Sweet and Sassy Baby Love

by Alicia Street

  Baby Isabella’s sleep wasn’t ideal, but according to new friends Bridget had made online, mothers of children with Down syndrome, they said it wasn’t uncommon. Did any new baby have good sleep?

  Friends and family had been wonderful. In those early days home from the hospital, still living at Roberta and Big Mike’s house, a steady stream of visitors held both babies and kept life interesting. When baby Isabella was a month old, Tina and George stopped by. It reminded Bridget that they owed Patty an apology. She’d find a way to ask Tina to have Patty get in touch. She didn’t want Roberta or Tony to have to get involved, although Tony owed her an apology as well. While Roberta greeted them, Bridget stayed back in the kitchen on her barstool, listening.

  “So where’s the new baby?” Tina asked.

  Roberta had arranged a corner of the living room where visitors could see the baby, with a place for gifts and flower arrangements and balloon bouquets. “Follow me. She’s in this little bassinette. All my kids slept in this old thing when they came home from the hospital.”

  “Isn’t she adorable? Isabella Saint. No middle name. I love that idea. Elegant and to the point.”

  Isabella rarely opened her eyes, but for some reason, perhaps Tina’s overpowering perfume, she opened her eyes.

  “Oh! She’s a Mongoloid baby! Why didn’t you tell me? Oh my. You must be so upset!”

  “Tina, don’t use that word, please. It’s so offensive. She has Down syndrome. And I’m not upset in the least. Look at that face! Adorable. She takes after my mother and Bridget’s mother! We have that strawberry blond hair.”

  Tina looked at her with a smirk. “You mean did have strawberry blond.”

  “Oh, Tina, go to hell. If you’re going to insult my baby, my grand-baby I mean, and me, leave, for God’s sake.”

  “I’m sorry. I never knew anyone who had a baby like this.”

  “You know, you are really a moron. You can barely tell unless the baby is awake. Her eyes are a little slanted.” Roberta looked at her critically. “You know, Tina, I think you knew about this before you came over. You’re purposely being rude because you’re jealous.”

  “Ha! How would I have known?”

  “This is a small town in some respects. We go to the same church. Probably some bigmouth hovering outside the confessional.”

  “She knew,” George said, walking into the room. “Patty told us. She was upset when she found out, wanting to offer something to Bridget, but that would be weird.”

  “How’d she find out?” Roberta asked.

  “Like you said, it’s a small town. Tony has a lot of fans.”

  “Can I say something?”

  They looked up to see Bridget standing in the entrance. After giving birth a scant thirty days before, Bridget looked amazing. She had dressed à la Roberta, with tight capris and a formfitting sweater, but not the stilettos. Instead on her feet were scuffs with ostrich feathers on them that Big Mike had brought to the hospital.

  “Dear, of course you can,” Roberta said.

  “We’re not ashamed of Isabella, Mrs. Harper. The family loves her, as you can see. And if Patty wants to talk to me, please ask her to get in touch. I want to talk to her, too.”

  “Uh-oh, someone is chewing on her fist,” Roberta said. “Is it time to eat?”

  “She can eat. I’m letting her nurse whenever she wants,” Bridget said, moving to the bassinette to pick Isabella up. “She’s so tiny she can have whatever she wants, right, baby?”

  “Oh, she is cute,” Tina said. “You’re lucky to have a grandchild.”

  “I have two, remember,” she replied, taking Flynn from Bridget. “Two beautiful grandchildren.”

  Two weeks later when they were settled in the new house, Tony left in the morning to run errands, and Bridget was home alone with the babies, doing her routine. At about ten, a gentle tap at the door got her attention.

  She looked out the sidelight, and there stood Patty, dressed for a nightclub but without the tiara. Sighing with relief, Bridget was glad she had made the effort to look nice every morning because Tony was home on paternity leave. Clean clothes with no milk stains, combed hair and lip gloss, she looked okay. Hesitantly, she unlocked the door and opened it.

