Sweet Trouble

by Sasha Gold

  “Not to mention fewer ear infections,” Lanie drones on.

  “Aw, you’ve been grumpy ever since you found out you had a bun in the oven, girl. You shoulda listened to me. Don’t rush into starting a family. Have some fun. Kids are nothing but trouble. Short people who don’t pay rent.”

  Her response comes rapid fire an octave higher. No way am I escaping this unscathed. “Fine, Lanie. Find out what we’d need to do to have child-care at the company.”

  Then she starts crying and telling me what a wonderful human being I am. Poor thing. She’s a bundle of hormones. Maybe after she pops this kid out she’ll get a hold of herself. Maybe.

  I slam the door to the truck and walk up to Gran’s house and think about how to talk to Olivia. I can’t come straight out and ask about Bailey because that’ll just start a line of questioning that doesn’t interest me. If Gran catches the scent, I’m toast. She’s better at sniffing out emotions than a bloodhound tracking a scent. The two of them will gang up on me and I’ll never hear the end of it.

  I open the screen door and push the front door open. The scent of freshly baked bread hits me first. I walk down the long hallway. The floorboards creak beneath my feet. Familiar sounds. By the time I was six, I knew where all the creaks were, and I could sneak into the kitchen without Gran hearing me. I pass the pictures of me and Olivia throughout the years and head into the kitchen.

  “There’s my boy,” Gran says, leaving the stove to kiss me and hug me. For an old girl she’s still plenty strong. It’s the work, she likes to say, when folks tell her how well she’s getting on. Hard work, every day and a little prayer doesn’t hurt either.

  Olivia’s tossing a salad and I hug her next.

  “You still have that nasty beard. You look scary. You know that?”

  I go to the fridge and grab a beer. “I’m so busy right now I don’t know if I’m coming or going. Haven’t taken the time to shave. Anyway, I like looking scary.”

  Olivia shakes her head and puts the salad on the table. It’s set for three which tells me Olivia’s husband, a long-distance truck driver, must be on the road.

  “I think you look handsome as ever,” Gran says.

  Olivia shakes her head.

  “Thanks Gran. You know, this look has its benefits. My receptionist, Bernice, was getting the run around from her landlord. Said he took an extra two-hundred dollars through an automatic draft. Then he says it’s the bank’s mistake and she should talk to them. I paid him a visit and he peeled off two c-notes without being asked twice.”

  Olivia makes a face at me, but Gran cheers. “Good for you, Nick. I saw Bernice in the store and she told me all about that son of a rascal.”

  My grandmother never has a bad word to say about either Olivia or me.

  Edith Marie Hoffmann is my mom’s mom and she raised both of us. My dad smacked my mother around and Olivia too. When Gran found out, she told him he could leave town or she’d take the pistol she stowed under her mattress and shoot his private parts to kingdom come.

  Robert McKinley was a mean son of a bitch but even he was afraid of Gran. He left and a year later was killed in a bar fight. My mom died a few years later from pneumonia. Since I was about five, it was just the three of us. Me, Olivia and Gran.

  Olivia married, but no children, thanks to David Voss. She’s happy though. She says delivering babies is what she was meant to do. Bringing them into the world is the next best thing to having your own.

  She goes to the fridge and takes out a bottle of Gran’s dressing and sets it on the table beside a bowl of creamed chard and mashed potatoes.

  “What have you been up to, Olivia?”

  I hope my question sounds casual.

  “Your sister helped deliver five babies down in Leandro. Three of them from families without homes. Their houses got washed away in the flood. Bless their hearts. Can you imagine having a baby and nowhere to go?”

  “That’s terrible, Gran.”

  “It was crazy. That’s for sure. They were running out of beds and it was hard to get in and out of Leandro. The two main roads are washed out and you can only get there if you take this bumpy, awful gravel road.”

  “Did you see anyone you knew?” I ask.

  Gran snorts and sets pieces of stewed chicken on a platter. “In Leandro. Who would she know in that little town?”

  Olivia goes to the fridge and gets a beer. “I did actually.”

  “Oh?”

  “I saw David Voss’ niece there.”

