by Linda Warren
Instead, they veered left around the staircase and traversed the rumpled family room. Near a pair of sliding glass patio doors, a comfortably chipped table was set with a sandwich platter.
“Finally!” Melissa, dark blond hair loose around her shoulders, set down a fruit salad. “Karen and I almost started without you.”
Where to put Paula? Anya set the plant in an empty spot on the floor, away from the traffic pattern. “It’s only till I finish lunch,” she told it and went to wash her hands.
Then, taking a paper plate from a stack, Anya joined the others, grateful for the healthy selection of food. When she came up for air, she surveyed the circle of new housemates: tanned Lucky, devouring his second sandwich; Karen, blooming with good cheer now that she’d rented out all her rooms; Melissa, who’d piled her plate with fruit, and Zora, sitting as far from Lucky as possible.
It occurred to her that, in this house, she’d be progressing through the formative months of her baby’s gestational life. Instead of a family, she’d be relying for support on a group of people who were—except for Zora—casual acquaintances. How would they react when they learned of Anya’s pregnancy?
A longing to burrow into Jack’s arms and rely on his powerful paternal instincts twisted through her. He’d take care of her, wouldn’t he? And then he’d assume he’s the boss of me. I’d be stuck raising a kid and trying to please a guy and chewing my fingernails to the quick like I used to.
No, she wouldn’t because Anya had a choice now, unlike when she’d been growing up. She’d been the fourth child in the family. Her sister Ruth, older by nine years, had been tired of helping supervise their twin brothers and, when Anya was born, had openly resented the newcomer. Anya had spent her toddler and preschool years tagging along after her parents as they worked in their feed store. Naturally, there’d been chores, from collecting chicken eggs in the morning to sweeping the floor after dinner, but they hadn’t been burdensome.
At age five, those relatively carefree years had ended when her mother had given birth to triplets. Although the older siblings occasionally babysat, everyone assumed that Anya would pitch in with diaper duty and clean-up. And as arthritis sapped her mother’s mobility, more and more of the care of her three little sisters fell to Anya.
Everyone had worked hard, so she hadn’t complained. Maybe she should have been more cantankerous, like Ruth, who’d argued a lot with their parents and married at nineteen. Or quicker to shrug off domestic duties, like her two brothers, although they had assisted Dad in the feed store. But, sensitive to the deepening lines on her father’s face and to her mother’s silent pain, Anya had carried on.
She’d expected the pressures to ease when she entered college and the triplets threw themselves into high-school activities. However, the family had figured Anya, as a nursing student, was the natural person to assist their increasingly disabled mother and to babysit Ruth’s growing brood when difficult pregnancies sidelined her. The few occasions when Anya had spoken up, her family had simply dismissed her complaints. The more she tried to distance herself, the bigger the guilt trips they laid on her.
Though there’d been sweet moments, too. When she received her nursing degree, the triplets—juniors in high school at the time—had thrown her a surprise party. It had been their version of the now-abandoned “capping” ceremony in which nurses used to receive their white caps. Because modern nurses don’t wear caps, the girls had bought an array of funny hats for the whole family to wear while they cut the cake and sang silly songs.
But as her career progressed, so did Anya’s desire for independence. She developed a passion for surgical nursing, and it was frustrating to be summoned home for one thing after another on top of the hours she put in doing her family’s housework and supervising her mom’s home medical care. The last straw was when Anya was forced to trade shifts for an “emergency” at home, losing a chance to assist at a major transplant operation. She’d arrived home to learn that the urgent situation was that her dad needed her brother to do stock inventory and so he couldn’t drive Molly to physical therapy.
Mom had apologized profusely, but it wasn’t her fault. The rest of the family had taken Anya for granted, refusing to change their schedules or recognize that Anya’s work was just as important as theirs. She’d realized they never would, and the only way to have her own life was to move away. In frustration, she’d signed up for a nursing registry and moved to California. Later, she’d learned of an opening at Safe Harbor and she’d leaped at the chance to apply.
