AN: To those of you who have made me feel so welcomed, I truly thank you! I didn't know what to expect! I'm excited to be here!
This story can be read alone, but it's better as a story to follow "Baking."
Trigger warning for discussion of miscarriage. It's not graphic, but I try to warn, just in case.
I own nothing from Murder, She Wrote. (Though I've loved it for as long as I can remember.)
I hope you enjoy! If you do, please do let me know!
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"I've gotta tell you, Jess, we could've eaten anywhere you wanted—I'd've sprung for one of those fancy places, if that's what you wanted—but I guess Mara's is as good as any of those places."
"Oh—I didn't mean I wanted to eat at Mara's," Jessica said. "I meant I wanted to go home, Seth."
"What about lunch?" Seth asked.
"I'm not really very hungry," Jessica said.
"Jess—you've got to be starving!" Seth said. "You didn't eat a bite for breakfast. Not a bite!"
"Seth…"
"Now, look here, Jessica," Seth said, some irritation making his voice raise a little in volume and octave, "I didn't push it this morning, but I'm putting my foot down. If you think I'm going to let you continue to skip meals, you're wrong. You need balanced nutrition and enough of it to provide for you and the baby. The baby has nobody to speak for her, except for me, and I'm going to do so loudly and incessantly, if it's necessary."
Jessica didn't point out to him that the vein in his forehead bulged slightly or that his face flushed with color when he was irritated. She swallowed back as much of her amusement, too, as she could. Still, she wasn't entirely successful, and a very small pop of laughter escaped her before she could swallow it down.
Seth scowled at her and, instead of making her remorseful for laughing or suggesting they go straight home, all it did was amuse her. She laughed more; this time not as able to hold it back as she had been previously.
Thank goodness, she thought, as she reached for the tissues that she'd stuffed into her purse, Seth was willing to forgive her a great many of her reactions, thanks to the fact that her hormones had been out of whack and, in many cases, as of late, entirely out of her control.
"What the devil are you laughing at, Jessica?" Seth asked, irritation in his voice.
"Nothing, Seth, it's just…an hour ago you said our baby looked like an alien, and now you're ready to…to defend it against every imagined cruelty."
He softened slightly, perhaps, but his brow didn't smooth entirely.
"Well—it's only natural that I would...try to make sure things are as they ought to be," Seth said, clearly searching for a way to describe what he was thinking and feeling.
Jessica smiled. She felt a rush of affection in her chest, and she reached her hand over and patted Seth's leg. She left her hand resting on his thigh, and she noticed that he only took his eyes off the road for a second to look at her hand before he dropped his own hand, took hers up, squeezed it, and raised it to his lips to quickly kiss her fingers before letting it go.
"You're going to be a very good daddy, Seth," Jessica offered, softly and sincerely, trying out the name he thought he would pick for himself. "You already are."
She could see the color rise slightly in Seth's cheeks. She saw the way he gripped the steering wheel, working it in his hands.
She smiled softly to herself and gently pulled the picture from between the pages of the book that she'd taken with her to her appointment. She'd taken the book as something to read to pass the time—something to steady her nerves, perhaps. She hadn't even opened it. Instead, she had sat in the waiting room with Seth holding her hand, trying somewhat unsuccessfully to simply remain calm.
It was late in life for such a decision—a whim, a flight of fancy, or even a downright foolish dream, perhaps—but she and Seth had decided, not long after marrying, to examine their possibilities of becoming parents. They had both half-expected to hear that it was impossible—too late—but that wasn't what they'd been told. Naturally, Jessica would have a difficult, if not entirely impossible time, conceiving a child in an entirely natural and untampered with manner, but there were procedures that could help them.
They had submitted themselves to so many tests and examinations that Jessica had lost count. Each halfway hopeful nod to the fact that they might actually be able to do this—to become parents and have what both of them had dreamed of having, even if it was a dream they'd both put away on a shelf somewhere—had driven them onward.
