The Wonderful Bouquet

CHAPTER SIX: Reassurances, admissions and threats

Andrew watched Vicky walk deeper into the garden with Elizabeth on her arm. He hoped it would work. He hoped his sister would be able to bring back his wife's smile, for he had not been able since they heard the news a few days ago.

She had not wanted to admit it. Twas only when she was not feeling ill but throwing up every day, that he realized something was wrong. With fearful eyes, she had told them they ought to visit a doctor, for she was not bleeding this month.

Sitting in the doctor's room, waiting for him to tell them Vicky's condition had reminded Andrew of the past two times they had been sitting there. At the doctor's words, they had smiled, embraced each other and kissed.

But not the third time.

Not even the doctor was happy to admit that she was indeed pregnant. While fighting the tears and the panic attacks, they walked to carriage. Andrew had been strong, until his wife was not anymore. He took her in his arms and looked away so that she could not see the tears that were falling from his eyes.

She needed hope and support, believe in a good future. For if she had it, Andrew might discover it too. But so far, he had to pretend to not fear her death.

"Problems, my friend?"

Andrew startled at the sound of Hawthorne's voice. He had forgotten his best friend was here too, watching the two ladies makes their way to a bench underneath the willow tree.

He let out a sigh and turned away from the sight of his crying wife.

"I do not want to talk about it," he admitted to Hawthorne. "I think of it so much - too much - and I should keep my mind off it, for it will not solve anything."

"I understand how you feel," Hawthorne said with a loud sigh. "I am certain Elizabeth will tell me what she is hearing now, so mayhap I can ask your advice?"

Andrew nodded, happy with any distraction. "Of course. Let us take a seat."

They walked to the chairs on the terrace and lowered themselves on it, purposefully avoiding the awful sight of the crying ladies.

"What is it? What can I help you with?"

Hawthorne sighed and leaned forward in his chair before he said: "I have gotten a very attractive offer. Good money, reviewing plays and what I have wanted to do... well, ever since I stopped doing it."

"Travel through England," Andrew guessed, already fearing the advice his friend needed.

"Yes," he admitted with another sigh. "But I have a family now. And I cannot let Elizabeth alone again."

"What does she think of it?"

"She is too kind. She tells me to follow my dreams, but she wishes for me to stay. And I also want to follow my dream, but I do not want to leave her behind. Nor the children."

Andrew sighed and wiped a hand over his face. True, this was a distraction, but twas not something easy either. What should his friend do indeed?

"Elizabeth proposed one year of travel. But I do not know if I can do that. It had always been everything or nothing to me. I cannot just decide on a year."

"Then do not," Andrew said. "Go on your travels, live your dream, and when you miss home, you come back."

"And what if I do not miss home?"

One question.

Followed by an eternity of silence.

So that was truly the problem. He feared he would love traveling so much that he will neglect his family. He had done it before - missing the birth of his first nephew and the wedding of his brother. It had taken him seven years to come back home.