by Geof Johnson
Mary Elizabeth had at least two or three meltdowns a week, and one day when she was completely inconsolable, Rachel tried something out of desperation. She put her arms around the little girl and let her put both hands on the bulge where the baby lay. Within seconds, Mary Elizabeth stopped crying and looked at Rachel’s abdomen with wonder, then looked into her eyes and smiled.
Rachel told Carl about it over dinner that night. “It was like magic.”
Chapter 3
Rachel looked out of the passenger window. “These houses sure are big. I wouldn’t want to clean them.”
“Most of these people don’t.” Carl steered the car around a black Mercedes parked in the street. “They hire maids, like my parents do.”
“What has your mom been doing lately?”
“Same old stuff. Playing a little golf or tennis, shopping, having lunch with friends.”
“Working hard at playing.”
“Speaking of work, if my dad says anything about my job, we’re leaving, okay? I’m tired of hearing about it.”
“Why does he give you such a hard time about it?”
“You know he always wanted me to be a money grubber like him. I doubt he would’ve paid for me to get my criminology degree if I hadn’t told him it was good for pre-law.”
“I’m glad you’re not a lawyer. I don’t think I could’ve married you.”
* * *
Most of the table conversation that night centered on Rachel and the baby. Though she enjoyed being the center of attention once in a while, she was uncomfortable. Her mother had raised her on the phrase “every sentence need not start with I or me,” but no matter how hard she tried to change the subject, it always came back to her and the baby.
“You’re really getting big,” Darla said. “Do you have enough maternity clothes?”
“Some of my friends at work loaned me some outfits. I have enough.”
“We can’t have you walking around in secondhand clothes. Let me take you shopping for some new ones.”
Rachel saw Carl’s fist tighten. He pounded his thigh under the table. She reached over and put her hand over his. “Relax,” she whispered. She forced a smile and looked at her mother-in-law. “That would be nice, Darla. I’ll call you one day this weekend.”
“How’s the cop business?” Pete asked Carl. “Did you catch any bad guys this week?”
She felt Carl’s muscles in his leg tense and knew he was getting ready to walk out. She grabbed his thigh and squeezed as hard as she could. Carl stayed in his seat.
“It’s good,” Rachel said as evenly as she could. “Carl helped bust a meth lab this week. Isn’t that right, Honey?”
Carl didn’t reply. Darla said, “Really? Where was it?”
“Near downtown,” Carl muttered into his plate. “It was in the warehouse where that trucking company used to be.”
“Were they Mexicans?” Pete asked.
That was ugly, Rachel thought. I wish he weren’t such a racist.
“No, they were homegrown boys.” Rachel nudged Carl’s leg to continue. He said, “They were the same kind of guys who would’ve been moonshiners back in the day.”
“Moonshine.” Pete smiled. “That brings back memories. When I was young, we used to buy it off this kid from school. His daddy made it. Tasted terrible, worse than kerosene.”
“You’ve tasted kerosene?” Rachel said, trying to lighten things up.
“No, but you know what I mean.” He took a sip of water as if recalling the experience. “But we didn’t drink it for the taste. We drank it ’cause we thought we were getting away with something.”
“You mean, because it was forbidden,” Carl said. “Just like kids nowadays smoking pot and doing meth and other stuff.”
“But you never did any of that, did you?” Pete said.
“Damn sure didn’t. Drank a few beers with my friends, that’s all.” Carl stared at his father defiantly.
Rachel closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Carl, I’m starting to feel really tired. Can you take me home now, please?”
She knew his fuse had shortened and the powder keg was full.
* * *
On the ride home, Carl was a pot about to boil over. Rachel knew there was nothing she could say to soothe him, so she tried the only thing she could think of. She took his right hand off the steering wheel and placed it on her belly.
“He was just kicking a second ago.” Come on Baby, do your magic. When she saw the muscles in Carl’s jaw loosen and felt the tension in his arm relax, she thought, Thank you, Baby, Thank you.
