From Here To Maternity

by Cheryl Anne Porter

  Laura stared at her mother as, her arms extended, her long-nailed hands poised to take the baby, she advanced on Grant and Tucker. Laura swung her gaze to Grant, who mouthed, Rocket surgeon? Right back at him, Laura mouthed, Brain scientist? They both shrugged.

  After Grant spinelessly handed the baby to Vivian, she admonished, “Grant, you haven’t called your parents this morning. They’ll be worried. So you do that. And in the meanwhile, I’ll go get the baby’s stuff together. No, wait. First you two eat that bacon and then clean up this mess. Be sure to get that sink good and clean.” She turned to Laura, singling her out. “Because you’re going to give him a bath in it.”

  “Me? I’m going to? In the sink?” Laura heard herself echoing.

  “Trust me,” Grant said, capturing Laura’s attention, “the sink makes perfect sense. Ask Tucker about our shower here yesterday morning.”

  Vivian honed in on Grant like a bird dog on point. “You were the company here yesterday? That’s it. When can I expect to see a ring on my child’s finger, young man?”

  “Mother!” Laura warned.

  “Oh, fine then. Live in sin.” To Tucker, she cooed, “Come on, sweetie. That’s right. Grandma’s got you now. What do you think of that, huh?”

  The frantic expression on Tucker’s face quite plainly, yet eloquently showed his opinion. He held his arms out straight over Vivian’s shoulder wagging his chubby little hands, begging for Laura and Grant, as if to say, I’ll give you a thousand dollars to rescue me from this scary woman.

  “EXCUSE ME. Weren’t you the one who said this would be easier?”

  “Yeah, well, I lied,” Grant snapped as he reached again for a slippery, soapy baby arm and tried to hold Tucker’s bouncing little body steady in the cream-colored enamel kitchen sink.

  At Grant’s side, Laura measured yet another portion of baby shampoo into her palm. “Sit him down before he falls,” she warned.

  “Tell him that,” Grant groused, his voice strained with his efforts. But apparently Tucker preferred trying repeatedly to stand, thereby showing the world his naked goods, over sitting sedately in the warm water and being modest. And cooperative. Well, okay, not that there was much water left in the sink for him to sit in.

  Laura cupped the amber-colored shampoo blob in her hand. “Grant, I’m serious. You need to get him to sit down.”

  The baby arm and its owner got away from Grant. He reached two-handed for a submarine-diving chubby torso, got a good grip and turned to Laura. “Doesn’t it look like I’m trying here? Maybe some superglue—”

  “That’s not funny.” Laura fussed, swiping her sopping arm under her nose, which allowed the shampoo to run out of her hand and onto the already inundated floor. She stared at the blob it made. “Aw, man. That’s the third time I did that. Son of a—”

  “Uh-uh,” Grant warned, nodding toward the baby. “Mr. Radar Ears repeats everything he hears. Ask me how I know.”

  “I think I can guess.” Laura braced her hands on the sink’s edge, her expression falling. “Grant, why is this so hard for me? I mean the baby. Everything about him. And kids in general. Why can’t I do anything right with them? Look at you. You caught on just fine.”

  “Well, I don’t know about just fine. I nearly drowned him in the shower yesterday and got a diaper tab stuck to his skin.” He looked at the laughing baby. “Oh, yeah, I also taught him how to cuss.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I do. But I don’t see that you’re doing anything wrong, Laura. Come on, no one expects you to catch on right away. Give yourself a chance. It’ll come to you. Just relax. And look at Tucker. He’s fine—despite our best efforts.” Grant grinned, nodding toward Tucker, who splashed with chubby, stiff-armed movements at the remaining water in the sink and peered bright-eyed at them, screeching his happiness. Grant chuckled. “See?”

  She grinned—how could she not in the face of such cuteness?—but it didn’t seem to make her feel any better. “Yeah, I see. But if he’s fine, it’s because you and my mother are here. I’m serious. I couldn’t do this by myself. I’d probably pull the plug on this sink and he’d go down the drain with the water. How would I explain that? And you heard my mother last night. My own flesh and blood. She said Tucker’s safe now because she’s here.”

  Grant looked at her for a moment, then quietly asked, “Laura, what’s really wrong here?”

