by Dinah McLeod
After I nodded my agreement, Dean knocked back to the rest of his glass, grunting as it went down. He got to his feet and walked over to pull my chair back. When he offered me his hand, I pushed it away.
“Knock it off, I can still stand up without your help!” I chided. “I’m not that fat yet!”
“If memory serves, you don’t get fat, Shels. You just get more beautiful.” He lowered his head to nuzzle my neck and I let him for a moment before I pulled away.
“Uh-uh, you’re not getting out of this, Mister. Now march.”
Dean drew his heels together and gave me a salute before heading out of the kitchen. I could hear him humming the Jodie as he walked.
When we got to Morgan’s door, Dean knocked and I called out, “Honey? Can we come in?”
In response, I heard music blare as our son turned the stereo up. Dean’s mouth pulled into a firm line and he turned the knob and pulled the door open. “Turn it down!” he barked, in his most booming voice.
Morgan complied, but only marginally, after which he looked up expectantly. Dean marched over and yanked the plug from the wall, silencing the music.
“What?” our son snapped.
“That is not how you’re going to address your mother or me,” Dean fired back, glaring.
“He’s right, Morgan,” I put in. “You really need to give the attitude a rest.”
Morgan turned to me, his expression looking more wounded than I’d seen it in a while. “Sorry, Mom,” he muttered.
“We just came to talk,” I added.
“I know. Look, I’m sorry about class, and Mrs. Ware already agreed that I could make up the test, so I don’t get what the big deal is.”
“The big deal is that—” I shot Dean a pleading look, and he trailed off. He took a deep breath and started again. “Look, I’m going to cut you a break this time, got it? Don’t do it again.”
The shock on Morgan’s face was almost comical; I knew I’d be laughing about it later. It was clearly the last thing he’d expected to hear.
“Really?”
“Yes. We all make mistakes. But this attitude has got to go, Morgan. We’re your parents, and if you can’t treat us with more respect then we’re going to have to rethink things, like your allowance, for example, or being allowed to go out on weekends.”
I expected him to flare up again, but he only nodded. “Okay. I understand, Sir.”
I would have exhaled with relief if I didn’t know what was coming. Dean shot me a pleading look, but I wasn’t going to take over this time.
“Great. That’s great. Listen, Son, your mother and I have something to tell you.”
“Okay.”
“Uh, the thing is, your mother…well, things are going to be changing a little bit around here. In the next few months or so—”
“Oh, God,” Morgan groaned, tilting his head back and looking at the ceiling. “You’re not getting a divorce, are you? Is this about money? Because I could—”
“We’re not getting a divorce!” I interjected quickly. “That’s not happening.”
Morgan exhaled slowly and looked at me. “What is it then?”
“I’m pregnant,” I blurted out. It wasn’t how I’d wanted to tell him, but anything was better than him assuming the worst.
He looked relieved, for about two-point-five seconds, then his face contorted as he took in the news. “You’re what?” he looked from me to his dad, then back again. “How is that… wait, you know what? Don’t answer that. You’re sure?”
I glanced at Dean before answering. “I haven’t been to see my doctor yet, but yes, I’m sure.”
He blinked in surprise, seeming so much at a loss that I hardly knew what to say myself. “I want you to know that this doesn’t change how we do things. Your father and I are very excited, and I hope—”
“That’s what this is about?” he asked, sounding dazed. “That’s why you don’t care I skipped school? You can cut me a break now, huh, since you’ll be having a replacement child that you can mold into your perfect little image.” The last words were spat at his father.
“Hey!” I protested. “Didn’t we just talk about attitude?”
“Isn’t that true, Dad?” Morgan demanded, glaring at his father.
“Why would you even think that?” I cried, wondering why Dean wasn’t answering.
“What are you, Mom? Dense? You know how Dad feels—”
“Hey!” Dean barked. “That’s it! You’re grounded! You don’t leave this house for anything but school, you got it? Now apologize to your mother!”
