"This is going to sound crazy . . . but maybe your head isn't all that clear," stated Garrett. Kayley and Garrett were both in the kitchen part of the cottage, trying to let the "baby" conversation sink in. Garrett was trying to make some sort of herbal tea for Kayley – but he just ended up knocking things over and spilling water everywhere.
"You know, I may not be the only one whose 'head isn't all that clear,'" Kayley chuckled. "You're making a mess, here let me help you." She wiped up the sobbing mess on the floor, put on a new kettle of water above the fire, and set tea leaves in two tin cups.
"I'm serious, Kayley," Garrett pressed, as he used his wooden staff to poke and prod about the kitchen to find a chair, "don't you think that it's a little too soon to be assuming that you're actually . . . pregnant?" His mind was racing and doing all sorts of flips as he took a seat. He leaned his arm on the table, gripping his chin. He was nervous.
Could I really be a father? He asked himself. She can't be pregnant . . . can she? No, she's probably just sick.
"Garrett . . . do you know how many times you've carried me to that bed since we've been married?" She smiled, recounting the numerous times that they'd made love all night.
He smiled also, and said, "No, I don't, actually . . . there's too many." He chuckled. "But, in all honestly Kayley, maybe you're just sick, and it's gotten to your head that it could be a baby . . . what if it's not? We don't want to get our hopes up."
"I'm not sick, Garrett. I'm not feeling cold or weak, nor am I running a fever. I'm not sick. Look at me!"
He slowly turned his gaze in her direction, and just . . . stared – if he could stare, that is. She could see it in his face . . . how sorry he felt. For himself. The regret of not truly being able to see his wife, even if it wasn't his fault that he was blind.
Finally, he sighed and said, "I wish I could, Kayley." And left the room. He didn't sound angry, or upset at her. He was just . . . dammit, he was just Garrett. Such an amazing man, but yet, here she is telling him to do the one thing he couldn't do.
She followed him outside after a second. The sky had grown dark, which meant that hours had passed – even though it only felt like no time had.
"Garrett . . ." she started, "I'm – I'm really sor—"
"Shhh," he interrupted. "It's alright, no harm done. Honestly. I just needed some air."
"I didn't mean it that way, I'm sorry. I really am." She knew what she said wasn't a big deal to him, but it still meant a lot to her. It's like saying "walk the dog, will ya?" to someone in a wheelchair. You don't know what you're saying until you've heard it yourself, you know?
"Hey, hey . . . look at me," he said, reaching for her. He smiled when he held her. "And I know you can see, so don't be runnin' off like you can't, okay?"
They both chuckled.
"I just want you to understand that I love you . . . no matter what. I just wish I had to eyesight to prove to myself how beautiful you are," explained Garrett. Kayley smiled, and kissed his lips.
"I love you too," she said, resting her head on his shoulder. And he just held her. They both stood outside in the darkness of the night – holding each other. It reminded Kayley that if there was a baby inside of her . . . she's glad that it was his. Always.
And then she thought, Hmmm . . . Devon and Cornwall will be so jealous knowing that we'll have another Garrett running around . . . they never liked to share.
"So, how many times was it that you'd brought me to the bedroom, Garrett?" Kayley grinned slyly.
"Well, I don't know . . . " said Garrett, as his hands snaked up and down her back. "Wanna start counting now?" Kayley giggled, teasing him with an almost-kiss before heading back into the cottage.