And promptly forgot all about it.
Until the phone call.
She slumped back down in her chair and her eyes filled.
She reached over to her computer and pulled up her calendar. They had made love seventeen days ago. Seventeen days and nine hours, to be exact. Well, technically it was seventeen days and anywhere between one and nine hours.
Thinking about it, her breasts tingled, and she felt a delicious pull in her belly. It had been one beautiful night.
She had accepted that she would live without Alexandre. But should a child? Guilt layered over the sadness.
She imagined telling her friends and, worse, her parents. All the questions about who the father was. Nausea clawed at her. She wished she could bury her head in the sand and not deal with this. Or rewind the clock. Keep the beautiful night, but use the extra protection. She wiped away tears.
What now? Could she have the family with the house and the white picket fence? Could she do that – have a family of two instead of three? Should she? Where did she even start?
She turned to her computer and with shaking hands searched “options for pregnant women.”
The next night, Kalia fell asleep exhausted, but at three a.m., she was awake ruminating. After spending an entire evening on the Internet, she had come to the conclusion that she needed to talk to someone. She had called a Planned Parenthood clinic and the next day had gone to see them. They had laid out her options and answered her questions.
Abortion, adoption, and parenting. They made it sound simple.
Unfortunately, they couldn’t help her with the hardest question of all. What did she want to do?
She was pretty sure she could rule out adoption. Even the thought of meeting the prospective parents in open adoption wasn’t enough. She just couldn’t see herself giving the child to someone else to raise. There were a lot of loving people who couldn’t have children of their own, who would make wonderful parents, and who would crave having a newborn to love. But how would she explain why she’d given the baby up? It wasn’t the right time? Maybe a valid reasons for others, but honestly, looking deep in her heart, it didn’t fit for her. She was scared? The pregnancy was a mistake? No, not that. Never that. A baby was not a mistake. She shifted restlessly under the covers.
She didn’t know. She really didn’t know. Would she make a good parent? She’d like to think so. Could she afford to have a baby? She probably could. Could she put her career on hold? Well, she may not be able to travel, but she could work from home. She could take assignments that didn’t require travel until the baby was older.
Should she do this on her own? That raised the question about whether Alexandre should be told. He was the father. She hadn’t had sex with anyone else since. Hadn’t wanted to.
She rolled onto her side and pulled her comforter up to her chin.
So far, other than the Planned Parenthood people, she hadn’t discussed it with anyone. She hadn’t told her parents, her brother, or Krista, her best friend. Not yet. She needed to sort out what she wanted first.
If she chose abortion, she might not tell anyone. Because she was ashamed? Would she need the support of others to accept that decision? No, she didn’t think so. If she wasn’t ready to be a parent or go through with a pregnancy, that was her decision to make. There would be a time when she wanted to have children. She wanted to be a mother. But now? By herself? She rubbed her temples to ease the ache.
She missed Alexandre. She’d hoped time would help loosen the grip on her heart. And it had. Each day had been a little better. Until the phone call. Then all the feelings had come rushing back.
Would he care?
Would he take the baby away from her? That would break her heart all over again.
Should he have a say? If she chose to have an abortion, should he be told, be given a chance to weigh in? What if he was married and they wanted a baby or were looking to adopt? What if he was married and didn’t want to know? No tomorrow, he’d said. Was that what he’d meant? And if she decided to go through with it – pregnant for nine months, a scary-sounding delivery.
Her brain screamed. She just didn’t know. She felt on the verge of tears.
She rolled onto her back and stared into the darkness.
An abortion would be easiest. She was less than seven weeks and could just take a pill. Have one heavy period and be done with it. No one would be any wiser. She could get on with her life. Meet a man who could give her more than one night. Have kids they could raise together, in a house with a white picket fence and a dog. And be happy.
Planned Parenthood had given her the contact information for the closest abortion clinic. They had told her it could be organized quickly. She could call in the morning and get the ball rolling. They would walk her through it and hold her hand.
