by Ciara Shayee
Instead of leaping to defend Kristen, as he usually did, Archie simply sighed and let his head flop back to rest on the back of the sofa. “God knows. I honestly have no idea. She left a note saying she had to go to work, and that was it. Oh, and I got a text about lunchtime.”
Having watched his son struggle with his fiancée’s apathy toward anything family related for the past seven years, Reagan couldn’t help but wonder how he dealt with it. He couldn’t imagine doing what Archie did, managing to spend so much time alone with the children with very little help from Kristen. With a frown, Reagan realised that Kristen most likely hadn’t spent a full day with her youngest son, Chase, since his birth almost eight months previous.
“Look, Dad, I get it. I heard you and Uncle Pete talking about it. It’s horrible of Kristen to not show, but if I bring it up all she’s gonna do is give me a bunch of excuses about how work needed her, she couldn’t put it off, whatever.”
Kristen’s lacklustre attitude toward family occasions had always bothered Reagan, though he tried not to make an issue out of it for the sake of his grandsons. That said, he had mentioned her lack of participation to Archie in private, and always wound up apologising for putting his nose in places it wasn’t wanted. It seemed Archie was finally done making excuses for Kristen. Reagan couldn’t help but be happy about that, even if it did make him sad to see his son looking so dejected.
“Arch, don’t you think she needs pulling up on it, though?” Reagan said softly, carefully.
“I know she does, I just…” Archie blew out a breath, looking up to meet his dad’s concerned gaze. “When she’s here, she’s attentive and she’s good with the boys. She acts like she wants to be here, you know? If I start going mad at her every time she comes home she might just not bother.”
Reagan didn’t want to admit that he thought that might not be such a bad thing, so he kept his mouth shut and nodded instead, trying to think of something more supportive to say. “Well, maybe just a quiet discussion about it then?”
“I guess so.”
Peter appeared, carrying two coffees. “Do you want one, Arch? There’s enough water in the kettle.”
Waving off his uncle, Archie stood. “No, it’s fine, thanks Pete. I’m gonna grab the boys and head home, I think.”
“Why don’t you stay? They’re both asleep up there, might as well just bunk in with them, hadn’t you?”
Weighing up his options, and realising that actually, he didn’t particularly relish the thought of returning to an empty house, Archie nodded with a grateful grin. “All right. Thanks, Dad. I think I left some pyjamas here last time, anyway.”
Reagan nodded. “You did. I put them on top of the dresser in the boys’ room. Head up and get a good night sleep.”
Shaking his head at how like a child he suddenly felt, being looked after and given fatherly advice, Archie clasped his dad’s and uncle’s shoulders on his way past, thanking them both for a lovely birthday. “’Night, guys.”
“’Night, Arch,” the older men chorused.
Once Archie was gone, his footsteps reaching the upstairs landing, Peter turned to Reagan. “He okay?”
Reagan nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I think so.”
“Did you ask him about Kristen? I still can’t believe she didn’t show. I thought she might’ve turned up later in the day, at least.”
Reagan and Peter had discussed Kristen many times, at this point, and shared knowing looks when Archie brushed off people’s questions about her whereabouts throughout the day.
“Well, I’m sure she’ll have a good excuse when she does finally turn up. At any rate, at least he didn’t just jump to her defence and get stroppy with me this time. He seems to have realised, at last, that she’s shirking her responsibilities.”
“Understatement,” Peter scoffed, sipping his hot tea.
Reagan smiled, always grateful to have such a good friend in Peter. He’d always been protective of Archie and Indie, and vice versa with Reagan, and Peter’s and Karen’s girls. “We’ll just have to wait and see what he says when she turns up, I guess. In the meantime, I’m beat. I’m going to bed.”
“Me too. All right, I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll lock up, don’t worry.”
“All right. ‘Night, mate.”
The men clapped each other’s shoulders, Peter heading next-door after locking the front door behind himself while Reagan headed up to bed. As he stood on the landing outside Indie’s room and looked down the hall at his bedroom, where Indie, Marley, and Grace slept, then at the room which had once been Archie’s but now played house to him and his sons whenever they wound up staying late, he couldn’t help but feel content.
