Bundle of Joy

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  How was it a dog could look repentant despite all that hair covering its eyes?

  “What’s happened to my life, Rags? Nothing’s going the way it was supposed to. Nothing.”

  As soon as the ten o’clock news concluded that evening, Alicia’s grandfather rose from his chair and announced he was off to bed.

  “Sleep well, Grandpa.”

  “The same to you both. See you in the morning.” He disappeared into the hallway.

  Alicia drew a deep breath and released it slowly. “It feels much later than 10:30, doesn’t it?” She glanced at Joe, seated beside her on the sofa.

  “I ought to sleep good tonight. All that snow shoveling I did today.”

  “You’ve worked hard ever since you got here.”

  He shrugged.

  A sharp, quick pain stabbed her in the small of her back, and she gasped.

  “Your back again?” Joe asked.

  She nodded.

  “I’m taking you to the doctor’s tomorrow.” He turned off the television, plunging the room into semidarkness, the only illumination coming from the red, green and white lights on the tree. “For now, would a back rub help?”

  “Maybe.” She looked at him but couldn’t see his eyes in the darkness of the room. “But would you mind just holding me instead?”

  He was silent a long while before saying, “No, I don’t mind.” His arm went about her shoulders and drew her close, her head resting on his chest.

  Ecstasy and heartache warred inside her, the joy of the present and the dread of the future mingling together, creating emotional havoc. She swallowed the lump in her throat, determined not to cry, determined not to spoil the moment. Joe’s heart beat a steady rhythm beneath her ear, a comforting sound in the silence of the room.

  Oh, how she wished they could remain like this forever. If only…

  Alicia was surprised when she awakened to a bedroom flooded with daylight. She didn’t remember coming to bed last night. How late had she and Joe stayed up? Something told her he’d held her for hours.

  She smiled to herself, a bittersweet smile that mirrored the feeling in her heart. How wonderful to be held as if she were loved. How sad not to be loved even while held.

  But she refused to dwell on such thoughts. Not today. Like Scarlett O’Hara, she would think about it tomorrow. Or in her case, after her grandfather returned to Arizona and Joe moved out of the house for good.

  Slowly—for it seemed she could do nothing in haste these days—she sat up, lowering her legs over the side of the bed. It was only as she started to rise to her feet that she realized the pain in her back was gone. Not so much as a tiny ache or twinge.

  She could hardly wait to tell Joe. But as it turned out, she wasn’t able to tell him anything.

  “He got a phone call while we were having breakfast,” Grandpa Roger told her a short while later. “He said he’ll be gone about an hour or two. And he wanted me to remind you to call your doctor.”

  “It’s not necessary. My back isn’t bothering me at all this morning.”

  “I don’t think that’ll matter much to your husband. He was adamant about you seeing your doctor today.”

  “I’ve got an appointment on Wednesday. That’s soon enough.”

  “Young folk.” Grandpa Roger shook his head. “I guess you’ll have to work that out between the two of you.” He set aside the novel he’d been reading and rose from the easy chair. “Right now, let’s get you some breakfast.”

  It was the sort of apartment Joe’d had in mind for himself. Two bedrooms, one to sleep in and one he could use for an office when he worked late at home. Large windows and high ceilings. All the modern kitchen conveniences. A gas fireplace—no muss, no fuss. Reasonably quick access to downtown and the courthouse. A view of the river from the living room; a view of the mountains from the master bedroom. A swimming pool, racquetball court, tennis court, workout room.

  One problem, however—this was the only available unit and nothing was scheduled for vacancy in the next few months. If he wanted to live in this complex, he’d have to rent the apartment today. It would be gone by tomorrow.

  He stared out the large window at the snow-bordered Boise River, frowning slightly.

  It wasn’t as if he couldn’t afford to rent the place now and leave it empty for a couple of weeks. Besides, he could make arrangements for the movers to deliver his furniture between now and then. That way everything would be ready for him right on schedule.