Jessica had been poked and prodded until there were times that she'd wondered if she could take it, but she'd kept going with the dream that this could be real. It could work—that's what they said. And, with any luck, this time she would bring a baby home in her arms.
It would all be worth it—everything and anything would be worth it—if they could have this.
The image on the not-quite picture was somewhat grainy, perhaps. It was black and gray, mostly. There was some white. Jessica had already dedicated it practically to memory. She could see it with her eyes closed. There was a small frame at home—she knew just the one—and she would put the picture there, for safe keeping, the moment that they arrived home.
She pushed out of her mind the fact that she had two others tucked away in the back pages of a photo album that she hardly ever took out.
They had only recently had this pregnancy confirmed by an at-home test, and later by a blood test in Seth's office. Immediately upon seeing the undeniable proof that the procedure had resulted in what they'd hoped it would, Seth had put in the call to the OBGYN that would be working with them throughout the whole process. They hadn't had to wait nearly as long as Jessica imagined they might have, if Seth hadn't known the doctor through some personal connections.
Today, they had had the pregnancy confirmed once more, and Jessica held the visual proof that she'd been allowed to take home with her. Their little one was tiny, but present. It had a heartbeat that, for now, was exactly what they hoped it would be.
Jessica's fingers trembled slightly as she held the picture and admired it once more before tucking it back between the book's pages for safe keeping.
"I couldn't bear if anything happened to it," she said, not realizing that she was dedicated to saying the words out loud until they'd slipped out.
"If something happened, I'm sure they could print another, Jess," Seth said, his tone gentle and his volume quiet.
"I think I'm only half-talking about the picture, Seth."
He hummed and his hand reached toward her. She let him hold her hand. He squeezed it in his, working it, and then he kissed her fingers again. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to say anything. Jessica understood him. She heard everything he meant to say.
For a moment, there was only silence between them. It was a comfortable silence, though, and not at all the kind that felt like it needed to be filled. That kind of silence was one of the things that made Jessica realize how truly compatible she and Seth were. They were content in each other's company. Sometimes that meant filling the time with deep conversation, sometimes it meant idle chatter, and sometimes it meant silence—and Jessica treasured all three with Seth.
She reached and rolled down the window a just a bit.
"Something wrong?" Seth asked.
"I could just use a little air," Jessica said.
"Need me to pull over?" Seth asked.
Jessica smiled.
On the way to their appointment, she had needed him to pull over. She hadn't eaten breakfast, and therefore had very little to offer as a sacrifice—because that's what it felt like, when the wave of nausea had come for her and refused to let go of her without some action on her part—but she'd left what she could on the side of the road.
"Nothing like that," Jessica assured him. "I just—need a little air."
"You'll tell me, if you need me to pull over," Seth said. "It's nothing but a thing, Woman, and if you're going to be sick…well…I am a doctor. It's nothing I haven't seen a million times before."
"Thank you," she said, smiling at the fact that Seth, rather than shy away from the fact that she was sick, had come to stand on the side of the road with her and, rubbing her back while she'd apologized, slightly horrified to be in the position in which she found herself, had encouraged her to let go and get out everything she could.
Jessica drew in a few deep breaths, purposefully, and was thankful for the bit of a breeze that came through the window.
"Everything OK?" Seth pressed.
"I'm feeling better already," Jessica assured him, deciding to soothe him and his concerns as much as she could.
"It's that good, clean Maine air," Seth said.
"It surely is," Jessica agreed.
"You'll get something easy on the stomach at Mara's," Seth said. "Something comforting. How do you think the baby feels about chowder?"
Jessica drew in a breath. Her desire for the air, she was sure, had more to do with the tight sensation in her chest than it did with nausea, but she didn't want to argue the point with Seth. It didn't matter. He would support her no matter what, but it didn't really matter.
"I think the baby would much prefer a sandwich and a cup of tea at home, Seth," Jessica said.
