The Foretelling (Charlotte Bloom #1) Read online

  As I drove through the canyon towards our little bungalow in the hills, I finally let myself think about the possibility that Lainey was right about Harry and I. She couldn’t be right: the very thought of life without him made my stomach clench up into a tiny ball of panic. I couldn't even imagine my life without him. I mean... OK, I was being dramatic. I could imagine my life without him. I didn't need him. I was independent enough to know that. I would survive, no doubt. But I wanted to be with him. I genuinely liked him and I had loved him from the moment we met. Sure, we were comfortable now, and the "spark" was gone, but what six-year marriage wasn’t like that after an extended amount of time?

  I pulled into our driveway and parked. I grabbed my purse and locked the doors, heading inside. I walked into our spotless, mid-century home, and I threw my jacket and purse onto the couch. I drank a glass of water and went down the hall to our bedroom, where I proceeded to take a three-hour, dreamless nap.

  ***

  I woke up to Harry caressing my arm. I smiled at him and leaned up for a kiss. He kissed me softly on the lips and stroked my cheek.

  "How was your day, love?" he asked, cooing into my ear. I abruptly remembered what had happened earlier that day. I shrugged and moved to hug him tightly. "Everything OK?" He pulled away and looked me in the eyes. I avoided eye contact for a second, pushing the day’s events out of my head.

  "I’m just not feeling 100% so I took the second half of the day to rest." I laid back down as he nodded.

  "I’ll make dinner." He got up and walked out of the bedroom and down the hall to our 50’s-style kitchen and began plucking things from the fridge. "I’m going to make roast chicken. I’ll cook some potatoes and green beans, too," he yelled from the kitchen.

  "That’s fine, honey," I yelled back. I sat up again. "I’m going to go shower."

  I stripped out of my clothes and left them on the bathroom floor, while I took a lingering, 20-minute shower. As I washed myself, I took slow, steady breaths. I had to be rational. What Lainey said had shaken me. I suddenly doubted everything. But why? Because of some psychic? I had to get a grip. Harry and I were right for each other –– perfect for each other –– in every possible way. Psychics were wrong all the time. If everyone followed the advice of psychics, I was sure the world would turn into one giant clusterfuck.

  I got out of the shower and walked over to the sink, clearing the steam from the mirror with my hand. I studied my naked reflection. I had pale skin, long red hair that now clung to my small breasts in wet stickiness, and a petite body. Although I was not stick thin, I was healthy and fit, and I had nice curves in all the right places. Or so I liked to tell myself. I ran 2 miles every morning during the week, and did yoga on the weekends with Amara. At 30, I liked my reflection much more than I ever did in my 20s. I now loved the freckles that dusted my body, which I’d hated as a teenager. Those freckles, along with my small nose and large, hazel eyes, added to the fact that I was only 5’3", made me seem much younger than I was. I got carded at every single bar I ever went to. My mother liked to remind me all the time that this was a good thing. I had my doubts about that.

  I wrapped a towel around myself and applied lotion to my legs, brushed my hair, and put some coconut oil on my face. It was the only moisturizer I used on my face, and even though I probably needed to start using wrinkle cream soon, I was pretty low-maintenance and I couldn’t fathom using eye cream or any kind of serum. I walked over to our large master bedroom and rummaged through the dresser to find my flannel pajamas, or what I referred to as my "frump" pajamas. I was lucky that Harry still found them to be adorable. I couldn’t get behind the notion of sexy pajamas. I just wanted to be comfortable while sleeping. Was that too much to ask?

  As I dried my hair with the towel and brushed it, I studied the picture of Harry and I on our honeymoon in Hawaii. I loved this picture of us, and I’d placed it in a simple glass frame. It sat atop our shared dresser. My usually see-through skin was tanned a bit from the sun, and my face was slightly sunburnt. Harry, who was a good foot taller than me, had his arms wrapped tightly around my waist. We were leaning against a white fence that overlooked the ocean. It was beautiful. Harry and I made a good couple. His blonde hair and ruddy cheeks were adorable; everyone said so. His goofy grin made him very approachable.

