Angela Parks was at her desk, chewing on her bottom lip as she frowned at her computer screen.
“Oh! Joe! I didn’t see you there,” she said, quickly minimizing the screen as he stopped at the side of her cubicle. She giggled.
“Elise tells me you didn’t file the Michigan Local workers’ compensation papers.”
“She knows? I was just getting it done.”
“We lost the account this morning.”
Her face drained of all color and the young woman looked like she was going to cry. Ruth Gregory walked by. A couple of pay techs were in surrounding cubicles. He should have called her into his office.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“I meant to do it,” she said, wringing her hands. “I thought I had. I’m not great at organizing, and Elise used to go over all key duties with me every couple of days. Lately I thought I’d been managing better than she’d have managed them for me. I don’t know what happened…”
The girl was babbling. And while apparently a poor organizer, she was loyal, sharp and liked to please. His partner would have seen that. And had apparently decided that Angela’s skills outweighed her weaknesses. That was why Elise was a good people manager and he was not.
“I’d be glad to meet with Angela three times a week if that’ll help,” Tamara said, appearing from behind Joe. “Things are still a little slow for me since we’re just starting the department and only have a couple of clients.”
Tamara Murphy, another Elise find. Joe tried to guess what his partner would do now. And drew a blank.
“Fine.” He made the easiest decision, needing to get to his office before he took out his frustration on a twenty-five-year-old. “Let me know if you need any help,” he added from the hall. He hoped to God he didn’t hear from either of them again.
At least not for the rest of the morning.
IT WOULDN’T HAVE HAPPENED if she’d been at work, Elise knew. Her guilt hung heavily on her all morning as she logged in to the network that would put her online with work and perused B&R’s payouts for the previous week. She’d promised Joe when they’d made these arrangements that she wouldn’t call the office unless there was an emergency. Too much contact would cause stress, was his theory.
Judging by the tension running through her veins as she sat there wondering what was going on without her, she had an idea his theory was dead wrong.
But the man had sacrificed hugely for her—he’d put his entire life on hold while she lived hers. She had to honor his wishes wherever she could.
So she sat home. Worked. Rested. Felt her babies, talked to them. Took a hot bath. And tried not to feel completely dispensable to the rest of the world as she waited for Joe to come to her house for dinner.
Her house. Not his home.
She had to remember that.
THEY DIDN’T MENTION Michigan Local again. Joe reported his conversation with Angela, including Tamara’s intervention—a situation that was confirmed the next morning via e-mail with her employees—and business went on. Joe had always said that when you lose one deal, you go on to the next, and based on what he had to say when he got to the house each night, he was hell-bent on doing just that. In the five business days of that week, he made more calls than he’d made in all of the previous month.
But each night, when the lights in her house went out, he joined Elise in the bed in the small bedroom next to the nursery. Sometimes he just rubbed her back and legs. Sometimes his massages were whole-body affairs. Every night he put lotion on her stomach. They were intimate three times.
And spoke of the future not at all.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“HERE’S BABY A…” the technician said as she used her laser pointer and mouse to separate the dark and light shadows on the screen. She found two arms and legs, measured the head circumference, counted ten fingers and toes, measured arm and leg-bone lengths.
Joe listened intently, studying the screen, and was actually able to discern eyes and nose and a tiny little…
“He’s sucking his thumb!” Amazed, he glanced at the technician for verification of what he knew he was seeing.
“Yep!” the young woman, Sari, said.
“Elise, did you see that? Danny’s sucking his thumb!” Joe glanced at his partner, on her back on the examining bed, and wished he could prop up her head, turn her on her side, anything to make her more comfortable. She was grinning at the screen, however, and didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable.
He knew she was. He’d been sleeping with her for six weeks, been helping to prop her stomach for the past two. She had a hard time breathing when she lay flat.
“Thomas’s mouth is open,” she said. He searched for Baby B. And found him only when the technician circled him. But he zeroed in on all the body parts quickly enough. Thomas was a little smaller than Danny. Dr. Braden had said size differences were normal.
Baby C, Ellen, weighed as much as Danny.
“She’s going to be an athlete,” Joe said.
“Or whatever else she wants to be,” Elise added. Her smile was still wide, but the sweat on her upper lip told him she was having a hard time maintaining the position.
It was never enough. No matter what you did, how hard you tried, parents had to continue to give, to endure, beyond what they thought possible. He wondered if she was pretending not to care about the discomfort for his sake. She needn’t have bothered.
Elise and the technician had to work together, changing positions, pressing on her stomach, to get Baby D, Grace, into full view. Distracted by his thoughts, Joe couldn’t find the patches of white that designated arms and legs.
Sari was apparently having the same difficulty. She’d stopped talking. Stopped pointing and drawing. Her digital ruler moved. She clicked frames and saved them.
She prodded Elise’s midsection again. And once more, apologizing when Elise winced.
“What’s wrong?” Perspiration beaded on Elise’s forehead as she frowned at the screen. “What is it?”