All of his babies were together, under one roof. Just as they always should have been.
~ oOo ~
It’s funny, how the things you dream of one day can become something that has you terrified the next.
When Indie was pregnant with Marley, only once did she wish for a sonogram of her unborn child. It was a few weeks before she’d gone into labour and it coincided with the first time she ever felt her move. Once, just once, she’d placed her hands on her growing bump and pictured what it might have been like to be older, married, and having her first baby in a safe environment—with doctors to watch over her and keep an eye on the baby. She’d pictured her dad crying over sonogram pictures, her faceless husband proudly showing them off to his friends, the obligatory ‘First Scan’ frame on the mantelpiece.
She had vague memories of her mother and Karen cooing over Heidi and Pippa’s scan pictures. She also remembered her aunt Jenna showing off her scan images during her pregnancies with Alexis and Eric, who were now sixteen and twelve. Eric was born just a week before she and Grace were abducted.
That was the first and only time Indie allowed herself to picture what might have been, but never would.
With that in mind, she wasn’t sure why she was so terrified now, the day she was due to go to the hospital for a growth scan. After all, she’d had two scans before now—both back in Montana. But she couldn’t help but feel they were different, somehow. Indie hadn’t taken it all in yet, hadn’t accepted it. Now she had, and she was far more nervous.
Officially, she was twenty-four weeks and two days pregnant, so she was a few weeks late in regard to the usual ultrasound schedule. Of course, nothing about the entire situation was exactly normal, so the doctors had taken special care to make arrangements for the scan to go as smoothly as possible.
Starting by allowing far more than the usual two people in with her.
Reagan, Archie, Laker, and Grace were gathered around the end of her bed, Marley swinging her legs on Laker’s lap. The sonographer left the group for a few minutes to let them all get their bearings, making the excuse of fetching more rubber gloves despite having a full box in the cupboard.
“Are you okay?” Archie asked, reaching out to gently squeeze Indie’s ankle.
She smiled shakily, leaning back against the bed sheathed in crinkly blue paper. “I don’t know.”
“Mommy?” Marley asked softly, reaching for Indie.
“Hey, you want to hang with me for a minute longer, Little Sweet? Mummy needs to stay real still for a bit.”
Marley frowned but did as Laker asked and remained on his lap, her eyes snapping to the door as it opened and the doctor re-joined them.
“Is everyone ready?”
Sucking in a deep breath through her teeth, Indie nodded, her smile tiny.
“Okey dokey then, let’s get started.”
She took her time getting the machine ready, warning Indie before she squirted the first dollop of cool jelly on her tummy; Indie’s father, brother, and friends had all taken notice of the visible bump in her midsection when she’d rolled up her T-shirt. At almost six months they’d expect it to be much bigger, but the fact the bump was there at all was a miracle considering how little Indie had been eating the months before her rescue.
“Indie, are you
ready to see your baby?” the sonographer asked, Doppler poised centimeters from her skin. With Indie’s shaky nod, she smiled and began searching for the best angle, turning the screen towards the anxious observers.
Before Indie could even fully register what she was seeing, Reagan’s short stubble was soaking up his tears. The baby’s arms were visible, waving around as it wriggled and squirmed, playing up for his or her enthralled audience. The difference in the baby’s shape since the last scan was dramatic. Indie could make out all of the facial features, a button nose just like Marley’s, and a pair of long legs.
“Have you felt much movement?”
Indie shook her head, not sure she could form words at this moment in time.
“You probably will within the next few weeks. It’s completely normal not to feel a whole lot just yet. Usually, we say baby will establish a pattern of movement by twenty-eight weeks, so you have a while to go before we’ll start looking more closely.”
“I didn’t feel anything with Marley until right at the end, so I wouldn’t be surprised if this one is the same,” Indie croaked, fascinated by the baby bouncing around within her, though she couldn’t feel it. “He—um, or she—looks pretty big. I thought I was measuring small, the doctor in America said?”
