“Sugar”—Wally put an arm around her shoulder—“nothing is more important than you and our baby.”
“But we’re fine.” Skye squeezed his fingers. “And afterward, I’m going to need to go shopping.” She wrinkled her nose. “Do you really want to spend several hours at Target and Walmart?”
“Well, if your mother is available, I’m sure she’d enjoy taking you,” Wally said quickly. “But you should probably check with her right now, since you’ll have to leave by quarter to eight to get to Kankakee on time.”
Skye nodded, fished her cell from her shorts pocket, and made the call. Her mother was ecstatic and promised to pick her up in half an hour.
When Skye hung up, Charlie turned to Wally and asked, “How’s Scumble River look?”
“Bad.” Wally cradled his mug. “Lots of homes will have to be rebuilt from the foundation up and even more have varying amounts of damage, mostly to roofs and windows. ComEd tells me there are outages all over Illinois and that it might be several days to a week before our power is fully restored. Last night they were still trying to make sure the lines weren’t live before allowing people to cross them.”
“Hell’s bells!” Charlie swore. “That’s even worse than I thought.”
“With the tornadoes hitting Brooklyn and Clay Center, assistance from other communities is spread thin.”
“I imagine the media jackals won’t have the same lack of personnel.” Charlie slathered a triangle of toast with butter and grape jelly.
Neither Skye nor Wally mentioned that the press had already descended.
“I spoke to the superintendent last night.” Charlie took a sip of his coffee. “He’s trying to figure out some option other than canceling classes.”
“How about the Hutton dairy farm out by I-55?” Skye suggested. “The country music guy renovated the barn and a few of the outbuildings, but then when Suzette was murdered, the theater never opened.”
“By Jingo, that might work.” Charlie pounded the tabletop. “We’d have to get in some room dividers and such, but we can probably scavenge those from our own buildings. I wonder who owns the farm now.”
“Check the tax records at the county courthouse,” Wally advised.
“Before Mom gets here”—Skye grabbed a pen and paper from the counter underneath Charlie’s wall phone and looked at Wally—“is there anything I need to buy for you besides some clothes and basic toiletries?”
“Let me think.” Wally scratched his chin, which, lacking his usual morning shave, had a dark layer of stubble. “An electric razor, jeans, shorts, shirts, and a belt. A pack of underwear and socks.” He paused and snapped his fingers. “A good pair of sneakers.”
“Do you think your dad really will be able to get a motor coach here by this afternoon?” Skye asked. “Should I buy household stuff and groceries?”
“Go ahead and get the basics.” Wally flicked glance at Charlie. “If Carson Boyd says he can, he can.”
Skye hurried to cover her slip. “It’s great that your father’s employer allows him to use the company resources when he needs them.”
Because no one in Scumble River knew that Wally’s family had money, their cover story was that Carson’s boss was very generous with his top management.
“Will you be able to contact the insurance or should I try to do it?” Wally asked.
“I can make those calls while Mom is driving me to Kankakee.”
“Don’t let them give you the runaround,” Charlie ordered. “You pay your premiums on time and you want a check in the same timely manner.”
“Yes, sir.” Skye saluted her uncle, then turned to Wally. He’d fallen asleep before she could question him last night, but she didn’t want to say too much in front of Charlie. “Have there been many fatalities from the tornadoes?”
“So far, the only body we’ve found is Zeke Lyons,” Wally answered carefully. Then he caught Skye’s gaze and gave an infinitesimal shake of his head. “Let’s hope there aren’t any more.”
“Well, old Zeke doesn’t really count, since he wasn’t a victim of the storm, does he?” Wally raised a bushy, white brow. “I heard he was murdered. And you can’t really blame a twister for that, can you?”
“Who told you he was murdered?” Wally demanded, narrowing his eyes.
“A little bird at Laurel Hospital might have chirped in my ear.” Charlie’s expression was smug. “Son, do you actually think anything goes on in this town that doesn’t get reported directly to me?”
