by Cassia Leo
“Don’t get pissy with me, Jack,” Jessica replied, and I braced myself for a verbal takedown. “I know Laurel and you seem to think I’m trying to keep you two together so as not to disturb my worldview or to keep you from going off the rails, but both of those reasons could not be further from the truth. I’m trying to keep you two from making a mistake your child will have to pay for. What kind of lesson do you think your child is going to learn if they find out you divorced over some fucking bullshit that happened while you two were separated? Real fucking mature.”
“It’s not the cheating. It’s the lie! She fucking lied to me. Please don’t embarrass yourself by lecturing me on something you have no experience with.”
She laughed. “There goes your superiority complex rearing its ugly head. No one is as smart as Jack Fucking Stratton. Pfft! I’m tired of you bitching about Laurel lying to you. She didn’t lie to you. She waited a few days to tell you the truth, so that when she told you the truth it would be the whole truth.” She paused at the sound of my laughter. “Yeah, go ahead. Laugh. I know it’s a pretty chickenshit thing to do, but so is giving up on your marriage because of something that happened when she was drunk. Especially, considering she was only so rip-roaringly shit-faced because it was her thirtieth birthday and you were nowhere to be seen. You didn’t even have the decency to text her a meaningless birthday message.”
My first instinct was to shoot back a reply about how I didn’t wish Laurel a happy birthday because I knew I would be there the next day to surprise her. But as I constructed the thought in my mind, it seemed ridiculous. Was maintaining the element of surprise worth letting Laurel feel unloved on her birthday?
“Fuck!” I groaned, my chest heaving with deep, fiery breaths as I resisted the urge to punch the steering wheel. “I have to go,” I finally said, ending the call before Jessica could respond.
I didn’t like hanging up on Jessica, but I needed to calm down before I got to Barry’s house, and my sister was obviously not going to let this go until she got what she wanted. I shook my head in dismay. What Jessica wanted was what I wanted, but I couldn’t make decisions when I was so keyed up.
I took deep, cleansing breaths, the way Laurel had taught me to when she first started attending yoga classes after we moved to Hood River. I smiled as I remembered a time when she had to stay home and do yoga in the living room because I hadn’t put the studded tires on her car yet, and the roads were covered in ice from the freezing rain. She pretended not to notice me staring at her while she contorted her body into those crazy poses that made her look boneless. I changed the bamboo flute music she was playing to our wedding song, “Northern Wind” by City and Colour, and we danced in the living room until long after the song had finished.
That was the Laurel I knew and loved. Laurel and Jessica would argue that the Laurel I was picking up today was the same Laurel I danced with, but they would both be wrong. The Laurel who was carrying my baby inside her was the ghost of the Laurel I vowed to love for all eternity. When I came back to her a month ago, thinking I was riding in on a white horse ready to glue her back together, she should have told me to leave.
But she didn’t. She chose to forgive and forget my sins so we could be together. That was the Laurel I knew and loved. And if I didn’t forgive her soon, I would have no one but myself to blame if I never again saw that version of Laurel.
I was turning into Barry’s neighborhood when my phone rang again. I shook my head and prepared to tell Jessica I’d call her later, but when I looked at the screen I saw an unexpected, and even more unwelcome name. I was tempted not to answer Sean Dougherty’s call, rationalizing that if I didn’t answer, whatever news he brought wouldn’t affect me or Laurel. Reluctantly, I pressed the steering wheel button to answer the call.
“Hey, Sean. What do you got?” I asked, trying not to let my anxiety creep into my voice.
“I’ve got good news,” he replied, which was music to my ears.
“Hit me.”
“Seems Huxley definitely left the country a few days after your meeting with him in Boise. He flew into Ontario and dropped off the radar. But he was a pretty good lawyer, back in the day, so FBI thinks he’s probably assumed a new identity and gone off the grid. Might be in Russia now. But the good news is there’s so much heat on him, they don’t expect he’ll ever return here. You and Laurel can rest easy for now.”
