on the table: shrimp scampi over linguine, sautéed zucchini, and garlic bread. Coco followed at her heels, waiting for a morsel to drop.

“Need any help?” he asked.

“You could turn on some music, light a few candles.”

“Special occasion?”

“Maybe.” She smiled.

He turned on the satellite radio system and tuned it to one of their favorite R&B channels. Then he got two candles out of a cabinet, placed them inside the frosted glass hurricane lamps on the table, and carefully lit them.

They often drank wine with dinner, for the health benefits. But after Rachel dimmed the recessed lights, she took a bottle of sparkling white grape juice out of the refrigerator.

“You mind doing the honors?” She handed the bottle to him. “I would’ve gotten champagne, but...”

“We are celebrating something.” Sitting, he twisted off the cap and filled the two wine goblets on the table.

“Don’t you have some good news to tell me?”

He scratched his chin, thinking. “Wait a minute, that’s right! The proposal I sent to the restaurant group—I called them, when you said I should. They want me to do the project!”

“Of course they do.” She settled into her chair. “Congratulations, love. I knew you would get the work. Here’s to many more lucrative deals.”

He tapped his glass against hers, and they sipped.

“How did you know I’d get the project?” he asked.

“I had a good feeling about it. You know how I get hunches sometimes.”

“But you knew exactly when I should call them. Even the guy I spoke to there said my timing was amazing.”

She shrugged. “What can I say? Call me psychic. I get a spark of intuition, and I listen to it.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about us getting divorced. You’re my good luck charm, for real. I’m not ever letting you go.”

“Good, ‘cause I’d like to stay around for a while.” She laughed.

They bowed their heads and said grace. Then they heaped their plates with food and began to eat.

“This looks delicious.” Joshua spun linguine around his fork and speared a plump shrimp. “My mom’s a good cook, but she can’t touch you.”

“Lord, please don’t ever say that around her,” Rachel said. “She hates me enough as it is.”

Joshua cringed. But Rachel was speaking the truth. His mom had been distrustful and cool toward Rachel from the beginning, considered Rachel a corrupting influence on him. He had never understood why his mother felt that way toward Rachel, but there was much that he would never understand about his mom. At their wedding in his family church, he’d been half-convinced that his mother was going to raise her hand when the pastor asked if anyone present opposed the union, but she had thankfully remained silent—while directing a hot glare at Rachel that made her true feelings clear.

“My mom doesn’t hate you,” Joshua said. “Hate is a strong word.”

“How about ‘intense dislike’?” Rachel asked. “She has an intense dislike for me. She thinks I stole her precious little baby away from her, to corrupt him.”

“Mom is just . . . a little overly protective, that’s all.”

“A little?”

Joshua laughed. “Okay, she gets out of control, sometimes, I admit. But she means well. She’ll grow to love you in time. You’ll see.”

“I’m not holding my breath.” Rachel chewed a piece of garlic toast, swallowed, smiled. “But maybe she was right about the corrupting part. If she only knew what we did in the bedroom . . .”

He felt her foot slide under the cuff of his jeans and tease his calf.

“Hey.” Joshua blushed. “You must not want me to finish dinner.”

“Sorry, I’m a bad girl.” She stroked his calf again with her foot, and then pulled it away. She winked. “That’s how we messed around and got the first one.”

Joshua was bringing the fork to his lips, but her remark made him pause.

“The first one?” he asked.

“You had some good news to share, and so do I,” she said. She set down her fork, drew in a deep breath, and looked at him. Her eyes glistened. He realized it was because she was starting to cry.

“I’m pregnant,” she said.

“Did you say, pregnant?” His lips trembled.

“Yes, pregnant.” She was nodding, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I took an early pregnancy test this morning, and it was positive. I’m pregnant with our baby, Josh. You’re going to be a daddy.”

Joshua shot out of his chair so quickly that it tipped backward and clattered to the floor, but he didn’t notice, didn’t care. Rachel came out of her chair, knocking over hers, too, made some comment about how clumsy both of them were, and Joshua picked her up and swept her into an embrace, crying for the first time since he’d attended his granddad’s funeral ten years ago, and the best thing now about his tears was that they were tears of joy.