by Ann Everett
“The malted milk balls, yes, but I hate weenies, so it’s crazy I’ve been craving them for weeks. Sometimes, I’ll drive to Dairy Queen to get a hotdog at midnight.”
The woman leaned over the counter to check out Quinn’s belly and read the wording on her shirt. “That’s cute, but you don’t look pregnant.”
“I’m not showing yet. Wouldn’t you know I’d have both morning and evening sickness, so that must be what’s keeping me from gaining weight. But my pregnancy book says it should be over already.”
“First baby?”
Quinn nodded.
“Don’t fret. I’ve got friends who puked the entire time.”
“Yeah, my doctor says it’s not unusual.”
It was weird discussing her condition with strangers, but other than Raynie, she had no one else. For the last few days, keeping the secret pressed heavy. She was in her second trimester and everything was going great, except for the odd cravings and puking day and night. It was time to tell everyone. Raynie would be relieved. It’d been hard for her to keep the news from Megan, and Quinn felt terrible for asking. But today was the day, and she knew where to start.
The late afternoon sun blinked through the trees as Quinn parked in the drive. She honked the horn and Dad and Gramps came to help her carry the food in. After putting the weekly fare in the freezer, she turned to face the two men.
Gramps focused on her shirt. “What’s that mean? What’d you bake at ninety-eight degrees?”
Dad turned his attention to Quinn, threw his arms around her, and spoke to Gramps. “She’s baking a baby, you old coot. You’ll finally be a great-grand-gramps and I’ll be a grandpa! Right?”
Quinn pushed away from him and tried to read his face. “Yes, and I know I’ve disappointed you by not doing it the old fashioned way.” She had more to say, but burst into tears. “I’m sorry, Daddy. Please don’t be mad at me.”
“Mad at you? For giving me my first grandbaby? No way.” He pulled her back into his arms and kissed her cheek. “When’s it due? Boy or girl?”
She laid her head on his shoulder. If this had happened two years ago, before the cancer, he’d have had plenty to say, but facing death changes a person and their outlook, opinions—and tolerance. But, if he knew the circumstances, even the threat of his mortality wouldn’t keep him from being upset. That made her sad. “February nineteenth. I’m not telling anybody the sex. I want it to be a surprise.”
“Good enough.”
Quinn decided early on she’d keep the gender a secret. Somehow, she felt it made her connection to the baby stronger. Silly, she guessed, but it was something she wasn’t ready to share.
Gramps pounded the coffee table. “What about the daddy? Won’t he do right by you?”
She wiped her eyes. “He would, but I haven’t told him yet.”
Gramps relaxed his hand. “But you plan to.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Why not?”
“Gramps, leave her alone. She’ll tell us everything when’s she ready, won’t you?”
“I’m just saying.” He stiffened. “Any man worth his salt will do the right thing.”
She nodded. “He’s a good man, and not married, if that’s what you’re wondering. It isn’t the time to hit him with this kind of news. He has a lot going on at work, and doesn’t need the extra stress.”
“This isn’t the kind of secret you can keep for long,” Dad said. “Better you tell him, than have him notice.”
Gramps shook his head. “Young people today. I don’t understand what in the devil is happening. They get surgery to change’em to a different sex. Have babies without being married. The whole damn world is going to hell in a hand basket.”
Quinn changed the subject. No need to get Gramps more riled up than he was. “How about I make us sandwiches before I go?” She took bread from the pantry, then moved toward the fridge.
“Sounds good. Once you tell the father, will he marry you?”
Quinn saw worry lines form on her dad’s forehead. She hated adding problems to his life. He had enough to deal with, and what was one more lie? She was getting good at telling them. “Yes. That won’t be a problem. But, I don’t want you to worry about that. Okay?”
“Are you going to keep living in that small apartment? With one bedroom, I’d think you’d want a bigger place.”
“We’ll be okay there for a while.” She pulled out lunch meat, then rummaged through the vegetable drawer for lettuce and tomatoes. “There are some new apartments going up on Wilshire. I’ll check into them.”
