“Of course you are. Go for your walk—go for a run. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Eleanor found her purse, patted her hair into place, dabbed on a touch of light lipstick, and went out the door.
Thirteen
Ari stood paralyzed as her grandmother left the house. Ari was still wearing her soiled shirt, so she hurried to her room—suddenly she felt she needed to hurry—stripped off her shirt, pulled on some running shorts, a loose tee, and running shoes, tied her hair up in a high ponytail, and, not bothering to check her watch, ran down the drive and onto Baxter Road. She ran toward Sankaty Head, vaguely waving when someone waved at her. She ran up the path until she could touch the great white-and-red-striped lighthouse. She touched it, turned, and ran all the way back, past her grandmother’s house, past all the houses with magical gardens, until she reached the small lanes leading to the Sconset Market and the rotary and the charming white ’Sconset bridge over the road down to Codfish Park. She bent with her hands on her knees, took some deep breaths, and ran back toward her grandmother’s house and whatever news was coming to her there.
Eleanor’s car was in the drive and she was back on the deck overlooking the Atlantic.
“You look like you’ve had a run,” Eleanor said.
Gasping for breath, her chest heaving, Ari nodded.
Eleanor gestured toward the brown paper bag in the middle of the patio table.
“Maybe you should take a shower,” Eleanor suggested.
Ari choked out a laugh. Only her grandmother could drive off to buy pregnancy tests and diplomatically refrain from speaking of them.
“Thanks,” Ari said. “I will.” She picked up the bag and hurried upstairs and into the bathroom. She wrenched off her shoes and clothes, did what was needed to take the test, and turned on the water for her shower. She was thoroughly soaked when she decided three minutes was up, and she reached out to pick up the small plastic tube of information.
She was pregnant.
She retreated into the shower, washing her hair, scrubbing her reckless body, weeping the entire time.
She was exhausted when she stepped out of the shower. She wrapped her hair in a turban of towel, pulled on her fluffy bathrobe, and went into her room to slide her feet into flip-flops.
Eleanor was in the kitchen making grilled cheese sandwiches. Ari stood in the doorway, glad for the comforting sight and smell. Clenching her fists to keep the fear from dropping her to her knees, she waited until she had Eleanor’s attention.
“I’m pregnant,” she told her grandmother.
Eleanor turned the burner down and with extreme care, put down her spatula. She let out a long sigh and covered her belly with her hand. “Okay,” she said to herself, smiling. “Okay.” She walked over to wrap her arms around Ari. “It’s going to be all right.”
Emotion swept over Ari, nearly knocking her to her knees. With her face buried in her grandmother’s shoulder, she sobbed, “How can it be all right? I don’t want Peter’s baby. I don’t want any baby. This shouldn’t have happened. Mom will be so angry and humiliated, and Dad will be…” Ari remembered why she’d phoned her mother in the first place. “Is Dad going to leave Mom?”
Eleanor kissed the side of Ari’s head. “We have a lot to deal with, but let’s do it day by day. Remember, you are surrounded by people who love you. Sit down. Your sandwich is ready. You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten.”
Ari sat. She was surprised that she could eat, and that the sandwich was delicious. Eleanor sat across from her, eating her own sandwich, drinking a glass of dry white wine. She had given Ari soda water, and the fact of that hit hard.
“No more wine for me, I guess,” she said.
“We’ll see,” Eleanor responded. “In my twenties, I had a friend from the Netherlands. When she was pregnant, she used to drink a small glass of a Dutch liquor called Advocaat every night. It had egg yolk in it. It’s supposed to be good for the baby and the pregnancy.”
“It sounds awful,” Ari said.
“True. But I drank a little wine, now and then, when I was pregnant, and my children turned out all right.” Eleanor smiled mischievously, adding, “More or less all right.” She stopped smiling and spoke in a serious tone. “Ari, I don’t need to tell you that this is enormous. Not to