by Susan Ward
“Rome is all right, but I’d rather be home. I don’t enjoy the road without you, and I’d really prefer to be closer to you right now.”
“I’d prefer that, too,” I whisper, feeling myself become all mushy emotional again, only this time in a pleasant way.
“Listen, I’ve been thinking—”
“Don’t start, Neil,” I interrupt quickly. “I’m not moving in with Jack until you’re off the road in January.”
I hear a frustrated growl. “For once, will you hear me out? I don’t like the thought of you alone on the mountain or trying to drive yourself down the roads if you have an emergency. It’s only a few weeks. I’d worry less, sleep better if I knew you were at Jack’s.”
“Really, that’s not necessary. You make it sound like we live in the middle of nowhere. It’s a ten minute drive to town. I’ve got too much to do up here to go hang with Jack until you’re home again.”
“Too much to do.” He sounds amused. “Like what?”
I scrunch up my nose. “Today I’m painting clouds.”
A long pause and then laughter.
“God, Chrissie. I don’t want to ask what you have on your calendar tomorrow.”
We both laugh and it feels good.
“Be nice,” I chide.
“I am being nice. Have you been working on your music at all?”
That question surprises me. When I showed Neil the material I was working on in November, his expression screamed oh, here is another Chrissie hobby. He didn’t seem to take it that seriously, for all that he gets in Josh’s face about what a brilliant musician I am when Josh lets loose a dose of his Seattle music elitism on me.
“I’ve ten songs finished,” I say, trying to sound casual when internally I am anything but indifferent. “Enough for a respectable demo, don’t you think?”
“That’s great,” Neil says, impressed. “I can’t wait to hear them. You probably have enough material for a hundred albums in your journals. Nate is right. You do write fucking incredible lyrics.”
I ignore the compliment, though it really pleases me. Instead, I say, “And guess what?”
Neil laughs. “What?”
“I’ve been recording the tracks, all by myself. There is a learning curve to getting it right, especially doing it by myself, and I definitely don’t have as much breath when I sing because of the baby, but I don’t think they are completely awful.”
“I don’t even need to hear them. They are not awful at all. I bet it’s amazing work.”
I shrug, more to myself than him. “Well, it keeps me occupied and off the streets.”
That makes Neil chuckle low in his chest. Good, I’ve amused him. I can feel my eyes grow sparkly in that way they do when I’m really happy.
“I love you, Chrissie.”
“I love you, too,” I whisper, feeling it in a sweetly painful way that I really needed today. I’ve been more emotionally messy than usual.
“About that other thing we were discussing,” he says calmly. He’s slipped it into the phone call very smoothly, but I tense anyway. “Have you given it any thought? I think it’s a good plan. I think we should do it. I don’t want to miss the birth.”
“Nope, not discussing that one either.”
“I’m home two weeks in January, but we can’t be certain Kaley will come then. Why not induce the labor or schedule a C-section so that I can be there? I don’t want to miss it.”
“Then don’t miss it,” I counter obstinately. “I’m not going to do it, Neil. Stop telling me that you think I should.”
I hear a frustrated exhale of breath through the phone. “It’s the only way we can be absolutely certain I’m there. Be reasonable, Chrissie. Let’s schedule the birth.”
I shake my head and run a hand through my hair, aggravated. “I want to do it the old-fashioned way. The natural way. I don’t understand why you don’t get that.”
“I do get it, baby. But our timing sucked. Isn’t it more important for us to be together when you have Kaley?”
I gnaw on my lower lip and give it a hard bite to stop my escalating emotions. Neil is right, but something deep in me rebels against scheduling something again that is a procedure.
“What if she’s the only baby we ever have?” I murmur haltingly.
“I don’t think that’s something we have to worry about,” he says, amused. “You seem to get pregnant really easily.”
He laughs, and I force myself to laugh, but everything inside me is twirling like a tornado. I know he’s not thinking of that, of my unplanned pregnancy with Alan, but his teasing comment has the unpardonable power to bring those memories crashing back. And with it Alan and the other things I don’t permit myself to think of.
