by Laura Abbot
With a jolt he remembered. Will was gone. No more sharing the room upstairs.
It was as if all three of them had retreated to their separate corners.
And it was anybody’s guess how Andy was reacting to the news.
SON OF A BITCH! Son of a goddamn bitch! Why’d they have to tell him that? It about made him puke. His legs churned, catapulting the bike down the street. Wind whipped his hair and his nose ran with the cold.
He couldn’t picture it. Pam—Ms. Carver, for God’s sake—getting it on with some dude and then turning around and snagging his dad. Was his dad so hard up for a woman that he’d take used goods? That was sick!
Reaching the park, he plunked down the bike, relieved to find the basketball court empty. He bounced the ball savagely several times, as if he could pulverize it, then hurled it at the backboard, again and again. He’d thought they were a family. Oh, he’d noticed how Pam and his dad sometimes kept their distance, but he’d figured all parents were like that. But hell! They’d been keeping a secret. A big one.
He ran in under the hoop, made a layup, then dribbled the key and arched a twenty-footer. Catching his own rebound, he repeated the pattern over and over. How could his dad have gotten married like that? To somebody already pregnant?
When sweat dripped from his face, he tore off his jacket and kept shooting, not even caring whether the ball went through the stupid hoop. It didn’t sound like Pam, either. He liked her. He’d almost felt closer to her than his own mother. She didn’t nag and she did neat things for him like help get Angie’s present.
Finally he stopped the frantic activity and stood staring into the distance, idly bouncing the ball. Slowly, inevitably, a thought formed in his head. Maybe he would never have found out except for that journal entry. The one about being jealous of the baby.
Well, Pam and his dad had certainly given him a solid reason not to be jealous any longer. The baby wasn’t his father’s.
But that meant it wasn’t his brother or sister, either.
He didn’t need to be jealous at all. He should be relieved.
But he wasn’t. He felt like total crap!
THE WEEKS SPED BY. The warmer days of early spring were redolent with earthy smells. The upstairs bedroom, now papered in bright blue and white ticking with a border of teddy bears, was ready. The tiny onesies, booties and sleepers from the faculty baby shower were stacked neatly in the drawers of the recently acquired changing table. And thanks to the cheery new kitchen decor, making casseroles to freeze for after the delivery had been more pleasant.
At school, the Thespian Society had initiated its new members, spring-break tales were old news and Pam was working diligently on lesson plans for her substitute. Andy was busy with the tennis team, Brittany Thibault had been admitted to the college of her choice and Randy Selves had talked with Pam about subleasing her condo again for the upcoming school year. She’d put him off, of course, because by September everything would be different.
When the tulips in the backyard bloomed, she knew the time was close when Barney would make his—or her—appearance. The tulips. Her tulips. Would she ever see one again without thinking of Andy? Of Grant?
Was it any wonder Andy’s wonderfully personal journal entries had dried up after they’d told him the truth? Now he confined himself to discussing movies, musical groups, current events. Anything except his feelings. He spent all the free time he could at Angie’s or Chip’s house and retreated to his room when he was at home. She and Grant didn’t seem to have much to say to each other. They had never spoken about Andy’s reaction to their news, largely, she felt, because it was hard to interpret how the boy really felt.
At least they’d pulled off one successful event— Andy’s sixteenth birthday celebration. He’d invited the basketball team and their dates to a dinner party before they all went to a movie. Grant grilled hamburgers and Pam had made two chocolate sheet cakes, which were completely devoured. The isolated, uninvolved boy from the school year’s beginning now had a host of friends who accepted him. That was something. And he had more freedom. He’d passed his driver’s test.
Maybe, given the tension among them, it would be a relief when she and Grant told Andy the rest of the story.
It seemed almost surreal that at one time she’d thought she could tell Grant she loved him.
But Andy’s disappointment in her made that impossible. Grant would never enter a relationship now that his son was so disillusioned about her.