  Her expression crumpling, she sniffed and avoided his gaze. “How am I ever going to be a mother, Grant? My own kids won’t be safe with me.”

  Aha. But even in the face of such demoralization—and because he truly believed she would be a wonderful mother—Grant couldn’t resist throwing her own words at her. “You said you weren’t going to have kids. No marriage. No kids. Remember?”

  Laura’s expression firmed. She narrowed her eyes at him. “I remember.”

  Grant chuckled. “So what’s different now? Don’t tell me forever is already here.”

  She grinned. She didn’t want to, he could tell, but she did grin. “Didn’t you read about it in the newspaper? The front-page headline read, Pigs Fly out of a Frozen Hell. That loosely translates to Forever Has Arrived.”

  Grant laughed at her. It wasn’t hard. She was so damned funny. And endearing. And dressed like some football team’s deranged version of a cowgirl cheerleader. In jeans and a sweatshirt, her straight hair ponytailed, a huge bath towel pinned around her neck like a bandanna. She’d said it would keep her clothes dry. It hadn’t. “All right, so forever is here. Does that mean you now want to get married and have kids of your own?”

  Her eyes widened. Grant looked at Tucker. His blue eyes were also wide.

  Laura answered, “I might. Why? Are you…are you asking?”

  Was he? Grant didn’t know what to say. He exchanged another look with Tucker, who was suddenly very attentive. And still. Always a sign of something important. Grant frowned, wondering why he didn’t feel cornered by her question. Shouldn’t he? He’d always felt that way before. But not now. “I just did…ask you…in the general sense,” he hedged—noncommittally, until he could think this through.

  “Oh,” Laura responded. “Then, um, yes. In the general sense. I’d like to get married and have kids. Some day. With someone.”

  Some day? With someone? Maintaining his hold on the baby, Grant grinned, wanting to kiss her all over. “That’s good to hear. I wish you a lot of luck with that.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Thanks. I’ll send you an invitation.”

  “I’d like that.”

  A wordless moment passed. “You are not helping.”

  Grant grinned. “You’re right. Time to get serious before Tucker here turns into a Popsicle.” Grant fisted a wet and soapy hand and raised it. “Come on, Laura. Once more with feeling. We can do this. You’re bigger than he is. He’s just one little baby.”

  She and Tucker eyed him as if he’d taken leave of his senses. Clearly, they remained unconvinced. “One little baby?” Laura chided. “Grant, once, when I was little—” she picked up the shampoo bottle and mea- sured another portion into her palm “—we took a family vacation to Florida and saw this guy there who made a living wrestling live alligators.”

  “Yeah? So?” Grant looked up from holding onto the happily splashing Tucker to glance at Laura. “What’s that got to do with—”

  “I’ll tell you. That old man had less trouble doing that—all by himself—than we…the two of us…are having here. With one little baby. And that alligator was not little, Grant. It must’ve weighed eight or nine hundred pounds. That’s all I’m saying.” With that, she plopped the shampoo dollop onto Tucker’s head and earned the same frowning, nose-wrinkled-up face he gave when she told him no.

  Grant held onto the child for dear life as Laura scrubbed away. But still, he felt compelled to argue, although perhaps not wisely at this point. “Oh, come on, eight or nine hundred pounds? I doubt it But still, even if it was…the alligator, I mean…do you really t
hink the guy was as good at wrestling him the first time he did it as he was the day you saw him?”

  Laura stopped scrubbing Tucker’s head, braced her soapy hands on the sink’s edges and turned to him. “Yeah, I do. Don’t you think he’d have to be, Grant? After all, if he hadn’t been somewhat competent from the get-go, he’d have been gator kibble that first time out Right?”

  It was frightening, how much she looked and sounded like her mother. “I guess,” Grant finally conceded, although he wasn’t certain what he was conceding to exactly. But apparently he’d goofed. Laura continued to stare in silence at him. So did Tucker, whose soapy cap of lather had began running down his forehead and neck. Feeling under the gun, Grant ventured, “Maybe you’re right. I guess it’s like those cliff divers in Mexico. I mean, how do they know they’re good at that until the first time they jump, huh?”

  Laura shook her head. “Fine. Don’t answer me.”

