by Rebeca Seitz
* * *
KENDRA’S HEART GALLOPED in her chest and she felt certain everyone could see it above the neckline of her strapless gown. “Do I look okay?” she hissed, causing Tandy to turn around from her place at the sanctuary doors.
“You look like an island princess. Ready to get married?”
Kendra nodded, careful not to upset the wreath of flowers in her hair holding down her veil.
Organ music spilled out of the open church windows, causing those in the street to stop and enjoy the sound. A slight breeze blew up the church stairs, giving Kendra relief from the rising heat of the day. The men in their linen suits were probably sweating buckets by now. She knew she was reconsidering her wedding dress. A nice slip dress would have been a lot cooler in the island heat. But the pictures would be amazing, so she could ignore the slight rivulet of sweat rolling down her back beneath the corset.
“There’s my cue!” Tandy whispered. “See you in there!”
Kendra grinned and laced her arm through Daddy’s, standing just to the side so that Darin couldn’t see her when Tandy opened the door and entered the sanctuary. This was finally it! In just a few minutes, Kendra Sinclair would become Kendra Sinclair Spenser.
“You ready?” Daddy’s eyes twinkled.
“Like ice cubes for the tea glass.”
“Because we could go right back down these steps and over to the beach if you’d prefer.”
“Not on your life.”
“Just checking.”
The organ music changed again, this time to Jeremiah Clarke’s “Trumpet Voluntary.” Kendra tugged on Daddy’s arm. “They’re playing my song.”
Daddy opened the door wide and in she walked, putting her eyes on Darin and nowhere else for the entire procession. His face, wide open with love and trust, beamed back at her.
She barely heard the vows, the prayers, even the songs they’d chosen, so intent was she on watching his sweet face.
It was all over before she knew it, and she listened as the reverend introduced Mr. and Mrs. Darin Spenser to the crowd.
Darin squeezed her hand. “That’s us!” he whispered.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Kendra whispered back, and he swept her down the aisle and out the door to their waiting limo amid claps and cheers.
Forty-One
The wind makes every red velvet bow on our antique streetlights dance like elves on parade. I love Christmastime. I love every single thing about it. Wreaths of holly and evergreen. Music wishing good tidings and peace. Giant shopping bags swinging from everyone’s arms. Bright holly berries peeking out from snow-covered branches. Majestic trees whose boughs bend under the weight of ornaments and lights.
And best of all, the smell of gingerbread, fruitcake, and wassail in my kitchen.
Next year I’ll begin to teach Maddie all of our traditions. My belly is the size of a watermelon now. I have two and a half more weeks to go, though I cannot imagine how my skin could stretch to accommodate this child any longer. I wonder sometimes if my birth mother patted her belly as I find myself often doing. Did she wonder if I would have her eyes? Her laugh?
Since seeing her homeland, I think of her more often. I have more sympathy for her. I am blessed that, in this country, I could choose to give birth alone, were that my lot, and endure that hardship without fear of retribution from my government. She did not have that right. I worry for her.
I hope she knows, wherever she is this day, that her little girl is safe, happy, and loved.
I hope she knows that.
Tandy is due tomorrow. I plan to be there every step of the way, taking notes on the entire process so that I can prepare for my own delivery next month. Tandy’s belly is larger than mine, though not by much. I’ve decided she’s a prettier pregnant woman because she has a little more height to balance out the watermelon. I just look like I swallowed something—like one of those cartoon characters I watched as a child.
The wind is so cold on this night of the Christmas parade. People line the sidewalks, decked out in their holiday finery. There’s Sara in a new red coat with big brass buttons. And Ms. Corinne with a deep purple coat of her own, trimmed with red and green. She looks beautiful, that snow-white hair shining in the streetlights.
My clan waits a block away, down by Clay’s. We decided to not stray far from the hot cocoa this year. The best place to watch the parade, of course, is down by Wendy’s. There’s plenty of parking, and it is early enough in the procession that each float still has lots of candy to throw out.
But Wendy’s is a good quarter mile from Clay’s, and Wendy’s doesn’t serve hot chocolate.
It most definitely does not serve hot chocolate made with Ghirardelli chocolate ordered directly from the Ghirardelli store in Ghirardelli Square in San Francisco. Thus our position at the corner of Oxford and Lindell.
My family makes a lovely holiday picture in their red, black, green, and white coats, mittens, scarves, and gloves. Only Zelda stands out—she’s chosen to wear a light-blue coat. Why light blue I have no idea. Who associates light blue with Christmastime? Perhaps she found it on a clearance rack.
No matter. I will not allow Zelda to mar a perfect evening, which is what I’m set on having. This is the final parade before Scott and I begin sharing our lives with a little one. Next year Maddie will be up on Scott’s shoulders, and I’ll run into the street as the candy is tossed so that I can fill her bag with sweets and treats.