I watched as Morgan balled his hands into fists at his side before he turned to me. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”
“This doesn’t have to be a bad thing, Morgan,” I said, practically pleading with him.
“I know. It’s great. I’m really happy for you.”
His voice couldn’t have sounded any more stiff. I knew then that we weren’t going to get anywhere at the moment. Seeming to share my thoughts, Dean took me by the elbow and steered me out of the room. I made it all the way to our bedroom before the tears began to fall.
* * * * *
Dean
“Don’t worry,” I told Shelby the next morning. “He’ll come around. It was just a bit of a surprise.”
“I guess.”
I hated to see her so upset. This should be a time for celebrating, but I knew it would be hard for Shelby without Morgan on board. I was going to see to it that he got on board, and quickly—for his mother’s sake if nothing else. “Don’t worry,” I repeated. “I’m going to take care of you.” I leaned over, pressing my mouth to the tip of her head and inhaling the sweet fragrance of her shampoo. “Do you want some coffee?”
“That would be nice.”
“You stay in bed. Close your eyes for a few more minutes—you don’t have to be to work until late today, right?”
“Um-hmm.”
“All right. I’ll be right back.” I’d already set the coffee to brew at six this morning, long before Shelby woke up, so I knew it was ready. I’d half expected Morgan to be in the kitchen, but when I found it empty, I turned around and headed for his bedroom. I knocked on the door and waited, but I didn’t hear so much as a rustle inside. When I let myself in, my suspicions were confirmed: he’d left without saying a word to either of us.
I padded back to the kitchen, thinking. I didn’t know what to do. When I was growing up, you were given orders and you followed them, no questions asked. My father never would have put up with this kind of behavior, but Shelby had been trying to convince me for years that the same approach just didn’t work on Morgan. I’d finally come to see that she was right. But what did that leave me, if I couldn’t use what I knew? There wasn’t much I could do if he was going to keep sneaking around and trying to avoid us.
“Is Morgan still home?” Shelby asked as soon as I’d handed over the mug.
“No.”
She nodded, as if it was the answer she’d been expecting. “What time do you go in?” she asked as she sipped her cup.
“Soon. I need to leave in about ten minutes.”
Shelby made a face as she swallowed. “Why does this taste so bad?”
I chucked at her. “Because it’s decaf.”
“Decaf?” she cried out incredulously. “Decaf? What are you trying to do, poison me?”
“You’re pregnant, baby. I think we better hold off on any caffeine until you talk to your doctor.”
“I think I liked it better when you were giving me wine,” she grumbled.
“It’s not so bad. I’ve had two cups already. Now, let me hear you say it: no caffeine.”
She screwed her face up at me in annoyance, and I forced myself not to laugh. “Sir, yes, Sir. No caffeine until I talk to my doctor.”
“That’s my girl. Go and take your shower. I’ll probably be gone by the time you get out, so take your time.”
“Mmm, I think I might soak in the tub for a little w
hile.”
“Hey, do you remember when you were pregnant with Morgan, and you called me while I was out training because—”
“Out!” she pronounced, pointing toward the door. This time I did laugh. She tried to stomp away, but I slipped my arms around her waist, trapping her against me. She stilled for a kiss, and I sent her off to the bathroom with a slap to her cute, round behind. Either her hormones were already making her sensitive, or she didn’t appreciate the reminder of the time I’d had to rush home to help her out of the tub.
As I drove to work, memory after memory flooded in. Shelby hadn’t gained much weight when she was pregnant with Morgan. Her belly had rounded out, her cheeks had gotten a little fuller, but it only served to make her even more beautiful. Even though I teased her, we both knew that the reason she’d gotten stuck hadn’t been so much because of extra weight as it was due to the fact that, as a first-rank officer, a second Lieutenant, our bathtub had been tiny. I would have gotten stuck in it myself.
