Potatoes
She was standing at the edge of the creek, mulling all of these things over, when Einar came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. She immediately warmed to his touch-- she hadn’t realized how cold she was, standing alone. He breathed into her hair and then chuckled, “You’ve tried fried potatoes, then?” she smiled, and brought his hands low, over the small bump she’d discovered. He laughed, “A lot of potatoes, then.” Eve laughed softly, but then, she went quiet, steeling herself for what needed to be said.
“It’s not potatoes, Einar.”
He smelled her hair again and mumbled into it, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She pressed his hands a little more firmly to her belly, and then, seeing that he wasn’t going to get it, she turned in his arms and looked up at him.
Seeing the tears in her eyes, his whole demeanor shifted. He cupped her face in his hands, “What’s the matter?”
She was crying happy tears, then, “Nothing--- oh--” she buried her face in his chest and wept. He smoothed a hand down her back and held her closer.
“It doesn’t seem like nothing,” he remarked dryly and then tilted her chin up, so she met his eyes, “tell me, Eve. Anything.”
She smiled. He’s going to be a wonderful father, before she could stop herself, she’d said it out loud, “--You’re going to be a wonderful father--”
“Thank you--” his breath caught “That’s an odd thing to--wait--are you saying...?”
She nodded, “Yes.” Einar pressed her to his chest and sobbed.
She didn’t know what reaction she’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. He held her tight and cried for a good long while. After he had quieted to a few sparse sniffs, and was pressing hundreds of soft kisses onto the top of her head, she finally asked, “Were those happy tears or sad ones?” He shook with laughter.
“Both--” seeing her look, he quickly added, “--but mostly happy. Oh, Eve-- I never thought… I just… Oh, God. I’m so happy.” He crushed her in another hug.