“For now?” I repeated his words as I pulled the truck in front of Barry’s house.
Sean let out a hoarse laugh. “Relax, buddy. I know you’ve got enough to deal with. How are things with the wife?”
I sighed. “There is no lonelier man in death, except the suicide, than that man who has lived many years with a good wife and then outlived her. If two people love each other there can be no happy end to it.”
“Well, fuck me. That sounds serious,” Sean replied.
“Hemingway was a pretty serious guy. I don’t know… I can’t stop thinking that, no matter what I do, my marriage is headed straight off a thousand-foot cliff.”
Sean was silent, letting me ponder my own words. And in that minute or so of turning the idea over in my mind, a very different thought formed in its place.
My eyes widened. “You should come to Portland,” I blurted out. “There’s gotta be more work for you in a major metropolitan area. And if you’re here, we can partner on PNW Checkmate. I can help you out with your digital game. So much of the investigative process these days is following digital scent trails. What do you think?”
PNW Checkmate was the software I was creating to cross-reference national crime, offender, and missing persons databases, with a special focus on the Pacific Northwest region. If the software did what I wanted it to do — and it did — I was going to expand its reach to assist law enforcement agencies and investigators nationwide.
Sean was silent for a long while before he replied. “You know, I can’t think of a single reason why I shouldn’t.”
I clapped my hands together. “Great! I have to go. I’ve got a prenatal appointment with Laurel today. But we’ll talk soon.”
“Sure thing, Jack. And don’t forget: you’re better together,” he replied with his usual marital advice.
I left the truck running next to the curb so it would still be warm when Laurel got in, then I headed up the brick-paved walkway toward Barry’s front door. Their house was different than all the other houses on this block, built in a Spanish style with red clay roof tiles, creamy white stucco, lush bougainvillea framing an arched front door. It was strange to see a house like that in the Pacific Northwest, but Drea was adamant that they needed a house that looked like it belonged in the Hollywood Hills. It would be interesting to see what kind of house they built on their new property with Drea having complete creative control.
The door opened before I had the chance to knock. Laurel was wearing a jean jacket over an ivory linen tunic and maroon leggings. She tossed the end of her gray scarf over her shoulder as she stepped outside, closing the door behind her. When she turned back to me, I suddenly remembered how radiant Laurel looked when she was pregnant with Junior.
I didn’t really understand how people could claim that a pregnant woman was “glowing.” People don’t glow. But I was proven wrong, and it was one of the reasons I took so many pictures and videos of her when she was pregnant with Junior. I wanted photographic evidence of the phenomenon, but it just didn’t seem capturable. Which led me to believe that the “glow” was something that couldn’t be seen. It could only be felt. And as I stood there, I felt it, like a rope tightening around my heart.
“You look radiant.”
Her mouth curved softly, the smile not quite reaching her cheeks. “Thanks. We should get going.”
It killed me to see her consciously guarding her heart with me. I wanted to take her in my arms and tell her everything would be okay, that she didn’t have to be afraid anymore. I wasn’t going to hurt her. But now was not the time to discuss our marriage and futur
e. We had a very important appointment to keep.
I opened the door for her and resisted the urge to touch her as she climbed inside. Rounding the front of the truck, I smiled when I saw her pull down the visor to look in the mirror. The visor was up by the time I slid into the driver’s seat.
“Is Dr. Eastman still in the office on May Street?” I asked as I lowered the heat a little bit, but Laurel didn’t answer as she stared at the dashboard. “Laurel? Are you okay?”
She blinked a few times as she seemed to snap out of a trance. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. What did you say?”
“I asked if you’re okay.”
She put on another fake smile. “Yeah, of course.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “You’re doing a bad job of pretending right now.”
She let out a huge sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m just really nervous about the ultrasound. What if something’s wrong with the baby?”
I shook my head as I pulled away from the curb. “Don’t think like that.”
