Carol GoldenEagle - Bone Black

She needs to get it wrapped and boxed up as she promised them delivery yesterday. As she reaches for the clay pot, it makes her think about cooking, and that she will have to get to that chore this morning as well. Wren’s got all the ingredients in her fridge to make another quiche. She’ll caramelize some onions, ham and cheese, and add a sprinkling of saffron. It’s become Lord’s favourite dish and he is coming home today: Valentine’s Day.

Wren is proud of her husband’s accomplishments. His architectural design for renovating the heritage building in Winnipeg was accepted. Everything is in place and the job is underway. Wren wants to celebrate, which is why she went to the grocery store yesterday to pick up every type of fruit they had in stock. Lord loves fruit salad, especially with strawberries. She’ll serve it with fresh whipped cream. It thrills Wren to plan out the time she spends with her husband.

After packaging the Office of Protocol’s clay pot, Wren feels nauseated. The feeling strikes her quickly. There is no time to run back into the farmhouse and to the upstairs bathroom, so Wren yanks open the front door of her studio and hangs her head outside. Pain. Vomit. She wipes the remnants of spittle from her mouth using the apron she’s wearing. Wren hasn’t felt any onset of illness even though it is flu season. She hasn’t had sniffles, congestion or fever. She realizes then that just thinking about the smell of preparing a quiche—cutting onions and whisking eggs—triggered her nausea. She pukes one more time.

It is early afternoon when Wren sees a black Ford Bronco slow down on the highway, readying to turn down the long driveway toward the farmhouse. The vehicle is unfamiliar to her and for a second it causes Wren to worry. She wonders if someone, somewhere has figured out what she’s been up to. She’s been watching out the window for her husband’s car, glancing toward the roadway every few minutes. Wren doesn’t want any strangers dropping in unexpectedly on her special day. She’s already prepared a meal, showered and freshened up. She even dabbed some perfume on each side of her neck.

She watches as the unknown vehicle pulls closer toward the farmhouse, then come to a stop, parking just beside the cobblestone walkway. Any feelings of dread are immediately erased as Lord steps out of the Bronco holding a bouquet of flowers, the same type of mixed bouquet he gave Wren on their first date. Wren quickly opens the door and runs in for a bear hug. It’s cold out and she isn’t wearing a winter jacket but that doesn’t bother her.

“Oh my god! I’m so glad you’re home,” she says, burying her face in his chest. “What’s with the new vehicle?”

“Oh, my love. Always with the questions.” Lord kisses his wife on the forehead. “Let’s go inside. You’re going to freeze out here with no coat.” Once indoors, he hands over the flowers. “I know they say that roses are the perfect gift for Valentine’s, but I think this bouquet is better. Always reminds me of our first date.”

Wren smiles from ear to ear and begins looking through the cupboards for a suitable vase.

“One of the sponsors for the renovation is from a bigger car dealership in the ’Peg, so I traded in my car and drove home in style. I think I got the family discount,” Lord says and laughs. “And you? What have you been up to while I’ve been away?”

Wren tells him she’s been spending a lot of time in her studio working on new pieces.

“With your encouragement, I made another one of those gargoyles and a few other new pieces. I’m happy with the outcome. Now sit, you must be hungry,” she says, pulling out a chair.

She serves him a piece of quiche, but before taking a bite, Lord has another surprise for Wren. He reaches into the chest pocket of his dress shirt and produces the most exquisite pair of amethyst earrings. Studs that sparkle.

“I know how much you loved that necklace I brought home last time I went away. Thought these would pair with it nicely.”

“I love them,” Wren squeals, holding the purple, polished stones in her palm. “I love you .”

As always, Lord’s kindness reminds Wren that there’s so much goodness in the world. Her husband is generous, loving and kind. She begins to sob. Lord wraps her in his arms.

“What’s wrong, my love?”

“I can’t keep secrets from you anymore,” she responds.

Lord’s muscles become rigid, as does his expression. This is the type of statement that usually means bad news. He always carries a photo of Wren when he travels and without fail, work colleagues comment that he should be spending more time at home. Lord wipes away a tear that is slowly rolling down Wren’s cheek and waits for her to explain.

“It’s nothing bad,” she begins. “It’s just that last time this happened I didn’t tell you and that’s something I regret. I should have told you.”

“What are you talking about, Wren?”

“I’ve been feeling sick lately. And my period is late.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful news!” Lord brightens up and begins to plan. “I can renovate the baby’s room. You pick the colours, of course.” He smiles at his wife and gently holds her hand as though she’s something so delicate he worries she’ll break.

Wren’s expression changes from worried to uplifted, but she warns, “Remember last time, though? I didn’t tell you because it sometimes happens that babies go away. It’s all been so much, my love, but now I think God is smiling on us.”

“This is the most wonderful news in the world. Do you know for sure?” he asks.

“Well, no, I don’t. I just suspect I am because I threw up this morning for no reason. It’s usually an indicator. I guess I’ll make a doctor’s appointment as soon as possible.”

“Who wants to wait that long?” Lord exclaims. “I say we get back into my new Bronco right now, drive to the drug store and pick up one of those tests.”

Wren tries to explain that home pregnancy tests are not always accurate, but that doesn’t seem to concern Lord. He grabs a piece of quiche from the kitchen island to snack on as the two make their way to the vehicle.

With out-of-town projects well underway, Lord elects to stay close to home. The pregnancy test showed a positive result and that very afternoon, Lord insists that he and Wren head to the city for some baby furniture. To calm his wife’s concerns about faulty results, he also suggests that the couple go to a walk-in medical clinic to have a blood test done. The smiling family physician made it official that afternoon: the couple is expecting a baby.

Since that moment, Lord has been treating Wren like a precious treasure. He has forbidden her from moving heavy objects and hires a house cleaner to come in once a week, over Wren’s objections. He goes with her when she’s shopping for food because he doesn’t want her to carry bags that might be too heavy. He buys jugs of milk every couple of days, which makes him chuckle because Wren has never been a big milk drinker until now. He’s happy to know his wife has a craving for calcium which is good for a baby’s growth. He’s even learned to cook.

The first trimester comes and goes without upset, and Lord accompanies Wren to each checkup with the doctor. The baby is growing well and Wren is now showing. It takes all his effort for Lord not to caress his wife’s belly each time he sees her. Choosing paint colours for the baby’s room has not been an easy task but there is no question that that old wallpaper in the spare room must go. Dated and yellowed by the passage of time, neither Wren nor Lord want their beautiful baby to wake up to it each day. After some discussion, the baby’s room will be painted the colour of the sky, the colour of infinity and hope, a shade called “Blue Lagoon.”