  “But I did,” Grant protested, feeling very much like a domesticated male at the moment. A clueless, therefore successful, domesticated male. “I answered you.”

  “Oh, as if we were really talking about cliff divers and alligators, Grant.”

  “We weren’t?” It was news to him.

  “Hardly,” Laura assured him, turning to the blinking baby just in time to swipe a shampoo bubble out of his eyes and save them from having to test the no-moretears claim. “We were talking about suitability to a task. And the task here was parenting.”

  Again, it was news to Grant. “It was?”

  “Yes. It was.” She looked really sad about that. As if they’d failed. She issued more instructions. “Oh, forget it. Just hold him back. No, the other way. Like Mom said. Like at a beauty shop. There. Like that. No. Wait. Sit him up. We need more water. Can you—No, just hold him. Let me—” she moved the spout to the other basin and turned the water on. “Okay, it’s almost warm enough—”

  The intercom buzzed.

  Laura lost it. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, now what?” Then she yelled, “Mom? Are you in the tub yet?”

  They waited. Silence. Then a singsong voice called back, “No. I was getting my towel. Why?”

  “The intercom just buzzed. Can you answer it?”

  “Okay. Just a minute, though. Let me get my robe.”

  “Thanks,” Laura called. She glanced at Grant, noticing his crestfallen expression. “What?”

  Grant shrugged. “Nothing. Just wondering who that might be. On a day like this. That’s all.”

  “Oh,” she said, sniffing and turning to the running water, putting her finger under the stream to test its temperature. It looked as if she’d just understood what the buzzer could mean. A sad little frown settled on her face. “It could be anybody.”

  “Yeah. It could,” he agreed. But he knew better, and suspected she did, too. After all, they weren’t at work because the entire city had been shut down. The weather wasn’t expected to clear until sometime this afternoon. And then they’d have to dig themselves out. So…friends? Not likely. Delivery man? Doubtful.

  But still, seeing Laura unhappy ate at Grant It gnawed him inside out. He had tons of money and yet he couldn’t put a smile on her face. Dammit. He clenched his jaw. He wanted to…well, he didn’t know what. So he let out his breath and bent over, bracing his elbows on the sink’s edge, keeping his grip on the suddenly still Tucker. With only the sound of the running water filling the room, they waited.

  The silence was broken by Vivian, calling loudly through the intercom, as if she needed to yell her message downstairs. “Hello? Who? Hawkins? Officer Hawkins? Ooh, wait…I’m getting something. My psychic powers are—You’re a policeman, right? Yes? Ha! I knew you were.” Pause. “Yes, I did.” Pause. “Yes, I did.” Then, “So, how can I—Huh? Okay, hold on. Let me see.”

  Then, in a stage whisper so loud they heard it in the kitchen, Vivian called, “Laura? It’s an Officer Hawkins. He wants to know if you’re here. What should I tell him?”

  Frozen in place at the mention of Officer Hawkins—the policeman who thought their baby was missing—Grant and Laura exchanged a look. Grant couldn’t think what to do fast enough. But apparently Laura could. “Does she really think he will believe that she doesn’t know if I’m here or not?” she asked Grant. Then in a louder voice, she said, “He just heard you talking to me, Mother, if you’re still holding the button down.”

  “Oops.”

  Grant shook his head. Laura did, too. “What else can we do?” she said rhetorically. “Buzz him up, Mother.” Then, together, silently, they listened as Vivian did just that. “Mother? Did you let go of the button yet?”

  “Yes—no. Okay, yes, I did just now.”

  Laura shook her head in a long-suffering way. “Good. Stay there. And listen to me. When he comes up, keep him by the doors and don’t let him know that Tucker is here. He thinks Grant and I are married and that our baby is missing. Don’t tell him otherwise, okay? Let’s just see what he wants.”

  A heavy silence ensued. Then, from the front door, Vivian called, “I like that story. Well, except about the missing baby. But…okay.”

  Laura exhaled in relief and looked at Grant. “She can do it. She’s a great liar. When the cause is right.”

  Despite everything, Grant chuckled. “That’s nice to know.” He sobered. “This will be okay, Laura. We’ll get through it. And we’ll be fine.”

