Vada Faith by Barbara A. Whittington

water goblets on the table.
    “He had to be out of town on business when I had my surgery,” I said, patting my husband’s arm, hoping to break the ice. John Wasper scowled and held the chair for me.
    “Well, that’s too bad.” Dottie’s husband seated her at the table and then sat down across from us. “A shame he couldn’t be there.”
    “It wasn’t because I didn’t want to be there,” my husband said, glaring at me. He picked up his menu.
    “I know that. It just worked out that way, honey. The flowers from Roy and Dottie made me feel better. Much better.” I took a gulp of ice water and shuddered.
    “I guess I should have sent flowers,” he said, putting down the menu and puffing up. “I didn’t think of it.”
    That’s okay,” I said, patting his arm. I was talking too fast and making things worse. I couldn’t seem to stop. “It’s just that flowers always make me feel better.”
    “Well, pardon me,” he said, crossing his arms. “I didn’t know they meant that much to you.”
    “The strip steak here is out of this world,” the older man interjected, “and the baked potatoes, too. They bake them a special way. Aren’t they great, dear?”
    “Oh, yes,” his wife said, smiling over at us as if the air was tension free, “do try them.”
    I busied myself studying the menu but I watched John Wasper out of the corner of my eye. He picked up his menu again, but he was still puffed up like a toad. I was happy when he agreed to let Roy order for everyone.
    When the waiter had left, the man across the table turned to my husband and said, “There’s no sense putting this off. How do you feel about your wife acting as a surrogate for our baby?” He leaned back in his chair. “We might as well be honest.”
    “You want the truth?” My husband stared a hole through the man across from us.
    “Yes, of course,” Roy said, picking up his water goblet. “We want everything out on the table right from the start.” He tipped his glass at us and took several sips. “That way there will be no surprises later.”
    “I don’t like it.” John Wasper leaned forward. “You might as well know it from the get-go.
    I don’t mind her having a baby. Don’t get me wrong.” He frowned. “When she does I want it to be my baby.” His face turned red. “A baby we make the normal way. Having my wife carry a baby for you people just don’t make good sense to me. I don’t like it and I know most people won’t understand. My family sure won’t. Especially my brothers, Bruiser and Bobby Joe. It’s something they don’t know anything about, having a baby this way. You need to know beforehand. My wife is a leap-before-you-look kind of person. She don’t always think things through. Then her actions get her into trouble. Besides we’re simple people around here. We don’t do things in Shady Creek like people do in the big cities. The townspeople won’t understand her having a baby for another man.”
    “John Wasper Waddell! I am not a leap-before-you-look-kind of person. I know you still hold it against me for ordering all those Girl Scout cookies. I did think at the time I could sell them. I wanted to sell the most in the state.” I lowered my eyes to the table. “Well, I didn’t. I was helping out my cousin’s girl. This is different. It’s serious. That was kid stuff. Besides you loved those cookies.”
    I narrowed my eyes at him. “So don’t say another word. Being a surrogate mother is a dream come true and I have thought the whole thing through. Now, I have,” I said, trying to stare him down and get him to take back what he’d said. Of course he didn’t. “I’ve thought it through from top to bottom,” I reiterated. “I know it’s what I want to do.”
    “Well, sir, we appreciate your opinion here.” Dottie took a sip of her iced raspberry tea. “This is something you are a part of too. You count in all this.” She patted her red lips gently with the white linen napkin.