Dad passed her mayo. “Could always move in here. We could convert that little sitting area into a nursery. Gramps and I don’t use that space anyway.”
Gramps walked to the end of the counter. “One more reason you need to tell the daddy. He may not want to marry you, but he damn well needs to take care of his kid. He’s not a deadbeat, is he?”
Quinn looked up and licked mayo from her finger. “No, Gramps. He’s not a deadbeat. You’d like him.”
“He got other kids?”
“No. Never been married.”
“Leave her alone, Gramps. She’s not on trial.”
Quinn placed a sandwich on each of three paper plates, and passed one to each man. She’d planned to tell Dak, but with the results of Raynie’s reading and the coin toss, Quinn backed out.
After finishing their lunch, she cleaned up the kitchen. When she put the last of the trash in the can, she slipped her arm around her dad. “I’ve got to go. I still have Mom to tell.”
Dad pulled her into his arms. “Quinnie, I’m really happy about the baby.”
“Yeah, I am, too,” Gramps said. “But I expect you to bring the daddy around to meet us.”
“I don’t know, Gramps. You might scare him off.”
“If an old man like me can scare him, there must not be much to him.”
Quinn laughed, hugged them again, and told them goodbye, then headed to the worst place she could think of—Mom’s. The closer she got, the more she dreaded it. For a fleeting moment, she considered turning around, but sharing the news would never get easier, and like her dad pointed out, soon everyone would know just by looking at her. Sweaty palms. Tight chest. Dry mouth. All the same symptoms she got in high school when she had to give an oral report. She needed to get control. She wasn’t being graded…or was she? Sure she was. Mom judged her all the time. She pushed the notion away. It didn’t matter what her mother said. Quinn was having a baby and there wasn’t a thing Mom could do. That’s right. Not a damn thing. Quinn squared her shoulders and wheeled into the drive.
The tee-shirt reveal wasn’t a good idea for Mom, best to be straight forward with her, so Quinn put on her sweater and pulled it tight. She knocked and her mother opened the door. “Hi, Quinn. Come in.”
Quinn slipped her arm around Mom’s shoulders, and pulled her into a loose hug. She patted her daughter’s back, then broke contact.
“You want something to drink? I have a fresh pitcher of tea,” Mom said.
“That’d be great.” Quinn walked to the dining table and ran her hand across the petals of a bouquet sitting in the center. “Are these from your garden?”
“Yes. Aren’t they beautiful? We’ve had enough rain and warm weather, everything I’ve planted has flourished.”
“Zinnias. My favorites.”
Mom brought two glasses to the table and handed one to Quinn. “I know. Every year you pestered me until it was time to plant them. You were such an obstinate child, always wanting your way, and your dad letting you have it. It’s a wonder you didn’t turn out spoiled rotten.”
Quinn’s heart picked up speed, and she rotated the tumbler between her palms. Almost a compliment. “I have something I need to tell you.”
“That sounds serious. Do I need to sit for the news?”
Quinn scooted a chair from the table and Mom followed suit. They both sat.
“Oh, God. Now you’re scaring me.” Mom’s face w
ent pale. “Is it your dad? The cancer’s not back, is it?”
“No. I just saw him. He’s doing okay. It’s about me.”
Mom relaxed and leaned back, then eyed her. “You can’t be sick. You look great. Glowing even. Have you and Brad made up?”
Tears burned behind her eyes, but Quinn willed them away and braced for a lecture. “I’m pregnant. Due in February.”
“You’re pregnant? With Brad’s child? That’s wonderful!” She jumped from the seat and threw her arms around Quinn’s shoulders. “I’m thrilled. Thank goodness you’ve come to your senses and see what a mistake you made by not fighting for him. So he had a little fling with his secretary, there’s no way he’ll stay with her if you’re having his baby. There is so much to do.” She paced. “I’ve got to buy a crib. I can turn your old room into a nursery.”
“Mom.” Quinn tried to get her attention, but it’d been years since she’d seen her mother so happy. The last time she could recall was the Christmas Dad had given her a mink jacket. She’d loved it so much, she’d slept in it. “Mom. Brad isn’t the father.”
