by Karen Booth
“Dad, are you okay?” Julie asked.
“I’m not going to say I’m not surprised. I certainly am. But the doctor didn’t seem ready to sign my death certificate or anything. I’m sure it’ll be fine, Pumpkin.” He patted her hand.
Sam was standing in stunned silence, not looking at her grandfather.
“You okay?” I asked her.
She nodded. “Yeah. I guess I should call Bryce. Let him know what happened.”
“When did his family go home?”
“They left a little while after Aunt Julie got here.”
“Make sure they know how much your mother and I appreciate what they did. I’m sure that wasn’t an easy situation for you or Bryce. You both did a great job.”
“Thanks. I’ll tell him. I’m going to go call him now.” She stepped out into the hall.
Soon after, Claire emerged from the bathroom, looking even more worried than she had when she’d gone in there. I should never leave her alone. All she does is stew. “You okay, hon?”
“Uh, yeah. I guess.” Our gazes connected, the sadness in her eyes was palpable, like a punch in the stomach. “Well, actually, no. I’m not okay.”
Julie came up behind her. “What’s going on?”
I took Claire’s hand. “What’s wrong?”
Claire closed her eyes and opened them again. “I hate to say this, but somebody needs to take me to Obstetrics. I’m bleeding.”
Chapter Thirty
I got up to pee, second-guessing my body’s signals. The baby had woken me with a few kicks. That was a great sign. No cramping, another good sign. I went to the bathroom and was relieved when the toilet paper wasn’t the slightest bit pink. Merry Christmas.
I glanced at the clock on Chris’s bedside table. Eight-fourteen. The house was as quiet as could be, completely unlike every December 25th when Sam had been little. Time for a little more sleep.
I climbed back into bed and snuggled up to Chris, who stirred. “Everything okay?” He put his arm around me and pulled me closer.
“Yes. Everything is fine.”
“Good.” He pressed a kiss to my temple and began to doze off again. He’d slept so fitfully the last two nights it was of no surprise that he was tired.
At least we’d been at the hospital when the spotting had started, but neither Chris nor I handled it very well. He’d made it appear as though he was calm—smiled, held my hand, reassured me that everything was fine, but I could tell that he was flat-out panicking. I alternated between saying that everything would be okay and crying.
We were both able to relax a little bit when the doctor used the Doppler and we heard that frantic bunny-hop of a heartbeat.
“The baby sounds perfect,” the doctor had said.
“Thank God,” Chris had buried his head in his hands, then leaned over and kissed me on the forehead.
Luckily, that one episode was light and only lasted for a few hours. The doctor said it could’ve been attributed to a number of things—travel, sex, stress. Perhaps a combination of them all, which led Chris to declare that we would be going nowhere, I would be sheltered from stress whenever possible, and we would not be having sex again until the baby arrived. I promised him a fight on that last point. Regardless of the cause, I was under strict instructions to spend as much time in bed or with my feet up as much as possible for the next week or two. Rest. Rest. Rest. Doctor’s orders.
We were awoken by a gentle knock at our door around ten. “Yes?” I asked.
Sam poked her head in. “Are you guys awake?”
“Yeah, honey. Come in.”
Sam took a seat at the end of the bed. “I checked on Grandpa. He’s already dressed and read the newspaper.”
Of course. I noted the aroma of coffee in the air. “Good. Glad to hear that. How did he seem this morning?”
“Happy. He’s anxious to open Christmas gifts.”
“He is?”
“I guess we’d better get up then.” Chris sat up in bed and turned to me. “Unless you’d rather stay in bed. We could open gifts up here.”
“Don’t be silly.” I threw back the covers. “I’m fine.”
“You’re sitting in the chair with the ottoman.” Chris shuffled into the bathroom.
I rolled my eyes and grabbed a hoodie from the closet, a bit too snug when I zipped it. “Is Bryce coming over this afternoon? I thought we could make hot cocoa and popcorn? Maybe light a fire?”