“Not really. But although it’s likely Zeke was murdered, we don’t have an official cause of death yet and I was hoping to keep it quiet until then,” Wally muttered. “I don’t want the media to get wind of it before the medical examiner has a chance to finish the autopsy and send me his report.”
“I’ll put the word out to keep a lid on it.” Charlie crossed his arms, then glanced out the window of his kitchen and announced, “May’s here.”
“Thanks for breakfast, Uncle Charlie.” Skye stood and kissed the top of her godfather’s head, then hugged Wally and said, “I’ll call you when I get out of the doctor’s office. Love you! Bye!”
Skye hurried outside, waved to her mom, then rushed into her cabin to grab her purse. She was going to need her credit cards for today’s massive shopping expedition. It was a good thing Wally had added her to his Amex, which had a huge credit line, because her Visa would never cover all they needed.
Sliding into May’s Oldsmobile, Skye said, “Thanks for taking me, Mom.”
“I can’t wait.” May put the car in gear and pulled out into the street. “I’ve been dying to go to the ob-gyn with you. I have lots of questions.”
Skye rolled her eyes. She appreciated her mother’s enthusiasm, but knew May was going to try to trick Dr. Johnson into revealing the baby’s gender. Skye’s mom hadn’t been a happy camper when Skye and Wally had decided they wanted to be surprised. This was May’s chance to try to weasel the information from the doctor.
“I hope you don’t mind.” Skye powered up her cell. “I need to call our insurance company and get the ball rolling on our claim.”
“Go right ahead.” May kept her eyes on the road. “I did that first thing this morning. Supposedly, a claims adjuster will be at our place between nine and twelve. I left your father sitting in a lawn chair in front of what’s left of the garage, cleaning his rifle.”
“Subtle,” Skye said. “I suppose that would give the appraiser a little added incentive. It certainly worked with my teenage boyfriends.”
May smiled serenely, then as Skye gasped, she yelled, “What’s wrong?”
“The Feed Bag. It’s gone. It’s completely gone.” Skye pointed. “No one told me the Feed Bag was hit.”
“Oh yeah.” May swallowed. “Everyone is devastated.”
The Feed Bag was Scumble River’s only real restaurant. Diners at the Feed Bag felt as if they were part of an extended family. For the elderly, it was a comfort knowing the staff would notice if they varied from their normal routine, and someone would check up on them if they didn’t show for their customary coffee, bowl of soup, or game of chess.
For young families, it was reassuring that no one would frown if their kids were loud or messy. Not to mention that when the check arrived, they wouldn’t have to take out a second mortgage.
And for singles, it was a safe place to go on a first date. Or a comfortable spot to meet up with other like-minded people looking for a love match. The restaurant was the heart of Scumble River. Without it, there would be a huge hole.
As they continued past the wreckage, May and Skye were quiet. Finally, Skye turned back to her cell and dialed the insurance company. As she listened to the endless menu of “push one for this” and “push two for that,” she wondered if the town would ever be the same.
• • •
It took Skye the res
t of the drive to get through to both the homeowners and then the automobile department. And by the time May parked at the medical complex, Skye was afraid that when the nurse took her blood pressure it would be so high the doctor would put her on bed rest until she had the baby.
When they entered the doctor’s office, May accompanied Skye to the counter. Skye signed in and was given a specimen cup. May started to follow her to the bathroom, but Skye pointed to the waiting room and refused to budge until her mom took a seat.
After producing the required sample, Skye was shown into an examination room. The nurse perched on a stool in front of a laptop situated on a shelf attached to the wall and began asking Skye the same list of questions they went over at the beginning of every single visit.
Just as they finished, the door opened and May stepped inside. With a smug grin, she said, “When the nice receptionist found out you were my only daughter and this was your first pregnancy, she told me your room number. She said she was sure you’d want the grandma of your baby with you and wouldn’t deprive me of seeing the sonogram.”
