by Wendy Wax
“His biggest talent is keeping normally intelligent women hanging on long after it makes any sense at all.”
“Hmmm?”
“I think that’s my cue.” Troy stood abruptly. “I can’t bear to watch all those IQ points evaporating.”
She didn’t bother to respond or even get particularly irritated at being called stupid. Between all the golden wet skin, the clinging bathing trunks, and her son’s earsplitting smile, there was simply no room in her brain for anything even slightly unpleasant. When father and son got close enough to shake themselves dry like wet animals and spray her in the process, she laughed out loud.
Daniel set Dustin on his feet and wrapped a towel around him as Dustin giggled. When Dustin picked up his shovel and hunkered down in front of the castle, Daniel slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She stiffened, trying to summon her resistance, and it had nothing to do with the fact that her T-shirt and shorts were now soaked, and everything to do with the fact that he was married and therefore unavailable. She’d vowed not to allow herself to melt every time he showed up. But when he turned her in his arms, the heat of his body was inescapable. His lips on hers were like a match to flame. His kiss caused her to sway against him.
“I’m glad you got rid of him. I can’t stand seeing him crush on you.”
“No,” she murmured against his lips, not at all interested in talking about Troy or anyone else when Daniel’s lips were moving so insistently on hers. “I didn’t. He doesn’t . . .” He kissed her more deeply and held her tight enough that she could feel his body’s reaction to hers.
“Oh, yes he does,” he breathed. “I know. Because he looks at you exactly the same way I do.”
• • •
“I can’t possibly weigh that much. I knew I shouldn’t have worn shoes. Can I take them off and try again?” Nikki stepped off the scale, toed off the stretched-out flats, which were the only shoes she could cram her feet into anymore, and stepped back on. The bar wavered for a moment before settling.
“Well done. You dropped close to six ounces,” Joe said.
Getting weighed was bad. Doing it while Joe was standing next to her was even worse. He turned and pretended to study the print on the wall after she swatted him, but there was no way he’d missed the fact that she now weighed one hundred seventy-five pounds. She was within spitting distance of two hundred.
“Don’t worry. You’re still in the acceptable weight gain range for twins.” Dr. Payne’s nurse glanced down at Nikki’s chart. “And you’re right around thirty-three weeks. You’re almost there.”
Nikki knew this was meant to reassure her, but she could feel her heart jackhammer at the thought. She drew a deep breath, took her time exhaling it, hoping to slow it down. Excess pounds were not what mattered here—healthy, viable babies were.
Dr. Payne arrived with a warm smile for Joe and Nikki, who now lay on the examining table with her bared stomach aimed up at the ceiling. It bulged slightly with each kick and movement, which were mirrored and amplified on the sonogram screen and accompanied by the staccato whoosh of the babies’ rapid heartbeats.
“Tell me how you’ve been feeling,” the doctor said as she moved the wand over Nikki’s stomach.
She was preparing to tell her everything was fine when Joe caught her eye.
“Well, I have been kind of short of breath. And I do get a little light-headed.” His look clearly said that if she didn’t tell all, he would. “And, of course, I have almost no energy. But I figure that’s because I’m not really sleeping at night. And I’m carrying a lot of extra weight around. Right?”
Dr. Payne glanced back through her chart, jotted down some more notes. Then she pulled out the blood pressure cuff and retook Nikki’s blood pressure. She frowned.
Now Nikki really couldn’t breathe. Her heart galloped like a horse straining toward the finish line. Clearly something was wrong.
“What is it?” Joe asked as Nikki groped for his hand.
“Some of your breathing problems are undoubtedly a result of the babies pushing up on your lungs and the extra weight you’re carrying. A certain amount of fatigue and the other symptoms you’re experiencing are to be expected.”
“But?” Nikki ventured even though she was pretty sure she didn’t want to hear what was coming next.
“But I am concerned about your blood pressure. The more babies, the more placenta. With the additional hormones involved, this can lead to high blood pressure. We’ve been monitoring you carefully and it’s more borderline than dangerous, but preeclampsia is something we have to be on the lookout for and we want to be vigilant.”