Sari shook her head. “Probably nothing. I’m just a technie and have no training for reading the results. Your doctor will be able to tell you anything you need to know.”
“Something’s wrong with Grace, isn’t it?” Elise’s voice rose, though she remained still as Sari finished up. “Tell me.”
The young woman’s face was straight. And white. Joe stepped forward. “Hey,” he said to his business partner, holding her gaze with his own. “We’re here together.” He had to tend to her “alone” issues first or she’d panic. The past months had taught him that much.
Her gray eyes were smokier than usual as her gaze clung to his.
“We’ll call Dr. Braden as soon as we leave here. Until then, try to relax. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”
Not until he got her through this pregnancy.
Hopefully with four healthy babies. All the care they’d taken, the doctor’s orders they’d followed explicitly, the rest and peace and low-salt diet they’d provided had been enough, hadn’t it?
Just this once?
“WE’LL DO ANOTHER ultrasound in a couple of weeks, but chances are we aren’t going to know anything more until the babies are born.”
Elise clutched Joe’s hand, not caring how it looked, the false impression she might be giving, as she sat across from Dr. Braden’s desk. Her other hand was beneath her rib cage, protecting her children.
She needed her mama.
“What’s wrong?” Joe asked the doctor for her.
“Maybe nothing. It’s important to keep that in mind.”
It was serious, Elise was certain. She’d spent far too many years surrounded by doctors not to know when bad news was coming.
“Babies A, B and C are progressing nicely. Estimated weights coincide with hoped-for birth weights, bone measurements look good, heads are normal.”
“And Baby D?” Her throat was so dry she could barely speak. “Is she alive?” Elise couldn’t wait any longe
r.
“Yes.”
“But there’s a problem.”
“The tech couldn’t find a left arm.”
Oh, God. She was so hot she was afraid she was going to throw up.
“That in itself is not all that uncommon at this point,” Dr. Braden continued as Elise sat frozen in front of her. Joe hadn’t moved, either. “With that many bodies in such a cramped space, the limb could easily be trapped beneath her.”
Elise’s face cooled. So it really wasn’t a worry, yet. But wouldn’t Sari have known that? While she might not see too many quad patients, she’d certainly done many multiples. Dr. Braden specialized in them.
“The real concern are her facial bones.”
“Meaning what?” Joe’s voice was clipped, his face, as Elise turned to him, completely stiff.
“She appears to be missing part of her left cheekbone.”
“Is she going to die?”
Forearms on her desk, Dr. Braden set down the pencil she’d been toying with.
“As far as we can tell at this point, the possible deformities create no risk to the baby’s life. Her heartbeat is stronger than Thomas’s. She has the lowest projected birth weight, but it’s still in range.”
“I’ve never seen anyone missing a cheekbone.” Joe, sounding confused, still held her hand.
“It’s not all that common and it’s not completely missing—if missing at all. Ultrasounds are not an exact science by any means. There’s a lot they don’t tell us.”
“You think there’s more?”
“There’s always the possibility of internal problems, for any baby. For one with external problems, we worry a little more. But in the end, it’s only worry. We can only tell so much until we actually get them here.
“There are other tests we could do to rule out problems, but I don’t want to risk them this late in the pregnancy. It’s not as though we could choose to do anything with the results at this point anyway.”
“I thought we did all those and they came out fine,” Elise reminded her, though she didn’t actually believe that the doctor wasn’t already fully aware, in far more detail than Elise was.
“We did. But conditions can develop as the babies develop.”
“What did you mean? Do something with the results?” Joe asked.
“Selective reduction,” Elise guessed. She wouldn’t choose it even if there was time. As long as her daughter was alive, she would fight for her. Period.
“That, or any other kind of intervention that might make a difference,” the doctor said. “Anything we do now could stimulate preterm labor and put the other three at too much risk.”
Even in her womb, as in her childhood home the night of the fire, four siblings weren’t equally safe.
“I’M NOT GOING TO LOSE Baby Grace again,” Elise let Joe know, unequivocally, as soon as she was lying back against throw pillows on the couch in her family room. She’d thought about it nonstop on the silent drive home.
He’d offered to drive her by the cemetery on the way, but she’d declined. She hadn’t been to the cemetery in weeks. Hadn’t felt the pull to go.
He settled some pillows under her feet.
“She’s going to grow up this time.”
He shoved another behind her back.
“Isn’t she?”
“There’s no guarantee.” His face was completely sober as he looked at her. “You do the best you can and sometimes it still isn’t enough.”
In that second, as she stared into Joe’s eyes, it was as though she could see straight to his core. Something inside of her shifted.
“But it is, really, isn’t it, Joe?” She felt an odd kind of strength. “By mere definition, you can’t possibly do better than your best, so when it’s done, you’ve done all you can. The rest is up to someone, or something, else. I couldn’t do this alone, but I did my best, and then you were here to do the rest.”
He stood over her, listening.
“Together we’ve done all we can.”
“It still might not be enough.”