  I sighed as I set the brush down on the dresser. We needed to go on a vacation. It had been awhile. I thought back to when we met, my senior year of college. I’d flown to Vermont from Portland, where I had grown up and later gone to university, during my Christmas break. I was a barista and I took my job very seriously, so when the "World’s Best Coffee Shop", known as Green Mountain Coffee, opened up in Vermont, I’d pooled my savings and made my first trek to the east coast. Little did I know, Harry was a manager there, and by the time I was slated to go back to Portland a week later, we’d become inseparable. Fast-forward six months: I was about to graduate. Harry had come to surprise me. We moved to Los Angeles together three months later and we’d been here ever since.

  I smiled thinking back to Harry in his stupid coffee shop visor and green apron. He managed a chain of coffee shops in the Los Angeles area now, which was a real, grown-up job. I still didn’t feel like a grown-up, even with my very own grown-up job doing PR for a world-renowned hospital.

  I never could pinpoint why we had moved to L.A., other than the fact that the weather was really nice. It had seemed like a fun place to start our lives together, and it was relatively close to my family in Portland. Very little thought had gone into the decision because, well, it’s L.A., and does anybody really need an excuse to move here? Besides, Amara had moved to LA three months before us, and she had loved it. We were young and restless. Nothing held us back. At 22, the world was our oyster. Only now, I realized, our oyster had only consisted of Los Angeles, various parts of the west coast, and bi-annual trips to Hawaii. That wasn’t a very big oyster.

  I walked back into the living room and sat down on the couch, sighing. I sighed again so Harry would know I was back. I was in a sulky mood, it seemed.

  "What’s wrong? Here, I poured you this." He put the last of the prep dishes in the dishwasher and grabbed a tall glass of Pinot to bring to me. "Whatever’s bothering you… this will cure it." He smiled as he plopped down next to me and handed me the wine.

  "Thanks. I’m OK. Just a little... under the weather, I suppose. Nothing a big glass of wine can’t cure." I smiled at him as we cheers’d. We both slowly sipped our wine, savoring the first taste. "How was work?" I looked at him as I said this, wanting to forget today completely.

  He really was very good-looking, and he’d only gotten better looking with age. The seven years we’d been together had aged us both, and yet his wrinkles gave him an older, distinguished look. He was a large man, which I loved. I felt like he could protect me. What had started out as pure lust in college had eventually evolved into a loving relationship.

  "It was good. Jonathon decided to open up an Echo Park location and he’s picked me to manage it, which is good and bad. Good meaning more money, bad meaning more work and later hours."

  "Oh honey, that’s fantastic." I smiled and clipped his glass with mine for another mini-cheers. "Has he talked about the Vice President thing again? I know you said he was going to think it over this week..." I looked at him hopefully as I said this. Jonathon, Harry’s boss, had mentioned making Harry the Vice President of the company. This would mean a huge raise. This was what we’d been waiting for. If he got promoted, we had the green light to start trying to get pregnant. Financially, we would be more than stable with his income alone. We’d planned for this.

  "Actually, he has. And..." he smiled as he said this. "I sign the papers tomorrow."

  I could tell he was trying to act nonchalant but I knew how much this meant to him. I jumped up, leaning over, and hugged him as hard as I could.

  "That’s amazing! I can’t believe it!"

  I set my wine glass on the table behind the couch and grabbed his f
ace with both hands to kiss him all over. He looked up at me, grinning, setting his wine glass down, too.

  "You’re looking at the new Vice President of Intelligentsia Coffee!" He kissed me back and threw me down on the couch as I giggled.

  A fleeting thought entered my head. It was obviously a reaction to today, but before I could contain it, I blurted, "Let’s have a baby. Now. Like, let’s try right now." I scanned Harry’s face, above mine, but he only kept smiling. I wasn’t lying to Lainey when I said we both wanted to start trying. We’d discussed it and we wanted to wait another couple of months until things settled down. However, in this moment I thought, why wait? Especially after today, after what Lainey said. There was no way she was right.

