Читать книгу First Comes Baby - Janice Johnson Kay - Страница 10

LAUREL KNEW SHE WAS pregnant within two weeks. She couldn’t verify it, and she didn’t call Caleb with the big news. Not when she’d have to say, It’s actually too early for a pregnancy test. I just have a feeling…

But her period came as reliably as Monday mornings. On Wednesday, when it should have started with a flood, it didn’t. Not Thursday, either, or Friday, Saturday or Sunday.

The following Wednesday, she was so queasy she couldn’t eat her morning oatmeal. A banana was the best she could do.

Caleb had had to fly to South America unexpectedly, promising he wouldn’t be gone for more than a couple of weeks, so telling him she thought she was pregnant wasn’t an option anyway. Not if she didn’t want to make the announcement via e-mail.

She hadn’t actually seen him since the evening he’d disappeared into her bathroom and emerged a half hour later, red-faced, with the syringe he all but flung at her before he fled. Or maybe, left quickly out of consideration for her feelings. Laurel wasn’t sure.

He’d called a couple of times, and they’d had stilted conversations. It was almost as bad as when he’d first come back from his stint in the Peace Corps and been so familiar she felt even more like a stranger to herself.

After a week of nausea, she did tell her rape support group that she thought she was pregnant. The group of nine other women gazed at her in surprise and speculation, waiting for the details.

She’d intended to keep it brief—I want to start a family, I had sperm donated—but once she’d started, Laurel had found herself spilling everything. Her choice of one friend to be donor, and then her decision to change to her oldest, dearest friend, despite the fact that he was single. The only thing she didn’t say was that there’d once been sexual chemistry between them. Because that didn’t matter anymore, did it?

They congratulated her, but they also asked questions, and some surprised her.

Marie, one of the women who was most reticent about the details of her own rape, asked, “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

“You mean, before I got pregnant?”

There were nods all around.

“Because…” She didn’t know why.

“You thought we’d try to talk you out of it,” Marie said.

“That’s why I didn’t tell my dad, but…” She looked around the circle. “Would you have tried?”

At least half the women nodded.

“But…why?” she asked.

Again, it was Marie who spoke. “You’re the only one of us who hasn’t had a relationship since her rape.” They’d been meeting for a long time now, with Cherie the most recent addition two and a half years ago.

“A lot of you are married,” Laurel argued. “That’s different.”

“I’m not married,” Jennifer said. She was a quiet blonde about Laurel’s age.

Three others reminded her they weren’t married, either.

“And I wasn’t married when I got raped,” Cherie said. “I met Greg later.”

Laurel lifted her chin. “What’s your point?”

Marie spoke for all of them. “That sex and relationships with men are harder for us than they used to be, but not impossible. Having a kid is great. Just…. don’t give up on men until you’ve given ’em a fair try. Okay?”

How was it that she hadn’t realized she was the only one in the group who had resolved to stay celibate?

She nodded, although she hadn’t changed her mind.

“When are you due?” someone asked then.

In chatter about bottle-feeding versus breast, offers of hand-me-down clothes, even a stroller and tales about their own children, Laurel almost forgot their reservations.

Almost.

DESPITE HER CERTAINTY, she was so nervous when she went into her doctor’s office to take the pregnancy test, she couldn’t just sit and wait for the results, pretending she cared what Good Housekeeping said about organizing closets. She went for a walk, just a couple of blocks, but it was easier to reason with herself when she was moving than sitting still in a waiting room full of other people.

You think you’re pregnant, her doubting inner self said, but so did Bloody Mary. Haven’t you ever heard of hysterical pregnancy?

She had, and she might be a good candidate, as desperate as she was to be pregnant.

“I’ll bet Queen Mary didn’t have morning sickness,” she argued with herself.

A couple of passing teenage boys in gigantic pants and black bandannas gave her a “yo, you’re crazy, lady” look.

Maybe she was. Her breath came short. Thank God she hadn’t told Caleb.

There was one way to settle this.

Laurel turned resolutely and went back to the clinic.

The receptionist didn’t even let her sit down. “Dr. Schapiro will see you now.”

She escorted Laurel to an office rather than an examining room.

The doctor was perhaps fifty, with a dark bob of hair, crinkles beside her eyes and a warmth that seemed genuine. She stood and shook hands with Laurel across the desk.

“I know this is good news for you. You’re pregnant.”

Laurel closed her eyes momentarily against a wave of joy and relief.

“It is good news?”

“Yes, I…yes.”

