Baby Fever

by Landish, Lauren

  I look at him expectantly, ready for the joke because I know him and that’s where this is going. When ideas don’t work, resort to humor, usually the closer to frat house humor, the better. He’s just lucky everyone working directly for him is a guy who isn’t going to get offended at his occasional comments. “What?”

  “If she doesn’t shave her pits, there’s no lady garden tending either. Full 70s bush, guaranteed.”

  There’s a half-beat of silence and then we both burst out laughing. “Thanks for the tip, man. But I’m not looking for anything right now, bare or hair. Just some work, some relaxation, and then I’ll be back, hopefully with a new deal with our off-grid tour company.”

  Rose

  I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this vulnerable before, sitting in the doctor’s office waiting for my first prenatal exam. I’m wearing a barely-there sanitary gown that peekaboos my ass no matter how many times I wrap and rewrap it around myself. To top it off, the cold is making my nipples ache they’re so goddamn tight, and my ass and thighs seem to be coated in superglue as much as they’re sticking to this paper-lined bed. Examination? More like the goddamn Spanish Inquisition.

  Finally, there’s a soft knock and Dr. Stevens walks in. While Dr. Eldritch is going to monitor me and still be my main physician, he referred me to his friend for the baby itself. He’s young, and I wonder how someone his age could have finished all of his training already. He looks like he should barely be old enough to shave, and if it wasn’t that the hair’s way too light, he’d be a perfect stand-in for Sheldon Cooper. “Uh, Dr. Stevens? How old are you?”

  He chuckles as he sets his clipboard aside. “I’m thirty-four. I know, I know. My mother kept getting carded for drinks up until I was in junior high school. Even now, she gets men half her age giving her compliments. Hope I get that when I’m sixty.”

  I nod, relaxing a micrometer. “Okay. Sorry if I offended you.”

  “Not at all. Now let me go get Julie, and you get yourself arranged for the exam.” He leaves, returning a moment later with one of the nurses I saw up front, a pleasant motherly-looking woman who puts me at ease with her seen-it-all demeanor. “All right, Rose. Let’s check you out, see how everything’s going.”

  I scoot down, letting my ass hang off the table, and lift my heels to the stirrups for the exam. Dr. Stevens wants to do a full workup, make sure I don’t have anything brewing downstairs that might give rise to complications later. I feel the chilly air between my legs and shiver. Okay, I was wrong . . . forget five minutes ago. This is the most vulnerable I’ve ever felt.

  “Relax,” Dr. Stevens says as he pulls on rubber gloves. “This part only takes about two minutes . . . and then we can do the ultrasound to see if we can get a view of your baby.”

  At the mention of the sonogram, my heart starts pounding, excited to see the baby. My baby. I’m still in shock, have been since I got the phone call a few weeks ago, but the reality is starting to sink in. “O–okay.”

  “So have you started following the advice Dr. Eldrich gave you?” Stevens asks as he swabs me. I know what he’s doing, trying to distract me, but it still helps.

  “I went right to the store and started the vitamins he suggested, and I’m getting forty-five minutes of exercise in every day,” I reply, shifting my butt a little. “How much can you tell on the ultrasound?”

  “Depends on your date of conception,” he replies in between giving orders to Julie the nurse. “If you’re more than six or seven weeks pregnant, we might be able to detect a heartbeat. We’ll see what we can see.”

  I relax as best I can as Dr. Stevens begins the sonogram and starts scanning for my baby.

  My eyes lock on the monitor screen as Dr. Stevens takes measurements, but all I see are swatches of grey static and an occasional black orb. He makes a few comments to Julie, but nothing I can understand. “Uhh . . . doctor?” I ask nervously. “So does everything look okay?”

  Dr. Stevens smiles and looks me in the eye. “Yep, perfectly fine. I’d make an estimate that from the size of your baby and some of the other things I’m seeing, you’re about two months along now. Now let’s see if I can get an audio for you on the heartbeat.”

  He clicks a few buttons on the machine, maneuvering his sensor around some more, and a few moments later, I hear the most glorious music I’ve ever heard as the sound of my baby’s heartbeat fills the room. My eyes fill with tears of joy, overflowing down my cheeks as I sniffle. Just like that, in a simple pulsing sound that sounds like an electronic bass drum beat, it’s real.

