The waiter brought our dinners, and the food tasted delicious, just as Edward had promised. We were planning to have coffee afterward but, noting the hour, I suggested we get to class. Edward gave a short wave to the waiter who brought him the check, and soon we were tucked back inside the Porsche on the way to our first birthing class.
Chapter 23
After negotiating our way through the maze of hallways, doors, and turns within the old part of the hospital, we finally found our way to the classroom. We’d been seated for only a few seconds when our instructor, who introduced herself as Becky, began the class. She gave a detailed overview of what we would be learning for the next three weeks and sent us home with a ton of literature to read before the next class.
Though all the information felt a bit overwhelming, once back on the road headed home, Edward told me he was excited about helping me out when my time came. I would have thought he’d find his role boring and had pegged him as the consummate bachelor, not the least bit interested in babies, or any kids for that matter.
It amazed me he’d want to be in the company of a fat pregnant woman. I had to admit, I didn’t know him well, though after having dinner together, I had a much better idea of the type of man he was. However, our time together had been too short to get a good idea of what made Edward Barnes tick.
At the next class, our instructor, Becky, had us introduce ourselves. Edward and I were the only two people who weren’t married. That didn’t seem to bother him, though it made me feel out of place. I’d never pictured myself as a single mom, and I surely never thought I’d be in a birthing class with Edward Barnes, learning the basics of breathing during labor!
When it came time to practice the exercises in mock preparation for giving birth, we all sat on floor mats with our partners. She instructed Edward to straddle me from behind, wrap his arms around my belly, and massage my hugely protruding abdomen. He jumped right to the task.
I could feel his biceps rubbing against my breasts. I’d always been well-endowed and just as it had been during my first pregnancy, I was bigger now. They were a highly sensitive area and I could feel my nipples growing hard while he practiced belly massage.
His head lay right next to my cheek as he looked downward, concentrating on performing the exercise correctly. Becky walked up and down between the couples, giving guidance when necessary. However, when she came next to Edward and me, she explained to the rest of the class they should watch because he performed it exactly as it should be done.
I turned beet red, my face blazing hot. I didn’t relish being the focus of everyone’s attention; however Edward just smiled and continued massaging me until Becky announced it was time for class to end.
We walked back to the car, and he opened the passenger door. “Would you like to go for coffee? My treat.”
I was starving and didn’t feel like going home right then anyway. “A hot latte sounds great.” I situated myself in the deep seat of the Porsche and waited for him to get in the car.
“May I?” A cute little smirk graced his lips.
I leaned my head back on the headrest, turning to look at him. “One of these days the seatbelt won’t fit around this kid. I guess if you don’t want a traffic ticket I’ll need you to buckle me in.”
He leaned across my abdomen to grab the buckle next to the door, but had a tough time pulling it out. I tried not to breathe too deeply which would press my breasts into the side of his head. The whole situation embarrassed me, especially given the exercises we’d just practiced in class.
Struggling to grasp the buckle, his head nudged the front of my shirt. I looked down and noticed my nipples protruding through the material of my shirt. The interior lights of the car were still on and when he finally got hold of the buckle, he turned his head in my direction, his nose accidentally bumping into my nipple.
His eyes immediately shifted up at the same time I looked down. My face flushed hot and I heard his sharp intake of breath. He quickly sat up after plugging in the seat buckle and fumbled with the key as he tried to turn on the ignition. Silence hung like a heavy curtain between us. I didn’t know what had just happened but was sure he’d felt it too.
He cleared his throat and turned on the radio. “Is Peet’s okay?”
I nodded, then realized he couldn’t see my reaction, so I mumbled, “That’s fine.”
The coffee house was located a few blocks from the hospital and we listened to the radio without talking. At last he turned his gaze in my direction, and his eyebrows drew together. “You all right, Brandy?”
It was my turn to clear my throat. “I’m fine,” I replied, then pointed. “There’s a spot right in front.”
We found a window table in the coffee house, the scene of our first meeting almost a year ago, back in August. Was he thinking the same thing but didn’t mention it? It was near impossible to recall that day without taking it further—to the night I went to his house and had frenzied sex on his front room couch.
I felt embarrassed reminiscing about it now, perhaps because I didn’t feel like the same person as when I saw Edward in Peet’s last year. I remembered being so spaced out, my head clouded with the ever-invasive depression that had plagued me since my baby’s death. I recalled the second time I saw him, accepting his dinner invitation—the beginning of the end of my marriage.
“Brandy? You all right?” Edward asked again.
“Yeah. Fine. Just daydreaming.” I smiled over at him.
We sipped our coffees, watching the parade of people pass on their way to dinner, the theatre, or shopping. Sitting across from Edward struck me as nothing short of, well, amazing.
“Do you ever think what it would be like if I hadn’t run into you and Weston at Starbucks?”
Had he been thinking along the same lines as I had, recalling how we first met? “I wouldn’t be here drinking coffee with you, that’s for sure!”
“I know that. I mean, if you were still married to Weston you’d be carrying my baby and neither of you would have known the difference. Doesn’t that make you feel weird?”