Most of her family still didn’t understand why she’d left, although she’d explained herself frankly as recently as last Christmas. The holiday had been a miserable series of criticisms and nags for her to move back. Her mom, who might have intervened, had been under the weather while adjusting to new medication and hadn’t spoken up.
She kept hoping her father and siblings would finally grasp why she’d left and why she had to stay away. It hurt that they didn’t.
Yes, she was better off leaving her family out of this pregnancy and sticking with her new friends.
“Later today I’d like us to draft some ground rules,” Karen said, breaking into Anya’s thoughts. “Establishing guidelines should make this house-sharing experience run smoother.”
“What kind of ground rules?” Lucky asked.
“All sorts of things. For instance, how we’ll handle cooking—whether we do our own or if we each cook for a week on and then have a month off.” Melissa’s smooth reply indicated she’d prepared for this discussion. Although she was a decade younger than Karen, they’d become close friends.
“We should set a schedule for cleaning, too, so no one gets stuck with more than their fair share,” Karen said. “What other issues concern you guys?”
“How we divide up community expenses,” Lucky said.
“And what temperature we keep the thermostat.” Zora always seemed to be cold, even in summer.
“Privacy,” Anya said.
“Entertaining—who, when, how loud and how many,” Melissa put in.
“Great!” Karen responded. “We’ll hold a roundtable meeting as soon as you guys unload your truck.”
Anya wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. Her experience with group discussions in her family had been, Let Anya do it. “If there’s conflict, how do we decide?” she asked.
“We vote on it,” Karen replied.
That sounded ominous to Anya. “You mean, the majority always rules?”
Her tension must have been evident to Zora, who asked, “What if there’s a chore somebody really hates?”
From across the table, Lucky grimaced. “Opting out of bathroom duty, are you?”
Zora blinked. “What?”
“She was asking because of me,” Anya told him. “My family tended to dump the nasty stuff on me.”
“Nobody gets dumped on.” Karen’s narrowed eyes sent Lucky a back-off message. “Nobody.”
Zora and Anya both folded their arms and added their stares to Karen’s.
“Message received.” Lucky scooted away from the table. “Let’s get to work.”
All five of them carried in furniture and other possessions. By evening, Anya was worn out but determined not to show it, especially to Zora. Her hovering was already making Lucky curious.
Through her weariness, Anya struggled to concentrate as, over a dinner of pizza and salad, they put together a cleaning schedule. Regarding kitchen duty, Karen proposed they take turns as chef, each planning meals, shopping and cooking for a week.
“It’s a lot of work, but then we get a month’s break,” she said. “Also, the cook doesn’t have to clean up.”
“Is it okay for the cook to buy takeout?” Lucky asked.
“As long as it’s not pizza every night,” Karen said. “Okay, everyone?” Heads bobbed.
“It’s important that we choose healthy foods,” Melissa qualified. “Plenty of fruits and vegetables, organic if possible.”
&
nbsp; “Right. Actually, I’d prefer that we eat vegetarian.” Lucky reached for his third slice of olive-and-pineapple pizza.
“That could get boring,” Zora said.
“You’d be surprised how many types of cheese there are,” he told her. “And I’m willing to include fish.”
Anya stirred from her near-stupor. “No soft cheeses and no sushi.” Catching the curious looks from around the table, she wished she could recall her words. Too late.
“Surely you aren’t...?” Melissa broke off.
“She isn’t what?” Lucky asked.
“That’s what they tell pregnant women to avoid,” Karen filled in.
So much for keeping my secret. “Huh,” Anya said.
Her three tormentors turned to Zora, who sent a pleading glance at Anya. Which only had the effect of confirming their suspicion.
“This is an interesting development,” Lucky remarked.
“And nobody’s business.” That wasn’t precisely true, though, Anya supposed, because her pregnancy was likely to affect everyone. “It was an accident and I’m giving it up for adoption once the father signs the waiver.”
“And who is—” Lucky broke off as, from both sides, Melissa and Karen kicked him. “Ouch.”
