“Where are you having yours?” I asked.
“Uh, I haven't decided. How about you?”
That took me a minute to process. “You haven't decided? Where does your doctor want you to go?”
She quit smiling and shoved the coupon in her pocket.
“You aren't thinking of having it at home, are you?”
“Um, maybe.”
“Wow, that's courageous. I guess if you're healthy and everything goes well, it could save you a lot of money.”
She nodded vigorously. Then she asked, “You have other children, don't you?”
“One girl and one boy. How about you?”
“This will be my first.”
I opened my mouth to say more, but the door minder rang. Lee Alderton stepped inside, shaking off snowflakes from her hair as she tugged at a pair of earmuffs. What a contrast she made with Jana. Both wore quilted coats, but Lee’s was a sleek black Burberry with cuffs that turned back to show the famous plaid, except in blue and black. Jana’s reminded me of a gray sleeping bag because it was so puffy. Both women favored mittens, but Jana’s looked to be of a clumsy acrylic when Lee’s were a rich merino wool.
“Lordy,” Lee said, giving Jana a tiny wave of greeting. “Makes me wish I was back at our house in Palm Beach.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” I said. “How’re the plans for your daughter’s wedding coming?”
While Lee and I pondered how best to memorialize Taylor and Ryan’s upcoming nuptials, Jana wandered around, collecting page kits we’d already made up. I noticed she was primarily interested in ways to scrapbook her baby, and I had decided to go over and remind her about our upcoming class when Lee asked, “What do you think of these embellishments? They seem sort of ordinary to me.”
“Yes, I agree. Nice, but common place.Too bad they aren’t having it in that vineyard in France,” I said with a sigh. “We have so many cute embellishments with grapes and grape leaves.”
But Lee only laughed. “Right, but Jeff is a wine connoisseur, so I bet we can use the grape images somewhere, don’t you think?”
I nodded, thinking of how her husband had introduced Detweiler and me to a wonderful pair of wines called Romeo and Juliet. “Do you have the labels from the wines Jeff plans to serve?”
“Why?”
“Well, why not incorporate the labels into your design?”
“That’s clever!” Lee nodded her approval. She brought her supplies over to my worktable and spread them out.
Jana wandered over and watched us consider various combinations for Lee’s daughter’s wedding album.
“Kiki? You really know a lot about scrapbooking,” Jana said. “How did you learn all this?”
“Taking classes. Reading books. Asking questions. I also learn from all of you. Lee has taken classes in interior decorating. Her daughter is in fashion merchandising. They both have a terrific sense of style.” I didn’t want to sound pushy, but having Jana stand over us felt uncomfortable. I wanted to get her going so Lee and I could enjoy our time together. “Do you need me to ring you out? Have you signed up for the ‘A Star Is Born’ class?”
Jana hesitated, but only for a second. “Yes. You’ll send me a reminder, right? An email? Good. I really should get back to work, anyway.”
CHAPTER 10
Tuesday, January 4 and Wednesday, January 15
Kiki's due date
Tuesday dragged on and on. I worked six hours because I was too proud to back down and say I was exhausted. I gave a weak protest when Detweiler came to pick me up at the store. Secretly I was happy for an excuse to go home and put my feet up. I awakened Wednesday to the sensation of a tiny elbow pushing against my ribs.
“Show time?” asked Detweiler, in a hopeful tone.
“I'm not sure.”
An hour later, nothing had changed, except the position of the tiny elbow. With my sleep shirt pulled up to expose my baby bump, we could watch my passenger's progress as he moved under my skin.
“Amazing, awe inspiring, and slightly creepy,” said my husband. Leaning over to kiss my navel.
“You can say that again.”
“You aren't going in to work, are you? Today’s the day. As soon as you go into labor, I’ll take the next three days off. Hadcho will cover for me. I hope Dr. Gretski is good at math.”
Detective Stan Hadcho was Detweiler’s partner and best friend.
