Page 60 of A Burning Rage

Three months later…

Beth

Mom and I are sitting on her front porch swing on a Saturday morning sipping her homemade lemonade while we watch Shane teaching Luke how to ride a bicycle. Ava is inside Mom’s house, napping in a crib in the spare bedroom.

“Look at him,” I say as we watch Shane jogging alongside Luke as he pedals down our street on his shiny red Spiderman bike, followed by his cousin Aiden on a blue two-wheeler. Luke is using training wheels. He’s not quite ready to ride without them. “I keep telling him he’s pushing himself too hard, but he won’t listen.”

“Of course not,” Mom says. “Honey, he’s a man. They can’t stand to feel weak, and they hate being told they can’t do something. Your dad was that way, too, bless his soul.”

Luke squeals with delight as he pedals his little heart out. “Look, Mama! I’m going FAST!”

“I see that!” I call out to him. “Good job, buddy!”

I’m itching to tell Shane, yet again, to take it easy, to sit down and watch from the sideline, but I don’t want to nag him. It’s a constant battle trying to keep him from overdoing things, whether it’s housework, yardwork, or playing with the kids.

He has made tremendous progress since he came home from the hospital. He completed six weeks of physical therapy with a therapist who came to our house twice a week. After the first week, he began working from home. Now, he’s back in the office five days a week.

Everything’s pretty much back to normal with one exception.

I rest my palm on my belly. I’m five months along now, and I’m definitely showing. It’s like my body says, Oh, yeah. I know how to do this.

To placate Shane, who worries about me constantly, I agreed to go in to work only two days a week for the time being. At least until I get closer to my due date.

“When’s your appointment?” Mom asks.

“Tomorrow at three.” I have an appointment with my obstetrician tomorrow. I’m at the twenty-week mark, which means we might be able to determine the baby’s gender at my ultrasound. “Shane’s taking a half day off from work to come with me.”

“I guess you’ll find out tomorrow, won’t you?”

I rub slow circles over my firm little baby bump. “I think I want it to be a surprise this time. I want to wait until the baby’s born to find out the gender.”

“Is this because of your dream?”

I told Mom about the dream I had when Shane was in the hospital—that we had a boy who looked like a pint-sized version of Shane, and we named him Wyatt.

I smile as I gaze down at the little mound beneath my top. “I know it was just a dream, and it doesn’t mean anything, but I can’t stop thinking about it. It gives me chills every time.”

A breathless Shane pushes Luke on his bike up my mom’s driveway and up to the porch.

“Did you see me, Mama?” Luke asks as he jumps off his bike. He unfastens his helmet and tosses it in the grass.

“I saw. Great job, honey.”

Luke joins us on the porch, running up to me and reaching for my glass of lemonade. “Can I have some?”

“Can I have some, too?” Aiden asks as he follows his cousin up onto the porch.

“Of course, you can,” Mom says as she heads back into the house to get three more glasses. “I’ll get you some.”

Shane leans against the porch railing across from me and tries to catch his breath.

“I warned you not to overdo it,” I remind him.

He grins guiltily. “Couldn’t be helped. Someone has to teach Luke to ride his bike, and you can’t do it right now. You’re five months pregnant.”

“You could ask Sam or Cooper,” I say.

“They’re not home.” Shane pushes away from the railing and walks over to me to steal my glass of lemonade and take a swig.