“Perhaps a soft green for the wall color, or a pale yellow—what? What did you say?” She froze in place, then stumbled to the chair and sat again. “Brad isn’t the father? Then who?”
“Someone you don’t know. But he’s a good man. Wonderful, actually.”
Mom folded her arms. “When am I going to meet this wonderful man? And when is the wedding?”
“I don’t plan to marry him.”
“Oh my God. He’s married isn’t he? Quinn, how could you do this?”
“He isn’t married.”
“Then what’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing.”
“Something has to be, or you’d want to marry him. What’s going on? Is this your way of getting even with Brad? Have a child with some random guy.”
“Forget Brad. He’s out of my life. I wouldn’t take him back if he begged. We didn’t love each other. I mean, I loved him. I did. But you know what, Mom? He hurt me. He cheated on me. From the beginning he didn’t want to marry me or have kids, but led me on. I was a convenience to him. Well, not anymore. If I want to do this on my own, I will.”
“Well, no need to be so snippy.” Mom smoothed a stray curl behind her ear. “I want what’s best for you—and the baby.”
“One question, Mom. Are you still—thrilled?”
She blinked, then focused on Quinn, and lowered her voice. “Of course I am. That’s my grandchild. My only grandchild.”
Quinn’s throat tightened. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m just tired of you bringing up Brad. He’s history.”
“Noted. I won’t mention him again.”
Quinn must have been in shock. She didn’t remember leaving her mother’s house. Didn’t recall getting in the car and driving away. The only thing she recollected was for the first time in ages, she’d stood up to her mother. So far, it’d been a good day.
Two down, one to go, but she couldn’t face Megan. Not yet. Whoever said confession was good for the soul, had never hidden a pregnancy from the world. Oh well, nothing a can of Beanie-Weenies and a package of Whoppers couldn’t fix.
Early the next day, Quinn opened her eyes and let the sunshine peeping through the windows settle on her. Reaching for the Whoppers from the nightstand, she shook out a ball, popped into her mouth and held it there until all the chocolate melted away. Everyone said Saltines were the food to eat first thing to prevent morning sickness, but for her, candy worked.
Any other day, she’d bound out of bed and make a list of all she had to do, but not today. Only a single item on her agenda. Tell Megan. Facing her caused Quinn’s stomach to hurt. She reached for the candy again, this time stuffing three inside her mouth, one in each cheek like a chipmunk storing nuts, the third rolling back and forth across her tongue spreading creamy goodness everywhere. Because of the constant throwing up, Quinn had gained little weight, so it’d been easy to disguise her condition.
By the time she headed to Moonshine Grill, the sky was overcast and threating rain. From a half block away, she saw Megan and Raynie enter the restaurant together. Slipping her purse over her shoulder, she pulled her jacket tight, braved the wind and made her way into the building.
Raynie waved from a corner booth. Quinn went to join them and slid onto the bench, so she’d be facing Megan. Both women were already looking at menus. Megan glanced up at her. “Royal blue is your best color. You look radiant.”
“Thank you. Have y’all decided?”
“I want migas, with a side of country potatoes,” Raynie said. “And a Bloody Mary.”
“I’m having scrambled eggs and green chili cheese grits, with Irish Coffee,” Megan said.
Quinn read over the menu. “Hmm, I want the egg in a biscuit blanket, and some bread pudding, and milk.”
“What? No peach Bellini?” Megan stuck the menu behind the napkin holder. “You love those.”
“Yeah, my stomach has been a little queasy, so I’m sticking with moo-juice today.”
As if on cue, the waitress appeared, and Quinn was thankful Megan didn’t have time to ask more questions concerning the beverage choice.
“You girls decided?”
They recited their selections, the waitress left, and Megan picked the conversation back up. “Hey, I’m invited to a wedding, and Charlie doesn’t want to go. I need a plus one. Either of you up for it?”
“I’m all for free food and booze, so I’ll go,” Raynie said. “When is it?”
“Third Saturday in October.”
Raynie scrolled her phone. “Oh, I can’t go. Rico has a tattoo convention and I’ve already committed to go with him.”