I didn’t say it aloud, but if there was something wrong with the baby, then I would be convinced that God was conspiring against us. There would be no other reason for putting us through that kind of torture.
“Is Dr. Eastman still on May Street?” I asked again.
“Yes.”
I glanced at her when I came to a stoplight. Her breasts had definitely grown, but she wasn’t far enough along to have a baby bump yet. That didn’t stop me from wanting to reach out and lay my hand on her belly.
“How have you been feeling?” I asked as the light turned green and I pulled into the intersection.
She shrugged. “All right, I guess. I have to pee so bad right now. And just like before, the only thing that seems to work for the morning sickness is eating everything in sight. So I’ll probably be a blimp soon.”
“A radiant blimp,” I replied with no regrets when I finally saw a real smile spread across her face.
“Yeah, well, that’s just, like, your opinion, man,” she replied, doing her best impression of Jeff Bridges in The Big Lebowski. And her best impression was still as awful as it ever was.
“You still suck at that,” I replied, shaking my head as I turned onto May Street.
“Yeah, well—”
“No, not again. Please stop.”
She laughed heartily and the sound lifted the hairs on my head and arms, like music to my ears. “You’re so easy to annoy,” she teased me as she sat back, and I got the impression she was finally relaxed now, which made me happy.
We got lucky when we arrived at the doctor’s office and found an available parking spot in the underground lot, which only had about a dozen spaces.
“I’ll get that,” I said as Laurel reached for the door handle.
She didn’t object as I opened the door for her and held her hand as she stepped out. It was December 20th and there wasn’t any ice or snow on the ground in the Hood River Valley yet, but you could never be too careful. Besides, I wasn’t being any fussier than I’d been with Laurel during her first pregnancy.
We sat in the waiting room for about twenty minutes before we were called. A medical assistant with cranberry-red hair and overstretched earlobes showed us to the ultrasound room, which happened to be the same one we were in for Junior’s first sonogram.
“Arlene is your tech today. She’ll be here shortly,” she said, pulling open a drawer and taking out a gown. “Undress, except for your bra, and put this on with the opening in the front.”
Without hesitation, Laurel undressed and handed me her purse, jacket, scarf, and shirt. I folded them neatly and placed them on a chair behind me. Turning around, Laurel had already pulled the gown on.
I didn’t attempt to hide the fact that I was staring at her breasts as I helped her onto the examination table. “I think that’s the biggest they’ve ever been.”
She smiled as she lay back. “How would you know? You haven’t even felt them.”
My gaze snapped up to her face, and I shook my head at the challenge in her brown eyes. Thankfully, the door swung open, saving me from my desire to touch her.
“Hello,” the woman with short gray hair said as she entered. “I’m Arlene. Are you Mr. and Mrs. Stratton?”
“Yes, we are,” I answered immediately, saving Laurel the trouble of pondering the question.
“Great!” Arlene replied cheerfully, glancing at the stack of clothing on the chair. “You can sit here,” she said to me as she grabbed the clothes and put them on the counter.
“I don’t need to sit.”
Her penciled eyebrows shot up. “Every father sits when I do an ultrasound. I’ve had too many of you strapping young lads faint on me.”
I chuckled as I dragged the chair next to the exam table. “Thanks.”
Arlene put on a fresh set of nitrile gloves and sat on the swivel stool on the other side of the examination table. Pulling a bottle of ultrasound gel out of a warmer, she squirted some onto Laurel’s bare belly, which made Laurel flinch.
“Oh, I’m sorry, dear,” Arlene said, reaching for the transducer. “The gel’s supposed to be warm, but sometimes they forget to turn the machines on when they come in in the morning. You’re my first ultrasound of the day. How are you feeling? Is your bladder full?”
“Ready to burst,” Laurel replied.
Arlene smiled. “Good. I’ll try and make this as quick as possible,” she said, pressing the transducer into the pile of gel and spreading it around.