I change the subject. “You’ll never guess who’s coming to the baby shower your mom is throwing for me tomorrow.”
A pause. “Rene?”
He say that in a Rene is not my favorite girl way. Neil is more upset about her lack of interest in my friendship than I am.
“No. Rene isn’t coming. Something about hospital hours.”
“I think she’s jealous of you, Chrissie. That’s why she’s avoiding all things baby,” he says, annoyed. “And the medical school excuses are really getting old. It’s only about hospital hours if there is a guy for her to screw waiting in a hospital bed.”
I choke back my laughter, but I savor how quickly Neil takes my side in all things. It’s really nice to have one person always on my side and Neil is that. I feel calmer, less chaotic.
“Well, you’re going to miss an interesting party at your folks’ place,” I say. “Linda Rowan is coming and she’s staying a week with me at the house, so we can stop arguing about me moving to Jack’s. At least for a week. I won’t be alone here.”
“Linda Rowan? Really?” He sounds as surprised as I was over this development, and there is something else in his voice I’m not quite certain of. “How the hell did you end up with her staying at the house?”
Oh crap. He sounds pissed.
“I’m not really sure,” I answer lamely because I am still confused how it all happened. “One minute she’s on the phone thanking me for inviting her to the shower—which I didn’t, Neil. I didn’t put her on the invitation list—and the next thing I know she’s staying the week with me.”
He lets out a ragged breath. “Sort of like a blessing and a curse. I don’t want anything to do with the Rowans, but I’m glad there will be, at least for a little while, someone at the house with you.”
I make a pout at the phone. “Linda is a good person. You’d like her if you ever got to know her. I like Linda.”
He sighs. “I know you do.”
Silence, and even through the phone it feels heavy and strained. He doesn’t want Linda here and he won’t ask me to un-invite her. She is one of Alan’s closest friends and Neil doesn’t want any part of Alan’s world near us. Understandable, and belatedly I acknowledge that letting her push her way into an invite wasn’t a smart move for any of us.
Especially not for me. No good can come from having Linda as a close personal friend. It’s better to keep her an arm’s length away.
“Do you want me to call her back? Tell her not to come,” I ask.
“Fuck, Chrissie, you can’t do that. It would hurt her feelings. She’s a nice woman. You don’t want to do that.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. I hear someone in the background calling for Neil.
“I’ve got to go, Chrissie. Talk to you tomorrow, baby. Try to miss me a little.”
I roll my eyes. “I miss you a lot,” I say earnestly.
“I miss you more.”
“That’s only because you haven’t seen me in a month,” I tease.
“Stop it, Chrissie. You don’t know how much I wish you were lying in bed beside me every night.”
“That’s about the limit of what I can do,” I point out mockingly. “The doctor says we can have sex all the way up to my due date. That it’s even a g
ood thing to start labor, but it just doesn’t seem feasible to me.”
I hear what sounds like a growl through the phone and I grin. “Don’t remind me. I like to pretend in my mind I’m going to get laid when I get home.”
“You better not be getting laid on the road,” I taunt.
“Nope. You can count the new calluses on my hands,” Neil says, humorously exaggerated and frustrated. “I’ve got to run, baby. Talk to you soon.”
Click. I put the phone back in the receiver and return to Kaley’s bedroom. An hour later the wall is done and it doesn’t look half bad, if I do say so myself. I tidy up the mess from the painting supplies, take them to the garage and then return to give the room one last check.
Crib. Rocker. Dresser. Changing table. Curtain. I tick off each item one by one. Perfect. I’m done. There is everything a newborn could possibly need here.
I switch off the light, go to the kitchen, reach into the fridge for a Hansen’s Natural Soda and then grab the Diet Coke. Screw it. A little caffeine won’t hurt anything. Not now. Kaley is almost ready to be here. The doctor said I could even have an occasional glass of wine.
