The A Baby on the Way
The winter after the Coast Guard ceremony was the coldest Port Orford had seen in a decade. The lighthouse beam cut through the frosty air, and Clara spent most of her days indoors, wrapped in blankets, drinking tea, and watching the sea from the window. She had been tired lately — more tired than usual. She blamed the weather, the stress of the book’s success, the endless demands of the shop.
But the tiredness didn’t go away.
One morning, she woke to the smell of coffee and felt a wave of nausea. She barely made it to the bathroom in time.
Daniel found her on the floor, pale and shaking.
“Clara? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. I think I ate something bad.”
“You ate the same thing I did.”
She looked at him. His eyes were wide, worried.
“Maybe it’s a bug,” she said.
“Maybe it’s something else.”
They drove to the clinic in Gold Beach that afternoon.
The doctor was a kind woman named Patel, with steady hands and a calm voice. She asked questions, ran tests, and disappeared into the back room.
Clara and Daniel waited in silence.
When Dr. Patel returned, she was smiling.
“You’re pregnant,” she said. “About eight weeks.”
Clara stared at her. “What?”
“Pregnant. You’re going to have a baby.”
Daniel’s face went pale, then red, then pale again. “A baby?”
“A baby.”
He turned to Clara. “A baby.”
She burst into tears.
They sat in the car for an hour after the appointment.
The rain was falling, soft and steady, and the lighthouse was visible in the distance. Clara couldn’t stop crying — not from sadness, but from the overwhelming shock of new life.
“I thought I couldn’t have children,” she said.
“Did a doctor tell you that?”
“No. I just assumed. I’m almost forty.”
“Age isn’t a diagnosis.”
She looked at him. “Are you happy?”
His face broke into a smile. “I’m terrified. But yes. I’m happy.”
She kissed him. “Me too.”
They told Lily that weekend.
She was home from college for winter break, sprawled on the couch, scrolling through her phone. Clara and Daniel sat across from her, holding hands.
“We have news,” Clara said.
Lily looked up. “What kind of news?”
“You’re going to be a big sister.”
Lily’s phone clattered to the floor. “Wait. What?”
“I’m pregnant. You’re going to have a sibling.”
Lily stared at them. Then she burst into tears and threw her arms around Clara.
“I always wanted a brother or sister,” she sobbed.
“You’re getting one.”
“This is the best day ever.”
Daniel laughed, his eyes wet. “I thought you’d be upset.”
“Why would I be upset? Mom’s been gone for years. You deserve to be happy.”
Clara held her tight. “We all deserve to be happy.”
The pregnancy was difficult.
Clara was older, and the island was remote. The nearest hospital was an hour away, and winter storms could delay travel for days. Daniel worried constantly, checking the weather, stocking the pantry, and insisting that Clara rest.
“I’m not an invalid,” she said.
“You’re pregnant. It’s different.”
“It’s not different. I can still climb the lighthouse stairs.”
“You can, but you shouldn’t.”
She glared at him. He glared back.
Lily mediated. “Dad, let her climb. She’s stubborn.”
“She’s impossible.”
“Same thing.”
Clara laughed. “I love you, Lily.”
“I love you too. Now stop fighting.”
The baby was born in June, on a warm, clear night.
The lighthouse beam shone through the window of the cottage, and the midwife — the same Beth who had delivered Eleanor years ago — delivered the baby in the same bed where Clara and Daniel had first slept together.
It was a girl.
Clara held her against her chest, crying, while Daniel cut the cord.
“She’s beautiful,” he said.
“She’s perfect.”
Lily crept into the room, her eyes wide. “Is that my sister?”
“That’s your sister.”
“What’s her name?”
Clara looked at Daniel. They had discussed names for months, but nothing had felt right.
“Margaret,” Clara said. “After James’s Margaret.”
Lily touched the baby’s cheek. “Hi, Margaret. I’m Lily. I’m going to teach you everything.”
The baby opened her eyes — gray, like Daniel’s — and looked at her sister.
Clara wept.