  “Hi, Patty, come in.”

  “Thanks. My mom mentioned that you wanted to talk to me.”

  Noticing that she was checking out the house, Bridget felt proud. Tony had made this for their family.

  “I’ll get right to the point. I owe you an apology regarding the fire. When they found the tiara, we all pointed fingers at you. That was wrong. Please forgive me.”

  “Forgiven. So where’s the baby? I’ve heard so much about her.”

  Bridget guessed that was the end of the discussion about the false accusation of arson. So she moved on, too. “You have? From your mother?”

  “Who else? Mutual friends told me she’s adorable. I brought a little gift.” She pulled a wrapped package out of her big handbag.

  “Thank you, Patty. She’s over here in the bassinette.”

  Something must have woken her, because seconds before, she had been sound asleep. Bridget was pleased because she was at her cutest, sucking on a pacifier like there was no tomorrow, smiling and squinting her eyes at Bridget.

  “Here she is, Miss Isabella.”

  Bridget watched Patty’s response carefully; it would be discussed with Tony in depth, she was sure. The thought made her smile. Patty had lost the challenging posture she always had, and was relaxed, ducking down to see the baby up close.

  “She’s beautiful. She might even look a little bit like Tony, even though she’s fair. His chin and the curls. I guess the hair color came from Roberta?”

  “My mom is fair, too. But yes, she does have Tony’s hair, not the color, but the curl. Would you like to hold her?”

  “May I? I’d love it.”

  “Have a seat.” She pointed to a love seat by the front window.

  “I love your house. Are you the decorator?”

  “Thank you, Patty. No, I’m a minimalist. Joey’s girlfriend, Candy, did all this. I love it, too.”

  “Open your gift. It’s more of a housewarming present than a baby gift.”

  Sitting down on the love seat, she took the ribbon off the flat, rectangular package and then released the tape and pulled the paper off in her neat way. Holding a sort of plaque, she read the words.

  “The Saint Family, est.,” and here she’d added the baby’s birthday. “Thank you so much, Patty. It’s beautiful. It will mean so much to Tony.”

  Isabella had spit her pacifier out and was rooting around on Patty’s ample chest.

  “Sorry, kid, these things are for show only.”

  The delivery made Bridget laugh out loud as she reached for her. “Feeding time.”

  Without any fuss, she proudly lifted up her shirt, pulled her bra down, and a full breast popped into view. The baby latched on, sucking noisily. Patty had her first pang of emotion, a little jealousy and a lot of envy.

  “She’s still getting the hang of it. Sometimes babies with Down syndrome take a while. They have to work at getting the milk.”

  “Well, she looks like she’s succeeding. I remember what you said to me in the grocery store, about finding love. I’m looking, believe me.”

  “It will happen when you least expect it, when it’s most inconvenient.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  Bridget fussed with the baby’s blanket, and the lull in the conversation was Patty’s cue to leave. She had sort of hoped Bridget would offer her coffee or something that might prolong the visit, but she didn’t. Being the ex-girlfriend was a state she would always be in. There would always be the weirdness between her and Tony and the rest of the Saints. Regrets flooded her again, regrets for the betrayal, for not making him a priority, because he was obviously madly in love with Bridget.

  “I guess I’d better go. Thank you for letting me hold her.”

  “Thank you for coming
by. Tony still needs to apologize.”

  “I won’t hold my breath,” she said, but laughed. “I’ll let myself out.”

  “Bye, Patty.”

  She left and shut the door without looking back. Looking down at Isabella, Bridget had a range of emotions that were unexplainable, but regret was the most discernable. She was sorry that someone was always left behind in a breakup.

  The rumble of a diesel engine put an end to her reverie, and she looked out the window just as Tony pulled up. Perfect timing.

  “Well, look at you,” he said, coming through the door. “Why’s this unlocked? Naughty girl.” He bent down to kiss her.

  “Patty just left, believe it or not.”

