Thursdays At Eight by Debbie Macomber Page B

he’d pose such a question. “Absolutely not!”
    He didn’t respond for a long moment. “The only reason I ask is because they were both so worried about you last night,” he finally said. “You should have phoned.”
    â€œI know.” She did feel bad about upsetting her family.
    â€œAdam and Zoe are old enough to recognize when something’s wrong. I think we should tell them. They have a right to know.”
    In other circumstances she would have agreed with him, but not now. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œWhat if I miscarry? I could, you know. I’m going to be forty soon…and when you’re older, the risk of a miscarriage is much higher.”
    â€œI realize that, but the baby might be perfectly okay, too. There’s at least an equal chance of that.”
    â€œStill, this pregnancy isn’t a sure thing, so we shouldn’t say anything yet,” she said, holding on to her one hope of escape. She wouldn’t do anything to terminate the pregnancy, but if nature should take its course…
    â€œI’m sorry you’re so unhappy about all this,” Peter murmured.
    â€œI’m sorry, too,” and Julia was, more than she cared to admit.
    â€œDon’t worry, sweetheart, everything will work out. Somehow or other.”
    â€œSomehow or other,” Julia echoed. She wished she could feel differently about this baby. Her husband loved children. If it’d been his decision alone, they would have had a houseful of kids.
    Peter glanced at his watch. “I’ll head home and get dinner started.”
    Julia nodded.
    â€œDon’t worry, honey,” he said, bending down to kiss her on the cheek.
    A moment later, the door shut behind him. Julia tossed a ball of yarn at it.
    Just as she was ready to close for the day, Georgia strolled in, sparking with her usual energy. They were cousins and best friends and about as opposite as any two women could be. In high school, Julia was the student-body president and class brain. Georgia was the flighty cheerleader with more beauty than common sense. She flitted in and out of marriage every few years, the way some people bought a new car. But despite their differences Georgia was the one person Julia knew she could trust.
    â€œSo. What’s going on?” Georgia asked loudly, arms spread wide, bracelets clanking. Her cousin always made an entrance. It was her trademark. Everyone expected it of her.
    â€œWhat—what do you mean?” Julia couldn’t imagine how Georgia had heard her news.
    â€œI haven’t talked to you all week.” Her cousin stood before her, hands now resting on her hips. “Must be something happening.” Georgia’s long blond hair was artfully arranged atop her head, with tendrils dangling down in all the right places. She was dressed in loose black clothes and heavy silver jewelry and looked stunning.
    â€œI’m pregnant,” Julia blurted out. She couldn’t tell her mother, her sister or her own children, but felt no such compunction when it came to Georgia.
    Georgia responded by sinking into the rocker recently vacated by Peter.
    â€œPregnant?” she repeated as though it was a foreign word whose meaning she wasn’t quite sure of. “As in baby?”
    Julia covered her face with both hands and burst into tears.
    â€œOh, Julia, you’re not joking, are you?” Georgia got to her feet and grabbed her purse, spilling half the contents. Makeup, a hairbrush and loose change rolled across the table. “Damn, I need a cigarette.”
    â€œI thought you quit.”
    â€œI did, I’m down to five a day.” She found what she was looking for, placed the low-tar low-nicotine cigarette between her lips and flicked her lighter. Stepping to the door, she took one deep puff, aiming a stream of smoke outside, then frowned at the cigarette. “I swear these