  I’m a mom, just like I wanted.

  Maybe not how I’d planned, but Ana was right, the result is the same. “Okay, Rose, I’ll leave you to it to clean up and get dressed. Meanwhile, I’m going to get you some printouts of the pictures we took.”

  Five minutes later, I’m cleaned up with my casual clothes back on, and Dr. Stevens hands me a few tiny pictures. I can feel the smile overwhelming my face as I look at the pictures in one hand and rub my belly with the other. “Wow.”

  Dr. Stevens nods in appreciation. “Congratulations again, Rose. Your blood levels look great and sonogram looks great, so we’ll get your labs done and set up all your routine appointments for the next few months. If you need to wait to check your schedule or the father’s schedule for the appointments, that’s fine, of course. We just want to get them on the books ASAP.”

  At his mention of ‘the father’, my smile falters a bit. Julie catches it and looks like she’s about to say something when I take the bull by the horns. “Uhm, Dr. Stevens . . . this is kinda embarrassing to say, but does it matter if I don’t know who the father is? Does that make a difference in the tests you need to run? I had an encounter and we used protection, but—”

  His face doesn’t even flinch. He’s a consummate professional and I’m suddenly glad that Dr. Eldrich referred me to him. “But stuff happens and very few things in life are 100%. Unknown father . . . okay. Just in case, we’ll add some extra screenings to your labs, but it shouldn’t matter medically. Dr. Eldrich already ran a full screen with the blood he took when you found out you were pregnant, and you’re clear. If you can get some health information from the dad, that’d be helpful but not really necessary.”

  “Okay,” I stammer, my mind whirling at ‘helpful but not really necessary’. What the hell sort of ‘helpful but not really necessary’ information could he be thinking of? “I just wanted to make sure. I mean, I know who the father is. I just don’t know him all that well. You know?”

  Dr. Stevens smiles at me and makes a note on his clipboard. “Rose, it’s fine. While I might look like I just stepped off the high school cross-country team, I’ve been running a practice on my own for going on six years, and you’re not the first single mom who doesn’t want the father notified. My job is to keep you and the baby safe and healthy. No judgment here whatsoever.”

  I sigh with relief, just now realizing that I’m kinda nervous about what people will think about a single mother who got knocked up from a one-night stand.

  But he’s right, people shouldn’t judge, and I’m just so excited to be a mother. Seems like fate stepped in to help me out with my dream, and I’m not going to question that for even a second. I’ve got good friends and what seems like a good doctor. I’ll be fine. Who needs a baby daddy when my baby’s gonna have a whole crew supporting him or her?

  Walking outside, I lift my face to the sun, letting it wash over me. I’m already floating with happiness and it feels like even the world around me is celebrating as the birds sing and the wind blows softly around me.

  Now that I know everything is okay with the pregnancy, I really should make an attempt to let Nic know. I really should. I don’t actually want anything from him because he certainly didn’t ask for or expect this, but he deserves to know.

  What if he thinks I did this on purpose? While I certainly wanted a baby, I didn’t mean for it to happen like this.

  What if he gets mad? That’s definitel
y possible, but if he’s a jerk about it, he can just leave us alone. That wouldn’t change anything for me.

  What if he wants to be involved? That actually gives me pause, because I don’t really know Nic. Maybe he’d be an awful father? I dismiss that thought, knowing that he was so sweet with me that surely, if he chose to be an active parent, he’d be that good with a baby.

  My thoughts keep swirling, question after question. But the result is the same. I need to let him know and see how the cards fall.

  I sit in my car, pulling up a Google search on my phone. Typing into the search bar, I put in what I know. Sales. Nicolas. ADRENALIN. I get pages of results back and also realize that there’s like four different ways to spell Nicolas and I don’t know how he spelled it since we didn’t write anything down besides my Thank You note.

  I click and search for almost an hour before I find the right number.

  There . . . just ten little numbers and I can tell Nicolas that, well, I’ve got a memento of our night of passion that lasts a hell of a lot longer than a left behind handkerchief or pair of panties. I take a big breath, looking skyward for a moment searching for strength, and dial the number.