I remembered how my normally active wife began taking catnaps in the afternoon, how her sweet tooth completely disappeared. Each and every memory made me smile broadly. The more I thought about it, the more excited I became about her pregnancy. I couldn’t wait for her first doctor’s appointment. The only thing keeping me from being completely happy was how upset Morgan had gotten when we’d given him the news last night.
Maybe I should have been more prepared for the possibility that he’d feel jealous, that he’d feel like he was being replaced. I’d known fathers that had favorite children, and I’d seen it tear families apart. That wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to keep getting to know the son that I had, regardless of the future. But after seventeen years of absenteeism and high standards, how could I prove it to him?
I couldn’t stop thinking about it even after I got to work. Normally, I was the kind of guy who could push everything out of my mind but the mission. You had to concentrate to stay alive. But I just couldn’t get the shell-shocked look Morgan had had last night out of my mind.
“You okay, Colonel?”
I looked up and saw Tim looking at me with scrutiny. Ever since they’d learned about my prior service record they’d been calling me “Cap” until I told them that I’d been a Colonel. Not for the first time, I thought I should have let it go. I hadn’t mentioned it to my team, so I could only assume that the kid that hired me had.
“Yeah, Tim. Thanks for checking in. How are you?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, okay, I guess.”
“Chem lab still kicking your ass?”
“Yeah. Pulled another all-nighter last night.”
“Did any studying actually take place during this all-nighter?” I asked dryly.
Tim’s chuckle was the only answer I needed. “You’re a hard one to fool, Colonel.”
“You make it too easy,” I countered. “Aren’t you doing inventory today?”
“Aye, aye, Colonel,” Tim replied with a salute.
I snorted at him. “That’s the Navy, Son. Not to mention the sorriest salute I’ve ever seen. Get on with work.”
Even as I shook my head, I found myself grinning. He was a good kid. So were the other two I worked with, all of them students at the local college. Tim was the goof ball, Caleb was quiet and studious, and Mike would talk your ear off about Nascar if you’d let him. He’d been a cashier until he’d kept his mouth moving faster than his hands, so they sent him back to shipping, which I oversaw.
We placed orders, unloaded trucks, and did inventory of our products. It was nothing fancy, but I couldn’t deny that I enjoyed being busy again. Retirement would never suit me, I feared. A Target shipping manager was not where I’d pictured myself, but it was going fine. I really liked the guys I was working with, and I enjoyed training them so that they could one day become managers themselves, if that’s what they wanted. It was hard work, and I might not be admitting it any time soon, but I liked it.
“You finished with that report?” I asked Tim, who was walking toward me, clipboard in hand.
“Got it right here, Sir. Want to double-check me?”
“Sure. One day you’re not going to need anyone to double-check you. I look forward to that day.”
“Me and you both. Then maybe I can sneak out the occasional case of Coke.”
I shook my finger at him, my face mock-stern. “Not on my watch.” I took the clipboard from him and began reading over it, my eyes scanning the lines of product and their corresponding numbers. “This looks good,” I told him. “Nice work, Tim. We’ll have you putting the orders in before you know it.”
For once, he didn’t have a ready comeback, and looked even a bit bashful by the praise. I was ready to rib him for it when I heard Mike call for me.
“Colonel? Phone for you. Some hospital.”
I shoved the clipboard at Tim and marched over to the phone, my heart pounding in my ears. Why would a hospital be calling for me? Unless Shelby—Morgan. I felt my breath coming faster as I answered. “This is Colonel Davies.”
“Yes, Colonel. This is Dr. Patterson from Jackson Hospital. Your wife, a Shelby Davies has been admitted and asked us to get in touch with you.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s going to be fine, Colonel, but she definitely needs to take better care of herself.”
“I don’t understand,” I stammered into the phone.
“What your wife has is a condition known as preeclampsia, which means—”
“You know what? I’ll be right there. I’m on my way.”