“That’s wonderful of you, to carry the baby for someone else,” Karen said. “So many couples are desperate to have children. We wish our fertility program could help them all, but it can’t.”
“You shouldn’t do any cleaning duties that involve chemicals,” Melissa insisted.
“Everything’s composed of chemicals.” Anya had no intention of shirking her fair share of the responsibilities. “But we don’t use anything toxic, do we?”
“If we do, I’ll handle it,” Lucky said. “And at the risk of getting kicked again, I think the father should pitch in. Which brings up the question of who that might be...”
Zora, who rarely flared at him on her own behalf, leaped into action for Anya’s sake. “Give it a rest! If Anya wants to reveal the father’s identity, that’s her decision.”
With a duck of his head, Lucky yielded the point but not happily.
“To return to our topic, we definitely shouldn’t use toxic chemicals. If I get pregnant...” Melissa exchanged glances with Karen.
“Oh, now, what’s this?” Lucky appeared torn between curiosity and disapproval. What right did he have to be so judgmental? Anya wondered. “I hadn’t heard mention of a boyfriend.”
“I’ve been considering artificial insemination,” Melissa hurried on before he could raise further questions. “Anyway, until then, I’m willing to do extra for Anya’s sake.”
Zora and Karen spoke almost in unison. “Me, too.”
Anya raised her hands. “Stop. This isn’t your problem.”
“It isn’t a problem at all,” Karen told her. “It’s a privilege.”
Tears pricked Anya’s eyes. “Thank you.” But it wasn’t only their kindness that affected her. It was the longing to see the same tender expression on the one face that wasn’t here.
She had to tell him about the pregnancy. But if Jack reacted with this kind of loving concern and urged her to keep the baby, what if she wasn’t able to stand against him? On the other hand, if she saw condemnation in his face, she’d be so angry she might say something she’d regret.
It was all too much, and right now, Anya’s eyes threatened to drift shut.
“You’re drooping,” Lucky said. “You should rest.”
“She should choose for herself when to rest,” Zora shot back.
“You ladies are tough customers.” Rising, Lucky collected their paper plates. After today, they’d agreed to use ceramic dishes for the sake of the environment, but tonight, everyone was too tired to wash. “I’d better watch my step.”
Speaking of that, his foot was dangerously near the African violet, which Anya had forgotten until now. Guiltily, she bent down and snatched Paula to safety. “I’ll take this upstairs.”
“I’ll come with you.” Zora stood.
Lucky regarded her dubiously. “It takes two people to carry a tiny little plant?”
“Huh,” said Anya.
Lucky grinned. “I think that means I should butt out. By the way, I forgot to say congratulations.”
“Thanks,” she muttered, making her way around the table.
“I mean it.” He spoke in earnest. “Having a baby grow inside you is amazing. It’s an experience we guys miss out on.”
“If he says that when you go into labor, I’ll smack him for you,” Zora said.
“No picking on the lone male in the household,” he countered. “You women are touchy.”
“Maybe yes, maybe no,” Melissa said.
Karen collected the leftover pizza. “There are five leftover slices, one for each of us. We can all count. If any one of us comes up short, the thief will be sniffed out, drawn and quartered.”
Everyone nodded. Living together might actually be fun, Anya thought as she carried Paula upstairs.
When she entered her cozy corner room, her gaze went to the window, which had a splendid view of the marsh and farther out to the ocean. The winter sunset sent a pale gold sheen over the misty marshland, and as she peered out, a pelican swooped low.
Zora followed her gaze. “Looks like that pelican caught something.”
“Judging by the lumps in his pouch, he’s collected a lot of somethings.” Anya cradled the plant as if to protect it from the distant pelican. “I think she’ll be happy on this little table. It catches a lot of light.” She positioned the plant, moving aside her e-book reader.
“Getting back to Jack...” Zora began.
“Must we?”
Her friend persevered. “You mentioned having him sign a waiver. What if he refuses to let you give up the baby?”