She felt a sense of peace. It was going to be okay. It was not the end of the world, and she could cope with this. As she rolled over to go back to sleep, she thought how lucky it was that, at least, she had a choice.
Chapter 6
Kalia sat at her computer sipping her first and only coffee of the day. She adjusted her position as the baby kicked and moved inside her. He seemed to wake up with the morning coffee, too. She rubbed her belly and laughed. He was keeping her awake through the night but had the nerve to complain when she finally got up and started her day.
She had struggled with the decision about her pregnancy. Had pretty much decided to have an abortion. Even had the appointment, talked to them, and learned more about it. But in the end, she couldn’t do it.
She wanted the baby. She loved Alexandre and already loved the baby. She wanted to be a good parent and would do whatever it took to make that happen.
She had told her parents, her brother, and Krista, and they were wonderfully excited and supportive. They’d asked who the father was, but she hadn’t said, and they hadn’t pressed. That was it. It was so easy.
She was due any day now. Time had gone by fast. She was down to weekly visits with Dr. Mikaela Finn, her obstetrician at St. Peter’s Hospital, and so far everything had been on track. She felt enormous, but Dr. Finn had reassured her that her weight was perfect. She had only one in there. There had been a bit of panic, on her part anyway, when the nurse had thought she’d heard two heartbeats at one of the visits early on. But an ultrasound confirmed there was only one baby. Thankfully.
She still wasn’t one hundred percent confident about her decision to pick parenting over adoption or abortion, but she was happy. It felt right.
She had moved into a quaint two-bedroom house on a quiet street in a lovely neighborhood. Much as she’d loved her condominium, she didn’t want to worry about disturbing the neighbors with a crying baby. Not that her baby would be crying much. But still.
It had taken a lot of house hunting to find the perfect home, complicated by some serious nesting and her need to find the ideal neighborhood and the safest, best-designed house for her and a baby.
She had moved out of the downtown core and into the Rivermede suburbs. The house was in a relatively new Bennett development (a quality home, of course). A paved walking path (great for a stroller) linked to a nearby park (green space – always good – and a safe place to meet the neighbors).
She’d met the neighbors on the right. The young family with two children had brought over a plate of muffins to introduce themselves. Annie, the four-year-old girl, was especially interested in the “baby in her tummy” and Joey, her twin, hoped for a boy to play with. Their mom, Teresa, had a load of hand-me-down clothing to give her, whether it was a boy or a girl. She’d raved about the quiet, kid-friendly street with a mix of elderly couples, who acted like surrogate grandparents, and young families.
Kalia hadn’t met the neighbor on the left but was told he was pretty quiet and kept to himself. Apparently he was a musician who traveled a lot, but otherwise Teresa didn’t know much about him.
Only two years old, the house was clean and bright. The front door
of the house opened into a small foyer with a living room off to the left (a great main floor play space when the baby grew to a toddler). The kitchen and sitting room were at the back of the house. The kitchen had an efficient work triangle, Shaker-style white cabinets, a gorgeous granite countertop, and a stunning marble tile backsplash (thank you for the upgrades, previous owners).
Instead of a formal dining room, the area adjacent to the sunny nook off the kitchen became her office. There was room for a computer desk, a loveseat, and a glass cabinet (securely tethered to the wall) to store her books and papers. Floor-to-ceiling windows provided a view to the backyard (great for keeping an eye on junior outside playing), and she could watch the birds, squirrels, and chipmunks scampering about (slightly distracting when she was working, but it just made her feel happy).
The house had an attached garage (so she wouldn’t have to carry the baby outside to get into the car when it rained). This opened into a main floor laundry room (with a perfect counter for a baby-changing area) and was next to a powder room (so she wouldn’t have to carry the baby upstairs every time she had to go to the bathroom).
And the house had a yard. Not a big yard – she didn’t want to spend all her time tending to it, but it was enough that she could take her little one outside into the sunshine to play.