Her gaze was curious, but she didn’t ask why Laurel hadn’t been back to have the sperm implanted here. “We’ll get you scheduled for your first prenatal exam, and I’ve already written you a prescription for vitamins. How are you feeling?”

“Nauseated.” Laurel made a face. “Pretty much constantly. Or maybe I should say, unpredictably. I thought it was called morning sickness. Shouldn’t I feel great in the afternoon?”

Dr. Schapiro laughed. “Unfortunately, it’s called that only because nausea on first rising is common. There are women who tell me they feel dandy in the morning and then can’t eat dinner, and others who suffer from a certain level of nausea pretty much all day. I take it you’re one of those?”

Laurel nodded. “I’m trying to keep eating. I know it’s important. But it’s hard. Every so often I’m suddenly starved, but if I eat very much I throw it up an hour later.”

“The good news is, morning sickness usually only lasts through the first trimester. But it’s really important that you’re able to keep food down.” She talked for a few minutes about eating small amounts, what foods were least likely to cause nausea and which were most important for the fetus’s development.

Armed with a pile of handouts and an appointment a month later, Laurel walked out of the clinic in a daze. She was pregnant. First try. She’d known she was pregnant. So why the sense of unreality now?

Because she hadn’t gotten pregnant the usual way? Well, yeah. The big event had borne more resemblance to treating herself for a yeast infection. Except for the standing-on-her-head part.

A chilly trickle down her spine made her wonder whether she was really feeling fear. She’d taken a huge step, and now had to live with the consequences. And she had to tell everybody, starting with her dad and sister. She’d have to suffer the questions and curiosity of everybody at work. She wasn’t even sure how the women in her support group truly felt about her decision.

But it’s my decision, she reminded herself. Nobody but hers. Which, when she got right down to it, was what made it so scary.

Managing financially was a worry, of course. She made a decent living at Vallone, Penn and Cooper, the law firm, but she’d need to take maternity leave, and then find reliable day care. Caleb had insisted on paying child support at a very minimum. She knew he’d give her more if she’d take it, but the reality was, Caleb had fathered her baby out of kindness, no matter what he’d said to the contrary. What happened once he got married and had other children? What if his wife resented the existence of this child that wasn’t even the vestige of a former relationship? Laurel had to be self-supporting. She wanted to be able to put away a good deal of the money from Caleb in a college fund.

When she got home, Laurel called first her father and then her sister and invited them to dinner Saturday night.

“I have news,” she admitted to Megan. “No, not a word until Saturday.”

“You’re going back to law school!” her sister crowed.

The pain took her by surprise. She should have realized that’s what Meg would assume. Why did it hurt so much? Because her own sister didn’t know her well enough to understand why she couldn’t go back? Because a part of her hadn’t quite let go of the dream?

She managed to say, “No. It’s not that. Sorry.”

“Oh. Well,” Meg rallied, “don’t be sorry. I can’t wait to hear what the news is. Dad’s coming, you said?”

Friday afternoon, as she left work, Caleb fell in step with her in the lobby. “You going to let a guy take you out to dinner?”

Startled, she spun so quickly her ankle turned and she would have gone down but for his quick grip on her arm. “You always manage to sneak up on me!”

“What better place to lie in wait for you?”

“Did you just get in?”

“12:16 p.m. I went home, took a shower, changed clothes, then headed here.”

They emerged onto Fourth Street, where traffic was bumper to bumper and the sidewalks jammed. Caleb laid a hand on her back to steer her. “I’m a block down.”

“Of course you are.”

His grin flashed. As long as she’d known him, everyone had teased him about his luck.

In the crowd, talking wasn’t practical. Horns sounded, bus brakes squealed and the sound of a deep bass pounded from a car that was stuck in traffic. Neither Caleb nor Laurel said a word until Caleb unlocked his Prius and they both got in and the racket of the outside world was buffered. He put the key in the ignition, but didn’t turn it. Instead, he looked at her. “So?”

She knew what he was asking. “I’m pregnant.”

His smile was a glorious burst of delight. “Really? Now?”

“No, tomorrow.” She poked him. “Of course, now.”

“You’ve had a pregnancy test?”

“Yes, and I’m spending half my time hugging toilets.”

“Morning sickness?”

Laurel sighed. “In lieu of rejecting the fetus, my body is rejecting everything else I put in it.”

“My mom swears morning sickness is why she never had another kid. She actually ended up in the hospital when she got dehydrated.”

Great. She’d needed to hear this.

“Most women go through it and come out just fine on the other side.” She was counting on it. “Which is usually after three months.”