  Gran jerks like she just touched a live wire and she spins to face Olivia. “David Voss?”

  Olivia shrugs a shoulder. “She’s part of a group of nurses that travel to underserved or understaffed areas. It’s something she’s doing to help pay down her school debt.”

  Debt? I didn’t know she had debt. The notion bothers me and I wonder what kind of debt we’re talking about. How could I convince her to let me pay it off? Shit, she’s stubborn. I grip the bottle a little harder than necessary imagining getting my hands on her when she’s done with this assignment.

  “She’s a nice person, Nick,” Olivia says. “It’s possible she’ll come back to Fulton. Please don’t give her a bad time.”

  Suppressing a growl, I take a swig of my beer. “I won’t.”

  “I told her about the bad blood between our families.”

  I try not to show any reaction. Of course, Olivia did that. She probably tried to explain why I was so angry in the ER that day. Now I know why Bailey’s not talking to me. When I see her again I’m going to have to lay my cards on the table. All of them. If she’ll agree to see me that is.

  “What did she say about that,” I ask. My heart pounds in my chest and I’m watching Olivia’s face for any gesture or clue as to how Bailey responded. I want her to wave it off and tell me Bailey didn’t care I threatened to kill off her family. Like that was no big deal. At all.

  “She didn’t say anything, really,” Olivia said. “She just got real quiet.”

  I’m fucked. I’ll just bet she’s running as fast as she can to get away from that shit. Too bad. I’ll find her. I’ll find her no matter what.

  “She’s already got enough trouble,” Olivia says softly.

  “Does she?” I say, wondering what the hell she means by ‘trouble’.

  Olivia sips her beer. “I shouldn’t talk about other people’s business.”

  “Why not?” Gran asks.

  “It’s a confidentiality issue. That’s why.”

  I force myself to remain where I am instead of grabbing my sister and shaking her by the shoulders.

  We all stand in the center of the kitchen while the dinner sits forgotten on the table.

  “Oh hell.” Gran waves a dismissive hand. “Who are we going to talk to this about? Nobody in Fulton knows this girl.”

  I grip my beer and try to push away the crazy shit that goes through my head. Bailey hurt. Bailey sick. Bailey needing me. All of it makes me wild with a furious fear that shreds me, rips me apart.

  “It started when she fainted one night. At first everyone just figured it was because she was overworked. I’d just gotten there but a lot of those nurses hadn’t had a day off in days and days. All of them were walking around half-asleep. Next day she was back at work, looking a lot better. Everyone told her she needed to ask for a day off but she wouldn’t.”

  Gran clicks her tongue. “Bless her heart.”

  “A few days later she’s talking to one of my patients about blood pressure history and she runs to the bathroom and throws up.”

  Every word Olivia says grips me like a vice and it’s like I see Bailey every step of the way. Every small detail paints a moment in my mind and a slow chill crawls over my skin. I know. I know how this story ends.

  “All I can think is the girl’s pregnant,” Olivia says.

  “Dear Lord,” Gran says. “Right in the middle of that disaster?”

  “The next day I hear her tell her girlfriend that her mom told her not to ca
ll with her problems.”

  Neither Gran nor I say a word. My mouth is dry sandpaper. I couldn’t speak if I tried.

  Olivia shakes her head. “It always gets me. These young girls getting themselves in trouble when I would have given anything for a baby. I even heard her tell her friend that if the father knew, he wouldn’t want it either.”

  “That son of a bitch,” Gran murmurs.

  The bottle slips from my hand and hits the floor like a cinder block. Beer shoots out across the kitchen and I should grab it, but I can’t move. I just stand there and watch the mess I made spread across the faded linoleum.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Bailey

  I really don’t know what I ever saw in Sydney Hatfield. Back when we went through nursing school she seemed super-smart, super-hilarious, and best of all, kind. So, so kind. But now, when I need her the most, I find that she’s not kind at all. My stomach is churning like a Cat 5 hurricane and my so-called friend is timing my ginger ale sips.

  I hate her.

  “Two minutes,” she chirps as she frowns at my cuticles.

  Not only is she tackling my nausea and non-stop vomiting, but she’s tackling my embarrassing lack of nail grooming. Her words, not mine. I close my eyes and pray for death as she rubs some horrible-smelling salve into my nailbed.