Upstairs there were three bedrooms – a master bedroom with an ensuite bathroom and a walk-in closet (someone had their priorities right), a smaller bedroom (exactly the right size for a nursery), and an extra bedroom down the hall (ideal for Krista, who had offered to help out when the baby was born).
The previous owners had painted the walls of the smallest bedroom black. (Who does that? I like sad. I like sinister. Jeez.)
At one of her prenatal visits, she had mentioned to Dr. Finn that she’d moved into a new house and had asked about the risk of paint fumes in pregnancy. Dr. Finn had reassured her that the risk of exposure to toxins while painting a nursery was probably quite low. Especially if she wasn’t around oil or lead-based paints or paint that contained mercury. And she should avoid latex paint that contained ethylene glycol ethers and biocides as well.
Sounded like a job for a professional.
Dr. Finn had recommended Dr. MacMillan’s painting company.
Dr. MacMillan had a painting company?
Apparently the two doctors were friends and had started the company together to pay for medical school tuition. Dr. MacMillan still painted part-time with her new business partner, Chloe Keay.
Chloe had been fully booked, but when Kalia had mentioned that she was Dr. MacMillan’s patient and that the job was to paint a nursery, Chloe had laughed and said she’d fit it in. And today was the day.
The doorbell rang and Kalia went to answer it, not as limber with a big belly.
She pulled open the door. “Chloe, hi.”
“Hello there.” Chloe carried a paint can in one hand and had a large tote on her shoulder. “I swear that belly’s popped out a bit more since I last saw you two days ago.”
Kalia laughed and rubbed her side. “Due any day. The baby’s pretty active. I think he’s rarin’ to get out.”
Chloe rested a hand on Kalia’s belly. “He’s a wild one. It’s a boy?”
Kalia smiled ruefully. “I actually have no idea. The ultrasound wasn’t clear, and at every prenatal visit, the nurse said the heart rate was fast and told me I was having a girl. Until yesterday. Yesterday she said it was a boy.”
Chloe laughed. “By the look of that belly, I’d have to go with team girl. She’s sittin’ low.”
“I know. I’ve heard that one, too. And I didn’t have any morning sickness to speak of.”
“There you go. Girl.”
Kalia shrugged and smiled. “I’ve got girl names all picked out.”
Chloe nodded. “Well, at least you won’t have to worry about the color of the walls. Off-white with a hint o’ mint will work both ways.”
Kalia laughed. “Exactly. And I don’t really care if it’s a girl or boy as long as it’s healthy.”
“That’s how I felt, too.”
“Did you have a girl or a boy?”
“Two boys and a girl. I had triplets.”
“Oh, wow. They must be a handful. I can barely imagine raising one.”
“They are, but we have a system. And my hubby, Rip, is amazing with them. Hard to believe they’re just over two years old now. We’ve managed to keep them alive.” Chloe’s eyes went wide. “When they started to motor, I had my doubts we could,” she said with a chuckle. “They’re fast. Luckily, Rip’s faster. He’s a great dad.”
Kalia felt a pang. “Oh. Sounds wonderful.”
“We have a lot of fun.” Chloe adjusted the tote on her shoulder. “Well, I’d better get those walls done. It looks like you could pop that bambino out any day now. We’ll see how many coats of primer it takes to cover the black.”
“Before you paint the accent wall, could I see the green?”
“Sure thing. Once I prime her up, I’ll paint a swatch for you.”
Kalia nodded. “Thank you. Can I do anything to help?”
Chloe smiled. “Sit and relax.” She winked. “Trust me. Do it while you can.” She carried her equipment upstairs.
Kalia heard Chloe go back outside one more time and then it was quiet. She sat at her computer and worked on the article she was translating. At lunchtime, she went up to check on the progress.
All the walls in the nursery were white.
“Oh, Chloe. That looks fantastic.”
“Only primer so far, but it’s like night and day.” She grinned. “Literally.”
“Oh, even with primer, the room looks so much bigger and brighter. What a transformation.”
Chloe stepped back and nodded. “I’ve seen black on an accent wall in a study. But the cabinets were all white, and there was a ton of light from a big picture window. Stunning-o-rama. This space is a tad small to have all four walls painted black.”
