from Chapter 7 (Nate)
It was awful to think that Gabrielle’s mother knew. It was horribly, horribly embarrassing. Something that belonged to him and Gabrielle, that should have been private, had become parental property, and now it was like they’d been downgraded from young adults to wayward children. He doubted Lynne would be asking him to stay for supper anytime soon.
But maybe…maybe this would all be over soon.
He was thinking that he might possibly be okay with that. All the shock and bewilderment he’d felt yesterday—well, it woke him up. His parents and their church had no say in the matter. This baby—no, not baby; it wasn’t a baby at this point, and he needed to stop thinking in those terms. This fetus could be…extinguished. Maybe, maybe it would experience a brief moment of something like pain. And then it would just be gone. No screaming birth, no seventy-seven-point-two years of nonstop struggle. Just a simple release into the world beyond this one.
But you’d be playing God. That’s what his parents would say. And that had bothered him, too. But today at work, with the vacuum roaring in his ears, a new thought had suddenly materialized in his mind: If people assume that they’re even capable of playing God, then maybe their concept of God is too small.
It was starting to come together for him. That performance behind the curtain, at church, the one he couldn’t see anymore—it really was just a pageant. It wasn’t the real thing.
And if God was more distant than he’d imagined, he was also far, far bigger.
It was awful to think that Gabrielle’s mother knew. It was horribly, horribly embarrassing. Something that belonged to him and Gabrielle, that should have been private, had become parental property, and now it was like they’d been downgraded from young adults to wayward children. He doubted Lynne would be asking him to stay for supper anytime soon.
But maybe…maybe this would all be over soon.
He was thinking that he might possibly be okay with that. All the shock and bewilderment he’d felt yesterday—well, it woke him up. His parents and their church had no say in the matter. This baby—no, not baby; it wasn’t a baby at this point, and he needed to stop thinking in those terms. This fetus could be…extinguished. Maybe, maybe it would experience a brief moment of something like pain. And then it would just be gone. No screaming birth, no seventy-seven-point-two years of nonstop struggle. Just a simple release into the world beyond this one.
But you’d be playing God. That’s what his parents would say. And that had bothered him, too. But today at work, with the vacuum roaring in his ears, a new thought had suddenly materialized in his mind: If people assume that they’re even capable of playing God, then maybe their concept of God is too small.
It was starting to come together for him. That performance behind the curtain, at church, the one he couldn’t see anymore—it really was just a pageant. It wasn’t the real thing.
And if God was more distant than he’d imagined, he was also far, far bigger.
from Chapter 8 (Gabrielle)
Gabrielle pressed the back of her head into the cushions and squeezed her fingers into the arm of the sofa, hard, the way she did in the dentist’s chair when the hygienist scraped her teeth. No one was going to say it. Not her mother, not these über parents who were bending over backwards to be supportive. She was going to end up having this baby whether she wanted it or not because none of these people would come out and say it.
Then Nate cleared his throat, sounding just like his dad, and she knew that he would.
“There is another option,” he said, looking down at his feet. “We all know what it is.”
The ideas that had been flying around the room like so many birds suddenly froze in midair. Gabrielle held her breath.
Gabrielle pressed the back of her head into the cushions and squeezed her fingers into the arm of the sofa, hard, the way she did in the dentist’s chair when the hygienist scraped her teeth. No one was going to say it. Not her mother, not these über parents who were bending over backwards to be supportive. She was going to end up having this baby whether she wanted it or not because none of these people would come out and say it.
Then Nate cleared his throat, sounding just like his dad, and she knew that he would.
“There is another option,” he said, looking down at his feet. “We all know what it is.”
The ideas that had been flying around the room like so many birds suddenly froze in midair. Gabrielle held her breath.
from Chapter 11 (Nate)
“But you have influence over her, Nate, surely you can see that,” his mother said. “If you tell her that you want this child to be born, I know she’ll listen to you. I know she wants to do the right thing, deep down, but she’s so afraid right now. And, Nate, honey, no one is insisting that you kids have to raise this baby by yourselves. You might not want this baby, and Gabrielle might not want this baby, but others do, Nate, plenty of wonderful people do. This whole thing, Nate…God takes our mistakes and turns them into good. I really believe that. Don’t you?”
“But you have influence over her, Nate, surely you can see that,” his mother said. “If you tell her that you want this child to be born, I know she’ll listen to you. I know she wants to do the right thing, deep down, but she’s so afraid right now. And, Nate, honey, no one is insisting that you kids have to raise this baby by yourselves. You might not want this baby, and Gabrielle might not want this baby, but others do, Nate, plenty of wonderful people do. This whole thing, Nate…God takes our mistakes and turns them into good. I really believe that. Don’t you?”
from the epilogue (Nate)
Back in October, back when the daylight was running scared and it felt like the night was taking over and wouldn’t know when to stop, he should have remembered: that every year, there came a day when things changed. Usually, he could tell even before he got out of bed. The cars were slower. Outdoor sounds were muted. The soft light at the window called to mind the word peace.
With darkness came winter.
With winter came snow, and whiteness, and reflected light.
And just when the days were as short as they ever got, people risked their necks to put strings of bulbs on their roofs, they froze their fingers draping lights over their shrubberies and setting up sleighs and reindeer on their lawns. They brought whole trees into their homes and decorated them with their favorite ornaments from the year before, and the year before that—shiny glass balls, intricate figurines, things made out of popsicle sticks and pipe cleaners and held together with glue.
He had forgotten all that, until one morning in early December he woke up to four inches of fresh snow on the ground and it all came back.