  I must have had the audacity to drift off to sleep because Sydney sounds irritated when she nudges my shoulder. I blink and see her coming at me with a teaspoon of ginger ale.

  “One of us isn’t appreciating that this is my first day off in thirteen days. I could be down at that cute little market shopping the craft stalls the fundraisers set up. I could be supporting the Rebuild Leandro effort but instead I’m here spoon feeding you tequila shots.”

  I gasp and struggle to push the spoon away.

  She rolls her eyes and snorts at her the hilarity of her tequila comment. “Shut up already, would you? Like I’m going to waste tequila on my preggers girlfriend. I don’t think so, sweet pea.”

  Groaning I take the spoonful of soda and sink back to my bed. I just want to curl into the fetal position. I also want to figure out a way to get Sydney to stop talking. When I feel a little better I plan on doing something really mean to her. Not sure. But it will be good. Epic.

  “You need to tell the father, Bailey.”

  “I know,” I whisper. I haven’t told her who the father is and I know it hurts her feelings, but I can’t talk about him. I miss him. Like crazy, crazy. But I’m so scared to tell him. I’m scared to even see him.

  “And we need to find a way for you to see an OB,” she says, speaking more quietly now.

  That’s the other thing that weighs on my mind. I knew I had the world’s shittiest insurance, but now I find out it doesn’t even cover prenatal stuff. Like nothing. I could have gotten supplemental coverage, when I signed up, but now my coverage was set until the next Open Enrollment, the HR lady told me cheerfully. Thanks, I wanted to tell her. So helpful.

  I never imagined I’d be able to conceive. It’s a miracle, I tell myself, spreading my fingers across my stomach. What will it feel like to have a little baby bump?

  I fall asleep to the sound of her fussing about how prenatal vitamins will make my nails awesome and who would have thought that I would be the one to get knocked up. I wake up a few hours later. It’s dark. The motel room is pitch black and I shine my phone towards the opposite bed. Sydney lies fast asleep just a few feet away. I breathe a sigh of relief. Sometime later she whispers something about breakfast and she slips from the room.

  After that, I drift into a restless sleep full of dreams about Nick. Some of the dreams are sweet but some scare me and I wake in a cold sweat, clutching my stomach. I’m angry. Lost. Bitter. How could he do those things to me if he hated me? Maybe he did them because he hated me.

  There’s a knock at the door and my heart jumps in my chest. It’s still thundering from the dream I just had. It’s daylight and I’m lying, tangled in bed sheets. I try to catch my breath, imagining him on the other side of the door. Knocking. Which is ridiculous. There’s no way Nick could know where I am. My brain is addled from hormones. I get to my feet and stagger to the door. I could use the chain on the door to check and make sure it’s Sydney, but that would be just paranoid.

  Feeling stupid, I unlock the door.

  “Surprise!” Sydney yells, practically giving me a heart attack. “I brought breakfast tacos and coffee.”

  “Did you forget your key?”

  She pushes past me and sets several bags down on the little coffee table by the window. “I did. Sorry. But to make up for it you can have the only potato and egg. Can you believe they…”

  Sydney’s voice fades and the foil-wrapped taco she’s holding, rolls from her hand, landing on the stained carpet. She’s staring past me with a look of terror on her face. I spin towards the open door.

  Nick steps into the room.

  Sydney grabs a cup of coffee and tears the lid off. She’s holding it like a weapon. Her hand shakes so badly the coffee sloshes. “Who the fuck are you?”

  He just stands there, scanning the motel room with a look of disgust. He’s wearing a suit, a suit! And a tie. His eyes are hidden behind a pair of aviators and he’s clean-shaven. I’m not sure what part of the whole picture surprises me the most. The clothing. It has to be the clothing. I’m used to seeing him in jeans, boots and a rumpled shirt. Normally, he wears his clothes like he’s mad at them. Not today. The suit fits him perfectly, accentuating his powerful build.

  Nick might be dangerous. I should flee. Run. But I can’t move because my body won’t obey my frightened thoughts. All I can do is stare at Nick McKinley. In my hotel room. Wearing a suit.