We won’t let her eat much of them, of course, but she can share it with her cousins.
Ouch. There comes that twinge again. Meg assures me it’s false labor. She should know. She had false labor with every single one of hers. They don’t come with any regularity, really, but they certainly are uncomfortable. They’ve changed my mind about the epidural. I’ll be asking for it the second they wheel me into the hospital. If false labor hurts this badly, I want no part of the pain of the real deal. I’m a strong woman, but I also like to think I’m a sensible one.
I hear the police sirens now. They must be down around Wendy’s. I pick up my pace, wanting to be with the family when the cars round the turn from University to Lindell.
Heavens, there it comes again.
I guess the first pain wasn’t really finished yet since no two have come that quickly yet. Meg tells me when the false pains come to get off my feet and they’ll go away. But how can I get off my feet in the middle of a Christmas parade?
I suppose I’ll just have to grit my teeth and bear it, as Scarlett O’Hara would advise us Southern women. Of course, when it came time for Scarlett to give birth, I didn’t see her keeping her cool.
Maybe Tandy will go into labor tonight. We’ve had a lot of excitement today, and the magazines and books I’ve been reading tell me a lot of mothers go into labor after a strenuous day of activity. Today alone we walked the mall up in Cool Springs, gathering last minute Christmas gifts, finished putting Christmas ornaments on Tandy’s Christmas tree (the woman waits until the last minute for so many things), put together her crib (which was finally delivered this morning), and now are down here at a Christmas parade. I’d say that’s a day full of activity if ever there was one.
“There you are.” Scott reaches out an arm and snuggles me to his side. Well, the part of me that still fits. “I was beginning to think we’d see the parade without you.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I got the bow fixed and, look, the police cars haven’t even made the turn yet.”
“You know, someone does have the job of making sure the bows are correct on city streetlights. I’m sure Tanner has taken care of that.” Meg shakes her head.
“Then Tanner should be informed that his chosen person should be reprimanded. That bow was so crooked, it was almost upside down.” I cannot stand it when cities don’t take pride in their decorations. Tanner did an exceedingly good job this year of sprucing up our little Stars Hill and creating a most festive air. But how could one feel jolly in the face of a bow askew?
“That’s it. I’m making you take the OCD test when this is over.” Tandy leans on Clay, smiling.
Another pain comes and I cannot help but wince.
Tandy is at my side in an instant—well, as short of an instant as she can haul her watermelon-laden self over to me. “Hey, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m fine. It’s just more of this false labor.”
Scott pats my back. “Maybe you should sit down to watch the parade. Didn’t Meg say they stop if you get off your feet?”
“If I sit down, I won’t be able to see anything.” I indicate the people lining the sidewalk in front of us. “Unless you have a plan for making all of these people sit down as well.”
“You’ve seen this parade nearly thirty times.” Tandy tucks a curl up in her lime green toboggan cap. “How about you sit down for this one?”
“I’m fine, really. I don’t see you sitting down, and you’re farther along than me.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve just got a better-behaved kid. Mine’s not giving me fits.”
“Hey, my child is perfectly behaved.” Another pain comes and I bite my lip. “She’s just making a couple of test runs before the real show, that’s all. She likes to prepare. She’s like her mother.”
“Mm-hmm.” Tandy pats my shoulder. “Clay, could you go get Joy a chair, please?”
“You bet!” Clay trots back into the diner, reappearing a moment later with a chair. “Here ya go, preggo.”
“I will be so happy when I give birth to this child and can stop being referred to as preggo.” I sit down, trying not to show how grateful I am to be off my feet. How Mary rode on the back of a donkey at this stage of her pregnancy is beyond me.
“Mom! Look! It’s the firemen!” James jumps up and down, his Santa hat bouncing. In a few years Maddie will jump like that. I’ll have her in a red velvet dress with giant black, shiny buttons and a white fur sash. She’ll be adorable.
“You sure you’re okay, hon?” Scott’s forehead is creased and I reach to smooth it.
“I’m fine. This is just false labor. Ask Meg.”
Meg is busily running into the street, one hand holding James, the other Savannah. The kids scoop up candy as she keeps an eye out for the next float.
“Meg?” Scott gets her attention when they’ve returned from their sugar-grabbing expedition. “You’re sure this isn’t the real thing?”
Meg pushes hair out of her face, which has grown pink with exertion. “Are you having contractions again?” She weaves her way through family members and kneels at my side.
“Yes.”
“Have you been timing them?”
“Not really. They come every few minutes and I had two in a row while I was walking back over here. That’s not regular, so it’s not real labor, right?”
“Mostly right. Real labor can have irregular contractions thrown in.”
“What?” A tiny bit of alarm floats through my brain, but I stamp it out. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean, when I had Savannah, I had regular contractions. But every now and then, I’d have an extra one or I’d skip one. It was like that right up until I had her.”
