Dysfunction Junction by Robin W. Pearson

Author:Robin W. Pearson [Pearson, Robin W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION / Christian / Contemporary, FICTION / Southern
ISBN: 9781496453792
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers
Published: 2024-02-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

Now

“ARE WE THERE YET, MOMMY?”

Annabelle closed her eyes and counted to ten before turning to study the small, scrunched-up face in the back row. “Henry.”

Oliver squeezed her knee and glanced in the rearview mirror. “Almost there, son. Closer than we were when you asked . . . let’s see—” he peered at the clock on the dashboard—“about five minutes ago.”

She laid her hand on top of her husband’s to get his attention and lowered her voice to a near whisper, making it for Oliver’s ears only. “You’re so patient. Every time we get in the car for more than ten minutes, it’s the same thing. I don’t know how you do it. Talk about love suffering long.” Annabelle flicked imaginary sweat from her brow.

“Good thing. Sometimes it takes people a while to get the picture, to understand we’re all going somewhere together and we’ll get there in time, so to speak.” His dark-brown eyes met hers for only a second before returning to Interstate 40 and the traffic zooming by them.

Ouch! Chagrined, she took a deep breath. Their conversation about the rescheduled doctor’s appointment had adhered to them both; it would be a long time before she wiggled free from its clutches. Not that she wasn’t grateful Oliver had spoken up. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have been there to take the fetal Doppler from Dr. Nagele and press it to the small, rounded hill of her abdomen. The wonder in his eyes upon detecting the whoosh-whoosh of their baby’s heartbeat . . . ! She’d never forget it.

Grateful for Oliver’s patience, Annabelle flipped her hand palm up and interlaced her fingers with her husband’s, absently studying the squiggly lines on his knuckles and the broken fingernails. She couldn’t wait to play the recording for Henry, now that she was into her second trimester and wasn’t so worried about miscarrying. They were planning the right moment to tell their little boy and Oliver’s parents. Once they did, she and Oliver would have to prepare themselves, knowing Henry would blab their family’s news to random strangers. Lord knows, that boy can’t walk through the grocery store without telling the clerk spraying the vegetables about the new dog he’s asking for, let alone keep the news of a baby brother or sister to himself.

Oliver squeezed her hand. His eyes crinkled at the corners, as if he was ready to laugh along at whatever was secretly tickling her. “What?”

“Chicken butt,” Henry piped up from the back, giggling.

Annabelle peeked around her headrest and aimed an index finger at him. “Oooh, that’s a quarter! You said b-u-t-t!”

“But I—”

“Ah, you did it again. Ch-ching! That sounds like money in the bank. More pizza for me!”

“Daddy, isn’t that cheating?”

“That’s fifty cents, buddy. Rules are rules. But—” She clapped a hand over her mouth, which elicited a peal of laughter from the back seat.

Lips pursed, Oliver mouthed poor sport in his wife’s direction but directed his comments toward Henry. “We’ll work something out. I’m sure Mommy will compromise.

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