  The phone rings three times before a crisp female voice answers. “ADRENALIN Sports, Nicolas Broadmoor’s office. How can I help you?”

  I gulp. Shit’s hit the fan now. “Yes, can I please speak to Nic . . . I mean, Nicolas?”

  “May I ask who’s calling?”

  “My name is Rose Samuelson. I met Nicolas on his trip to the Mountain Spirit resort recently. I wanted to follow up about our meeting.”

  My words are stilted, trying to make a hook-up sound like a professional encounter. God, I’m such a terrible liar. I’m sure this woman is seeing straight through my bullshit.

  “I’m so sorry, Ms. Samuelson. Mr. Broadmoor is out of state right now, but I’d be happy to pass along a message.”

  I feel the disappointment flood through me. I was ready to get this over with, but I don’t really have a choice.

  “Sure. Rose Samuelson. My number is 324-952-8156, regarding our meeting.” There, that sounds reasonable and not suspect at all. She repeats the number back to me with another promise of passing the message along, and I hang up. My car’s suddenly way too warm, and I crank the engine, lowering a window to let in a drift of cool air.

  Well, I might not have gotten to tell him, but this will at least be a barometer of whether he wants to talk to me again. If he doesn’t call, I guess I’ll know that he doesn’t want anything to do with me, and he certainly wouldn’t want anything to do with a baby.

  Nicolas

  The sound of birds singing wakes me up, and I roll over in my sleeping bag, feeling the long-missed tingle of cool air on the tip of my nose and the freshness of sleeping outside again. Taking a big breath of crisp air, I slide out of my tent and stretch my arms high and wide.

  Looking around, I’m stunned as I look around at the scenery. I’m deep in the forest, surrounded by tall redwoods that rise toward the sky all around me. It’s both grand and knocks you down a peg. There’s no way to think you mean all that much in the world when you’re surrounded by thousands of trees that were standing tall and proud a hundred years before your family even came to this country.

  I zip up my tent, heading up the narrow trail that winds through the trees toward the headquarters of this little camp that I’m staying in tonight. Reaching my rental ATV, one of the few vehicles that can reach this place, I quickly brush my teeth with peroxide before spitting into the dirt. That done, I approach the little cabin nestled in a small clearing just as the front door opens.

  A huge, grizzly looking guy comes out, unkempt beard hanging wildly down to his round gut that’s covered with a classic lumberjack plaid flannel. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more obvious stereotype of a ‘mountain man’ in my life.

  There’s a moment where I hope that he remembers we have an appointment because I have no doubt that he could easily kill me with an axe and hide my body somewhere out here, and I’d never be seen again. There are good and bad things about making a sales pitch fifty miles from the nearest town . . . axe-wielding maniacs definitely fall into the bad things category.

  My initial fears immediately soften when he smiles, lightly yellowed buck teeth peeking out through the unruly facial hair, and offers me his callused working man’s hand. “My boys said you checked in last night. How was your sleep?”

  “Best I’ve had in weeks,” I admit honestly. “Thank you for letting me pitch a tent on your land.”

  “Not a problem,” the big man says. “By the way, I’m Sam Sampson, owner-operator of this outfit. Come on in the house. I’m sure my wife Susan will have a glass of tea ready for you. If I’m lucky, maybe she’ll let me have one too.” He says it with a wink, so I smile back.

  “Yes sir, Mr. Sampson. I’m Nicolas Broadmoor of ADRENALIN Sports. Looking forward to seeing if we can be of assistance with your equipment needs out here,” I reply, following him. I know I should feel strange about doing a sales pitch out here dressed in rags . . . but hell, I’d feel stranger wearing a suit right now.

  “Just call me Sam. Everybody does,” he says. “Not sure if that’s short for Samuel or Sampson, but that’s what they call me.”

  As we walk in the house, I hear a laughing voice, mocking Sam’s deep speech. “I don’t know what my ma was thinking when she called me Samuel Sampson, but story goes she lost a bet to my dad.”