“Of course she did.” After that little speech, Skye would look like the worst daughter on the planet if she insisted May leave. “But I don’t think we’re doing a sonogram. Dr. Johnson and I agreed only to do them if there’s a good reason.”
May took a seat and mumbled, “Finding out if I’m going to have a grandson or granddaughter is a pretty darn good reason.”
The perky nurse smiled sympathetically at May, then looked at Skye and said, “Let’s get your weight.”
“Let’s not,” Skye muttered under her breath, glancing at her mother.
Could she ask May to step out? Her mom would have a coronary when she heard how many pounds Skye had recently gained.
The nurse stood by the scale. “No need to be shy.”
“Sure. Why don’t we just do this in the middle of the waiting room?” Skye retorted, then kicked off her flip-flops, stepped on the scale, and closed her eyes.
“All done.” The nurse evidently had finally clued into Skye’s discomfort and walked over to the computer without comment.
As the nurse entered Skye’s weight on the electronic chart, May leaned forward and Skye glared at her mother. Pasting an innocent expression on her face, May shrugged, relaxed back into her chair, and crossed her legs.
Next, the nurse took Skye’s blood pressure and temperature, then, after recording that information, she handed Skye a shapeless, green gown and said, “Once you’ve changed, flip the switch by the door to indicate that you’re ready. The phlebotomist will come in to draw your blood, and the doctor will be with you after that.”
“Could you step out, Mom?” Skye asked.
“Why?” May frowned. “It’s not as if I’ve never seen you naked.”
Skye tapped her toe. “Mom, we’ve talked about you giving me some space.”
“Fine.”
As soon as May left, Skye removed her clothes, put on the gown, and flipped the switch. A split second later, May reentered and resumed her seat.
Skye sat on the examination table and tried to calm her nerves. She loved her obstetrician, but having any kind of medical exam still made her nervous.
May studied her and asked, “Are you still afraid of doctors?”
“A little.” Skye wrinkled her nose. “But Dr. J is great. I just need to keep reminding myself she isn’t like the mean ones that I’ve had in the past.”
Before May could respond, the phlebotomist arrived to draw Skye’s blood, and as the tech left, Dr. Johnson walked into the room. The obstetrician was an attractive woman in her early forties with short, blond hair and warm, blue eyes. Under her white jacket, she wore a cute pair of geometric-print cotton slacks and a pink T-shirt.
“Skye, good to see you.” Dr. Johnson turned to May and held out her hand. “And you are?”
“Skye’s mom.” May shook the doctor’s hand.
“Nice to meet you.” Dr. Johnson moved to the sink and washed her hands. “Everything going okay? Any problems or concerns?”
“Let’s see.” Skye paused, then said, “Last night, our house was destroyed in a tornado.”
“Oh my gosh!” Dr. Johnson gasped. “Are you and your husband okay?”
“Yes. We took shelter in the basement. But the Braxton-Hicks contractions didn’t help matters, and the baby has been bouncing all over the place. One minute I feel a kick here”—Skye pointed to her right side—“and the next second a punch in another spot. I thought you told me that closer to the due date, the baby would slow down.”
“Hmm.” Dr. Johnson threw her used paper towel into the trash and tapped her password into the computer. Peering at the screen, she frowned and said, “You’ve gained another ten pounds since your last visit two weeks ago.”
“I truly haven’t been stuffing my face.” Skye bit her lip and glanced at her mom.
May’s forehead was wrinkled and she seemed uneasy rather than exasperated.
“I’m sure you haven’t been overeating.” Dr. Johnson opened a drawer and took out a tape measure. “Please lie down.” The obstetrician helped Skye recline, then said, “I’m going to measure your fundal height. The height of your fundus should roughly equal the weeks of your pregnancy.”
“Okay.” Skye took a deep breath. “You’ve done that before.”
After a few seconds, Dr. Johnson said, “You’re measuring a little large.”
“Does that mean her due date is closer than we thought?” May asked.