  He shakes his head and kicks aside a pizza box. Giving Sydney a brittle smile, he takes his sunglasses off and slides them in his breast pocket. “I’m the baby-daddy.”

  Sydney’s eyes flash. “Is that true, Bailey?”

  “Yes,” I say, softly. “That’s Nick.”

  “The guy from the dance hall?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why wouldn’t you tell me?” She shakes her head in disbelief. Great. Now she’s mad at me too. She’s not enraged like Nick but the hurt is there in her eyes. Suddenly I feel so tired. So empty. I say nothing and go back to my bed and pull the covers over myself. I feel like I have the world’s worst hangover and I just want the world to go away. I close my eyes but not for long, because the blankets are ripped away.

  “Get up,” Nick snarls.

  “Whoa, there Nick!” Sydney rushes to my side of the bed and tries to get between me and Nick. “She has the day off and she’s sleeping today.”

  “She can sleep in my truck. I’m taking her home.”

  Nick crosses the room, picks up my bag and tosses it on the foot of my bed.

  “To her mother’s?” Sydney asks.

  “To my house,” Nick says. He picks up my cowboy boots and shoves them in the bag. “We’re marrying so I can take care of her. Give her and the baby insurance, and a home.”

  “Insurance?” Sydney looks from me to him and back to me. “Okay.”

  “Yes. Insurance. Also, I don’t want her living in shitty motels.” Next he holds up a pair of jeans. “Yours?”

  He directs the question to Sydney who’s still in a state of shock. I would be too if I had the energy.

  “Those are hers,” she says.

  “I’m not going with you, Nick,” I say softly. I struggle to sit up and hang my feet over the edge of the bed.

  He doesn’t say anything. Instead he throws more of my stuff into the bag and Sydney fishes out a pair of her sneakers.

  “Why are you so mad at Bailey?” she asks.

  “Why don’t you ask her when she planned on telling me she was pregnant?”

  She shrugs. “Okay. Bailey, when were you planning on telling Nick you were pregnant?”

  I scowl at her.

  “How did you find out she was pregnant?” Sydney asks Nick
.

  “My sister is Olivia Mathews. She was here working a few days ago.”

  Sydney nods. “I know Olivia.” I can see her changing her mind about the man she was about to hurl coffee at a moment ago. She eyes him appreciatively, nodding. “Okay.”

  “I’m here to take her home.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I mean, I like taking care of her, but I need to work too,” Sydney says. “She’s been talking about you.”

  “Sydney…” I whisper. She glances my direction and I summon my strength to shake my head. I don’t want Nick to know I was missing him or calling out in my sleep or any of that.

  Sydney ignores me and just talks with Nick about which piles of clothing are mine. Not only is she chatting with him about how much I’ve thrown up and how tearful and hormonal I’ve been but, she’s helping pack my stuff.

  Now I hate both of them and I want to hurt them anyway I can. Mostly Nick. I want to tear his heart to pieces like he did mine.

  So, naturally, I go for the lowest blow I can muster. “I’m not sure he’s the father.”

  That doesn’t even phase him and judging from Sydney’s expression she’s not buying it either. I hear him chuckle softly as he goes into the bathroom. She follows him and I listen as they talk about what’s mine and what’s hers.

  I close my eyes and the image that plays in my mind, a dream I’ve had two or three times, is of the river that runs through Nick’s property, the same one that wiped out the Leandro homes. When we crossed it on his bike, it carried parts of people’s home, parts of their lives. Debris.

  I can see it in my mind’s eye, the way I saw it in my dream, but now the rushing water takes other things. My nursing scrubs. A pair of fatigues. And a child’s doll dressed in a little jumper. The memory makes me shiver. I sink into the bedding, wishing it all would go away. Nick. My strange dreams. Even Sydney. I feel utterly spent.

  All I know is that I have nowhere to go. I can’t stay at this motel. I can’t go back to Susanna’s apartment, and I for sure can’t go back home. My mother made it perfectly clear I wasn’t welcome. Not pregnant.

  Don’t come running to me with your problem.

  That’s what she said just before she hung up on me.