She knew that. And if the unspeakable happened, she’d hurt like hell, and she’d survive. She always did.
“I CALLED THOMAS this afternoon.”
Joe held still in bed that night while she settled her stomach against his bare back. He’d toyed with the idea of calling Kate to come stay with her. His sister would gladly have done so.
But in the end, he had to be here. He’d given his word. He’d keep it. And on January first, he’d be free to go.
“You told him about Grace?” he asked when he realized she was waiting for some kind of response from him.
“I asked him about replacing a missing cheekbone.”
Of course. The man he’d yet to meet was a gifted plastic surgeon.
“What’d he say?”
She moved her legs, curling them into his, until all that separated her skin from his were his recently purchased pajama bottoms.
“It all depends on how extensive the deformity is, of course, but there’s much that can be done. Bone grafts, implants, all kinds of things.”
Because when you were Elise, and you did all you could do, someone else was there to do the rest.
He hoped.
“I REALIZED SOMETHING ELSE today.” Elise’s words brought him from the brink of sleep.
“What’s that?”
Joe resisted turning over—only because he knew how hard it was for her to find a comfortable position. And because if he did, he’d want to touch her in ways that were too dangerous these days.
On many levels.
“Knowing that Baby Grace might be deformed doesn’t in any way change the connection I feel to her.”
“You thought you’d love her less?” That surprised him.
“Of course not!” Elise’s breath was warm and wispy on his neck. “But ever since I found out the sex of the babies, since they’ve been named, I’ve had a sense of who they are. When I think of Grace deformed, that sense of who she is doesn’t change. I think of the being I know her to be possibly dealing with a hardship, but there’s no change in who her spirit is. Does this make any sense at all?”
Joe did turn then, slowly, a hand beneath her stomach as he did so. “It makes complete sense,” he told her, their faces close enough that he could see her eyes. “I’m not sure how many people would be struck with the same insight, but for you it fits perfectly.”
“Why for me?” She frowned and he ached to smooth her brow with a kiss. He’d never have another friend like Elise Richardson.
“Think about it,” he told her softly, wanting her to figure this one out on her own.
She lay there silently, staring at him.
“Do you remember the explanation you gave me when you told me you were pregnant?”
“Not word for word.”
“What was the gist of it?”
One of the babies kicked against his hand—Grace, he chose to think—and Elise didn’t even seem to notice.
“That I had no sense of self, of family or belonging.”
“What else? Specifically to do with the fire and the result of the years you spent in the hospital afterward.”
“I bear no resemblance to my real self,” she said as though that was a given.
“Uh-huh.” He waited, watching her changing expressions.
“But the person I am, the spirit that makes me me, is always there, no matter what I look like.” The realization came slowly, gaining in momentum.
Very gently, careful not to arouse inappropriate feelings now that they were beyond that point in their relationship—and most importantly in her condition—Joe kissed her.
“I can’t believe it took my love for my daughter to help me see that about myself,” she breathed when he pulled away.
“Sometimes another perspective is all we need.”
“You think?”
Sometimes he did.
THANKSGIVING CAME AND WENT quietly. Joe’s mother urged him to invite
Elise along with him for dinner, but Elise hadn’t been up for traveling. His mother, still not aware that Joe was staying with Elise, had then insisted that Joe come by for a care package and share dinner with Elise as no one should be alone on a holiday.
He didn’t argue.
SHE HAD TO HAVE a Christmas tree. At almost fifty pounds more than her normal weight, Elise couldn’t possibly climb on a ladder to decorate one—as she’d done every year since she’d been on her own—but she at least had to have one. Trees were a symbol of life, of hope, of childhood and magic and dreams coming true.
She had to have one.
From the sofa in her family room, she called Colby, her IT guy at work, the Friday after Thanksgiving and offered to pay him a hundred dollars if he’d have a tree at her house before Joe returned from watching a football game with Kenny at his brother’s condo.
JOE WASN’T TOO PLEASED when he got home and saw the big tree in her living room.
“Tell me you didn’t go get this.”
“I didn’t.” She was leaning against the archway between the living and dining rooms, holding her lower back. It had been hurting more than usual all day. “Colby brought it.”
“You can’t decorate it.”
“I know. I just needed to have one.”
“Are your decorations still under the steps in the basement?”
He and Kelly had been over one year to help her with her tree. Elise had invited them after Kelly had told her that they never had a tree. Joe thought they were too much bother for too short a time.
“Yes.” Joe had contributed the pizza and beer that night a few years before. He hadn’t, as she recalled, hung even one ornament on the tree.
By dinnertime, the tree was a glowing mass of color, lights and glitter. He’d done the top—talking about the thumbs-up call he’d received that morning from the new nationwide restaurant chain he’d been courting. She’d done the bottom—double-checking with him that all forms had been processed and all personnel had been told exactly what to do for him to make the deal transition smoothly. And together, with pillows propped around Elise, they ate low-sodium vegetable soup with salt-free crackers on the living-room floor.
Merry Christmas, Babies Page 18