I glanced at him, then out the window across the street at the unending line of people walking along Park Street. “You know what? You’re the one who told me you and I had sex one week before Weston came home for the Labor Day weekend. I didn’t recall the exact date, though obviously you had.” I turned my head away from the window to look at him. “The baby could just as easily have been Weston’s child. I had no idea I was carrying your baby, Edward. But what if something were to happen to the baby and he or she needed blood? The truth would have come out. We would have discovered our child’s father wasn’t Weston. My entire life would have blown up in my face. Weston would have left me sooner or later. It was just a matter of time. In retrospect, I’m happy the truth came out when it did. It saved all of us from further heartache down the road.”
He placed his hand over mine and gave it a comforting squeeze. “I agree with you about the truth. For most of my life my mother lied to me about my father—why he left, where he went. I always had the feeling she knew exactly what happened to him but she’d never tell me.”
“Why do you think your mom was hiding something? I mean, did you ever ask her about your father?”
“I was around sixteen years old, searching in my mom’s closet, looking for something to put a birthday present in. Way up in the back next to some sweaters I found a shoe box. It fell on the closet floor, and these letters just spewed out all over the place. I was trying to put them back when I realized each one of them had the same return address. The same name on every single one of them—Matthew Barnes.”
“Were you able to see the postmark, the city where the letters were sent from?”
“I don’t remember the exact address, but it was somewhere in California, but the city didn’t ring a bell at the time.”
I shook my head. It seemed such a cruel thing to do to a child, allowing him to believe his father didn’t want anything to do with him. “
So your father had been sending letters to your house for years?”
“Well, I thought my mom had lied to me about not knowing where my dad lived. But when I asked her about it, she said they were old letters she’d received from my father’s dad, my grandfather, right? They both had the same name—Matthew- so I believed her. She said my grandfather had passed away years ago and she’d never gotten around to throwing them away. I believed her but the next time I was in the house alone, I went back to her closet. The box?” He shook his head, looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “Vanished! She’d been lying to me. Those letters had been written by my father. But she stuck to her story until she died. Lying always ends up hurting someone.”
I interlaced my fingers with his and nodded. For some reason, Edward’s story was a turning point. I’d put him in a pigeon-hole, clumped him together with the other attorneys I’d heard bad stories about. I thought he’d turn out to be an inveterate liar, someone I’d never be able to trust. And he’d proven me wrong. His tale was a sad one—not knowing what happened to his father, finding out his mother had lied to him for most of his young life. And since she had already passed away, the truth still evaded him.
“It’s getting late,” I said, stifling a yawn. “I’m exhausted.”
We stood up and got back in the car for the short ride home. We said our goodbyes and we’d see each other next week. This was my ninth month and I had less energy with each passing day. But today had been a good one. I’d learned a great deal about the father of my baby, and he’d turned out to be one of the good guys.
Chapter 24
I discovered several of Weston’s shirts and a couple pairs of pants when I went to the dry cleaners. I didn’t plan to send them to him in the mail and decided to call Carol’s number which I’d found in the Alameda phone book.
It rang eight times before a female answered. “Hello.” It was Carol, and she sounded like she was already in bed, her voice throaty with sleep.
I made an effort to be friendly and polite. “Hi! Is Weston home?”
“He can’t come to the phone. Who’s calling?”
Unless he had other women phoning him at night, Carol knew exactly who was on the other end of the line. “This is Brandy. Could you tell him I phoned please?”
“Sure.”
The next thing I heard was a dial tone.
I was so angry, I wanted to spit! How dare she treat me like that? I wasn’t the one who’d stolen her husband. I was the injured party. I was the loser. No reason for her to be angry with me.
She wouldn’t get away with this. I didn’t deserve to be treated rudely by the likes of Carol Smith. I pressed the redial button and once again, the phone rang and rang. After the twentieth ring, I hung up and again pressed the redial button. This time, however, after two rings someone picked up.
“Hello.” It was Weston.
“Hi, it’s Brandy. Sorry to call so late. I went to the dry cleaners the other day and a few of the items were yours, some shirts and pants.”
“Did you phone a few minutes ago?”
“Yes, but Carol hung up on me before I had the chance to explain the reason for my call.”
“What do you mean, she hung up on you?”
“Well, I asked to speak with you, she said you were indisposed at the moment, so I asked if she’d tell you I called. She said ‘sure’ then hung up the phone. To be honest, it pissed me off because I don’t see any reason for her to be mad at me. So I phoned back.”
“I see your point. And I’ll deal with her later. Would Friday at four o’clock be okay for me to drop by? I don’t want to disturb your writing.”
“Friday at four is fine. I’ll see you then.” I started to hang up the phone, when I heard him say my name. “Yes?”
“Thank you. Nice hearing your voice, Brandy.”
It didn’t sound to me like everything was hunky dory in Weston’s household. Carol appeared to be the jealous type, and he wasn’t happy about her attitude toward me. Oh, well, none of my business. I put it at the back of my mind. He and I were on our way to having an amicable divorce. I sure wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of his wrath.
Promptly at four o’clock Friday afternoon, the doorbell chimed. When I answered it, Weston stood on the doorstep, wearing a pair of low-slung jeans, a tight-fitting T-shirt, and biker boots. My mouth went dry. The guy would look macho wearing a muumuu!