The sonographer frowned, taking a few measurements before facing Indie. “Honestly? Baby is a little smaller than expected at this stage, but I wouldn’t say ‘too small,’ if that makes sense. Baby could stand to grow a bit more, absolutely, but I’m not too worried at the moment. As long as you’re eating well and taking care of yourself, I’m happy with how you’re both doing as of right now. You have plenty time to bulk up yourself and this little one before your delivery. Did your last doctor give you an estimated delivery date?”
Indie shook her head, and with a few clicks of the mouse, the sonographer turned back to her with a smile, handing over a string of four printed stills of the baby. As Marley craned over, Laker moved so that she could see without actually sitting on Indie. Peter managed to snap a photo of the sweet moment as the sonographer declared her due date as September twenty-second.
~ oOo ~
Back at home, Indie found herself constantly pausing in her ministrations in the kitchen to look towards the American style double fridge. Sitting between Carl-Roman’s most recent portrait of his family—including Grace, Indie, and Marley for the first time—and a picture of blue-haired, green-faced Reagan that Marley had drawn, were her scan photos. The quartet looked right at home there and brought a smile to Indie’s face every time she looked over there and saw them.
The first was a close-up of the baby’s head and shoulders; it tickled Indie to see the resemblance between him or her and Marley. The second was a whole body shot, with the baby’s long legs stretched out. Resting a hand over her bump, Indie wondered if, and when, she’d get to feel those feet kicking. The third shot was a bit blurrier because the baby had been wriggling something fierce while the sonographer tried to see from the front.
The fourth image was, by far, Indie’s favourite. The baby looked like he or she was doing a fist pump, one arm raised above his or her head. Nobody could deny that the baby looked as though it was celebrating.
“Uh, Indie?”
She spun, dragging her eyes away from her baby’s face to smile at Reagan. He loitered in the doorway, looking uncomfortable. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing! Nothing’s wrong, I promise. I just...uh, well you’re six months now, right?” He gestured loosely towards her midsection, the beginnings of a proud smile pulling at his lips.
“Yes, six months. Why?”
“Well, we haven’t got anything for her, and we’ve only got a few months ‘til she’s gonna need clothes and a bed…what?” He trailed off, looking bemused when Indie laughed and shook her head.
“‘She?’ You’re joining Grace’s camp?”
He smiled, bashful. “Yeah. I reckon you’ve got another little Marley in there.”
Grace, Archie, Reagan, and Peter were all adamant she was having another little girl. Only Laker and Marley were betting on the baby being a boy. Indie wasn’t sure, truthfully, but she wouldn’t mind either way.
“Okay, so what do you want to do? Get stuff for the baby?”
Reagan nodded, pointing at the laptop on the dining table. “I thought we could have a look, maybe just check out prices and stuff. I haven’t figured out rooms or anything like that yet. Obviously, we don’t have a spare room, but we can do something with yours and make it so you have some space of your own. I mean, the book says—”
“Ray, have you been reading that book again?” Peter laughed, slipping past Reagan in the doorway to enter the kitchen. As Reagan tugged at his hair, abashed, Peter offered Indie a grin. “When Kristen was pregnant with both boys, this one drove everyone crazy with his damn book. What’s it called again?”
“Stop being such a tattletale grouch,” Reagan grumbled, removing said book from the shelf beside the door. He handed it over to Indie as she grinned at him and flipped through a few pages, skim-reading here and there. Her reading wasn’t great, seeing as her education had all-but ended when she was eight years old, though she and Grace had managed to advance a little thanks to the numerous cookbooks Garrett had made them read over the years. Still, she mostly looked at the images as she flicked through the pages.
“Anyway, as I was saying, the book says you’ll be wanting to nest right about now. You know, nursery, clothes, that sort of thing. I wasn’t sure what you did with Mars…”
Not allowing the pregnant pause to escalate into an awkward silence, Indie sighed. “Nothing, really. She never even had a cot. It was pure luck, but a few days before she was born the guys came back from a supply run with a bunch of stuff. Nappies, wipes, formula, the essentials really. Some clothes, but they were all way too big. If ever we needed anything for Marley we used to just give a list straight to the guys, and they’d get it on the supply runs, it was easier that way.” She got a wistful look in her eye as she peered back at the scan photos stuck to the fridge. “I didn’t really think about it much though. Nesting, I mean. All the baby clothes, and stuff. I remember when Aunt Kay was pregnant with Heidi and Pippa and we went shopping for baby stuff all the time.”