“You’re making future plans, so you must like him,” Megan said.
“We have fun. Here’s a little tidbit. He’s an accountant.”
Quinn giggled. “So the whole bad boy thing is for show? He’s really a nerd?”
“Oh, he’s bad all right, but he’s smart, too.”
Megan turned to Quinn. “Back to the wedding. You free that weekend?”
“I am. But will any of your coworkers be there? I wouldn’t want to run into Dak.”
“No. This is an old family friend. Not connected to work.”
“Okay, I’m in. Speaking of Dak, I have something I need to tell you.”
Raynie leaned forward, put her elbow on the table, and rested chin in hand.
The waitress returned with their drinks. “Your food will be out in a minute.”
Alone again, Quinn started over. “Remember how lucky we were when I got my period? How we all breathed a sigh of relief that I’d not gotten pregnant?”
“Not me. I wanted you to be preggers because I want another godchild. Can’t wait for another tiny tyke to call me Auntie Raynie.” She looked at Megan. “Don’t get me wrong, your boys are great, but a girl would be nice. A little sweetie I can take shopping.”
Quinn smiled her appreciation for the endorsement.
Megan sipped her coffee, then held the mug in front of her. “Maybe you were, but not me. You have no idea how hard it was to go to work every day and see Dak, knowing you might be pregnant with his baby.” She released a sigh. “God. Relief doesn’t describe my reaction to the news.”
Quinn tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry. She took a drink of milk, then the waitress brought the food. At this rate, Quinn would never get to come clean.
“This smells wonderful,” Megan said. “I love eating food I don’t cook. Now, what were you saying? Oh, the wedding. You’ll go. Good. It’s in the afternoon which is great. I hate evening ceremonies. You can’t do anything all day for waiting around.”
Quinn took a bite. She loved how they formed a shell out of dough and cooked the egg in it. How fitting. An egg resting in a nest and a baby nesting in her belly. She put her fork down, called on her alter ego for help, and she was happy to oblige. She went into her fast-talking-hand-gesturing Molly mode. “My period was
n’t normal. I’m having a baby in February, I’m so sorry, but the way I look at it, this was kismet. It should have been Justin, but fate chose Dak. There was only a twenty-five percent chance he’d pick a bad condom, but he did, then a slim possibility of me getting pregnant, but it’s happened. This is a terrible turn of events for you, but I feel in my heart it was in the stars. Please don’t hate me.”
Megan’s left eye twitched. She pulled her lips tight against her teeth, and sat there as if fighting to keep her composure.
“Lord Jesus. Say something.” Quinn worked the button on her blouse.
“Now that’s over, do y’all want to order some vanilla French toast?” Raynie asked. “And I want another Bloody Mary. How about you, Megan? Need another coffee, double on the Irish this time?”
Megan glared at Raynie. “You don’t seem surprised. Did you already know?”
“Yes.”
“So both my best friends have been keeping a secret from me. Great. Just great.”
“Sorry, but Quinn was afraid to tell you.”
Megan opened her mouth, then closed it, and stared into space. Finally, she spoke. “I don’t know what bothers me more, you being pregnant, or y’all keeping if from me. I mean. It’s done. It’s not like you can apologize and make everything right. I brought all of this on myself. I should have never agreed to your stupid plan.”
“It’ll be okay. He’ll never know anything. Not my connection to you. The baby. Nothing. I didn’t even give him my real name. No way can he find out.”
Megan crossed her arms. “Let me guess. There’s only a twenty-five percent chance he will, and we all know how that works out.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Dak stood at the back window staring out to his deck and tried to digest the news he’d gotten during his interview with Media Corp. president, Carter Hamilton. Eighty-years-old and set in his ways, he put more emphasis on a man’s marital status than sales performance. The buyout was in the works, and Dak would be lucky to keep his job as head of marketing.
That had to be a form of discrimination. Hell, he had the stats to prove his effectiveness in landing clients—million dollar deals and long term contracts. Seemed old man Hamilton put more importance on a man’s personal life.