My gaze slowly roams the interior of my kitchen. The oven clock says 9 p.m. I should probably sleep since tomorrow is going to be a long day for me with the party and I tire so quickly these days.
I grimace, thinking of the baby shower. It was sweet that Neil’s mother, Michelle, wanted to have something for me, but it’s not really me. A herd of women doing girl things and gushing over baby stuff. Mostly the Stanton relatives and Michelle’s friends since I’m pathetically light in the girlfriend department. In fact, I only added two names to Michelle’s invitation list. Rene and—my nose crinkles even more—Jack.
A herd of women and Jack. Crap, there is a definite downside to having only one living relative and having it be male.
No one to ask to attend the Lamaze classes with. It seemed too weird to ask Jack to stand in for Neil, so I just read a book and skipped the whole damn thing.
No one to call and ask if this is normal when my pregnancy body does something weird. And there have been a few moments of bizarre pregnancy body lately.
Baby showers. Jack surrounded by women in the Stantons’ backyard. Definite downside.
And nights like tonight, when I’m feeling keyed up and restless again, thinking too much, and could really use a girlfriend to talk to, even if only on the phone. Someone to chase away my thoughts and the whispering sadness that visits too often these days.
I should probably go to sleep. Instead, I head toward the door in the living room and the recording studio one floor below.
CHAPTER TWO
At a crawl, I drive up and down the narrow downtown street where the Stantons live, rapidly scanning the long line of cars for a vacant spot. Nothing. Nada. Nil. Jeez, what’s going on here? Why are there so many cars? The Stantons are a large family, but this can’t all be them.
Dread moves through me. I hate large parties, and the only thing worse than too many people, is being the focal point of too many people. Michelle couldn’t have possibly sent out this many invites for my shower. No, no, no. Something else must be going on downtown and I’m just being paranoid.
Frustrated, I park in the vacant space in the driveway. I don’t know whose spot I’m taking, but pregnant women have priority. The nearest spot is five blocks away, and I’m not walking it. Not in these silly high-heeled sandals I shoved my swollen feet into. Lame, Chrissie, lame. Flip-flops would have worked at the Stantons’. Maybe not with the dress, but definitely with the family.
I climb out of the car into warm afternoon air and a deafening assault of sound. I stare at the house, and realize it’s coming from the Stantons’ backyard. Music. Laughter. People.
Oh crap.
The only reason I agreed to the shower was because I thought it would be one of the Stantons’ folksy family gatherings. It never occurred to me that this is the first grandchild, that Michelle would go overboard, or that Michelle would have the abilities to turn it into a circus.
That’s what it sounds like. An overpacked circus in the Stantons’ backyard. It sounds like there are dozens of people out there, though I can’t imagine how Michelle could put together something to accommodate that many people, even though the lot is large.
I shake my head, feeling a flash of anger for my absent husband. Neil, you are going to owe me big time for this—for guilting me into agreeing to let Michelle do this so I wouldn’t hurt your mom’s feelings.
I pause a moment to smooth my dress. I stare at the house in dismay, wondering if Neil knew what his mother had been up to. They are so close. They talk about everything. Why didn’t he warn me on the phone this morning that it was going to be like this?
I climb the four concrete steps up to the front door, pull back the black iron security screen and knock.
It’s opened wide and I smile.
“There’s our girl,” Robert Stanton announces and then laughs. “Or should I say two girls?” He gives my belly a light pat before pulling me into an affectionate bear hug. He eases back, smiling down at me. “You’re late. I thought maybe you had gotten smart when you drove by the house and saw what the women were up to and decided to ditch the party.”
I laugh at the way he says that and my limbs slowly release their tension. “It does sound like it’s going to be a little overwhelming,” I admit. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
Robert’s eyes twinkle. “Me, too.” He places an arm around me as he closes the door. “Come on. Your dad is already here. He arrived way before the party. Has been here for hours, and I’m not over the shock of that one. And there must be a hundred people in the yard I don’t know. Not even sure where they all came from.”