Until the baby came, her only true companions in this home were Viola and Sebastian.
She found herself envying the unencumbered life of a housekeeper.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Andy, his hair sleep tousled, stood shirtless and barefooted on the back stoop, watching Pam string clothesline between two trees.
“It’s such a beautiful morning. I love the smell of air-fresh sheets and towels. I’m bypassing the dryer today.” Pam had awakened early full of energy that belied three nocturnal trips to the bathroom. She’d already done two loads of wash and cleaned the refrigerator. “Want to bring me the basket and help?” She nodded at the wicker container on the first step.
“What are these?” he asked, setting the basket down and picking up a clothespin.
“This, my young friend, is an ingenious device for hanging clothes. See?” Selecting a hand towel, she demonstrated.
“Isn’t it easier to use the dryer?”
“Easier, maybe, but not nearly as satisfying.”
The look he gave her told her that he thought she was certifiable. “Where’s Dad?”
She gestured expansively. “It’s a lovely April Saturday. A man needs to be on the golf course.” She didn’t add how awkward weekends were when Grant stuck around the house—pure Kabuki theater of avoidance.
Holding a washcloth at arm’s length, Andy fumblingly attached it to the line. “You really think this stuff’s gonna smell better?”
“I know it. And if you’re smart, you’ll run upstairs and bring me the linens from that cave you call a room. I’ll pop them in the washer and pretty soon your lair will smell like flowers.”
“Yuck.”
She giggled to herself as he left, unaccountably feeling more optimistic than she had in weeks. As if to remind her not to get too cocky, Barney did a tour jeté, nearly knocking the breath out of her.
After frying bacon and eggs for a ravenous Andy, she cleaned up the kitchen and started his wash. Reluctantly he slouched out to the garage, unearthed the lawn mower and began cutting the grass, as Grant had instructed him to do the night before.
Pam crossed items off her To-Do list, noting that only cleaning the oven remained. But it was too pretty a day to undertake that chore. She’d check the bag she’d packed for the hospital one more time. On her last weekly visit, Dr. Ellis had said the baby could come anytime. Pam was still teaching, although she desperately hoped her labor would begin at home, not at school, where a cast of hundreds would be involved in her private drama.
On her way to her room, she peered in Grant’s, smiling at Viola snoozing on his bed. Apparently the contented feline had never gotten the message that she wasn’t the master’s favorite animal. Or else they’d achieved détente.
When she reached the den, Sebastian, who lay sunning on the windowsill, raised his head and licked his chops in acknowledgment. She’d given Grant and Andy strict instructions about the care of the kitties and had stockpiled cat food, just in case. Other than the oven, she couldn’t think of a thing she’d forgotten to do.
Again Barney performed an amazing acrobatic feat, but then settled down. Pam lowered herself into the rocker, caressing her stomach, humming softly. Focusing on her baby made it easier to avoid thinking about the dreams that had died. Of being truly married to Grant. Accepting and loving Andy as a son. Creating a real family. Giving this precious infant a wonderful father and brother.
On the light breeze from the open window wafted the fragrance of newly mown grass. Birds chirped.
Springtime. Renewal. Rebirth.
With bittersweet longing, Pam recognized the tune she’d unconsciously been humming. “What I Did for Love.”
THERE. The stupid lawn was done. He’d even used the edger. Mowing was about the last thing he’d wanted to do today. The baseball team was playing in Dallas at one o’clock and he’d wanted to see Cale Moore pitch. He checked his watch. Too late now.
There was one other thing. Pam looked like a blimp and he’d noticed how she kept rubbing her stomach. Dad was playing golf. He didn’t feel right leaving her home by herself. A shiver of dread coursed through him. But what help would he be if something happened? Like if she went into labor? Not that it was his problem. Or his dad’s. This kid had nothing to do with him. Still he felt weird. The most he knew about having babies was what he’d learned in that dorky film they’d showed in fifth grade—the one where they separated the boys and the girls. It had some dumb title like Becoming a Man.