“Maybe, but I need to do a sonogram before I can say for sure.” Dr. Johnson warmed up her stethoscope, then moved Skye’s gown aside and pressed the instrument to her stomach. Instead of her usual smile, she nodded to herself and said, “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ve only had the initial sonogram and the one at twenty weeks,” Skye murmured worriedly to her mother as the doctor disappeared. “Since we didn’t want to know the sex and the pregnancy was going well, our insurance didn’t cover any more.”
May got to her feet and moved next to her. “I’m sure everything’s fine,” she reassured her, then said, “Delivering sooner wouldn’t be so bad, right?”
“But the tornado took all the baby stuff.” Skye frowned. “At least, I’m guessing it’s gone, since the nursery was on the second floor, which is no longer there.”
“We’ll buy new things.” May stroked Skye’s hair. “And I have clothes and furniture in the attic from when I had you and Vince.” She brightened. “Good thing we didn’t have the baby shower yet.”
Before Skye could respond, Dr. Johnson returned, followed by a woman pushing a cart holding a machine. The sonographer stopped by the examination table, introduced herself, then squirted Skye’s stomach with a clear gel. As the tech moved the wand, Dr. Johnson leaned toward the screen, which today was turned away from Skye.
During the previous two sonograms, Skye could look at the monitor and the doctor had explained what she was seeing. Her silence shot Skye’s anxiety through the stratosphere. She gripped her mother’s hand so tightly May yelped.
Once the test was finished and the tech left, Dr. Johnson swiveled the screen and Skye blinked. There were two heads, one pointed up and one pointed down.
“Does that mean what I think it means?” Skye’s voice cracked.
“Yep.” Dr. Johnson grinned. “You, my dear, are having twins.”
“What the… You’ve got to be kidding me!” May shouted. “Six weeks before my daughter is due and you only now realize she’s having twins. What kind of doctor are you?”
Dr. Johnson smiled, apparently unruffled by May’s accusation. “It seems your grandbabies have been playing hide-and-seek during the previous sonograms. It’s unusual to find out this late in a pregnancy, but far from unprecedented.”
“But you only heard one heartbeat,” Skye protested. “Is the other b
aby okay?”
“Yes.” Dr. Johnson beamed. “Now that we know how tricky the babies are, I found the other heartbeat today.”
“Give me my cell, Mom,” Skye ordered. “Wally will be so upset he missed this appointment. I need to call him right away.”
“You might want to tell him in person.” Dr. Johnson pointed her pen at Skye. “In case he passes out, you want to make sure he’s sitting down. You can tell him to sit down over the phone, but my experience with men is that they say they are when they aren’t. The last one who claimed to be seated when his wife telephoned him with the news she was pregnant keeled over and ended up with a nasty concussion.”
“That’s good advice,” May said.
Skye mutely nodded her agreement. She really did want to see Wally’s face when she told him the news. That way she could tell if he was happy or upset about her having twins.
As the doctor walked out the door, she said, “Call me immediately if anything changes.”
“Absolutely,” May said, her bright-green eyes shiny with happy tears.
Skye dressed, then she and her mother headed for the parking lot. Sliding into the car, Skye looked at May and said, “What if I can’t handle two babies?”
May snorted. “Like you have a choice.”
Chapter 8
“I am Oz, the Great and Terrible,” said the little man, in a trembling voice. “But don’t strike me—please don’t—and I’ll do anything you want me to.”
“Sorry, Mrs. Lyons, I still haven’t received the ME’s report.” Wally kept his voice level. The woman had already telephoned him three times, wanting to know how her husband had died. She seemed heartbroken and Wally wished he had some answers for her. “Give me your cell number and I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”
“I don’t have a cell phone,” Billie Lyons said softly.
“Then give me the number where you’ll be staying,” Wally suggested.
“I’m not sure of that yet,” Billie answered.
“Then how about you wait two or three days, then touch base with me again?”
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