"Don't be silly, Jess," Seth said. "You'll have to get things ready for Grady. Why not take cleaning up after lunch off the chore list for the afternoon?"
Jessica sighed, his words changing her train of thought slightly.
"I do wish he wasn't coming so soon," Jessica mused. "I'm afraid that he's only coming because he mistakenly believes it's something serious."
"It's important," Seth said. "And that's all that matters. Besides—we didn't tell him to rush. It was Grady that said he had a little time and would enjoy the visit for a couple of days. I don't think it's a terrible thing, Jess. After all—you don't want to tell him by phone, and if he were to wait a while to come visit, then someone would tell him before you get a chance. The minute we tell even Mara, everyone's going to know. You know the Cabot Cove gossip mill as well as I do."
"It may be best if we don't tell anyone for a while," Jessica said.
"You can't be serious," Seth countered.
"They say that you shouldn't tell anyone before the second trimester," Jessica said. "It's bad luck."
"That's superstition and old wives' tales," Seth countered quickly and with a bit more force behind his words than was absolutely necessary.
"I'm something of an old wife, myself," Jessica said, slightly amused. "Despite the fact that my current condition may suggest otherwise. I know you're anxious to tell everyone, Seth, but it might be best to wait."
"The only reason that suggestion even started, Jessica, was because of the belief that it would be easier to deal with the loss of a child in private—and very few people would be certain of the pregnancy before the second trimester."
"The odds of losing a baby are lower once you're in the second trimester," Jessica said.
"Lower, yes," Seth said. "Forgive me, Jessica, but…even you know that lower doesn't mean that it's not possible."
Jessica felt quite like she'd been punched squarely in the gut. For a moment, she simply steeled herself. The silence that fell between them was not as pleasant as the one that had come before.
"I'm sorry, Jess," Seth said sincerely. "I shouldn't have said that...and I was a jerk for mentioning it."
"You didn't say anything that wasn't true," Jessica said, as soon as she felt she could.
"Forgive me?" Seth repeated.
"There's nothing to forgive," Jessica said. "You're right. Both times, we waited. And both times, I…"
"Don't," Seth interrupted. "Don't say it, Jess. You don't have to say it." Jessica was thankful for that. The words—the memories, even—hung in her throat like the finest little bones of a fish. "Now or later—hurt is hurt, Jessica. But…so is happiness, and joy. And the sooner we tell people, the sooner we get to share those feelings."
"And if…?" Jessica said. She let it hang, but she knew that he understood.
"Well—we don't have to face it alone," Seth said.
Jessica felt a touch lightheaded—anxiety and something else, perhaps. She focused on her breathing again, drawing in meaningful breaths and not the shallow ones that came with choking on old memories and renewed fears.
She reached for Seth's hand and closed her eyes, smiling to herself, when he squeezed her hand in return.
"If you don't want to tell anyone," Seth said, "I'm happy to wait as long as you want. We'll keep her just between us, Woman, for as long as it makes you happy."
"I want to share our news," Jessica said. "I want you to share our news. Still, I have to admit that—it feels so unreal that…I'm not sure that I can say it out loud yet."
"There's time," Seth assured her.
"We'll be at Mara's in twenty minutes," Jessica countered with a laugh.
"What do you say—we go home?" Set responded. "We've still got that chicken?"
"We do," Jessica said.
"I can make us some sandwiches while you get things ready for Grady."
Jessica smiled.
"If that's what you want, Seth," Jessica said. "But—I don't want to ruin your excitement either."
"Nonsense," he said abruptly. "We'll tell Grady tonight. You can get some practice talking about it. Then, when we see him off, we'll stop by Mara's and give the gossip mill something to run on for a few days."
Jessica smiled, excited to share their news and pleased to have Seth's support in everything.
"That sounds perfect," she said. "And we've still got some of those butter cookies I made for dessert."
Seth smiled. Jessica didn't miss it.
"Your butter cookies, Jess, beat out Mara's any day."