* * *
When they went to bed that night, Carl said, “Rachel, let’s not ever take another handout from my parents again, okay?”
“That’s fine. We don’t really need that much. We’re doing okay on our own.” Rachel shivered. “Oooh, the baby’s kicking again. Give me your hand, quick.”
They spent the next twenty minutes enjoying the prenatal gymnastics.
The Monday night Lamaze class was at the hospital where Rachel was planning to have her baby. Rachel and Carl walked in and saw a bunch of uncomfortably pregnant women and clueless, well-meaning men. Rachel found an open spot to lay out their blanket while Carl excused himself to the restroom.
Rachel noticed the couple closest to her: a woman who laughed while her husband helped her unpack her bag. The husband had the brightest red hair she’d ever seen. It looked like it had its own power supply.
“Do you need some help?” Rachel said.
“I think I’ve got it, finally.” The woman let out a little giggle. “Have you had this class before?”
“No. I don’t think anyone here has.”
“I guess that’s right.” She put her hand on the small of her back and grimaced. “If you’ve already had a baby, you know how it’s done.” She chuckled as if she had made a joke and stuck out her hand. “I’m Lisa Callahan, and this is my husband, Larry.”
Rachel introduced herself and shook their hands. “How far along are you?”
“Almost seven months, but it feels like thirty.” She laughed again. “How ’bout you?”
“The same.” Rachel put her hand on her belly. “Oh. Baby’s kicking.”
Lisa had her hand on her belly, too. “So is mine. Maybe my baby wants to meet your baby.”
Rachel’s baby kicked again, harder. “I think mine’s playing soccer in there.”
Lisa laughed. “I think mine’s trying to kick her way out. She’s never kicked this hard.” She walked closer to Rachel. “Do you mind if I feel yours? I’ve only felt mine. I wonder if it’s different.”
Why not? Rachel thought. “Okay. Let’s both do it.” As they touched each other’s abdomens, they both said “Oh!” simultaneously. Rachel’s baby kicked hard, making her stumble toward Lisa. As she did, their bulging bellies touched briefly. Rachel felt something. Something warm and pleasant. A tingling. Her baby stopped kicking for a moment.
Lisa looked at Rachel with her eyes wide. “Did you feel that?”
“Yes! Let’s try it again.”
* * *
When Carl came back in the room, he saw his wife standing abdomen-to-abdomen with another woman as an astonished-looking red-haired man stood nearby.
“Rachel, what’s going on?” Carl asked.
“I think our baby just made a friend.”
* * *
The following night, Carl sat on his deck, sipping a cold beer and savoring the moment. Rachel, too worn out to keep her eyes open, had already gone to bed. Carl had taken the afternoon off to go to the doctor with Rachel, and the news they’ gotten was beyond sweet: They were going to have a boy — the image on the ultrasound was unmistakable — and Carl was ecstatic.
A boy.
He considered how much their lives had changed. Just one short year ago, they were a childless couple in an apartment. Now they had this wonderful house with the best backyard ever, and a little boy on the way who was going to play in it. Maybe his mother-in-law�
��s relentless praying had paid off after all.
Carl eyes swept across the moonlit yard. He was already planning the project he’d build for his boy back there. Not a playhouse, not a tree house, but a clubhouse — the king of clubhouses, the mother of all clubhouses. It’s gonna be the envy of clubhouses everywhere. Carl would start with something simple when the boy was young — a frame for swings and a slide — and expand it as the child grew older and more adventurous. Probably something with multiple levels and a screened in part for back yard camp outs. He could see it in his mind. And a fire pole for quick escapes. He’d seen those at the hardware store.
He would never have to worry about where his son was because he’d always be in the backyard with his friends. And with the clubhouse Carl was planning, he’d have lots of friends.
* * *
Renn stood over the smoldering body. “I know, Rovann, he’s not the one we seek,” he said to the carved dragon atop his staff. “But a wizard just the same, though a minor one. Very weak.” He turned the staff so that he was eye to eye with the dragon carving. “But we couldn’t allow him to grow into a strong one, could we?”