  “How the heck did that come about?”

  Bridget told her about telling Tina to have Patty get in touch. “I apologized to her about the accusation, and she was fine, said it was forgiven. She gave us this.”

  He took the plaque from her and read out loud, “The Saint family. We are that.”

  Suddenly, he dropped to his knee in front of her. “This seems like the perfect time.”

  “Oh boy, what are you doing?” she asked when he reached around to his pocket.

  “Ta-da!” he said, producing a ring box.

  “Tony!” she cried, grabbing his hand, a small baby still attached to her breast.

  With one hand he opened the ring box and presented it to her. “Will you marry me?”

  Shocked, with her hand to her mouth, she burst into tears. “Yes! Of course, I can’t believe this.”

  “I had a much different plan, believe me, including a babysitter and a fancy meal out.”

  He took the ring and slid it onto her finger, a perfect fit. With the baby in one arm, she reached for him with the other, hugging him, searching for his mouth to kiss.

  “You just made me the luckiest man I know,” he said. “We’re gettin’ married!”

  Epilogue

  Roberta Saint was in her glory. This would be the first marriage in their family since Charlie’s, and that had ended in divorce. Big Mike went pale when she suggested that they should help pay for the wedding, because he knew that meant she’d go overboard. Being willing to do it would mean that he might have to do it for five more boys.

  “Promise me that you aren’t going to do this for each one.”

  “Darling, we won’t pay for the whole thing. Let me ask you something. Have you ever seen the inside of Alice Clark’s house? It’s shabby in the extreme. I don’t think they have the money to put on a big affair. And we have so many friends. I don’t want the guest list to be limited.”

  “Bertie, Alice Clark is just a crappy decorator. Emmett is a college professor. They make enough money to throw a wedding for their oldest daughter.”

  Knowing when to stop, Roberta would spend whatever she wanted. The first thing she did was question the couple about the guest list. “How many people can I invite?”

  “Keep it small, Ma,” Tony said. “We have a kid already. This isn’t going to be a throwdown.”

  “Well, what if we have it here at the house? We have the terrace, where we can seat at least a hundred people. Then it can be casual.”

  “Truthfully, we want to have it at the firehouse.”

  Her heart nearly stopped. “Oh, God in Heaven, the friggin’ firehouse? No, Tony! Not a firehouse wedding!”

  He shouted out laughter, slapping his knee. “That does it, we’re having a firehouse wedding.”

  “If you must. But at least let me go in and do a little decorating. This is the first wedding! Have mercy on your old mother.”

  So Roberta and Alice Clark went to the firehouse together, an incongruous pair, and after the men pulled the trucks out of the garage for the day, they got to work, transforming the industrial space into a fairyland for the marriage of the second son.

  When the time came for the ceremony, Tony was beside himself, alternately weeping and laughing. I’m a basket case, he texted Bridget.

  Aw, hang in there, honey. It will soon be over, and we’ll be back in our own house in peace.

  Finally, at two p.m. on the dot, their friends and family assembled. A friend of Emmett’s played Wagner’s “Bridal Chorus” on the concertina, the familiar-sounding Irish accordion stirring emotions within Bridget that she’d hoped would stay buried, the fear that she’d burst into tears terrifying. If she lost it, Tony would most likely collapse, and the thought of him swooning up at the makeshift altar made her laugh, neutralizing her fears.

  While first Caitlin and then Candy walked down the aisle as her attendants, she remembered a Saint Julian of Norwich quote: All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well. Saint Julian was the author of the earliest surviving book written in English by a woman, Revelations of Divine Love. The one line that stuck from her high school religious studies was “He that made man for love.” Knowing she was taking it out of context, nevertheless, she and Tony were made for love, and this was the culmination of it.

  “Well, it’s time.”

  Looking up, she saw Emmett, handsome in his suit, offering an arm to his beautiful daughter. “You’re actually doing it,” he said. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “Ah, Da, did you think I’d be single forever?”

