24. Epilogue

Epilogue

Some Time Later

T he gel was uncomfortably slimy, but oddly enough, it was pleasantly warm.

Lucy glanced at the contraption the sonographer had pulled the bottle of lubricant from.

"Is that a warmer?"

"Yes," the older woman replied as she positioned the wand on Lucy's abdomen. "Things have come a long way since I had babies in the eighties. You girls have it easy now days."

Lucy wasn’t convinced that anything about pregnancy was going to be easy, but she was committed to enjoying the ride as much as possible.

While she waited for the show to begin on the little screen mounted at the foot of the exam table, Lucy looked at her hand, marveling once more at the gold band with the emerald stone cocooned by a small diamond on each side. A 19 th -century American antique ring, of course. Despite having worn it since her wedding day eight months ago, she still felt a little bewildered to find a wedding band each time she looked at her own hand.

Within her grasp were both of Forrest's tanned, smooth hands (academics have very little cause for calluses, after all), and she moved her eyes up to the face that had become such an indispensable part of her life.

Behind the perfectly groomed beard, Forrest's cheeks looked pale. Baby-powder pale. Lucy lifted her head from the exam table's pillow.

"You okay, Forrest?"

Jumping, the word "Yes," slipped from his mouth with a pre-pubescent squeak. He cleared his throat, readjusted, and tried again.

"Yes, I'm fine," this time, much, much lower.

"He'll be fine," the sonographer declared with a slight impatience in her voice. "Men have no stomach for such things. I've seen quite a few faint."

Lucy's eyebrows shot up. That didn't sound fine.

"But they generally make it through unscathed. In my day, men never came into the exam room during a pregnancy, but you kids have your own ways, I suppose."

Lucy glanced back at Forrest. Maybe people were onto something in the olden days. But just as she was beginning to formulate a birth plan in which Forrest would pace in a waiting room while puffing one cigar after another, his face transformed. A heaviness that had been weighing down his eyebrows lifted, and color crept back into his ashen cheeks. Lucy followed his eyes up to the screen.

And there it was. Or he was? Maybe she? Whatever he or she was, he or she was hers and Forrest's. They had made a baby. A baby that was up on a screen kicking and wiggling and squirming.

And then, as if an other-worldly being was echoing Lucy's thoughts from just a moment ago, a scratchy, aged voice said, "Well, is it a boy or a girl?"

Lucy jerked her eyes towards Forrest from where the sound had come. There, lying on his knee was his...cell phone?

Lucy began "Was that..."

"Dr. Hubert," Edith's voice interrupted, "We were supposed to be quiet. This is their moment."

Lucy's eyebrows knit together. "Edith?"

"Hey Lucy," came Porter’s voice, carrying with it a smile in a way only he could.

Lucy smiled back. "Hey, everyone."

"You are only supposed to have one visitor in the sonogram exam room at a time per hospital policy," the woman snapped, clearly perturbed that once again, the ways of modernity were providing a wealth of irritation.

Using his stern-professor voice, Forrest said, "There's just one person. Me. Please proceed." It was a tone he reserved for plagiarism and severely missed due dates, and it brooked no argument. The sonographer's eyes returned to her screen, and she continued punching in numbers and readjusting the onscreen image in ways that were completely mysterious to her audience.

Looking back at Lucy, Forrest's stone-cold sheen melted, and a dimple slowly peeked over his beard on one side. Then, the little laugh lines around his eyes decided to join the party: "I figured this would be easier than one of them trying to throw a gender-reveal party without your help."

"And that, my dear, is why you have a Ph.D."

"We heard that," Edith said.

"I know," Lucy giggled, "and it is good to have you here."

Let the rules be damned. She wanted her whole family in the room.

"Well," the sonographer said, suddenly less stern and with a little (could it be?) warmth in her demeanor, "All measurements are right on track. Your baby is a fine specimen."

Forrest and Lucy both released huge sighs. Who knew they had been holding their breaths?

"Would you like to know the gender?"

Three voices clearly called out from Forrest's phone, "Yes!"

Lucy looked to Forrest. "Yes," he said with a nod.

She turned to the sonographer. "I believe that is a yes all around."

"Congratulations. You’re having a boy."

Cheering came from the phone, and Forrest squeezed her hand even tighter, looking into her eyes.

Lucy returned his gaze, blinking away tears. "Well, Forrest, now we just have to decide which Mark Twain character we're naming this kid after."