  He turned toward the rental manager. “I’ll take it.”

  “Wonderful,” Ms. Barton, an attractive woman in her early thirties, said with a smile. “Come to my office. Since you’re a lawyer, I’m sure you know there’s always plenty of paperwork to be seen to.”

  Once in the office he studied every word, every clause, of the lease before he signed it, but the memory of Alicia falling asleep in his arms last night kept intruding, breaking his concentration. He was relieved when he could write the deposit and first month’s rent check, hand it to Ms. Barton, and be on his way.

  So why didn’t he feel better now that he’d found a place to live?

  That question played in his head over and over again as he drove toward home.

  Home…

  Therein lay the answer. The apartment he’d rented wouldn’t be home. Home was a drafty farmhouse with an attack cat who hissed at him and a mangy dog who stole things and chewed them to bits. Home had a Christmas tree decorated with homemade ornaments and a string of ancient bubble lights. Home had a kitchen with yellow walls, lace curtains at the windows, a Formica and chrome table and ugly vinyl-covered chairs.

  Home had all those things.

  It also had Alicia.

  Joe pulled his vehicle to the side of the road and cut the engine. Silence filled the interior of the SUV.

  Home, he realized, had nothing to do with the building or the things in it. Home from now on would be wherever Alicia was.

  He didn’t want to live in an apartment with all the modern conveniences. He didn’t need a view of the river or the mountains, a swimming pool or a racquetball court.

  What he needed and wanted was Alicia.

  He shook his head, marveling at the certainty he felt. This must have been what God had in mind for him from the very start. How else could Joe have found himself back in Idaho, willing to trade the peace of his former life for a future filled with the chaos of parenthood, filled with 2:00 a.m. feedings and diaper changes, with Rosie the attack cat and with Rags, the collector and destroyer of his personal possessions?

  And with Alicia. Alicia, who had become as important to him as the air he breathed.

  He grinned. The wonder of this day wasn’t that he’d found the perfect apartment. The real wonder was that Joe had fallen in love with his wife.

  Now all he needed was to find the right moment to tell her he wanted their marriage to be more than make-believe, more than a temporary situation. He wanted it to be forever.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The final few days before Christmas flew by.

  Grandpa Roger had a friend take him out for some last-minute shopping. “Secrets are a part of the season” was the explanation he gave Alicia.

  Joe went to his job interview and seemed pleased afterward. “I believe they’ll ask me to join the firm. Looks like a good fit.”

  Alicia stayed busy, too, wrapping gifts, baking cookies and beginning to put the nursery in order after the wallpapering was finished. But her small world seemed off-kilter somehow, though she couldn’t say precisely how or why. Perhaps it was the way Joe watched her whenever they were together, as if she were a puzzle to be solved.

  On Christmas Eve, Grandpa Roger, Alicia and Joe attended the candlelight service at church. It was another special memory for her to treasure in her heart. Perhaps all the more so because she realized how soon both Joe and her grandfather would be leaving, how few memories she still had time to gather.

  Upon their return home, Alicia filled la
rge Santa mugs with hot chocolate, and the three of them sat in the living room, watching the bubble lights and sipping their beverages. For a time each was lost in private thoughts.

  It was Grandpa Roger who broke the silence. “What about the baby’s name? Have you two come to an agreement yet?”

  “Not yet,” Alicia answered.

  “You’re running out of time, you know.”

  “We know.”

  She hated the lies. They seemed to pile up at an alarming rate. And lying to her grandfather on Christmas Eve seemed worse than usual. But the die had been cast weeks ago. She had no choice except to say the things he expected to hear.

  “We haven’t found the perfect names, Grandpa. That’s all.”

  “And what about you, Joe?” her grandfather asked. “Any favorites, yet?”

  “Well, sir, the truth is, I’ve grown rather fond of Humphrey.” Joe winked at Alicia.

  Both his words and his teasing wink took her by surprise. She didn’t know how to respond to either.