  She stared at him. “We? Is there a we, Grant? And what about Tucker? How do I—do we—just let him go? I mean, can you? Because I don’t think I can. Even though he’s not mine. And even though I’m probably putting his life at risk. After Tucker will there be a we, a me and a you? I don’t know.”

  Her worries silenced Grant. His arms braced against the counter, he swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat and hung his head. Then he looked at Tucker. Who winked at him.

  Surprised, Grant raised his eyebrows. He pulled back, not trusting what he’d seen. Surely the baby had just blinked. Not winked, but blinked. Babies do that all the time. With one eye? Grant’s belly tensed. “What is it, buddy? You know something, don’t you?”

  “What did you say?” Laura asked.

  Grant looked at where she stood next to him. “He knows something. Look at him.”

  Laura looked, and her eyes widened. She turned to Grant. “He just winked at me. Did you see that?”

  Grant grinned. “Yeah. He did the same to me. Just now.”

  “He did? Wait a minute. I remember him doing this before, Grant.” Excited, she began hitting his arm. Watery suds flew with every smack. “When I first got him? He winked at me. Let’s see. It was—Well, I forget. But something good happened after that. I remember that much.”

  Grant stared into her eyes and felt a grin forming on his face. Could he love her any more than he did right now? And then he knew he needed to tell her. Right now. Out loud. Before things got more complicated. So she’d know that no matter what happened with Tucker, he loved her. He was here for her. And he was staying. Last night he’d told her he loved her. But she hadn’t answered him.

  It had hurt But here he was getting ready to say it again. What if she didn’t say it back? Oh, to hell with the consequences. He felt it. And he was going to tell her. That he wanted to be the someone she married some day. He wanted to be the one she had babies with. “Laura,” he said, “I want to—”

  “Grant, wait,” she said, cutting him off. He swallowed his words as she frantically whispered, “What are we doing? That policeman is at the front door. Hear him talking? We have got to get this baby’s hair rinsed and get out of here—” she swung the spout and the running water to the sink in which Tucker sat, much to his interested delight “—or at least out of this room.”

  Caught up in her frantic activity, Grant quietly leaned Tucker back and began rinsing his hair. “But we don’t even know what this guy wants, Laura.”

  “Which is exactly my point,” she whispered. “If he doesn’t know any different than he did before, we need to
hide this baby. And if he does know Tucker’s here—” She gasped, grabbing Grant’s arm and squeezing hard. Her eyes were like saucers. “Dear God, what if there’s some law against bathing babies in sinks? We—okay, you—have already lied to Officer Hawkins once…”

  “Me?” It was hard to whisper when being accused. “Thanks. Give me up. I told you I couldn’t get two words in—”

  “Grant, is that important now? Just help me.” With that, she reached for a baby towel, one with the sewnin pocket for the baby’s head. “Rinse his hair and then hand him to me.”

  But Grant wanted to speak his heart. “Hold on. I will. But first, I want to tell you, Laura, that I—”

  “Grant, please. Let’s deal with the baby first.” She began quietly and quickly to gather the scattered evidence of the child’s presence. Rubber ducky, baby shampoo, bottle cap, soiled outfit…

  But Grant had an agenda, too—one he wanted to see through. Holding Tucker with one hand, Grant grabbed Laura’s arm with the other, holding her steady, capturing her startled attention. “No. It can’t wait. Will you listen to me, please?”

  Exasperated, she whispered, “All right. I’m listening.”

  Well, this wasn’t the least bit romantic. “Not like this. I wanted it to be—”

  Laura sucked in her breath and clutched him. And Grant knew why. Vivian’s voice, along with the officer’s, was getting louder. And not in a good way. The door slammed. Who’d left? Or had someone come in? Laura held Grant’s sweatshirt with both wet and soapy hands. “I swear I will listen to you in a minute. I swear. Just—for now, okay, please help me get this baby—aw!”

  So much for subterfuge. Grant jumped, watching in frozen horror as Laura was soaked from head to foot with the sink’s spray hose. Held in Tucker’s hands even as he, Grant, held one of the child’s arms. It was a real fluke that Tucker could get a good grip on it. That’s what it was. A fluke. It had to be. Yeah, right. Who was this kid? What was this kid?