“And right now, you’re—” he frowned, calculating “—five weeks?”

“Six.”

“Have you told anyone?”

She took a deep breath. “Tomorrow is the big day. I’m having my dad and Meg over to dinner. I admitted to Meg that I had a big announcement.”

He must have heard something in her tone. “Did she guess?”

“She assumed I was going back to law school.”

“Ah.” Caleb studied her, but said nothing.

“What?”

His eyebrows rose. “I didn’t say anything.”

“But you were thinking it.” Laurel knew she sounded bellicose.

“I was thinking, My God, we’re having a baby.”

Tears abruptly filled her eyes, and she bit her lip. “We are, aren’t we?”

He reached out and took her hand. “Did you ever think, back in college, that we’d come to this?”

“Not that you’d donate sperm.” She had sometimes dreamed that one day they would look at each other and realize that the like they’d fallen into had become love. Maybe it had, on her side. Or at least, she’d become aware of the possibility. But that she’d cold-bloodedly choose him to father her baby because he was handsome, smart and healthy… No, never that.

“Yeah, that one would have taken me by surprise, too.” Still smiling, he started the engine. “Do you want me to be there tomorrow night?”

She turned her whole upper body. “Would you?” Hope trembled in her voice.

“I’d like to be.” He looked over his shoulder to merge into traffic. “I was afraid…”

“What?”

His shoulders moved, a small jerk. “That you wouldn’t want to be open about me being the father.”

Nonplussed, she realized she had never really thought it through. If Matt had fathered her baby, she’d intended to keep the knowledge among a chosen few. Probably her dad and sister. They’d met Matt a few times and knew he and Laurel were friends. But a more public announcement would have been awkward all around. Either she explained to everyone that it was just sperm, or people would think he and she had had a fling, which wasn’t kind to Sheila.

But with Caleb… It wouldn’t matter if most people assumed they’d had a brief relationship. At least, it wouldn’t to her.

She sneaked a glance at his profile.

He turned his head, his blue eyes meeting hers. “This taking deep thought?”

“No, I was just realizing that it didn’t. Unless you’d rather I kept it to myself, I don’t mind if everyone knows you’re the father.”

“Like I told you, I want to be a father. In every sense of the word.”

If he hadn’t signed a contract and parenting plan—well, okay, if he wasn’t Caleb—that might have scared her. If Matt had started talking like that, she would have freaked. She’d wanted the baby to be hers. Hers alone.

How funny that now she was okay with this baby being theirs.

Unaware of her reverie, Caleb muttered a profanity as a hulking SUV cut him off on the freeway.

“Have you told your parents?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I figured I’d wait until it happened.”

She couldn’t blame him, since she’d done the same. Almost at random, Laurel said, “I’m planning dinner for six tomorrow.”

“Cooking doesn’t nauseate you?”

“Yeah, but I’ll survive.”

“Why don’t I cook? You have to admit, my sweet-and-sour pork is to die for.”

“Why aren’t you married?”

“Huh?”

“Do you know how many women would kill for a man who’d make that kind of offer?”

This grin was faintly wicked. “Yeah, I’m one of a kind. Women do propose all the time. But I’m saving myself for…” He broke off.

“For?”

“God knows. An octogenarian wedding?”

“You and a little white-haired lady in a nursing home?”

“Maybe.” He growled something under his breath. “Does traffic get worse every day, or is it my imagination?”

Contemplating the giant parking lot I-5 had become, Laurel said, “It gets worse, I think. That’s why I ride the bus.”

His face settled into a frown. “I don’t like the idea of you having to take buses when you’re really pregnant.”

“As opposed to only a tiny bit pregnant?”

He ignored her flippancy. “What if you have a long wait? And the Metro buses have lousy shock absorbers.” He wasn’t done. “What if you have to stand? And you know how you get jostled getting on and off.”

She did know, and wasn’t looking forward to it. But the idea of squeezing herself behind the wheel of a car, only to inch along the freeway, was even less appealing.

“The bus is actually pretty relaxing. And people are nice. Somebody would give up their seat for me.”

“Hell, let’s get off here.” He took the Forty-fifth Street exit and got in the left lane to head west, toward the Sound. “What do you feel like eating?”

Her stomach quivered. “A piece of dry toast?”

“In other words, don’t bother taking you to Le Gourmand?”

She groped through her purse for the soda crackers she’d taken to carrying. “Really, really no.”

“Ah, well, let me get some takeout and we’ll go to your place.”

