Charlotte winter's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Two winters after the stew, Charlotte sat on the closed lid of the toilet with a plastic strip balanced on her knee. The pink line came up before she finished counting to ten. She was thirty-five. Carrie was gone to college in the fall. Celina would start high school. Carson was in seventh grade and still slept with the door open. Charlotte had thought she was done with cribs and bottles. She had thought wrong. Brightlee had married her a year ago and signed the adoption papers the same week. He came home from the mill that night with sawdust in his cuffs and stamped snow off his boots in the hall. Charlotte set the strip on the kitchen table between them. He picked it up, turned it in the light, and set it back down. He did not speak for a long moment. Then he pulled a chair around next to hers and put his hand flat on the table beside the test, not on her, giving her the choice. She took his hand. He said her name once and then said it was good news. The apartment felt smaller by morning. Three bedrooms had already been tight. Carrie had the small room. Celina and Carson shared the one at the end of the hall and fought about it every week. There was no fourth door. The pink and blue building on the edge of town had never been meant for five, and it would not stretch to six. Charlotte counted the walls twice and knew the number would not change. She told the children at breakfast before she could lose her nerve. Carrie set down her toast and said, "Okay. So we move." Celina asked if the baby would be a girl. Carson asked if he could have his own room finally. Charlotte said she did not know about the baby and yes about the room, if they could find a house that had one for him. Carrie looked at her a long time and then said, "You're happy, right? You should say it out loud if you are." Charlotte said she was. She meant it, and it still surprised her to hear. That afternoon she and Brightlee walked into town and stopped at the clerk's window to ask what was for sale. The clerk slid three listings across the counter. Two were cabins on the far road. One was a house in the village with four bedrooms and a second stove. Brightlee folded the paper into his coat pocket. Charlotte pulled her scarf up over her mouth on the walk back and let herself picture a room with a crib in it. The apartment behind them was already something they were leaving. The next problem was which door to knock on first.