“He’ll be over around three.” Sam smiled, but her overall demeanor was sad. “Thanks for including him. That was really nice.”
“I don’t know what we would have done if he and his parents hadn’t been here to help you when Chris and I were away.” I still felt rotten about the way I’d behaved about Bryce at Thanksgiving, not to mention my general attitude toward his parents. They’d come to the rescue at a time when Chris and I were not able. I was nothing but thankful.
“Bryce said they really liked the gift basket Chris sent over. He said they pigged out on it all day yesterday.”
Chris came waltzing out of the bathroom. “Glad to hear it.” He rubbed his hands together. “Let’s go open gifts.”
The entire downstairs looked incredible. Chris had purchased a tree and Bryce and Sam spent the morning decorating it the day my dad came home from the hospital. They’d put out my mom’s old nativity scene and hung her 60s-era glittery plastic snowflakes in pale aqua, lime green, and pink in the windows overlooking the backyard. Still no white stuff on the ground, but that was usual for Christmas in North Carolina. No snow, just cold.
Chris had a throw blanket at the ready. “Claire?” He nodded at the sofa.
“Thanks.” I took my seat. The invalid treatment wasn’t my favorite, but keeping the baby healthy was paramount, and I didn’t dare make a fuss about it.
My dad came in from the kitchen and gave a mug to Chris. “Merry Christmas everyone.”
“Morning, Dad. How are you feeling this morning?”
“Never felt better.” He took a seat in the armchair next to my end of the sectional. His color was indeed better than it’d been the day before.
“Have you had any water yet today?”
“Two glasses.”
I smiled. “Good man.”
“Speaking of water.” Chris handed me a big glass. “Are you hungry yet?”
“I wouldn’t say no to an English muffin.”
“I love these pet names you give me, darling, but I was talking about breakfast.” He winked. “Jam?”
“Yes, please.”
“Sammy, you going to play Santa Claus this morning?” Dad leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. He’d loved this day when I was a kid, serving eggnog and putting on the Andy Williams Christmas album on the record player in the living room. Even better, he’d play Dean Martin and serenade my mother with Baby It’s Cold Outside. It was one of the only days of the year he ever seemed to have fun.
Sam was thumbing away on her cellphone, which she tucked into her pocket. “Sure.”
She began to hand out packages while dad reminded us that we were to open them one at a time, and only when it was our turn. Normally, this would have drawn ire from me. Today, I cherished it.
Chris brought my breakfast and took the seat next to me. “I can’t wait to see what I got for everyone. I can never remember.”
My dad looked at Chris quizzically then started to laugh. “You crack me up, young man.”
“Young man? Is that my Christmas gift? Because nobody’s called me a young man since the 80s.”
I elbowed him and he kissed me on the top of my head.
Doing things my dad’s way made opening gifts a process. In this case, it took nearly two hours. We admired each other’s new belongings—a sweater and some country music CDs for my dad. It was quite sweet of Chris to bring himself to buy any music that he truly abhorred. Chris was thrilled with the vintage turntable I’d found for him and even more excited by the stash of vinyl LPs that Sam had spent weeks looking f
or in local record shops. My dad and Sam chipped in on a package of prenatal massages for me, which I couldn’t wait to use. Sam was the recipient of many gift cards, her clearly stated preference.
Chris had apparently done some unsupervised shopping at Tiffany’s, giving me a pair of diamond-studded platinum hoop earrings.
“They’re so beautiful. Thank you.” I craned my neck to kiss him on the cheek.
“Not as beautiful as you, but those poor chaps at Tiffany’s can only do so much.”
Sam made a noise. “Oh brother.”
“Oh, shush now Samantha.” Chris produced a small package from next to him on the couch. “You’d better open this last gift. It’s from your mother and me.”
She grabbed it from his hands and tore at the paper. “What is it?” Her eyes lit up when she removed the blue box nestled inside the plain cardboard box he’d wrapped. “You hid the Tiffany blue?”
“I did.” Chris nodded. “I’m clever like that.”