  “Hmm.” Grandpa Roger set his mug on the coffee table. “It’s time to remind you that I won’t be present when my great-grandchild is born. I’d like to make certain he or she isn’t named in haste.” He frowned at Joe. “Humphrey Palermo, indeed.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Joe drew out his words, as if giving them serious consideration. “Actually, sir, I was thinking more along the lines of Teresa if it’s a girl.” He met Alicia’s gaze. “After the baby’s great-grandmother Harris.”

  Her eyes flooded with tears.

  “That would have pleased my wife,” Grandpa Roger said. “It pleases me, as well. Thank you from the bottom of an old man’s heart.” He paused, cleared his throat, then asked, “And if it’s a boy?”

  Even though she couldn’t see him clearly, she knew Joe continued to watch her.

  “The Palermos always give their firstborn sons the name Enrico, either as a first or middle name. It’s a tradition I’d like to keep.”

  Determined not to burst into tears, she managed to say, “Your name isn’t Enrico.”

  “I wasn’t the first son. My older brother was stillborn. He was named Enrico.”

  Did her grandfather wonder why she didn’t know that?

  Joe covered for her. “Guess I should have told you before now.” He shrugged. “Losing him wasn’t something my family talked about. I guess it became a habit not to.”

  She looked down at her belly. “We could call him Ricky.”

  “I like that.” Joe took hold of her hand. “Ricky Palermo it is.”

  That was the moment when he should have told her he loved her. That was the moment when he should have told her he didn’t want to be a husband for the holidays but for his entire life. He wanted her baby to be their baby. It didn’t matter if the baby’s first name was Ricky or Teresa or Humphrey as long as its last name was Palermo.

  So why didn’t he speak up on Christmas Eve? For the life of him he couldn’t say. Call it nerves. Call it habit. Call it stupidity. Whatever the reason, he let that perfect moment pass.

  Early on Christmas morning, Alicia made her way toward the kitchen. The warm aroma of coffee teased her nostrils, and she wondered how long Joe had been up.

  When she saw him, leaning his backside against the counter, his legs angled before him, right ankle over left, she paused, wanting to enjoy the sight. He wore jeans and a sweatshirt. His feet were bare. In his right hand, he held a coffee mug, and he sipped from it, his eyes closed.

  He looked…contented.

  Oh, how she longed for that to be true. She loved him. She wanted him. She needed him. If only he could love, want and need her, too.

  Was it possible? Could it happen?

  As if she’d spoken aloud, he opened his eyes and glanced her way. His smile was slow and sleepy. “Merry Christmas.”

  Her heart leaped in response. “Merry Christmas, Joe.”

  “Did you peek under the tree?”

  “No.”

  “I’d’ve thought you the type to do that.”

  She returned his smile. “I am.”

  “Want some breakfast while we wait for Grandpa to wake up?”

  She nodded.

  “You set the table,” he said, “and I’ll scramble the eggs.”

  “Deal.”

  After setting down his coffee mug, he strode across the kitchen to the refrigerator. He was bent forward, looking inside the appliance, when Rosie jumped through the pet door, almost onto his foot. She slid to a halt, paws scrambling on the slick linoleum. Her back arched as high as it could go, and she hissed at him.

  “Cat—” he pointed an index finger at the feline “—you and I are gonna come to terms before we’re through.”

  Rosie growled but didn’t move.

  “Ask Rags. She’ll tell you I’m one of the good guys.”

  Happiness flowed through Alicia as she watched and listened. If only they could stay like this forever.

  Joe reached out, as if to pet the cat’s head. Rosie took a swipe at his hand, barely missing her target. Then she darted out of the kitchen.

  He straightened and looked at Alicia. “I’m not crying uncle yet. I’m determined she’ll get used to me.”

  I love you, Joe.

  He stared at her, the look intense and unwavering; his smile faded.

  Can you hear my heart?

  “Alicia…”

  Her pulse quickened.