The sound of the baby’s heartbeat made my sinuses sting, but I managed to hold myself together as I squeezed Laurel’s hand. She was not as successful in staving off the overwhelming emotion. Tears ran freely down her temples as she lay her head back and closed her eyes, listening to the rhythmic heartbeat.
Arlene smiled as she continued moving the transducer. “You’re six and a half weeks?” she asked Laurel, who nodded in reply. “Lucky you. You’re right on the cusp. Heartbeat can be heard on ultrasound around six or seven weeks. You’ll be able to find out the sex of the baby at your next ultrasound.”
“Why is she having the ultrasound this early?” I asked.
Arlene answered without hesitation. “Due to the history of placenta previa. Which is why we’re doing a pelvic ultrasound and I’ll be switching to transvaginal in just a moment. We want to make sure all measurements are accurate. The doctor will likely order at least another three ultrasounds — at least one more transvaginal and two more pelvic — over the course of the pregnancy. But there doesn’t appear to be any abnormalities with the placenta right now, though it is still quite early to tell. Nonetheless, at the moment, there’s no need to worry. If the placenta moves out of the normal range, you’ll likely see that in the next ultrasound. Until then, you have to keep watch for any spotting.”
Laurel opened her eyes to focus her attention on the squiggly white shadows on the screen. “Is the baby okay?” she asked.
“That’s what we’re checking for now,” Arlene said as she continued to type on the keyboard with her right hand as her left hand moved the transducer. “Just need to get a few more measurements. If you want to find out the sex earlier, you can ask for a blood test at around eight weeks. Will you be wanting to know the sex or will this one be a surprise?”
My heart sunk and my limbs grew heavy as I realized this woman had Laurel’s medical history in the file, but there was probably nothing in there about Junior’s fate. She didn’t know her words were like knives. It was a good thing I was sitting down.
To my surprise, Laurel turned to me, a soft smile curving her lips as she continued to wipe tears from her cheeks with her free hand. “I want to know the sex. Do you want to know?”
I smiled, wondering to myself if Arlene thought it weird that we hadn’t discussed this before we came in. “I want to know if you want to know,” I replied, giving her hand another squeeze.
“Okay, well, I’m happy to report that your baby is absolutely perfect,” Arlene said. “I’ll just
take a few more pictures and we’ll do the transvaginal ultrasound quick, so you can be on your way to the bathroom.”
Laurel laughed. “Okay.”
Arlene moved the transducer around, stopping to take pictures a few times before she finished up. Laurel quickly got dressed so she could scramble to the restroom while I headed to the front office to pay the copayment.
Dr. Eastman came into the reception area to hand the receptionist a chart, smiling as he recognized me. “Jack Stratton. Good to see you,” he said, offering his hand for a shake.
I took his hand and shook it firmly. “You too, Doc. How’ve you been?”
“Hanging in there,” he replied, his smile dimming as he realized he didn’t want to ask how I was doing. “I saw your wife for her first appointment last month. You must be very excited.”
I couldn’t tell if he was implying he knew that Laurel and I were separated. “We are. Thank you,” I replied, relieved when he nodded and walked away into the back office.
Laurel arrived at my side looking equally relieved. “I feel so much better,” she said, flashing me that smile I adored. “Are you ready?”
I held up the USB drive Arlene had given me, which contained the sonogram pictures. “All set.”
As I helped Laurel into the truck, my heart was full. By some crazy miracle, Laurel and I were still here and I was going to be a father again.
I walked her to the door at Barry’s house, but I didn’t want to let her go. I placed my hand over hers on the door handle. Her body froze for a moment before she turned around.
“Come home with me,” I said as she looked up at me with those round eyes.
“Come home with you? What does that mean?”
I swallowed hard. “It means I love you and I don’t want to be without you. It means I know we’ve both made mistakes. We’ve hurt each other. But I don’t want to keep living in the wake of those mistakes. I want to move forward.” I took her face in my hands. “Without you, I’m not myself. I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I feel like I’m drifting, just trying to get from one day to the next.”