“It’s not just math. One theory is that there’s a tipping point where my body can’t support both of us, and labor is nature’s way of saying the show’s over. I’ve also read that when a baby’s lungs are mature, a hormone is released that starts the mother’s body into labor. So, from what I gather, it’s more a matter of the baby deciding that he’s ready, than a simple mathematical formula.”
“Like I said, I hope Dr. Gretski knows his stuff.”
“Dr. Gretski’s never been pregnant. Everything he knows is hearsay. You wouldn’t depend on it in court, would you?”
“No, but he doesn’t need to go through labor to be an expert observer, does he?”
I decided to humor my husband and let him retain his confidence in my doctor. Frankly, I thought Gretski a bit of a bonehead, but the obstetrician who’d delivered Anya was retired, and Gretski took over for him. Rather than search for a new doc, I’d stayed with the practice.
I pulled on the only pair of maternity pants that fit, threw a top over my head, and tried to make myself comfortable on the couch. I was sitting in the same place when Detweiler and the kids came home.
Detweiler kissed me. “Any progress?”
“No. I might as well be watching paint dry. Not even a twinge of a contraction.”
He laughed. “I'm going to help Brawny in the kitchen. You stay comfortable.”
“How's the weather outside?”
“Looks like we're in for another ice storm. It's sleeting right now.”
“You have to be kidding me!” I shivered from my spot on the sofa.
“Not to worry, with those studs on my tires I can go through anything.”
That was mildly reassuring, but my teeth began to chatter anyway.
“I'll throw another log on the fire,” he said. “Do you want me to run up and get you a heavier sweater?”
“Nah.” It was always a little cool-ish in the living room. By keeping the curtains closed and putting pillows around my body, I'd been able to pretend I was in a warm cocoon. I'd also been able to avoid the drafts that swept through the room. The house badly needed weatherizing. Detweiler assured me we'd get to it next year. As if reading my mind about the drafts, he grabbed an afghan from a chair, threw it over my feet and legs and tucked it in carefully.
“Thanks,” I said. I sat and stared at the logs burning in our fireplace. The sweet smell of wood smoke brought a smile to my face. I had been reading Bad Girl Creek, a book by Jo-Ann Mapson, when I dozed off, only to be awakened by a very angry little boy.
“Where is our baby?” Erik stamped his foot on the floor. Those warm chocolate eyes of his were blazing with anger. “Isn't he coming yet? That baby is supposed to be here. You said he was coming today. I've been looking and looking for him.”
I gathered the little boy into my arms. Although my belly was too big for him to sit on my lap, Erik could prop himself up against me by leaving one foot on the floor and sprawling the other over my leg. “You've been looking?”
He nodded solemnly. “Anya told me he'd be driving up in a big car. A shiny one. So I was look-et-ing out the windows for a long time. My fingers is cold. See?”
When he pressed his tiny digits into mine, they were like ice.
“Anya?” I called out to my daughter. She was lying on the rug on the floor in front of a crackling fire, pretending not to be listening in on our conversation. So I tried again. “Anya? What did you tell Erik? Hmmm?”
With great reluctance, she set down her pen, pushing aside her notebook, and turned to blink at me. My daughter, sweetness and light, feigning innocence. Sl
owly she opened her mouth and said, “What? I didn't hear you.”
“Then we need to take you to an audiologist and get your hearing checked, young lady. What did you tell your brother? Did you mislead him? Cause him to stand and stare out the window?”
“She's a poopy face.” Erik pointed an accusing finger at his sister.
“No name-calling,” I said.
“Anya? I think you owe Erik an apology.”
I tried to keep my voice neutral, because the family therapist had warned us this would be coming. The honeymoon between the siblings was officially over. When Erik first came to live with us, Anya had treated him like an honored guest. Over the past two months, reality had set in. The boy was adorable, but he was also a pesky younger brother. As such, he often bugged his older sister.
In many ways, this was good news, because it signaled the start of a normal relationship. If Anya had continued to hover over him, Erik wouldn't have learned to fight his own battles. Her willingness to tease him signified a deeper acceptance of the boy as a member of our family.
Instead of acting like two strangers, they were building a stronger bond. It would be messy, but once they had gone through the initial stages of digging in the dirt to lay the foundation, it would be indestructible.