  “There’s something I need to—” The sound of a closing door intruded on his words. He stopped and glanced toward the living room.

  A few moments later Grandpa Roger appeared. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas, Grandpa.”

  “Merry Christmas, sir.”

  “Hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

  “No, sir. We haven’t.”

  Alicia wondered what Joe might have said if her grandfather had waited a little while longer.

  Even though Grandpa Roger’s arrival had been untimely, interrupting Joe’s declaration of love, Joe wasn’t discouraged. His heart told him he would find the right moment, an even better moment, to tell Alicia what he had to say. The future looked better than he’d imagined it could.

  And this was the best of all Christmases, too. When Joe was growing up, this time of the year had been about getting the latest gizmo. It had been about giving the gift with the most prestige or the biggest price tag.

  But that wasn’t what it was about in Alicia’s home. It was about caring. He’d already witnessed that truth in the weeks he’d been here, but it became crystal clear when he opened Alicia’s final gift to him.

  In the box was a black leather day planner with his named etched on a gold plate in the lower right corner. The binder was nicer than the one he’d lost, but it was what he found inside the covers of the planner that truly touched his heart. Somehow, Alicia had duplicated most of the pages Rags destroyed, the ones Joe had given up for lost. Pages upon pages, including his extensive address book, were filled with her meticulous, legible handwriting.

  “When did you find time to do this?”

  “Here and there,” she answered with a gentle smile.

  Joe tried to think of something to say to express what he felt. Words eluded him. The best he could manage was a simple, “Thanks.” He stood. “Now I’ve got something more for you. Sit tight.”

  He felt as excited as a kid in a candy store as he hurried out of the living room, into the kitchen and down the basement stairs. He knew Alicia would be surprised.

  Satisfaction warmed Roger Harris.

  If he’d had any doubts that Alicia and Joe belonged together—which wasn’t the case—those doubts would have been assuaged this morning. Watching the two of them was like looking into the face of love itself. Whatever problems had plagued them a couple of weeks earlier seemed to have been overcome.

  Roger was thankful for that.

  He stared at the Christmas tree with its dancing bubble lights, and his thoughts drift
ed back in time. He recalled the many Christmas mornings he and his beloved Teresa had shared. They’d had a good marriage, a blessed life. Of course, they’d had their share of heartaches and disappointments; no marriage ever escaped the bad times completely. The rain fell on the just and the unjust. But love had seen them through, seen them through and brought them closer together.

  He lifted a silent prayer, asking God to grant many years, many good years, to his granddaughter and her husband. He prayed their love would sustain them no matter what tomorrow might bring.

  Love always sustained.

  Alicia shifted her position on the sofa, seeking a physical comfort that would not be found. The ache in her back had returned. If not for Joe and her grandfather, she’d have gone back to bed. But they would worry if she did, and the day was too perfect to allow that. Besides, she could hardly bear the suspense, waiting to see what had caused Joe to look so pleased with himself as he’d hurried from the room.

  She heard him climbing the stairs and turned expectantly toward the kitchen doorway.

  Before he came into view, he called out, “Close your eyes, Alicia.”

  “Joe—”

  “Close ’em.”

  She released a dramatic sigh. “All right.” She obeyed.

  “Are they closed, sir?”

  “They are, indeed,” her grandfather replied.

  Alicia folded her hands atop her abdomen, clenching them tightly while resisting the urge to peek. She heard Joe’s footsteps on the hardwood floor, knew the moment he reached the sofa. She worried her lower lip between her teeth.

  “Don’t look yet.”

  She smiled. “You’re enjoying this way too much, Joe Palermo.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Rat.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She heard him set something on the floor.

  “I got a call from Susie a while back.”

  “Susie?” Why was he talking about her assistant manager? And why would Susie call him?

  “The supplier for that cradle you had your heart set on can’t deliver one until spring.”

  Broadsided by the disappointing news, she forgot to keep her eyes closed. Her mouth was open to ask why he hadn’t told her about the call—