  Harry kissed my lips softly, not saying anything. I felt him nodding slowly as he removed his clothes. The chicken was roasting, but it could wait. I felt my heart start to race at the notion that he was agreeing. He wanted this, too. I closed my eyes, and I felt him slowly take my clothes off. He gently climbed on top of me, kissing my neck.

  We had unprotected sex that night for the first time ever, and all night I dreamt of pregnancy, babies, and my inevitable future with Harry.

  ***

  That Friday, exactly three days later, I left work early so I could buy a pregnancy test at Walgreen’s. My mind had been completely consumed with creating a baby, and even though I knew it was next to impossible to tell this early, it was exciting and it took my mind off of Lainey’s reading. In fact, I’d tried my best to completely push that whole afternoon out of my head. I had decided to only think good thoughts and to be more positive. I couldn’t let it consume me. According to the books on fertility and conceiving that I’d picked up yesterday, positive thinking could really go a long way when conceiving.

  My hands were shaking as I laid the test out on the scanner. This wasn’t the first time I’d done this — a few mishaps in college had put me in this same exact situation — but this was the first time that I was hoping for two lines. I bounced up and down like an excited child as the cashier rang me up. I handed her a twenty-dollar bill and told her to keep the change as I impatiently grabbed the white box and jogged to my car. I threw it on the passenger seat and although I wanted to rush home and take the test, rush hour traffic kept me at a very slow pace through the canyon. I sped down our street and my tires screeched as I pulled into our driveway.

  "Honey, I’m home!" I yelled as I opened our front door, grasping the pregnancy test with one hand and my keys in the other.

  I saw Harry sitting on the couch watching TV. He’d left work early as well. We’d agreed to do this together. I wasn’t really expecting to be pregnant this soon, but the fact that we were actively "trying" was in and of itself exciting.

  "There’s my preggo wifey, home early from work! Where were you? I got here 30 minutes ago," he said nervously.

  As he got up to greet me, I saw a worried look on his face. He wiped his hands on his jeans, and I took in his appearance again. He’d been watching TV, sure, but it looked as though he’d been fidgeting too. He was jumpy and agitated. Either he’d been worried about me being late, or he was nervous about this test. I wasn’t nervous – I was more excited than anything. It hadn't occurred to me that he would be nervous.

  "Sorry. Traffic. Are you OK? You look worried."

  "I am worried. I mean, not about being a parent, its just… life is changing quickly. First my promotion, and now this?"

  I shrugged my coat off and walked over to him.

  "Isn’t this what you want?" I knew I wasn’t playing fair, saying that, but he’d wanted this too. Sure, he never verbally agreed to it, at least not recently, but he was the one who three days ago embargoed the condoms, and even threw the whole box into the trash after we were done. I thought that was his official declaration of being OK with it.

  "Yes. Yes, this is what I want. I’m just nervous. I’m sorry." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, and then slowly walked towards me. "Let’s take the test."

  I smiled. I grabbed the box and pulled him into the guest bathroom with me.

  "You don’t have to look while I pee on the stick, but would you please wait with me?"

  He paced the bathroom as I squatted over the toilet, being sure to hold the small stick under a steady stream of pee. This wasn’t unusual for us: after being stranded in a tropical storm in Hawaii on our honeymoon with food poisoning and without working toilets, Harry and I didn’t really have any secrets. After I was finished, I set the stick down in the sink. I pulled my pants up and set a timer on my phone. Two minutes. I walked over to Harry and he held me from behind as we both silently looked at the test, face down, until my timer went off.

  "I love you – let’s see if we’re having a baby!" Harry’s voice cracked as he said this. I didn’t have time to analyze the tone of his voice. The anticipation was killing me. I flipped the test over.

  One line. Not pregnant. An achy disappointment set in and I felt my stomach drop. Not pregnant.

  "Damn." I threw the test in the trash and walked over to our couch. I felt Harry’s hands on my shoulders.

  "It’s too early. Let’s take another test next week and we’ll keep trying, OK?"