  “Truthfully, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want you to be alone, I can tell you that much. You look beautiful, Bridget.”

  It was true. Her body had recovered from Isabella’s birth, and the dress showed that off. Long, formfitting, it had spaghetti straps and a low cowl neckline. Roberta had picked it out for her when she said she’d wear a regular dress for the ceremony, and when Bridget saw it, she had to admit that it was perfect.

  “My favorite daughter-in-law will have the best dress I can find.” Of course, the joke being she would be the only daughter-in-law until Joey got married.

  The wedding march started in earnest, and everyone stood up from the folding chairs as Bridget, on her father’s arm, began her journey down the aisle to Tony.

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, your groom just started to blubber,” Emmett whispered.

  Bridget bit her lip, giggling under her breath. “He’ll be okay. He’s just excited about getting married.”

  Unaware of anyone around her after that, Bridget only saw Tony looking like a menswear model in his tuxedo. It was a surprise for her, and the result was breathtaking. When she reached him, the first thing she said was, “You look amazing. We need to get dressed up more often.”

  “For you, anything,” he replied, taking her hand. They held onto each other.

  “Forget it. I like our picnics the best.”

  “Me too.”

  Uncle Charlie was officiating. “Are you two ready, or should we wait so you can chat a while longer?”

  The guests laughed after they announced they were ready. Charlie went through the normal question about who giveth this woman in matrimony, and Emmett and Alice said they did and went to their seats.

  The next minutes went by in a blur. They recited the traditional vows since neither had had the time to think up something, and besides, what they felt for each other was there for the world to see. They didn’t need to put it into words.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Charlie said.

  Tony grabbed her, weeping of course, and dipped her while they kissed, her hand holding the bouquet off to her side, sweeping the floor in a posture of complete surrender. The audience gasped and sighed; it was breathtaking to witness.

  “They are really something,” Big Mike whispered. “They remind me of us.”

  “Aw, Mikey, you are so sweet,” Roberta said, leaning over to kiss him. “Our thirty-fifth anniversary is coming up. We should really celebrate.”

  “We will. A big party, in honor of us.”

  After the ceremony, the guests helped bring the tables in for dining and cleared a space for dancing. Bridget and Tony stood together at the front of the receiving line, accepting everyone’s blessing
s and well-wishes. Finally, after half an hour, Tony had had enough.

  “How long do we have to stay? I want to take the babies and leave.”

  Bridget took his face in her hands, smoothing his brow. “Take a deep breath, sweetheart. You need to eat. Then we’ll do our dance, and maybe we can sneak out afterward. If we leave now, it will seem like something’s wrong.” She looked at him carefully. “Nothing’s wrong, is it?”

  “No, I guess not. I just want to be alone with you.”

  “Have some champagne. I’ll tell Big Mike to do a toast.”

  Hating to use alcohol to placate her now-husband, she had witnessed this side of Tony from time to time, where crowds got under his skin and all he wanted to do was to retreat to a safe, quiet place.

  The next hour went by smoothly, with a delicious meal, prepared by Roberta and the church ladies, then dancing, where they did the requisite first dance as a married couple.

  “My brother and his bride are breathtaking,” Mike Saint said. “Look at them. They’re perfect together.”

  “Yeah, but those two kids and that shabby ranch house in the hood, sorry, but that’s not my idea of bliss,” Rick Jackson said.

  “Who said that? Patty? You’re a dork, Jackson.”

  “And you’re also jealous,” Devon Lyon added. “You’ll never have anything close to what they have.”

  After Tony and Bridget separated amid applause, they did the daddy-daughter dance and mother-son dance, and then the free-for-all began. It was at that point that Tony had truly had enough, but he laughed about it.

  “Okay, wife, we’re leaving on our honeymoon. Let’s get our kids and get out of here.”

  “How exciting. I can’t wait to get home and get out of this dress.”

  “Me either,” he said, working his eyebrows up and down. “It’s about time for these two to go night night.”