After lunch maybe he’d read the new Tom Clancy. Chill out. Call Angie about their date tonight. He stowed the mower in the garage, and when he went in the house, he found Pam pulling a big old casserole of macaroni and cheese out of the oven. It was hard to stay mad at her when she cooked so good.
He’d just finished his first helping and she’d gotten up to get him seconds when he heard her say something like “Woof.” When he turned around, she was clutching her stomach and peeing all over the floor.
He was paralyzed. What the hell was happening?
“Towels, Andy. Get some towels quick.” She was panting like a dog and leaning against the counter.
Towels. Think towels. He raced outside and grabbed four off the line, barely registering that they did smell kinda good. When he got back inside, she was still supporting herself at the counter. In a calm, scary voice, she said, “I’m okay. My water just broke.” Whatever that was. He guessed it had something to do with the baby. “Call the golf course and leave word for your father to meet us at the hospital.”
Us? Hospital?
He turned his head away. She was wiping between her legs with the towel. “Then hand me the phone to call Dr. Ellis.”
His tongue wouldn’t work to get the words out. “You’re…you’re having the baby? Now?”
She threw towels onto the floor to sop up the mess. “Not now, exactly. But soon. And I need your help, Andy.”
“Mine?”
“Can you drive me to the hospital?”
Whoa. He loved to drive. But taking her to the hospital? What if she had the baby in the car, like in those movies where they don’t make it to the emergency room? What if he had an accident?
“Andy?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure. Okay. I’m calling the golf course now.”
He was scared shitless. But when she let out another breathless moan, he knew he had to be the man. There wasn’t anybody else.
ANDY DROVE, white-faced, in a manner that would bring an approving smile to any driving instructor but that caused Pam to bite her lip in frustration. Couldn’t he go any faster?
By the time they reached the hospital her contractions were about four minutes apart and she had a new appreciation for the word travail. A sweet-faced nurse, who looked like one of her students—what could she know about childbirth?—settled her in the labor room, decked out to deceive her that she was in a luxury hotel. She could see Andy hovering anxiously in the hall. Finally the nurse finished her ministrations and nodded to Andy. “You can come on in now and keep your mother company.”
Pam momentarily shut her eyes. If only that were true.
Andy peered nervously around the room, studying every detail except her mounded stomach. “What are those things?” he said, pointing to the fetal monitor apparatus.
She explained to him about tracking the baby’s heart rate as well as the length and strength of the contractions. He leaned over to study the erratic scratches on the paper feeding through the machine. “Cool.” Then he stuck his hands in his pockets and stared over her head. “That a boom box?”
“Yes. There are some CDs in my bag.” Just then a contraction tightened her stomach, and she concentrated only on the crescendoing sensation.
“Pam?” Andy’s voice sounded strained.
The pain ebbed. She smiled. “It’s okay. Just a contraction.”
“Isn’t there something I’m supposed to do?”
“Not a thing, except cross your fingers all goes well.” She studied his drawn face, his clenched hands. “You don’t have to stay with me. Maybe you’d be more comfortable in the waiting room.”
“No!” He seemed shocked at his own strong reaction. “I’m responsible. Until Dad gets here.”
Pam smiled, then held out her hand. “Thanks, Andy. I’d like you to keep me company.”
And, for the next forty minutes, that’s exactly what he did, putting on some soothing CDs and holding her hand until Grant, face flushed, burst into the room. “Thank God, I made it in time.”
Pam had never been so glad—or so sad—to see somebody. The moment was here. But what she had was a birth coach, not a husband.
THE NEXT COUPLE OF HOURS WERE a blur of reassuring voices, intermittent examinations and the inevitable surges signaling contractions. Dr. Ellis had arrived, checked her and given Pam a big thumbs-up. “You’ve slowed down some, but we should have a baby before this youngster’s bedtime.” The doctor winked at Andy, who had steadfastly refused to leave Pam’s side, except when the nurse asked him to step into the hall while she did some tests. About four in the afternoon, he picked up the bedside phone. Grant was feeding her chipped ice and stroking her forehead. They couldn’t help overhearing.