She pulled at the white ribbon and lifted the lid, which gave me goose bumps. “Oh my God. A bracelet. The same charm bracelet mom has.” She jumped up from the floor, grasping the bracelet and giving Chris a hug. “Thank you so much. I love it.” She wedged herself between us on the couch, turning to me. “It’s so cool. We match now.”
“Here, let me help you put it on.” I took the silver linked bracelet and looped it around her wrist, hooking the clasp, remembering how much it had meant when Chris had given me the very same piece of jewelry. “It looks lovely.” It really did look lovely—I held my own arm out, and we compared them side-by-side.
“Mom, are you crying?” She dropped her head, looking me in the eye.
It wasn’t full on sobbing, but I couldn’t help but be choked up. I nodded, tears misting my vision as I looked at my dad.
Sam knocked her head against mine. “It’s okay, Mom. It’s just a bracelet.”
Chris rubbed my back. My dad looked down into his lap, pretending to read the back of one of his new CDs.
“It’s okay. I’ll be okay.” I took a deep breath and listened to my mom. I know, Mom. You’re right. Although the future was uncertain, at least we had Christmas Day.
Chapter Thirty-One
On a carefully constructed mountain of pillows in our bed, Claire had her early January call with Laura Simmons. I didn’t want to hover, but I wanted to be there if she needed me. Plus, we would be heading for our first ultrasound appointment after she was off the phone.
“Yeah. Okay. No problem,” Claire said, forty-five minutes after the call had begun. At face value, the words were of a person who was totally on top of her game. The tone with which she said them made me realize how concerned she was with keeping Laura happy. She scribbled notes, nodded her head. “Sounds good. Okay. Yes. I’ll get on that right away.”
I sat on the edge of the bed and folded my arms across my chest. I could see the stress on her face. Hell, I could see it in the way she was holding the damn pen. The urge to take the phone out of her hand and beg her to quit was overwhelming. She wanted this—no way around it, but it was precisely what the doctor had told her to avoid—stress.
“Great. Thanks for everything, Laura. I’ll get all of this to you next week.” Claire neatly placed the phone on the bed when she hung up.
My inclination was to launch it across the room. “You realize this is what the doctor warned you about.”
“I’m in bed, aren’t I?” She rubbed her forehead, tossing her notes to the side. “It’s fine. I just need to take a deep breath.” She did that, exhaling loudly. “See? I feel better already.”
“You aren’t fooling me. I know exactly how much stress you’re under and I don’t like it. Not one bit.” Why does everything have to happen at the wrong time? If only she’d been offered the job a year from now, when we could deal with it. “You need to tell her that you’re under a doctor’s orders to take it easy.”
“Okay. I’ll mention it.”
“Why am I having a hard time believing you?”
“I’ll do it. I just need to find the right time. I don’t want to be the needy pregnant woman.”
I inched closer and took her hand. “You aren’t needy. You’re growing our baby in your body. That’s the most important thing right now, not a job.”
Her lips formed a thin line. “That’s easy for you to say. Your career doesn’t depend on what your body is or isn’t doing at a particular time.”
So bloody stubborn. “True, but I can’t do much about human biology at this point. This is the reality of the situation.”
“You’re right. I’ll talk to her. And I’ll do a better job of not getting quite so worked up about it.”
I hated myself for the words that had formed on the tip of my tongue, so I swallowed them instead. You should quit this job. You can get any job you want. Don’t jeopardize our child for a stupid job. “Ready to head up to the hospital?”
“Yep. I gotta pee first.”
We were at the doctor’s office with a minute to spare and they brought us back to the ultrasound room right away. Claire got comfortable on the bed in the dark room while Rhonda, the technician, tapped away at a keyboard on the ultrasound machine.
As much as this appointment was a big deal, having Claire leave the house worried me. Still, I’d waited a long time to carry around one of those photographs in my wallet—I was excited for that part.
