Mother's Day by Lynne Constantine Page B

someone else. Miranda, please. It will be okay.”
    He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her head, her eyes, and her cheeks. He held her until she was calm and didn’t let go all night. After that he never commented on the treatments, other to ask what she needed from him, when he needed to be home, and what the next steps were.
    It wasn’t long before she had to stop working. She didn’t feel right asking her boss to keep making accommodations to her crazy schedule. She put away her camera and getting pregnant became her job. Daniel said he understood, but she didn’t miss the look of concern in his eyes each month when the medical bills arrived. Now they were out of time. This was their last cycle. He had told her last month. The money was gone and they had no more credit to exhaust. Savings depleted, marriage strained, emotions destroyed: how to ruin a life in ten easy steps. She didn’t blame Daniel, at least not too much.
    She pulled a pair of white pants down from the hanger and stepped into them. Seriously? They used to be loose. She couldn’t even button them.
    “Shit.” She threw them on the floor. She tried another pair. Then another. The pile was growing. She pressed down on her stomach and suppressed a scream. Another perk of infertility treatments – you got to look pregnant even when you weren’t. Why had she even agreed to go today? She jerked the black Chico’s traveler’s pants from the rod. The hanger made a loud bang on the wooden floor. She rolled her eyes and shut the closet door. Time for the masquerade. A little make up, a dash of lipstick, and a plastic smile. She was ready.
    “Can you grab the deviled eggs?” she asked Daniel when she walked into the kitchen.
    “Sure.”
    He handed her a card.
    “What’s this?”
    “Open it.”
    She slit the envelope with her thumbnail and pulled out a card. A wide-eyed black lab stared back at her. “Happy Mother’s Day and lots of licks too.”
    She looked at him, a confused expression on her face. They didn’t have a dog.
    He grinned and took her hand. She followed him into the garage and stood, speechless, while he opened the gate of his SUV. As soon as she saw the small kennel her eyes grew wide. Was he kidding? Daniel opened the kennel and pulled out the wriggling black ball of fur.
    She ran past her perplexed husband and back into the house. You just don’t get it . She didn’t want her first Mother’s Day card to be from a dog. Was this supposed to be her consolation prize? A puppy for Mother’s Day?
    “Miranda.” He was behind her. “What’s wrong? I was just trying to help.” He still held the puppy.
    Finally she spoke. “Don’t you think getting a puppy should be a joint decision?” She wasn’t going to get into the rest of it right now.
    His face fell.
    “I just wanted to do something to cheer you up. Besides, this way he’ll be trained and ready to be the best dog a kid could ever want.”
    “I thought you got him for me as a substitute for a baby,” she whispered. She walked toward him. He was cute.
    Daniel hugged her to him and the puppy licked her face.
    “Let’s bring the kennel in and get him settled before we leave. At least now we have an excuse to leave early,” she said.
    They rode the fifteen minutes in silence. Pulling up to the cheery yellow colonial, she saw that they were the last to arrive.
    “Aunt Miranda!” her three-year old niece, Zoë came running up. Miranda bent down to take her into her arms. She relished the tight squeeze and the feel of the soft cheek against her own.
    “Hello, darling. You look beautiful.”
    The little girl took Miranda’s hand into her chubby one.
    “Come on. I made you something.”
    She followed Zoë into the house and smiled her hellos as the excited child pulled her up the stairs and into one of the bedrooms.
    “Here you go.”
    It was a macaroni necklace.
    “I love it!” She tilted her head forward so that Zoë could slip it over her head.
    “Do you like my