Even the smell of his Korean takeout upset her stomach. She had to crack her window, which would have helped more if the air outside hadn’t been diesel-laden. But she made it home and curled up on her couch a safe distance from Caleb while he ate. Her stomach had settled enough to accept a piece of toast, which he made for her, and some strawberries.

He didn’t stay long, promising to be back by four tomorrow with the groceries he needed to make dinner. “You don’t have to do a thing” were his last words.

The next afternoon, Caleb returned so vibrantly full of life and energy Laurel felt washed out in comparison. She’d been so tired all day that she’d already taken a nap. She only hoped today was an anomaly. How would she get through a day at work if all she wanted to do was crawl under her desk and snooze?

She left him to cook while she showered and then fortified herself with a couple of crackers. She wouldn’t even have to make an announcement if she had to dash off and puke the minute Dad and Meg walked through the door.

They arrived separately. Megan, four years younger than Laurel, was a hotshot software designer for a small firm that existed in Microsoft’s shadow in Redmond, just across Lake Washington from Seattle. She was currently working on a team designing some kind of management software that she claimed would be a big seller thanks to flexibility from a rules-based interface.

Whatever that was. Laurel was embarrassed to have so little grasp of what her sister actually did.

Both sisters had had dishwater-blond hair when they were toddlers—the kind that the sun bleached to silver-blond every summer. Laurel’s had stayed somewhere between blond and light brown, while Megan’s had darkened to a rich shade of mahogany. Megan was, in Laurel’s admittedly biased opinion, a beauty. She had inherited their mother’s slim build instead of Grandma Woodall’s buxom one, which Laurel considered something of a curse.

In low-cut jeans, heels, a cropped lime-green blazer and big gold-hoop earrings, Megan strolled in, dropped a huge purse and hugged first Caleb and then Laurel.

“You didn’t say Caleb would be here.”

“He invited himself yesterday. And then offered to cook.”

“What a man,” her sister said admiringly.

Laurel laughed. “That’s what I told him.”

“You know, if you don’t want him…” Megan gave him a saucy look.

He grinned at her. “One Woodall sister is enough for me, thanks.”

Laurel suspected that he saw Megan as a little sister, and for all her teasing, Meg had never given the slightest sign of a crush on Caleb. She was currently dating another computer geek, a guy who would have been handsome if he’d ever comb his hair or thought about what he was putting on in the morning. Apparently his virtuosity in HTML and a dozen other computer languages offset his stylistic lack for a girl who’d cared deeply what she put on in the morning from about her second birthday on.

Dad arrived grumbling about traffic. “I had to go in to work today. Somebody screwed up.”

He was an engineer at Boeing, working on a new fuel-efficient plane that was to be built in Everett. In his mid-fifties, he had to be the catch of the Boeing plant, single, nice looking if not exactly handsome and still possessing all his hair. It was the color of Megan’s, and turning silver dramatically at the temples. As far as Laurel could tell, he had never considered remarrying. She knew he dated, but not once since her mom had died when she was eleven had he introduced a woman to his daughters.

“Smells good,” he said, shaking Caleb’s hand. “Thank God you took over the kitchen.”

Laurel threw a magazine at him. He laughed when it fell short.

“So what’s the news?” he asked. “Meggie told me last night that you have an announcement.”

Caleb clanged a pan lid. “Why don’t we wait until we sit down?”

“So you can listen? Or has she already told you?” Megan asked.

He smiled at her. “Not saying.”

“Pooh.”

“Anybody want some wine?” Laurel stood. “Caleb, how far away from sitting down are we?”

“Five minutes. In fact, you can take the salad to the table.”

Laurel’s father opened the wine and poured, and a few minutes later they were seated. The food did smell good. So good, she was having one of her brief and usually foolish moments of genuine hunger.

Meg leveled a look at her. “Out with it. We’re ready to toast. Assuming it’s good news?”

“It’s good news.” Laurel met Caleb’s gaze and drew strength from the encouragement she saw in his eyes. Then she bit her lip, looked at her dad and said, “I’m pregnant.”

There was an awful moment of silence. He stared at her, as if uncomprehending. “Pregnant?”

“I should have told you I was going to try. But I was afraid you’d want to talk me out of it.”

“I didn’t know you were even dating…” His dazed stare swung to the fourth person at the table. “Caleb?”

Laurel decided to be blunt. “No, we aren’t sleeping together. Yes, Caleb’s the father. I asked him to donate sperm.”

“You mean?” Megan looked stunned.

“Yes. I chose to be a single mother. Instead of going to a donor bank, I decided to ask a friend. Caleb wants to be involved in my baby’s life.”