“You didn’t tell me that before.”
Meg shrugs, and I consider decking my sister but decide pregnancy hormones will only excuse so much. “Your other contractions were all so irregular, it didn’t apply. But you said these are coming every few minutes. That sounds pretty regular to me. Do they feel different than the other ones?”
“Heavens, I don’t know.” I throw my hands up. I hate having to do something I can’t prepare for any more than reading other women’s experiences, no two of which are exactly alike. “They hurt. They always hurt.”
“But do they hurt in the same way?”
“I can’t remember! It’s been a week since I had those other ones. I was pretty happy I’d forgotten what they felt like. Ouch!” Another whatever starts building, and this one isn’t going away as quickly as the others. I grab the arm of the chair, hanging on and waiting for it to end.
“Sister, I think you’re having a baby.”
“No, I’m not. I have two and a half more weeks. Tandy’s going first.”
Meg’s chuckle only raises my hackles more. “I don’t think Maddie got the memo, sis.”
I look at her, not quite believing what I hear. I’m having a baby? Now? But this isn’t right! Maddie needs to grow two and a half more weeks! She isn’t fully developed. I’m not sure of everything that can go wrong at this point, but I’m certain there are plenty of items that need to be checked off the developmental to-do list before Maddie makes her grand entrance into the world.
“Hey.” Meg lays a gloved hand on my arm. “Stop freaking out. You’re two weeks from your due date. You’re fine. Maddie’s fine.”
“But—”
I pause as a warm, wet feeling enters my consciousness. Either I just peed on myself or—
“I think my water just broke!”
The entire family turns as one, eyes wide and mouths open.
“And that seals the deal.” Meg puts one hand under my arm. “Scott, get her other arm. She’s got to get up out of this chair and into the car. Where’s your car?”
“We parked over by the park.”
I groan. The park is an entire block away.
“Take Tandy’s.” I see Clay put his keys into Scott’s pocket. “It’s right there.” I look up and see Tandy’s little Beemer sitting underneath one of the streetlights. I have no idea how I will push up out of that thing once we get to the hospital, but I also know it’s better than walking a block to our vehicle.
“Thanks.” Scott puts an arm around my back and supports me while the entire Sinclair clan trails along. Behind us, parade floats bedecked with thousands of yards of tissue paper and tinsel continue rolling past. The Westview marching band has just turned the corner from University onto Lindell, and I hear them break into song as Scott opens the car door.
Well, this certainly wasn’t the procedure I had planned. But then again, when does life ever follow the plan we make?
As another pain hits and I hear my family members calling out their assurances and promises to “Be right there!” I close my eyes. No, this isn’t what I had planned. But I’ll take this chaos over a planned quietness any day.
Epilogue
I can’t believe she’s here.” Scott’s whisper tickles my neck as we stare at the beautiful pink bundle before us. “She’s so tiny.”
“Six pounds is not tiny. Trust me, I’ve birthed it.”
His chuckle causes Maddie to open her eyes. “Oh, look! Hi, little one!”
She blinks, then goes back to sleep.
“I love you, Joy.”
The tears that blur my vision remind me of God’s promise to bring joy for mourning. “I love you too Scott.”
He cups her little head in his tanned hand. “I’ll be right back, sweet girl. Pretty soon Daddy will teach you all about coffee and its amazing powers.”
I swat his hand away and laugh. “You’ll do no such thing. No child needs caffeine to grow healthy.”
Scott backs toward the door, that crooked grin of his in place. “I didn’t say she’d drink it, just learn about it.”
“Oh, you.” I roll my eyes as he pushes through the door.
“Be right back.”
A few seconds later Tandy’s belly appears in the door just before I see her smiling face.
“You were supposed to be first,” I whisper, mindful of the sleeping angel in my arms. I ache all over, but I don’t mind. I would do every bit of it again a thousand times ten thousand if it resulted in someone laying in my arms this pink little bundle on which I now gaze.
Tandy smiles and runs a finger down Maddie’s blanketed body. “Yeah. My kid must have gotten my procrastination gene. I’m praying he makes an appearance before Christmas.”
“I didn’t get to take notes and be prepared.”
“Does it matter?”
I look aga
in at Maddie’s perfect little nose that I’m fairly certain she got from Scott. And I see her thick, black lashes resting on skin the shade of my own. And I hear her give a little baby sigh. “No, it doesn’t.”
“Sometimes planning isn’t the best idea.”
I smile, realizing I’ve taken that lesson deep into my soul. I think Maddie will benefit from me taking life as it comes, not preparing for every single circumstance.
As if we could ever prepare for all circumstances.
Obviously my birth mother didn’t prepare. And that turned out all right.
In fact, as my newborn daughter’s eyes open and she looks up at me, I’d say it turned out, quite simply, perfect.