Meet Me at the Lake

Peter came by the house yesterday. I told Mom I had a stomach bug and have been staying in bed. Peter said I didn’t look sick. He knew Eric left—everyone knows. He asked if he’d hurt me, and I told him not in the way he meant, and then I started to cry. Peter lay down and hugged me close. He told me he missed me and my nonstop talking and the Anne Murray’s Greatest Hits cassette I sneak into his tape deck. He said he thought he might have been jealous. Then he brought my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles, so softly, and said he had to tell me something. I’m sure my heart stopped. Because I knew what he was going to say, and I couldn’t let him. Not now. Before he could speak, I blurted out that I was pregnant. I told him everything I’ve been thinking about—how I’d have to raise the baby on my own and cancel the trip and put off managing the resort, but that I want to do it. He was quiet the whole time. After I finished, he said, “Okay, Maggie.” Then he kissed my forehead and rubbed my back until I fell asleep.