The Legacy by J. Adams

ever being any different.

Eighteen
    The months are passing quickly and Thanksgiving is fast
approaching. I can’t remember ever being more grateful at this
time of year. Marriage to Ingo has been amazing, and as Jessica
fondly says, ' We are as happy as clams.'
    Since we have no money worries–a fact I still find hard to
grasp sometimes–I quit my job at the boutique. I'm able to
travel with Ingo to photo shoots. There is nothing we enjoy
more than being together.
    Awakening
one
morning,
I
peel
my
eyes
open,
encountering a bedroom full of sunlight, and realize I've slept
in a little later than normal. When I sit up, I am hit by a wave of
nausea. I lay back against the pillows, close my eyes and
swallow hard, telling myself I can’t be sick now. Ingo and I plan
to take a trip down to Southern Utah in two days and I'm really
looking forward to it.
    I make another attempt to get up when the phone rings.
Grateful for a reason to stay in bed for another moment, I
answer it and smile when I hear Adagio’s voice, despite feeling
sick. He is calling to say hello and catch up on what has been
going on with us. We have only talked a couple of times since
the wedding and both conversations were brief because he's
been so busy with the restaurant.
    “So, how are things?” I ask.
“Things
are
good,
just
trying
to
keep
up
with
the
increasing traffic and keep the kitchen guys in line. They are
pretty crazy in there.”
“It sounds like you’re having fun.”
“I am. They are great to work with.”
“Well, I’m sure you are a pretty great boss.” I again close
my eyes and swallow against the queasiness.
“So, how’s marriage treating you guys?”
“Ahhh, sigh. We love it!.”
He laughs. “I can hear it in your voice. You two are great
together. Now all you need is a little one of your own to make
it complete. Uncle Adagio has a nice ring to it, do you not
agree?”
“I agree completely,” I say, chuckling. “I looking forward
to being a mom . . .”
Wait . . . My cycle is late. With the haze clearing in my brain,
I quickly calculate the days. I’m two weeks late . . . and I’m sick . My
mind is reeling at the possibility. I have been so busy preparing
for our trip and doing other things, I hadn’t noticed.
“Hey, Cisely, are you still there?”
“I’m here,”
I answer,
embarrassed to
have
let
my
thoughts drift so far.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m okay.” I’m better than okay!
“I should probably let you go, and I had better get back
over to the restaurant.”
“It must be nice to work from home, so to speak.”
“It is convenient and I do enjoy it.”
“I’m glad. Hey, I’ll tell Ingo you called, but only if you
promise to call him later. You know how much he looks
forward to your calls.”
“I know. He needs to hear my voice once in a while.”
“It’s the accent,” I say and he laughs. “Promise you’ll call
him.”
“I will. Ciao , Cisely.”
“ Ciao. ”
Hanging up the phone, I lay in bed a little longer and wait
for my stomach to calm some. I soon realize it's useless and
drag myself out of bed, making my way to the kitchen. After
searching the cupboards for crackers to no avail, I settle on a
piece of toast and a glass of juice. Within a few minutes I am a
little better and am able to take a shower. Then I make a quick
trip to the neighborhood pharmacy for a pregnancy test.
Grinning, I examine the positive result.
“I’m pregnant!”

Nineteen
    Even the slight nausea doesn't dampen my spirits as I
wait for Ingo to return from an all day photo shoot. I am glad
Jessica is at the boutique today. She is usually so observant, she
would have easily seen behind my smile and guessed my news
before I could share it with Ingo.
    Ingo arrives home a little after four and I meet him at the
door. “I missed you,” he says, pulling me close for a kiss.
“I missed you, too. I’m glad you’re home.” Drawing back,
I look into his eyes, feeling positively giddy.
“Either you're