“Angie, yeah, uh, I’m not gonna be able to make it this evening. My stepmom’s having her baby, and I gotta be here…. What’s it like? Well, it’s not the easiest thing in the world, you know?” He listened, then grinned. “You’re right. I guess that is why they call it ‘labor.’… You, too. Yeah, I’ll call you as soon as he comes.”
“She,” Pam murmured just before another contraction crested.
“Deep breaths,” Grant coached. “Atta girl. Just a little longer.”
When the pain passed, she gazed into his eyes, arrestingly blue and heartbreakingly full of concern. She clutched his warm hand. “Thanks for being here.” Then she looked over at Andy. “Both of you.”
“You’re going to have a beautiful, healthy baby. Keep focused on that.” Grant’s voice was like a lullaby. He projected calm, confidence. No wonder he was an effective basketball coach.
A beautiful, healthy baby. Tears welled and splashed down her face.
Grant leaned over. “Are you all right?”
She tried to smile through the tears. “Yes.” Except for the fact my baby will never know you as a father.
AT DINNERTIME the nurse suggested Grant and Andy get something to eat. “You have a long night in front of you. Best to be fortified.”
Grant didn’t like the sound of that “long night.” Labor was supposed to come more quickly when a mother’s water broke. What was taking so long? Watching Pam’s struggle was pure agony. He ached with love each time she endured a contraction, each time she gripped his hand in concert with her body’s upheaval.
“Do we have time to run home?”
When the nurse learned they lived close by, she told them to go on, saying nothing much would change in the next hour or so.
“Dad, are you sure we should leave?”
“We won’t be long. There’s something I need to get at home. We’ll grab a bite at the drive-through and be back in a jiff.”
“What’d you forget?”
“Never mind. It’s between Pam and me.”
Andy shot him a strange look, but didn’t question him further. Grant concentrated on his driving. And on thinking.
He’d missed Pam these past few weeks. Oh, sure, they’d occupied the same space, but the old intimacy was gone. Until today. Logic told him this wasn’t his wife. Wasn’t his baby. But with e
ach contraction, each heartbeat ticking away on the monitor, he kept thinking, “I love you, I love you.”
He left Andy in the car and raced to his desk in the den and pulled out the envelope. Maybe this was a crazy idea, but it was no crazier than his idea of getting married in the first place.
It was a desperate game plan, but winning meant putting everything on the line.
And, God, how he needed—wanted—to win!
DAD LOOKED SO SERIOUS, so worried, Andy figured he’d better say something. Help get his dad’s mind off Pam. But that was hard ’cause that was all he was thinking about, too. About how tinkly her laugh was, about how she made him feel good about himself, about the way his dad stared at her when he thought nobody was looking. He’d been pretty much an ass about learning the baby was somebody else’s. You had to look at it from the kid’s point of view. He’d need a family. And it wasn’t like Andy had any other siblings. Besides he couldn’t believe he was actually going to be there when the baby came. Well, not there, like in the delivery room, but right outside. Like a regular brother. Andy gazed out the window. They were only a few blocks from the hospital. “Dad, I’ve been thinking.”
“What about?”
“I’d like to stay.”
“Well, sure, son. Pam and I want you at the hospital.”
“Uh, that’s not what I meant.” Andy cracked his knuckles, desperate to make his dad understand.
“I’m listening.”
“I want to stay in Fort Worth, go to Keystone, be part of your, uh, our family.”
He’d thought his dad would break out one of those world-class grins. Instead, he looked pained. Didn’t he want him? “Nothing would make me happier, Andy. It’s been great having you here. But—”
“I know. Mom.”
“I have no sense of how she would react.”
“Couldn’t we try?” Looking down at his lap, Andy realized he’d crossed his fingers.