She had a stranglehold on Joe’s hand. She was not reassured by how closely he was watching the doctor’s face. Nikki braced herself for the two words she’d been dreading from the day she discovered she was pregnant. But the words that came out of Dr. Payne’s mouth were not “something’s wrong.” They were, however, words well worth dreading.
“What did you say?”
“I said I think bed rest is in order here. With plenty of hydration.” Dr. Payne smiled kindly. “Because the longer you’re able to carry them, the more time the babies have to mature, and the more fully developed their lungs will be. Even a few more weeks can make a positive difference.”
“You mean resting as in putting my feet up now and then?” she asked hopefully.
“No, I mean bed rest. As in lying in bed and drinking as much liquid as possible.”
Nikki shook her head. Being so big and slow sucked. Being confined to bed? “Oh, no. That’s not going to work. I can’t possibly—”
“Do you have a ‘do’ and ‘don’t’ list?” Joe asked before she could finish explaining. “There was a section in the What to Expect book, but as I recall, there are different degrees of rest.”
Dr. Payne smiled as if at a star pupil. “Yes. I’ll ask Margaret to give you our instruction sheet. I would stay horizontal as much as possible. No stairs. Only trips to the bathroom as required. You let others wait on you,” she admonished Nikki before turning back to Joe. “Are there people who can help out?”
“I’m here,” Joe said. “Plus my family’s in town. And I have no doubt Nikki’s friends will be glad to pitch in.”
“But . . .” Nikki thought about the tiny cottage. It was adorable but far too small to be trapped in twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. “I’m claustrophobic. I won’t be able to bear lying there doing nothing. I’ll . . .” She’d go stark raving mad and possibly howl at the moon. If she could escape her bed and the cottage in order to see it. “Isn’t there something else we could do? Some pill I could take?”
Joe looked Nikki directly in the eye. “I’m sure we’re both willing to do whatever we need to, to help ensure the health of our children. Aren’t we, Nik?”
Nikki swallowed. Joe wasn’t the one who’d have to lie around all day and night. “Well, of course. It’s just that—”
A knock on the exam room door interrupted her train of thought and her objection. Margaret stepped in and handed them each a printed piece on bed rest. Dr. Payne closed the file and stood to leave. “Just call the office if you have any questions or issues.” The door closed behind her.
“This is not going to work,” Nikki said as she attempted to straighten her clothes and smooth her hair without actually having to confront herself in the mirror.
“Of course it’s going to work,” Joe said as he opened the examining room door for her then walked her toward the checkout desk. “We’ll make it work. Because I didn’t hear the word ‘optional’ come up.”
But she couldn’t help noticing that once again although he said “we,” he would be free to come and go. Free to go to work. Free to take a run if he felt like it. Free to go out and watch the sunset.
“It’s just a couple of weeks, Nikki. We’ll all wait on you hand and foot. Rent you
movies. Download you audio books. Bring you trays in bed. It’ll be like a mini spa vacation. I promise you, Maddie and Kyra and Avery will be envious. You have an actual doctor’s order to do absolutely nothing. I suggest you figure out how to enjoy it.”
• • •
It was two long days before Maddie got to speak with Will. Two days of phone tag and Lori “with an i” leaving messages that Will had asked her to call and let her know that he’d be in touch soon. Days in which Maddie’s subconscious played kick the can with a vengeance, the can clattering and ricocheting in her skull with each delay and every missed opportunity. All of it pointed to as proof that Will had lost interest and that absence did not make the heart grow fonder.
She was in the minivan on her way to Nikki and Joe’s cottage with a slice of egg soufflé and a cup of mixed fruit when her cell phone rang. The number was Will’s. She answered, half expecting to hear Lori’s carefully chosen words. Instead she heard the warm timbre of Will’s voice. She thought she heard a splash in the background.
“Is that really you?” she asked.