Fudge, a hundred. Did I hear him right?
I’m silent as we walk across the living room to the patio doors. I stare out into the yard, stunned.
It’s been transformed in a way unimaginable and so unlike the Stantons. Plush expensive adornments everywhere. Luxurious outdoor couches and overstuffed chairs. Round tables covered in linen tablecloths of pale yellow and gray—the colors I chose for Kaley—topped with crystal vases filled with flowers. Long buffet tables. Stylishly dressed people mingling with the more casually dressed Stanton family. Photographers. Music. A giant table with an ice sculpture surrounded by presents.
As if he can sense my unease, Robert gives me an affectionate squeeze on my shoulder. “Yep, it’s quite a show. Started spiraling out of control three weeks ago when that manager of Neil’s got involved wanting to get a little publicity out of it for my son.”
My eyes widen. “Publicity? Are you telling me that Ernie Levine crashed my baby shower and turned it into a publicity stunt?”
Robert sighs. “Didn’t just crash it. He hijacked the damn thing. Michelle was beside herself, and all Neil said was ‘whatever Ernie wants is what you do. It’s good for my career. It’s good for the brand.’” He rolls his eyes. “I would like someone to explain exactly when Neil decided he was a brand instead of my son.”
My head is spinning. That doesn’t sound like Neil at all. To treat his father like that. To want this. To allow this and not tell me. No, Robert must have gotten it wrong and Neil must have just said something in a way that let Robert take it incorrectly.
Neil is the most grounded, level-headed guy I’ve ever known. He doesn’t like the hype of the recording industry. No, this is Ernie Levine’s doing, no one else’s. My dislike of Ernie shoots through my veins.
“I can see you didn’t know,” Robert says sympathetically. “I’m going to have to have a talk with that boy of mine when he gets home. He needs to take better care of the mother of my only grandchild.”
I almost smile at the way he says that—part authoritative cop and part exasperated father. I probably would have smiled if I wasn’t so pissed off.
“If not for your friend Linda,” he continues, “calling my wife out of nowhere and offering to help, Michelle would
have had a nervous breakdown weeks ago. That woman is a godsend.”
My lids fly wide. Linda called Michelle? But how did Linda know that Ernie Levine was creating this nightmare? And why would Linda offer to jump in and assist with the arrangements? We’re friends, but definitely not the step in and oversee a baby shower type friends.
We were sort of close during my days with Alan in New York, but since then we’ve only had an occasional phone call type of relationship. And even that is an iffy kind of odd thing I never expected after the incident between Alan and Neil at Jack’s party. I assumed I’d never hear from her again, but she calls me regularly, which I totally don’t get.
“Now, that woman knows how to take charge,” Robert adds approvingly. “Just a heads-up: that little weasel is out there somewhere, but if Ernie gives you any trouble, sic Linda on him. She knows how to manage this nonsense. They have already had quite a few confrontations today. My money is on Linda. Ernie is afraid of her. To be honest, I’m a little afraid of her, too.”
I laugh only because Robert looks like he expects me to, but inside I’m reeling. It’s too much. Too much all at once, and I start to feel slightly disoriented. How could Neil let this happen?
Breathe in. Breathe out, Chrissie.
Somehow I manage to plaster a smile on my face before I follow Robert into the yard. The instant I step beneath the giant awning there is no time to say hello to Michelle or Jack or anyone I know here. Flashbulbs explode around me. Questions are shot at me like bullets from a machine gun.
I spot Ernie Levine in the center of the horde and my gaze narrows on him, even as I struggle to keep up with the rapidly shouted words all around me.
I’m about to try to stutter out some kind of response, when the words I hear are not the words in my head.
“One picture,” is shouted on a voice that could puncture the sound barrier. “We had an agreement. One picture when Chrissie arrives. One picture opening gifts. One picture cutting cake. But no questions. She’s not taking questions and she’s definitely not answering them. Now leave her alone or I’ll kick you all out of here.”