Whatever Lola Wants Read Online Free PDF Page A

turned to their guests. “We’re pregnant!”
    Delight, cheers, ribald comments, congratulations. These two, Dan and Helen, had been trying to have a child for four years. Due mid-October. Yes, all was well, just a little nausea.
    Nate put his arm about Sarah’s waist. She drew in to his chest, rested her head against his neck.
    Again Dan’s fork pinged the glass. “Quiet, quiet. So the kid’s birth present will be—” A pause: “A married mother and father!”
    â€œYou’re all invited,” said Helen.
    More cheers, mocking boos, back-slapping, kisses. Champagne appeared. Bad jokes, like those driving the farthest needing the most booze to keep warm.
    Sarah and Nate left. For our own celebration, Sarah thought. Their secret, more open all the time. More visible, less outlaw. The wind howled. Inside the warm car, in the down coat, in her silk dress, she shivered. Would she like to be pregnant? Not tonight, she’d taken care of that. Here was Nate, warm beside her, soon warmer inside her. What more could she want?
    She woke at quarter to six, the windows laced with ice. Helen, Dan, a baby. When Driscoll might have wanted a baby, she’d been miles from ready. After a couple of years she started thinking, Maybe yes. But then Driscoll said, Not yet. No, never a child with Driscoll now. With Nate?
    She got up just after six-thirty, Nate heavy with sleep. Just as well, she wasn’t ready for sex again just yet. She showered, got coffee going, watched the news. Locally the storm was the big story, fourteen inches and still coming down. The phone beeped. Answer? At Nate’s at seven twenty-two in the morning? The signal stopped.
    She poured herself more coffee. A shame the babes couldn’t fully feed themselves, she’d like a day snowbound, Nate had extra snowshoes, they might—
    Nate came into the kitchen. “It’s for you. It’s Helen.” His brow had gone crinkly.
    She picked up the phone. “Hi. Congrats again.”
    â€œSarah? Your husband just called, he—”
    â€œWhat’d you tell him?”
    â€œThat you were on your way to the lab, the storm was bad, it’d take you a while to get there.”
    â€œBless you. What did he say?”
    â€œYou should call him.”
    â€œSomething wrong?”
    â€œHe didn’t mention anything. He sounded sort of funny.”
    â€œOkay. Thanks, Helen.” She set the phone down.
    â€œEverything all right?” Nate stood beside her in his dressing gown.
    She liked the morning this way, domestic. “He asked me to call.” She sipped her coffee.
    â€œSo? Go ahead.”
    â€œFrom the Center. We have call display.” A half hour later Sarah dialed her apartment. Driscoll did sound weird. She’d be in Boston before evening.
    By the time she arrived he was dead. Only her sister Feasie would come to the funeral. Sarah had said to her, “If I’d been home, he’d still be alive.”
    â€¢
    â€œBut what happened to Driscoll?” Lola stepped toward the edge and leaned over.
    â€œI don’t know yet.”
    â€œI guess he didn’t AA .” She shook her head. AA , that’s to Achieve Ascension.
    â€œA less than Immortal type,” I noted. “Let alone a God.”
    â€œTed—” She took a deep breath and turned to me. “Why am I one? A God?”
    I stared at her. I’d never heard a question like that. I sometimes think odd thoughts when I’m organizing a story, but to question a thing so basic? Not possible. “What do you mean?”
    She waited. “I don’t know.”
    â€œThen why’re you asking?”
    She shrugged. “It was sort of floating around. Inside my head.”
    Strange, this. Gods don’t ask for explanations. The very definition of being a God is to live in an eternal infinite realm, eir , of self-pleasure, large or larger. How could a God even think of