“It is. Hud’s here, too. He says hello, by the way. We snuck off Mermaid Point just before sunrise. I’m thrilled to be making music again, but I was in deep withdrawal. I hadn’t had a fly rod in my hands for close to two weeks.”
“Where are you?”
“Out off Roscoe Key.” She heard a smile steal into his voice. “Had a couple of gray ghosts ask after you.” He referred to the often elusive bonefish prized by flats fishermen.
Maddie smiled in turn, picturing him out in what was, for him, his most natural habitat.
“Of course, I can hardly get Hud to shut up. Apparently no one’s ever told him that most fishing guides are men of few words and sometimes mostly grunts.”
She laughed. Hudson Power was one of Will’s oldest friends.
“He wants to know when you’re coming down,” Will said. “And I want to know if you’ve changed your mind about coming on tour. I told Lori I thought I still might be able to talk you into it. She didn’t think I needed the distraction, but I disagreed.”
She pulled into a spot on Thirty-first and turned off the engine, but she didn’t make a move to get out of the van. “I can’t tell you how much I’d like to.” She missed Will. Time with him would be a great escape from the pressure they were all under and the decisions that had to be made.
“Then say yes. That’s all it’ll take.”
“God, I wish it was that easy.”
“It is, Mad. I promise you.”
“I just don’t see how.” She counted the countless reasons off on her fingers. “Nikki’s on bed rest. The beach club’s doing okay, but the cottages aren’t selling, which means no income. And apparently the only thing our attorney’s been able to negotiate is our ability to quit Do Over and the extremely tiny income it produced.” She hated the whine in her voice as she tried to make him understand. “I don’t feel like I can just take off. I’d be letting everyone down.”
There was a silence and it wasn’t the warm, no-words-needed kind of quiet that they’d sometimes shared, especially out on the flats. She pictured Hud peering out through the shallow water, dropping his fly in front of a bonefish and halfheartedly tempting him with it in an effort to give Will the privacy a conversation that had taken an unexpectedly serious turn required.
“You know,” Will said finally. “You told me you weren’t coming because you wanted to find out who you were, wanted to live your own life instead of living for others. I respected that. I mean it’s not what I wanted to hear, but I got it. Only it sounds to me like you’re still living for other people and dedicating yourself to dealing with their problems. Everybody’s, that is, except mine.”
She wanted to protest. Or to cry. Possibly even both. But she had no idea what to say. It was really, really hard to argue with the truth.
Fourteen
Nikki on bed rest was not pretty. And it wasn’t just the bloated face, dull moss-colored eyes, and unwashed hair. Bitsy tried not to stare when she arrived with the ice cream sandwich Nikki had requested and found Maddie sitting at her side. The relief on Maddie’s face and the speed with which she departed should have been a warning, but it all happened too quickly for Bitsy to react.
“Oh, look, Nik, your favorite!” Maddie said as she leapt to her feet and began gathering her things. “She’s about due for another glass of juice, a blood pressure reading, and a potty break. Joe’s planning to leave Tampa early to beat the traffic. He should be here right around five o’clock.”
“But . . . I thought I was just delivering the ice cream sandwich.” Bitsy had volunteered to help when needed and had thought she was just bridging time before scheduled shifts. Not that she had anything she had to do or anywhere she needed to be. Her job hunt so far had proven not only fruitless, but humiliating. Sherlock whimpered in her arms and eyed the door, but she set him down.
“Yes, well, Avery was supposed to be here for the next two hours but there was an issue with Jason and so she had to take Jeff to his doctor’s appointment.” Maddie spoke so quickly, it was almost impossible to follow. Though she looked distinctly guilty, it was clear that she was leaving. As soon as possible. “I’d stay except Kyra has to be somewhere and she can’t take Dustin. So . . .” She leaned over and gave Nikki a quick hug. Before Bitsy could respond, she was gone.
“You know you’re a pain in the ass when even Maddie can’t stand being with you.” Nikki’s eyes pooled with tears. “I don’t blame her. It’s been ten long, excruciating days. I don’t even want to be here with me.”