Chapter 7
Shelby
“This really isn’t necessary,” I told my nurse, Cara, for what felt the fiftieth time. “I feel fine.”
“I know you do,” she said soothingly as she fluffed my pillow. “But the doctor thinks we need to watch you for a little while, that’s all. I know you want to do everything possible to keep your baby safe, so just relax and think about it like a mini-vacation. I’m sure you could use one of those, right?” she winked at me, and I smiled begrudgingly.
Cara had been with me practically since I’d gotten here, and I had to admit she had a way of putting you at ease. I felt much more relaxed when she was around; she had a soft, calming voice and the hands of an angel. I’d been terrified of needles for as long as I could remember, and I’d nearly burst into tears when she’d told me they needed to draw blood for testing. Still, she’d taken three vials and I’d hardly felt a thing. That was enough to raise her to Florence Nightingale in my estimation.
I’d been having a migraine at work—nothing serious, as far as I could tell, and I took some Tylenol. I’d barely been there half an hour when I had to excuse myself, and I’d vomited in the bathroom. That I’d attributed to morning sickness, until the nausea just wouldn’t stop. After about the fifth time in an hour, Dana had insisted that I go to the hospital and insisted that she drive me. I’d made good use of the brown paper bag she made me take along for the car ride, and with tears streaming down my cheeks I told her that it was nothing, I was just pregnant. I’d expected her to look relieved, but if anything, her face turned even more serious as she pressed down a little harder on the gas pedal.
“We need to get a look at that little bean,” Cara told me with a smile. “I’m having an ultrasound machine brought in right away and we’ll take a look, okay?”
“Could we wait for my husband? I’d really prefer that he be here for that,” I said, my voice thin and reedy from all the vomiting and subsequent crying.
“I wish we could, Sweetie, but we’ve got to get this done now.”
“You did call my husband, right?”
“The doctor called him a few minutes ago, Mrs. Davies. He’ll be here soon, I promise. But in the meantime, we’ve got to get this taken care of. If he doesn’t make it in time, we’ll do another ultrasound when he gets here so he can see. And don’t forget, you’ll have the pictures.”
I exhaled slowly, feeling my eyes fill with tears, as much from the fact that I
was in the situation at all as the fact that she was being so kind to me. I couldn’t help but feel scared. What if there was something wrong with my baby? I didn’t remember vomiting with Morgan so much, but then, that had been long over a decade ago! And besides, all pregnancies were different, right? I’d said as much to the nurse who’d admitted me, but I could tell by her face that they thought it was something much more serious than that.
There was nothing I could do but wait to see what they’d say and it was killing me. What if we lost the baby? I blinked back tears at the thought. That wouldn’t happen, it couldn’t happen, not when we both wanted it so much. Sometimes, I thought that the news of the baby was what had pulled Dean out of the Grade-A funk he’d been in for almost a month. It had given him hope and me, too; Hope that our family could go back to normal. What would happen if we lost that? The thought was unbearable.
“Mrs. Davies? Did someone order an ultrasound?”
I nodded, unable to speak, and watched as another woman wheeled the machine in. Cara had left just a few moments ago, but as the ultrasound tech was squirting cold goo on my belly, she suddenly reappeared. She walked over to my bed without a word and took my hand. I was immensely grateful for her presence right then and I squeezed her hand in thanks.
“How far along are you?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” I admitted. “It can’t be very far.”
“I guess we’ll find out,” Cara put in, giving my hand another squeeze.
My eyes misted the moment the screen started showing the inside of my womb. I felt the ultrasound tech pushing down as she searched for the baby and I waited in eager anticipation.
“Hello? Is my wife in here? Shelby?”
I whipped my head around at the sound of his frantic voice, giving him a relieved smile. “Dean!”
“Hey, Honey. Are you okay? What’s going on? Is the baby…”
“I don’t know.” I felt Cara let go of my hand, and the moment she stepped back, Dean swooped in to take the place she’d left vacant beside me.