  He rubbed my shoulders as he said this and I smiled. I could still be pregnant. It was, in hindsight, probably too early to tell. That thought made me ease up a bit. I knew I was being a bit hasty taking a test this early. I nodded and kissed Harry on the lips. Just as I was about to lead him into our bedroom (I’d be damned if we weren’t going to have unprotected sex whenever we could), I heard the clinking of my cell phone from my purse. I was going to ignore it, until I realized it was Amara’s ringtone.

  "Sorry babe, it’s Amara. Let me just make sure she’s OK and I’ll tell her that I’ll call her back." I winked at Harry. I heard him groan as I pushed myself off of him and answered my phone that was still sitting on the bathroom sink.

  "Hey Mar, can I call you back? I was just—"

  "WILL YOU BE MY MAID OF HONOR? SAM PROPOSED!!!"

  It took me a few seconds to register what she had said. For the second time today I felt my stomach drop. Lainey had been right. Sam had proposed. I gathered my wits and walked away from Harry. Somehow, knowing Lainey had been right about Amara’s proposal made me feel uneasy around him.

  "Amara, that’s fantastic! Of course I’ll be your maid of honor. How did he propose?"

  I forced myself to sound upbeat and cheerful, and of course I was, but I couldn’t fight the nagging feeling in my gut. Lainey was right. I felt blind-sided; I had NOT been expecting her to be right about this. It was just a coincidence. It had to be.

  "CHARLOTTE, I’M FREAKING OUT! LAINEY WAS RIGHT – OH IT WAS SO ROMANTIC! I CAME HOME TO A HOUSE FULL OF CANDLES AND FLOWERS, AND, OH, THE RING! IT’S HUGE!"

  I laughed. Of course it was. Sam was a movie producer and he made good money.

  "Amara, I am so happy for you! Let’s get lunch soon to celebrate?"

  As I said that, I heard Amara squeal in agreement on the other end of the phone. She yelled something about having to go, and then she was gone. She must’ve called me right after the fact. Of course they were still bouncing off of the walls — I was the same way right after getting engaged. I’d felt high for about two weeks straight.

  I heard the call disconnect, but I stood there with the phone up to my ear for several seconds, avoiding Harry. I had walked into our kitchen while talking. I set the phone down on the white marble counter, the counter that Harry and I had picked out three years ago when we bought and remodeled the house. I pulled my long cardigan tight around my body and leaned against the stove. I heard Harry call out to me and I yelled back that I was getting a snack. As I opened our fridge, still in complete shock that my best friend was actually engaged, I entertained the idea of a future without Harry, just in case Lainey was right. But I couldn’t fathom it. I couldn’t picture myself with someone else. I just couldn’t. As I grabbed a spoon and some yogurt, I told myself that Lainey was
right about Amara and wrong about Harry and me. A fifty percent success rate. That seemed about right for a no-good psychic. I made a vow to myself right then and there that I wouldn’t keep letting Lainey’s psychic reading consume me. I had to put all of my energy towards conceiving a baby. I walked back into the living room, where my perfect husband sat on our perfect couch in our perfect house, and I made a conscious decision to act as if that reading had never even happened.

  ***

  I took three more pregnancy tests the next week before getting my period on that Friday. I’d been reading up on ovulation and fertility windows, so perhaps we'd missed the window because I hadn't been tracking when I was fertile. It seemed plausible. We had only started trying two weeks ago.

  I pulled up to Amara’s apartment in Toluca Lake the next day, in hopes of taking my best friend out for a celebratory weekend brunch. When I walked up to her door on the third floor, I heard what could only be described as mid-orgasm sex noises.

  I didn’t know what to do. We’d made plans a few days ago. I should’ve texted her before heading over. Just as I was about to walk down the stairs, I heard the door open. Sam tumbled out, obviously in a rush to get somewhere. His shirt was still unbuttoned and his tie was around his neck, undone. He carried his shoes in his hands. He didn’t see me at first, and I was torn between running back down the stairs, and casually walking up to him as if I hadn’t just heard him having sex with my best friend. I chose the latter.

  "Hey, Sam!" I tried to sound nonchalant, like I’d just walked up.