“I love the white. It’s a hundred percent better.”
“Glad you like it.” Chloe pointed to a square on the wall. “There’s your Meadow Green. Whattaya think?”
Kalia turned and looked. “Love it. That is exactly what I wanted. Good eye.”
Chloe flashed a smile. “Thanks. I’ve picked a lot of color in my day. I think it’ll look great.”
“So do I.” Kalia rubbed her belly. “I was going to make lunch. Would you like a cup of tea? A sandwich or a salad – something to eat?”
Chloe wrapped her brush in plastic wrap. “Ah, that’s sweet of you. But I thought I’d scoot home for lunch. Rip’s looking after the triplets today. He’ll appreciate another set of hands and eyes at lunchtime. I live close by – one of the reasons today worked.”
“Thanks again for fitting this in, Chloe. It sounds like you’re really busy.”
“I am, and I love it.” Chloe slipped the roller brush in a plastic bag and smoothed it closed. “Bennett Homes have a new subdivision going in on the west side of Rivermede. And they’re just about ready to have the painting started.” She tapped the lid of the paint can with a mallet. “And when that’s done, we’ll be updating the penthouse floor at Bennett Suites on the Water.”
“Oh, that’s a spectacular place. I’ve wondered what the rooms look like. I’ve been to the restaurant, once. The food was delicious and the décor very elegant.”
Chloe nodded. “The suites are like that, too. If there’s one thing those Bennett men are famous for, it’s their good taste,” she said with a laugh. She picked up her keys. “I won’t be long. I’ll give the primer an hour to dry and then come back and put the paint on. I should be able to get two coats done today.” She glanced at the window. “I’d leave that open for now.”
“I will. Thanks again, Chloe.”
“You’re welcome, duckie. Be back soon.” She waved good-bye. “Don’t pop that bambino out while I’m gone,” she said, and skipped down the stairs.
Kalia laughed. “I’l
l try not to.” She followed her downstairs more slowly. Tomorrow she’d be able to decorate the nursery. It was all falling into place.
Chapter 7
Two days later, the nursery walls were done and the furniture assembled.
Kalia had said no to a baby shower, but it hadn’t mattered. Her parents and brother had surprised her with a new crib and change table. Krista had given her a stroller with a detachable car seat. It was a simple design. She hadn’t figured it out yet, but it was going to be great.
Her father had put together the crib, and her mom had sewn curtains to match the adorable linens – pale yellow and green and adorned with a grinning elephant and a goofy giraffe. Kalia had added a twin bed and a rocking chair to the nursery, decorated the walls with the alphabet, and hung a stuffed hot air balloon with the same charming animals in the bucket. She couldn’t go upstairs without stopping to admire the room.
Kalia sat at her computer trying to focus. She needed to get the last of the outstanding jobs done before the baby arrived. If she completed them, she’d be able to take two or three weeks off, if she needed. And according to experienced mothers, she would need it.
She scrolled through her emails before she got down to work. One from the International Forum of Neuroscience caught her eye. She was still on their email list, even though the work had been completed months ago. She opened it and read.
It is with great sadness that we mourn the loss of one of the most promising, young neuroscientific researchers, Dr. Alexandre Sinclair.
What? Kalia bolted upright.
Dr. Sinclair, aged thirty, lost his battle with non-Hodgkin lymphoma, diagnosed only ten months ago. He is survived by his parents, Dr. Alain Sinclair and Dr. Fiona Tabeau-Sinclair.
Dr. Alexandre Sinclair received his master’s degree and PhD in neuroscience at Oxford University and went on to study medicine and receive specialist certification in neurology at Stanford University. He was a pioneer of addiction research, and his numerous published papers, in journals ranging from Addiction to The New England Journal of Medicine, have changed the way scientific researchers and clinicians approach addiction worldwide. He was president of the International Neuroscience Association and held honorary positions in the American Academy of Neuroscience and the Addiction Research Foundation.
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