“Come in. Can I fix you a latte?” We were still friends and we’d be officially divorced in a few months. We could share a cup of coffee, right?
“I’d love one.” He followed me into the kitchen, where I started the espresso machine, just as I’d done so many times in the past. “I want to apologize for Carol’s behavior toward you the other night. It’s been kind of a rocky time for us. She doesn’t like other women very much. She has no girlfriends. I don’t care for the way she treated you when you called…I’m thinking of moving out.”
Wow! He and I had never been hit by the “green monster,” neither of us being the jealous type. Until we discovered each of us had had an affair, of course. He’d feel uncomfortable with Carol’s clingy and possessive behavior.
“I’m sorry to hear that. From the little interaction I had with her at the airport, she didn’t strike me as your type.”
“Uh, no. In fact, she doesn’t want kids and…Things just aren’t working out the way I thought they would.”
I was in the middle of foaming the milk when the doorbell rang so Weston said he’d answer it. While stirring the foam into the coffees, I heard the sound of raised voices in the foyer, quickly unplugged the espresso machine, and ran out of the kitchen. Edward’s foot was jammed against the front door, not allowing Weston to close it.
“What’s going on?” I couldn’t believe what I was seeing—my soon-to-be ex-husband trying to push my birthing partner (and the father of my baby) out the front door onto his butt!
Edward spoke first. “Brandy, your ex won’t let me come inside your house.”
“I’m not her ex. Not yet, anyway. I asked you what the hell you’re doing here.”
Oh, this did not look good. I hadn’t told Weston about Edward and me having any type of relationship. It was none of his business, just as he’d told me Carol Smith was none of mine.
“Weston, please. Edward has as much right to come inside as you do. Would you mind removing your hand from the door and please let him in.”
“What right does this asshole have coming here? Is he harassing you, Brandy? Because if he is, I’ll put a stop to it right now.”
“Weston, please. Stop this.”
His face had turned purple with rage. I’d never seen him act jealous. This wasn’t the man I’d known for years, his voice rough and loud. He turned and looked at me. “Stop what, Brandy? I’m trying to help you out. I’m not the bad guy here.”
There was no way I could avoid telling the truth. But that was a good thing. I had to come clean or someone would get hurt.
“Edward is my birthing coach, Weston. He and I have been attending classes at Alameda Hospital.”
The look on his face? Pure incredulity. Or was it hurt? I couldn’t tell. Truthfully, it surprised me he was acting this way. I had assumed he was over me. Before I’d spoken with him today, I figured he and Carol would get engaged and be married soon. I hadn’t been aware there were problems in paradise.
His jaw went slack for a few seconds. He glared at Edward and opened the door extra wide to accommodate his entrance, allowing him a wide berth. “I’ll see you later, Brandy. Thanks for picking up my things.” He grabbed his clothes hanging on the hat stand and strode off toward his truck.
Edward stood next to me, watching as Weston pulled away from the curb. “That went well…You didn’t tell him about me being your birthing coach, did you?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t see any reason to. When I asked him about his girlfriend Carol, he told me to mind my own business. I didn’t feel obligated to reveal anything about you a
nd me.”
“That’s fair then. He was royally ticked off when he saw me standing there. I thought he’d rip my head off.”
“Sorry. I’m sure it won’t happen again. Come in. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I picked up some groceries from Safeway and thought I’d make you dinner. You up for it?”
I paused and thought, what the heck! “That would be great. As a matter of fact, my feet are killing me. My lower back too. I’d enjoy sitting around for a while, letting someone else do the cooking.”
“Sit down, relax, put your feet up, and leave it all to me.” He gestured with his hand. “Go on, get outta here, will ya?”
I laughed. It still seemed ludicrous to me, seeing Edward in my kitchen cooking dinner while I sank down on the couch with my feet up, looking at a Vogue magazine. How things had changed!
Chapter 25
“You are a culinary genius, Edward! Or maybe I was just starving.” I’d taken my last bite of a beautifully grilled cheddar cheese quesadilla with sliced tomatoes on the side, and a fresh salad. Edward had grilled chicken and we’d just finished our dinners, relaxing at the kitchen table.
“You ate enough for four people, Brandy, so I take it you enjoyed dinner!”
I slapped him gently on the wrist. “You aren’t nine months pregnant. Are you familiar with the expression ‘eating for two’?”
He gave me a sideways glance. “An old wives’ tale.”
We both laughed. I picked up our plates to put them in the dishwasher and he placed his hand on my shoulder, pressing me back into my chair. “I’ll do everything tonight. As Bob Marley once said, ‘Don’t worry, be happy.’ Just sit and keep me company.”
I wouldn’t fight him on this. I was exhausted. My soon-to-be ex-husband and Edward had almost come to blows in front of my eyes a few hours ago, and it still upset me.
Edward rinsed off the dishes, put them in the dishwasher and wiped down the table and counters. He was good at it—a sexist idea, but I hadn’t known many men who cleaned up so thoroughly. He turned around, unwound the dishtowel he’d tied around his waist, and sat down next to me.
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