By the time he was 28 and she was 26, Tom bought them a house on the outskirts of Kloskee, Georgia. Everyone said that it would be the center of commerce in a few years and he figured there would be many job opportunities for them there. For now, it was a mild, easy place where he and his wife could take long walks and enjoy the southern sun.
Even when Eleanor was seven months pregnant, she still insisted on walking with Tom hand-in-hand every Saturday. But something wasn’t right; maybe it was the April heat or her allergies. Eleanor’s knees buckled on one of these weekend strolls. She grimaced, gaunt in the face.
“El-what is it?” he was panicking but was trying hard not to show it.
“I…don’t know,” she said. “I think I’m okay now.”
When he tried to help her back to her feet, she crumpled and her eyes glazed over. Placing a hand on her swollen stomach she said, “Tom. Something’s wrong with her.”
He rushed her to the hospital. The doctor told her that she had some internal bleeding but the baby was fine. “But Eleanor might not be in a few months.” he explained. “She has gestational diabetes. Most times there aren’t any symptoms and we don’t figure it out until the women go into labor. In that respect, you two are lucky.”
“Well what should we do?” Tom said.
“I’ve given your wife a diet to follow and exercise routines. Just keep a close eye on her.”