“I told him that because he was getting into my things!” she said, raising the emotional water level in the room. “I asked him twice not to draw in my journal, but he did it anyway!”
“Erik? You have to leave Anya's things alone. You have your own—”
I gasped as a cramp hit me hard. I was seated in a side saddle position with both legs up on the sofa and to the side. Suddenly I felt a release, as though someone had pulled a plug and warm water ran over the top of my right thigh.
“Did you wet your pants?” Anya stood over me, staring at the wet splotch on our sofa.
“No. My water broke. Remember? I told you this would happen. Please go get Detweiler.”
Instead of moving, she stood where she was and screamed at the top of her lungs, “Detweiler! The baby is coming! The baby is coming!”
CHAPTER 11
Detweiler stumbled on his way down the stairs. I knew this because the rhythm of his feet stopped, there was a slamming noise, and a few mumbled curse words. He came limping around the corner, his face a study in pain and shock. With one foot tucked up behind him, looking more like a stork than a human, he hopped into the living room.
“Baby?”
We'd had our practice run three weeks ago when I'd been doubled-over with Braxton Hicks, false contractions. My hospital bag had been packed for a month. When last I looked it was sitting by the door to the garage. Its ominous presence a daily reminder that this day was coming.
Brawny heard the hue and cry. She came skidding around the corner, her feet sliding on the tile. To my surprise, she looked panicked, too. Since she's been trained by the military and a graduate of nanny school, I'd expected her to stay unruffled. But the look on her face was priceless. You'd have thought Anya would have called out, “Incoming torpedoes! Duck and cover!”
“Our baby is coming!” Anya shrieked. With that, Gracie made her move. The doggie gate in the kitchen came clattering down as the big dog barreled into the room. She hopped up on the sofa next to me, put one paw on each shoulder, and covered me in doggy kisses,
“No, Gracie, no!” Detweiler lunged for the dog. As he did, he stepped on a stack of magazines I'd been reading. Like tectonic plates, they shifted. But he didn't let go of Gracie's collar, and she wasn't ready to leave my side. He yanked, and she yanked back. His feet went flying, slipping on the slick paper of the magazines. In slow motion his legs moved upwards in an arc. His arms spiraled in the air. And he came down hard.
“Great day in the morning!” That was as close to a curse as Brawny would allow herself. She squatted over my prone husband.
Meanwhile, Anya and Erik had joined hands to dance around in a circle, chanting, “We're going to have a bay-bee, we're going to have a bay-bee.”
“Detweiler? Detweiler?” I reached down and shook my husband’s shoulder.
“Baby?” He turned shocked eyes on me.
“Yes. It’s time.”
“Baby.” He struggled to his feet, clutching his side. “Suitcase.”
“Are your stitches okay?” I barely got out the words when another cramp gathered power in my abdomen. It was as if every muscle fiber south of my waistband contracted at once. What had begun as a pinch turned into a painful chokehold, leaving me breathless.
“Suitcase.” Detweiler stared down at me.
“Upstairs. Our bedroom.”
“Baby!” My husband stood there, frozen.
“Brawny? These are powerful. They're coming fast, one right after another, and my water's broken.”
Gracie nuzzled me and sniffed at my thighs. “Get down, girl,” I told her sternly, and she obeyed, but she stayed two feet away, wagging her tail and watching me carefully.
“Come on, girl.” Detweiler grabbed her by the collar and pulled. Gracie fought him every inch of the way. Her high-pitched whining built to a full-blown howl.
“Let me help you to your feet, Kiki. We need to get you to the car.” Brawny reached down for me with strong arms. I grasped her hands, but I didn't get far. The pressure returned, and with it came the urge to push. This was nothing like what labor had been with Anya. I'd eased into that journey, going from annoying cramps to gradually building waves of intensity. No, this was accelerating faster.
Gasping, I let go of her and fell back onto the sofa. “I don’t think we're going to have time for a car ride.”
The logs in the fireplace crackled, one popped, and a tiny puff of wood smoke wafted into the living room.