Turning away from the body he said, “Now all he will grow is maggots.”
He stamped his staff and vanished.
* * *
When school finally ended in early June, Rachel was so big, she could barely move, so she spent most of her time sprawled on the couch. Unfortunately for Carl, it gave her more time to work on her campaign to move the Iron Lady in with them. Carl was steadily losing ground.
“But Carl,” Rachel said, “we’ve been over our finances a dozen times, and no matter how we slice it, the only child care we’ll be able to afford is one of the really bad ones.”
“What do you mean, ‘really bad’?”
“You know, the kind where the teachers aren’t really teachers, they’re just losers who can’t get a better job and don’t want to work at McDonald’s. And your child gets sick all the time because parents send their kids to school when they’re contagious.”
Carl’s defenses had taken a direct hit.
“Maybe not,” he said. “We might be able to find a lady who takes in a few kids at her house.” A weak counterattack.
“What happens when she gets sick? Are you going to stay home from work and look after our son?”
Another hit.
“No, I can’t.” He put both hands on top of his head. “I just don’t know if I want your mother raising our child.”
“She raised me, didn’t she? Do you think I turned out okay?”
Carl had to be careful. This was some kind of flanking maneuver. He looked at her for a moment before saying, “Yeah. Of course I —”
“You took your sweet time answering that.”
Carl had made a tactical error, despite intelligence reports that indicated pregnant women could be overly emotional and needed to be handled with care. “Sorry, I was just thinking. You know you turned out fine because I never would’ve married you otherwise.” Not much for return fire, but he was defending low ground.
“I’m anxious about my mother living all alone. If she lived here, I wouldn’t worry about her.”
“She’s been doing all right so far.”
“And don’t forget you’re going to that training conference in Raleigh in two weeks. That’s only a week before I’m due.” She gave him her most serious look. “I could easily go into labor then. Who’s going to take me to the hospital?” Rachel pulled out the heavy artillery. “What happens if I’m all alone when the baby comes?”
Carl’s defenses were completely destroyed. He had no choice but to surrender and ask for terms. “Okay, okay. But when would she move in?”
“The weekend before your conference.”
“How is she going to get her stuff here?”
“She doesn’t have that much. We can drive to Greensboro in your truck, and I can drive her car back.”
“And she rides with you, not me. Right?”
“Of course.” A small concession.
“Doesn’t she need to bring her bedroom furniture? We don’t have any for her.”
“She’ll buy some when she gets here.”
“I don’t want handouts from her, either.”
“It’s not a handout. Her niece is starting college this fall in Greensboro and wants to rent her condo. Mom will use the rent money to pay for the furniture. It’s a win-win situation.”
Not for me. “You two have this all thought out, don’t you?” He threw his hands up in surrender. “Okay, fine. I’ll make sure I’m off that weekend. Anything else?”
“Yes. I want to have the Callahans over for a cookout next weekend. Can you build a picnic table by then?”
Finally, something I’ll actually enjoy. Building something. The Callahans aren’t too bad, either — Larry’s a goofball but he’s kinda funny.
* * *
Lisa and Rachel were sprawled like beached whales on Rachel’s couch, each drinking a wine cooler. They were far enough along that they could drink one without harming their babies.
“I’ll sure be glad when this baby comes so I can drink my wine again.” Lisa took a sip and laughed. “And from what I hear, I’m going to need it.”
“I don’t drink that much,” Rachel said. “Neither does Carl. And when my mother gets here, we might not drink at all.”
“That’s right, your mom is moving in.” She waved her hand. “You’re so lucky. You have somebody who can help you like that.”
“Carl doesn’t think so.”
“Oh, Sugar, my husband hates my mother. I don’t think I’d want her living with us, anyway. She drinks too much. We’d have to hide the booze to keep her from drinking it all.”
“And we’ll have to hide ours from my mom to keep her from throwing it out.”