  A petite grey-haired woman comes out of the kitchen carrying a tray with a pitcher of tea and two glasses. I can’t help but smile as her twinkling eyes take in her husband and she sets the two glasses down on the rough-hewn wooden table. I vaguely wonder if they’re for me and Sam or me and her. “Sorry, Sam, but I hear that same damn line every time you meet someone new. You need new material.”

  He laughs and growls at her, waiting for her set the tray down before grabbing her in a big bear hug and shaking her silly as her giggles bubble out like champagne. It’s cute . . . adorable, really. I mean, both of these people are well into their sixties. They might even be in their seventies. But it’s totally obvious they’re both still crazy in love for one another.

  There’s a twinge in my heart, a quiet hope that I’ll have a love like that someday. I have a momentary flashback to Rose but dismiss it just as fast considering we barely knew each other. But damn, I wish I’d gotten to know her a little better. Just a chance, an exchange of phone numbers, something . . . but now all I have are memories.

  Smirking at my own internal monologue, I tune back in. The tiny woman offers her hand, and while she looks like a strong wind might blow her over, her hand is work-worn and her handshake solid. “Welcome to our place. I’m Susan Sampson, charged with keeping this old coot in line. And let me tell you, that’s a full-time job. Sit down and let me pour you two boys a glass of tea.”

  I catch Sam giving me another wink that he got a glass after all as he takes it from Susan with a hearty smack on her cheek. “Thanks, honey. You know I love it when you give me some sugar . . . in my tea.”

  She shakes her head, but there’s a slight flush in her cheeks when she slaps him lightly on the shoulder. “Behave.”

  She leaves, and Sam turns to me. “So, Nic, what exactly do you think ADRENALIN Sports can do for me and mine? No offense, I know you’re a good man by the way you came out of those woods feeling right at home . . . but military surplus has done right by me for a while now. What can you guys do different?”

  “Well, let me break it down tour by tour that you offer. First, your adventure tours. I know ADRENALIN sounds like we’re all extreme sports, and there’s a kernel of truth to that. We got started with extreme outdoor sports. But we cover all forms of outdoor sports. Right now, the big buzz about you guys is your ATV and hiking trips, everything loaded onto backpacks.”

  “That’s my son’s gig,” Sam admits. “While I got no problem riding an ATV anywhere, the idea of walking up the side of a mountain anymore
just gets my knees aching something terrible. Then again, half the folks who come here end up aching too.”

  “Sure, and I know that a lot of those folks show up . . . less than prepared,” I reply. “And you rent out equipment to them, which I think is a smart idea. No worries about fussing around with replacement parts, no problem with substandard equipment. And surplus, it’s usually good stuff, I’m not gonna put it down. But I can guarantee you that ADRENALIN can provide you with equipment that’s been tested from the Rockies to the summit of Everest. You need clothes, packs, boots, whatever, we can get it for you. What about your other programs?”

  “Well, I like to take folks to do some fly fishing when the season is right, and occasional hunting trips for recommended guests,” Sam says. “I gotta admit, that’s the trickiest. I don’t just take any old Joe out hunting around here. I’ve gotta know you’re good with a gun, safe and able, because I’m not running a lesson range out there. Most of the folks I do allow, they bring their own kits, although I will provide ammo if they need it.”

  I nod, laughing lightly. “Makes sense. Personally, I can’t imagine that teaching someone to shoot on sight is going to result in a satisfied customer with a big game trophy. And professionally, there’s reasonable risk and there’s stupid. Good to know that you know the difference.”

  He gives me a nod. “Come on, let me show you the garage.”

  Sam takes me out back to their garage, which is more like a good-sized country barn filled with ATVs and snowmobiles where there used to be horse stalls. Along the other side, arranged with all the neatness and efficiency of a good storeroom, is the rest. Fishing gear, snowshoes, cross-country skis, packs, tents, and all the needed accessories, all neatly arranged and obviously well-cared for.

  “My shooting bench, along with equipment and my lending gun safe, is in the back corner,” Sam says, flipping a switch. Another light switches on, and I see two military-style weapons racks with locks. “They’re not as good as my old Winchester I keep in the house, but I keep them all in good condition. Also in the locker there, I’ve got the archery equipment, not too much since most of my bow hunters treat their bows better than most men treat their women. But I got the accessories if they need it.”