“Why don’t we start small, yeah?”
Indie hesitated for a beat, then nodded.
Twenty minutes later, Laker and Marley found Reagan and Indie at the dining table, poring over nursery sets.
“What about this one? Looks sturdy, has a good safety rating,” Reagan pointed to one on the screen—a white wood crib, wardrobe, and changing table set.
Indie frowned, cocking her head. “I don’t know. It looks too…girly. What if the baby’s a boy?”
“Definitely a boy in there, Pie. You can’t be getting girly stuff,” Laker teased, coming around to peer over her shoulder. He grinned when he realised what they were looking at. “Nursery stuff, huh?”
“Yeah,” she hummed. “Shall we leave this for a bit? I’m—wait! Dad, scroll back a second…zoom in on that one.”
Reagan looked sideways at his daughter, smiling wide as he clicked on the thumbnail she’d pointed to. They all, Marley included, leaned in closer when the set she’d indicated came up bigger on the screen. “You like this one?”
“Yeah…” Indie breathed, unable to contain the tears that began pricking the backs of her eyes. It was silly really, but the oak, sleigh cot was beautiful, with its full end panels, a curved design, and a classic look.
It was perfect.
“It has a drawer underneath and converts into a cot-bed, too, baby girl,” Reagan pointed out.
“It’s perfect.”
Unable to contain his glee, Reagan added the page to his favourites, a happy twinkle in his eyes. “Okay, let me make a note of the site.”
“Mommy?” Marley asked, leaning forwards and asking to sit in her mother’s lap.
Indie accepted her gladly, giving her a snuggle and a kiss to the top of h
er head. “You okay, baby girl?”
Marley nodded, reaching back to hold one of Laker’s hands while she watched Reagan switch through the numerous tabs they had open, returning to a page he’d opened a few nights previous, but hadn’t yet wanted to show Indie for fear of upsetting her.
Marley had managed to stay awake for the entire, long day, but she was fighting sleep hard. Since she’d been home with her mother and auntie, she’d all but dropped her daytime naps, too excited by all the new things going on around her. Despite Indie knowing she should be trying to get Marley into a new routine, she couldn’t help but want to keep her daughter with her as much as possible, even if she did end up falling asleep on her lap, or with Laker, Grace, or Reagan.
These days, she barely slept in a bed at all.
It always made Indie smile to think about how Laker’s lap was, by far, Marley’s favourite.
“Okay, so I found this the other day. Feel free to say ‘no,’ all right? I just thought it would be nice. For photos, you know.”
Indie shot her dad a grin, unused to seeing him so unsure of himself. When she turned back to the screen, her tears came in rivers rather than a trickle.
“That’s adorable, Pawpaw,” Laker chuckled, patting him on the back.
“Dad, we definitely need to get these for Marley and the baby,” Indie agreed, already picturing Marley in the ‘Big Sister’ T-shirt, her as-yet, faceless brother or sister in the ‘Baby Brother’ or ‘Baby Sister’ onesie.
“I found a few other things, too. Here, I’ll show you.”
By the time they were done, Reagan and Indie had amassed quite the wardrobe for the baby. Indie argued with him at first, horrified when he didn’t close a tab quickly enough and she saw the price of the shopping basket. It took ten minutes of Reagan opening up his online banking to prove to Indie that she didn’t need to worry about the price tags so much.
“When you were born, you and Grace, Pete and I opened up bank accounts like the one we had for Archie. When the business took off, we made it so a portion of our profits on each job automatically went into them. To be honest, we’d probably have used some of the money for the search, but only the person named on the account can access it,” he shrugged, huffing when the screen took too long to respond. “That’s you, so…”