The color drained from Brawny's face. Behind her, the children stood, a study in shock. Erik clutched at Anya’s waist. She hugged him tightly.
“Anya?” I managed. “Please take charge of Erik. My phone’s in my purse. Grab it so he can play Angry Birds.”
That normally was a real treat for the little guy, but he didn’t smile. His lower lip quivered. “Is Mama Kiki dying?”
“No, sweetie. I’m fine. Our baby is—” A contraction cut off my wind.
“I’m getting towels,” Brawny said.
“I’ll go heat up the car.” Detweiler hobbled up behind the kids. One hand clutched at his side. I knew what that meant: He’d hurt himself. Now I had three onlookers, all stunned into inaction. But that was okay, because my body was busy doing its own thing. Any control I once had vanished as I gave myself over to the cramping waves sweeping through me.
“Aren't you going to the hospital?” Anya’s jaw was slack.
“Maybe not,” I said between clenched teeth, as I rode the roller coaster of a contraction up, up, up to the point that time stood still, and then down again. “Detweiler, don’t go. Stay here. This baby is in a hurry.”
“Okay.” He froze in place.
Brawny raced over with an armful of towels. Detweiler came to his senses enough to help her slide them under me. She also tossed a sheet over my legs. It wasn’t much, but the covering blocked the view of my private bits so the kids didn’t see everything.
“Your water is broken,” Detweiler said, in a strangely robotic voice as he pinned one towel between the sofa cushions. He pointed to the wet puddle growing beneath me.
“Help me pull down my pants,” I said, gasping with exertion. As I hoisted my hips, Brawny put cold hands on my britches and gave them a tug. The material released its grip on my belly as it came to rest on my thighs. “Brawny, I'm not joking around here. I think this baby—”
“Is coming right now,” she finished for me.
CHAPTER 12
“I’m calling 911,” Anya said.
“Mama!” Erik wailed.
“I’m fine!” I yelled to the boy. “Come here, sweetie, and hold my hand.” He laced those fingers through mine. I was panting, but I managed to say, “It’s okay. The baby is coming, sweetie
, and he’s in a hurry. That’s all. I’m…fine.”
Since Erik stood by my head and the sheet was draped over my nether regions it afforded me a bit of privacy while Brawny peeped at my progress. “Fully dilated. Progressing well.”
Anya had handed the cell phone to Detweiler. He stumbled over our address. At the end of the call, he shouted, “And hurry!”
I’ve seen my husband in all sorts of emergency situations, and he’s usually Mr. Calm, Cool, and Collected. Not this time. I giggled, but stopped abruptly when another contraction hit me hard.
Brawny’s fingers gently brushed the inside of my thighs. Her face was hidden by the odd angle, but when she finished her exam, she gave me a nod of approval. “On his way, he is. Detweiler, get behind Kiki. We need to prop her up so the baby has room. He’s crowning.”
My husband dithered over where to put the cell phone and finally decided to tuck it inside his waistband. His strong arms wrapped around my body and pulled me upright. I heard Gracie whining. Detweiler must have put up the dog gate in the kitchen.
“A crown? Our baby has a crown?” Erik was totally confused.
“That means his head is nearly out.” Anya had read What to Expect When You’re Expecting from cover to cover. “That’s good news. Our baby will be here very, very soon. Right, Mom?”
“Right.” My body had taken over, doing what it needed to do instinctively. Resistance was futile. I went along for the metaphorical ride, huffing and puffing, trying to catch my breath.
“He's crowning,” said Brawny, her voice filled with excitement and awe.
Warm liquid ran down my legs. The sofa would never be the same.
Neither would I. This kid was barreling into the world faster than I could blink and sputter.
Brawny yelled, “Push hard!”
“Don't you think I should try to wait?”
“Not now. He's too far along. He's in the birth canal and almost here. You have to keep pushing because he might have the cord wrapped around his neck,” she said. The look she gave me was bleak. Suddenly we both realized the gravity of the situation. Sure, it had been mildly amusing before, but now it was flat out terrifying.
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