Sherlock curled up in the farthest corner, not that “far” existed even in the two-bedroom cottage, which was downright palatial compared to the one-bedroom she and Sherlock were now stuffed into.
She sat down on the chair next to the bed and placed the ice cream sandwich where Nikki could reach it. “Is there a show you’d like to watch?”
“No.” Nikki began to unwrap the ice cream.
“A movie?” Bitsy picked up the remote and began to scroll through the On Demand selections, trying not to think of the large-screen TVs that had hung in so many of the rooms of their Palm Beach home, so that Bertie would never be far from a sporting event or a favorite drama.
She paused on everything that looked like it might do.
“Seen it. Seen it.” Nikki’s responses were quick and merciless.
Bitsy pulled up the TV program selection. “I’ve heard good things about Jane the Virgin. Oh, and look, there’s the first two seasons of Grace and Frankie with Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin.” She pointed the remote at the television.
“No, I told you. I’ve seen them. And am able to quote large sections of dialogue. Well, at least when my brain doesn’t crap out on me.”
Bitsy lowered the remote. Sherlock, the lucky devil, had begun to snore.
“It’s pointless,” Nikki said. “I’ve already binge-watched more TV episodes than I used to know existed.” She groaned as she tried to reposition her body. “If I don’t go somewhere besides here and the bathroom soon, I’m afraid I’m going to hurt someone.” She sighed. “I made it to the kitchen the other day when Avery had to step out to take a call. I thought I’d just put some peanut butter on a piece of bread, but I couldn’t.”
“You didn’t have the strength?”
“No. It wasn’t that. Joe must have gotten rid of all the sharp objects.”
“You’re joking.”
Nikki shook her head sorrowfully. “I think it had something to do with me threatening to cut the throat of the next person who told me how lucky I was to get to lie here and do absolutely nothing.”
Bitsy’s hand went to her neck reflexively. “But he had to know you were joking.”
“Maybe. But Joe’s a be-prepared kind of guy. I mean, look at that suitcase sitting there taunting me.” She pointed to the carry-on that sat nex
t to the bedroom door. “When I know I’m never going to actually get out of here and see true daylight again.” Tears seeped out of her eyes and began to slide down her cheeks.
“How about a book? I could read one to you.”
“Can’t concentrate. Not even when they’re audio books. My mind just wanders all over the place—I have no control over it any more than I do my body. Then I don’t know where it started wandering. I’d give everything I have just to walk outside and sit by the pool.”
“What about a magazine? I could run down to Dolphin Village.” The shopping center was only five minutes away. If she drove real slow, she could stretch it to eight. “Then you could just look at the pictures.”
Nikki motioned beneath the bed. “There are piles of them down there. Feel free to help yourself. I’m all caught up on how many male superstars are sleeping with their nannies.”
“So we’ll talk,” Bitsy said with a quick glance down at her cell phone. She looked again, shocked to discover she’d been there for only fifteen minutes. Two hours was beginning to sound like a lifetime.
“All right.” Nikki sniffed and swiped at her eyes again, but she looked interested for the first time, Bitsy looked at her phone again, in eighteen minutes. “Why don’t you tell me where Bertie really is and why you’re really here.”
Sherlock whimpered in his sleep at the sound of his beloved’s name. Bitsy held her whimper in. Nikki unengaged was no picnic. But sharing her story would eat up, what, ten minutes, max? And it wouldn’t accomplish or change anything. It would only make Bitsy appear even more pathetic. “I told you. I just needed some me time. And I don’t know exactly where Bertie is at the moment.”
She shrugged as if it made no difference. Nikki gazed at her in disappointment. Sherlock whimpered again. What followed was an uncomfortably long silence in which Nikki consumed the ice cream sandwich in an oddly choreographed combination of licks, bites, and nibbles.
“Do you want another ice cream sandwich?” Bitsy asked as soon as Nikki had finished.