Anya squared her shoulders. “He can’t force me to raise a child, and I doubt he’s prepared to be a single father. What other choice is there?”
“Well, remember to stand your ground.” Plopping onto the cushioned window seat, Zora slid off her shoes. “Men talk a good story, and then they leave you to pick up the pieces.”
“Jack’s not like that.” She hadn’t meant to spring to his defense, but she did respect Jack’s integrity.
“You think so?” Zora rubbed one foot. “He has quite a reputation as a ladies’ man.”
Although Anya had heard that, in her observation it was more a case of women flirting and Jack merely being polite in return. With a pang, she remembered that real estate agent, Danica, hanging on his arm and sauntering up to her apartment with him. “Maybe he deserves it and maybe he doesn’t.”
“How’d it happen?”
No sense dodging again. She’d have to fill in the details eventually. “As you guessed, it was after he drove me home New Year’s Eve.”
“That’s it?” Zora’s eyes widened.
What was she expecting, a tale of seduction and intrigue? “This isn’t a complicated story.”
“I mean, you only did it once?” her friend clarified.
“It happens. Not everybody suffers from infertility,” Anya pointed out.
Zora took a different tack. “New Year’s Eve—he took advantage of you when you were drunk.”
“I only had two drinks, and the attraction was mutual. Plus, I assured him I was on the Pill, which was true.” Anya explained about the St. John’s wort. “So I’m at least as much to blame as he is.”
“Taking a silly herb doesn’t make it your fault,” Zora said loyally.
“It’s not his fault either.” Anya preferred to focus on her most pressing problem, though. “I dread telling him.”
“You think he’ll get mad?”
That reaction might fit Zora’s soon-to-be ex-husband but not Jack. “Exactly the opposite. He loves kids with a passion.” Anya paced around the room, too agitated to stand still. “What if in a weak moment I back down? I have to stand strong on adoption. One chink in my armor and I’d be boxed into a responsibili
ty I’m not ready for.”
Zora began massaging her other foot. “You should let Edmond give him the waiver.”
“Who’s Edmond?”
“My lawyer,” Zora said. “Talk to him. He could present the whole thing to Jack from a guy’s perspective.”
Zora was right: a man could explain in practical terms what all this meant. And having the lawyer handle it reduced the risk of Anya caving in.
All the same, she had doubts. Breaking such important news via a third party might infuriate Jack.
“Edmond’s not some old codger who’ll treat me like a fallen woman, is he?”
“No, he’s young and good-looking.” Her friend smiled. “And he’s Melissa’s ex-husband. But she still recommends him as an attorney. And since he doesn’t want kids himself, you should have his sympathy.”
In view of Melissa’s powerful desire for children, Anya understood why they were divorced. Still, he must be a skilled lawyer if she and Zora spoke well of him, and Anya would need an attorney to handle the adoption anyway. Might as well start now. “I’ll call him tomorrow for an appointment.”
“Great.” Zora slid her feet into her shoes. “Go for it.”
“I will.” With that weight off her mind, Anya opened one of the boxes that lined the walls and set to work unpacking.
Chapter Six
Friday was a long day for Jack. He’d arrived early for surgery, then took a break for a late lunch and had barely retreated to an on-call room for a nap when he was summoned to Labor and Delivery. With an unexpectedly large number of women laboring at once, all hands were needed.
After delivering five babies, he arrived late for his patient appointments at his shared third-floor office suite and had to remind himself to slow down and give each woman the attention she deserved. But when his last scheduled patient of the day failed to arrive, relief washed through him. He phoned Rod to ask for a ride; his uncle’s aging car was in the shop yet again and Rod was borrowing Jack’s car.
Jack thought of the less-than-exciting weekend ahead. Patient appointments on Saturday followed by an open calendar. Well, Danica had invited him to join her and a group of friends for a movie Saturday night, which might be a good way to meet new people. However, it would be unfair to encourage Danica’s interest while Anya’s dark, skeptical eyes haunted Jack’s dreams.