“Okay, Mrs. Penman, if you could slide your top up and inch down those pants, we’ll get a look at baby.” She squeezed a liquid onto the ultrasound wand. “Just a little bit of gel. Sticky, but it shouldn’t be cold.” Carefully, she placed the instrument on Claire’s belly, tapping away at the keyboard with her other hand and looking at the monitor. “Okay, then. Can you see, Dad?”
I scooted forward in my chair and squinted.
“There’s a hand.” She pointed to the screen and my throat tightened. Tiny fingers. A slender arm. The baby kicked. “Oh, goodness.” Rhonda turned to Claire and smiled. “Somebody is active today.”
We all laughed, but a tear rolled down my face. I’d never been particularly impressed by ultrasound pictures, but I realized then why the dads were always so thrilled to show them off. They’d seen their baby move.
“That was the leg, obviously,” Rhonda said. “Do you want to know the baby’s sex?”
“Can you tell?” I leaned forward, scanning the frame for some noticeable sign of…something…a tiny penis, I suppose.
“That wasn’t the question, Dad.” Rhonda shook her head in feigned admonishment.
Claire and I looked at each other. “No,” we said in unison. A big part of me had wanted to say “yes”, but that was the temptation of the moment, like standing in front of a bakery display case packed to the very limit with pastries and cakes. We’d agreed we would wait, and wait we would.
Rhonda nodded and smiled. “The old-fashioned way. I love it.” She moved the paddle and you could see the baby’s head, large sloping forehead, adorable button nose, the way he or she moved its neck and torso in its weightless world. “I need to take some measurements here. This will help us determine if we need to do any further genetic testing, especially with the advanced maternal age.”
Good God. That phrase. I brought Claire’s hand to my lips and kissed it.
She looked at me for an instant, then immediately turned back to watch the baby. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
“It is. It truly is.”
“I mean, wow. We made a human.” She pointed at the screen. “And look how cute the nipper is now. On a screen. Just imagine what it’ll be like when he or she is finally here.”
“I’m trying to wrap my head around it at this very moment.”
She squeezed my hand so hard I thought I might lose a digit. “I was excited before, but now I can’t wait.” She turned back to me. “I wish the nipper were here now.”
“That would be wonderful, but we’d be nothing but ill-prepared.”
“True. We nee
d to get the shopping done. This week.” She turned back to the screen.
“Online shopping.” We’re not leaving the house for that.
“I need to read the reviews of the new car seats. And strollers. We’re going to need to make a decision on a crib.”
The warmth building inside me was beyond measure. I’d waited so long to do these things. The fact that I got to do them with Claire made it perfect. “If there’s anything you and I can accomplish together, it’s shopping.”
The procedure continued—every instant was pure entertainment, endlessly fascinating. At times, the baby would go mostly still, but there was always something in motion, a little wiggle here or there. Good thing I’m not the one who’s pregnant. I’d be staring at my belly all day long. Oh, and the boobs. Yeah, the boobs. Those would be hard to leave alone.
The baby yawned. Such a normal, mundane thing and yet Claire and I both laughed, tears forming in our eyes, beaming at each other in astonishment. My heart felt as though it was ten times its normal size, so full of joy and relief, it was impossible to quantify. What a day. What a beautiful day.
“I’ll print out some pictures for you to take home. I know Dad wants some for his wallet. I can email you digital files, too, for you to keep on your phone.”
“We’ll take whatever you have to give us,” I said.
“That’s the spirit.” Rhonda placed the ultrasound device back in its cradle. She handed Claire a few paper towels. “This is to wipe that gel off your belly.”
I helped Claire with the cleanup, taking her hand to help her sit. The smile on her face was priceless. Surely mine couldn’t have been worth any less.
“The doctor will call you with any concerns. Congratulations.”
We walked out of the clinic, hand in hand. I felt as if I was walking on air. “That was so much fun.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” Claire knocked into me with her shoulder. Ahead of us, a man in a white doctor’s coat was getting out of a steely blue car. “Dr. Stevens?” Claire asked.