The two women squealed with laughter.
* * *
Carl and Larry stood on the deck, watching the grill and drinking beer.
“You’ve got a heck of a yard here, Carl. If I were a kid, I know where I’d be. I’d be down in that creek with my friends.”
“Yeah, me too,” Carl said. “I’ve got plans for it. As soon as my boy is old enough, I’m building him a clubhouse.” He told Larry about his intentions.
“To heck with the kids. I think I’d like to play in that.” He pointed to the grill and said. “Hey, what do you get when you cook a doll on the grill?”
Carl shrugged.
“A Barbie-Q.”
Carl groaned.
* * *
The two couples sat on the deck at the new picnic table after dinner.
“We just love your yard,” Lisa said. “Are all the yards in this neighborhood this big?”
“I don’t think so,” Carl said. “I think we’re just lucky.”
“Well, Larry and I love this neighborhood, too. Don’t we, Hon?” She touched Larry’s arm.
“We really do. I heard this is a good school district.”
“Oh, it is,” Rachel said. “I teach at the elementary school. I like it a lot.”
“Will you be able to teach your son?”
“No, they discourage us from teaching our own kids.”
“But if we lived here, you could teach our daughter. Wouldn’t that be something?”
“That would be great,” Larry said. “If any of these houses go on the market, call us, will you?”
“Yeah, our little apartment is going to get really crowded soon.”
Chapter 4
The following Saturday, Rachel and Carl drove to Greensboro to pick up Rachel’s mother. The drive back was painfully slow, because Evelyn nagged Rachel to drive 55 mph the whole way, even when the speed limit was 65.
After they unloaded her mother’s things, Rachel said, “We bought an air mattress. We want you to sleep in our bed tonight.”
“Out of the question,” Evelyn said. “In your condition, you need to be sleeping in a bed.”
“Well, then Carl can sleep on
the air mattress and you can sleep in the bed with me.”
“No, a wife needs to be sleeping with her husband. I’ll sleep on the air mattress. I’ll be perfectly fine.”
Rachel knew her mother too well to press. “Okay, sure, whatever. Then we’ll go tomorrow and pick out your furniture.”
“Tomorrow is the Sabbath. The stores will be closed.”
“Mom, they won’t. And I’m pretty sure the stores in Greensboro are open on Sundays, too.”
“I wouldn’t know. I never shop on Sundays.” She put her hands on her hips. “We’ll go after church, then. What church do you attend?”
“Umm, St. Paul’s Methodist.” That’s not exactly a lie. We went this past Easter.
“Good. As long as it’s a Methodist church. Now help me set up the air mattress, please.”
* * *
In the middle of the afternoon on July 6, Larry called to say that Lisa had given birth that morning to a healthy baby girl, Grace Mary. A few hours later, Rachel’s water broke, and at 3:33 on the morning of July 7, James Evan Sikes was born.
Carl brought his wife and baby home the next day, and was grudgingly grateful to have his mother-in-law there. She had gone grocery shopping, done laundry, cleaned the house, and made dinner. She wouldn’t let Rachel lift a finger except to breast feed the baby and change his diaper. Carl got the honor of changing a couple himself.
On the baby’s first night home, he slept in a bassinet in the same room as his parents. The next morning, they were admiring their sleeping son when Carl said, “Well, he’s still alive.”
“Yeah, I guess we’re off to a good start,” Rachel said.
* * *
The next two weeks saw the family settling into their new roles and routines. Carl went to work, and Rachel took care of the baby while her mother cooked and cleaned. And cleaned. And cleaned some more. Carl thought his wife was a good housekeeper, but her mother obviously didn’t think so. She got down on her hands and knees and scoured the corners of the kitchen floor with a little wire brush. She scrubbed the garbage cans. One Saturday, she insisted that Carl and Rachel take the baby to the park. When they returned, she had washed the kitchen walls with bleach. She even dusted the underside of furniture. Within a week, there wasn’t a molecule of dirt remaining in the house.