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’Oh, it’s lovely, did the children paint this?’ said Stede, squinting at his gift from Mary.
’I did. It’s the lighthouse? From our wedding?’
’Yes, yes…’ said Stede, nodding almost absentmindedly. He had turned to leave and fetch Mary’s surprise when he heard a noise he’d never heard before.
Mary had begun to cry. Not tears of pain like those she’d shed during the births of their children, but loud, heaving sobs that wracked her whole body. Stede froze, his heart hammering with sudden panic. Mary had bourne every burden of their marriage with the sort of stoicism Stede’s father had failed to instill in him. In fact, Stede was rather certain he’d cried more times in his life than Mary had.
’Mary? My god, Mary, what’s wrong?’ He said, his voice returning at the same time as his manners. He reached out to steady her. Though he expected her to pull away, Mary let him guide her into a chair, and accepted the handkerchief he produced from a pocket without comment. His heart continued to pound as he sat down next to her, and Stede found himself gripping the arms of his chairs to hide his trembling.
’Please, Mary, I promise I’ll-’ he began, but Mary cut him off.
’I’m pregnant.’
’Oh!’ said Stede, surprised. He smiled, trying to keep any disappointment hidden, but it seemed he’d be paying to dock the boat a few months longer than expected. Mary looked at him silently, tears still in her eyes.
’Oh?’ said Stede, now confused. He’d started the calculations for how much the dock fees might be, but now he was starting to suspect that Mary was trying to tell him something. Perhaps she’d been trying to hint at it previously? Had he missed some sort of prior attempt on her part to tell him?
His eyes moved to Mary’s painting, just behind her, and he wondered how long it had taken her to paint it. She’d been late to bed for months now, often arriving when Stede was already asleep, and she’d always been early to rise, so he’d seen rather little of her for some time and…
’Oh.’ said Stede. Mary nodded, tears flowing down her face once more.
’I’m so sorry, Stede, but I’ve met someone,’ said Mary, and held back a sob.
’And the baby is… Well, that is to say… the baby isn’t…’ Stede said, unable to finish the sentence.
’Stede, for the love of God, don’t make me fucking say it!’ she yelled, then covered her face with the handkerchief and began to sob once more. This time, he knew better than to reach out.
—
Someone was named Doug; more specifically, the ’someone’ Mary had met was named Doug. He was her painting teacher, and even with her eyes red and her hands still clutching the handkerchief, Stede had never seen her expression so soft as when she said his name.
’So this Doug, he didn’t… force you?’ asked Stede. He was rather sure of the answer, but it seemed he ought to confirm.
’God, no! Stede, we’re in love,’ blurted Mary, surprising herself with the force of her words. Stede felt he was seeing more of her emotions in one evening than he had in their whole marriage.
’And you’re sure? It’s really love?’ he asked. Mary nodded.
’It really is,” she replied. Stede realized he was no longer trembling. His heart felt steady in his chest, and there was a sudden clarity to his vision, like a spyglass coming into focus. He let out a sigh of relief, and then smiled at his wife. She stared back in silent confusion.
’I suppose it’s time to tell you about my little surprise,’ said Stede, and went to fetch his model ship.
—
Douglas Bonnet was born on a crisp fall morning, five months after the tragic death of his father Stede, who’d drowned when he’d leaned too far over a cliff while walking along the seaside with his wife, his children, and an unusually large number of well-respected dinner guests. Mary, now the Widow Bonnet, had taken comfort in her three children, her art, and her dinner guests, of whom a surprising number were widows themselves.
Her late husband’s ship had been sold off to an unknown benefactor, who had agreed to buy it for its full price in exchange for occasional visits to the Widow Bonnet, merely to ensure the money was spent responsibly. If it so happened that said benefactor had the same stature and coloring as her late husband, then surely it was because he was a distant relative. Such a coincidence was nothing more than a happy accident.