He spoke up then. “As I told Laurel, there’s no one I’d rather have a child with.”

Her father half rose. “You got my daughter pregnant?”

“Daddy!” She grabbed his arm. “He didn’t ‘get’ me pregnant. Not the way you mean. At my request, he donated sperm.”

Her father sagged back into his seat. “Good God, Laurel! You’re twenty-eight. Have you given up on life?”

That hurt. It would have hurt worse if Caleb hadn’t said quietly, “Seems to me she’s embracing it.”

“But you’re writing off any possibility of falling in love and getting married.”

She wanted to say no, but that would be a lie.

“You didn’t believe me when I told you before. I just…I can’t imagine it, Dad.” Her voice was small, shaky. She might have fallen apart if Caleb hadn’t been there offering steady support by his mere presence. “But I want children. I want a family. And I can have that without getting married. Is that so awful?”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “No. No, of course not. You’ll be a hell of a mother, Laurel.”

Tears in her eyes, Megan stood and hugged Laurel. “I should have said this first. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Her father lifted his wineglass. “To my first grandchild.”

They all drank, Laurel taking the tiniest of sips before setting her glass down again.

Caleb handed Megan the bowl of rice to begin dishing up, then the salad to George Woodall.

He took it, but seemed unaware it was in his hand. “I don’t like the idea of you managing on your own, Laurel. Being a parent…it’s hard work.”

“You managed on your own, after Mommy died.”

“You girls were eleven and seven. And don’t you remember how tough that first year was? Meggie had to drop out of soccer. I just couldn’t get her to practices. You two went off to school every day in mismatched outfits, your hair barely brushed.”

“But in the end, you were a great parent.”

“You weren’t babies. Laurel, no matter how beat you are, there’ll be no one besides you to get up in the middle of the night, no one to give a bottle, get to day care when you’re held up…” He shook his head. “You know I’ll do what I can, but I’m a long way from retirement age. And Meggie seems to work twelve-hour days.”

“It’s not that bad,” Laurel’s sister said. “Although… Honestly, I’m not sure I’ve ever actually held a baby. You know I never babysat.”

Megan hadn’t liked little kids. By the time she was ten or twelve, she’d curl her lip and say, “Ew, kids.” Laurel wasn’t expecting a whole lot in the babysitting department from her sister, at least until her child was of an age to start learning to navigate the Internet.

“I don’t expect a lot of help.” Laurel accepted the rice from her sister. “Daddy, dish up.”

He looked down uncomprehendingly at the bowl still in his hand, then transferred some salad to his plate and handed it to Caleb. Poor Caleb, who had slaved in the kitchen and was probably starving. He always was.

To reassure her father, Laurel talked about some of the research she’d done on maternity leave, neighborhood day-care centers and mothers’ groups.

“I do plan to be here,” Caleb interrupted, when she was waxing eloquent about her ability to handle her job and a baby with one hand tied behind her back.

His scowl was for her. He wasn’t jumping in to make her dad feel better, he was irked at her for leaving him out of her calculations.

As if the two of them were alone at the table, she said, “You travel so much.”

“I can curtail it when you need me. I have people working for me who’ll be glad to take over.”

“But…I didn’t ask you to change your life.”

His face darkened. “I thought I made it clear that I wasn’t going to be just a biological father. That if I signed on, it was going to be the real deal.”

“I didn’t expect you to change diapers, either.”

“Why not? Don’t fathers do that?” He shot a glance at George.

“I did,” her dad agreed.

“I’ll be here, Laurel,” Caleb repeated.

Absurdly, her eyes were filling with tears. Pressing her lips together, she nodded, then dabbed at her eyes with her napkin.

As touched as she was, Laurel was a bit annoyed when her father seemed to relax after this exchange, apparently reassured that Caleb intended to do his manly duty. Hadn’t he raised her and Megan to be strong, independent women who could cope with whatever life threw at them? Apparently, single parenting wasn’t one of those things.

She tried to excuse him. He was from another generation that still had faith in traditional two-parent homes. But the world had changed. Look how many gay and lesbian couples had children, how well open adoption was working, how single mothers banded together to share their loads.

But Laurel couldn’t shake the feeling that if Meg had made the same announcement, he wouldn’t have been so alarmed. Her father doubted her ability to handle the stress of single parenthood, not the ability of women in general or even of his daughters in particular. Despite his support, in the end he was just like everyone else. He didn’t understand why she couldn’t go back to being herself, the Laurel who hadn’t been taught how powerless she really was, who hadn’t faced death, who hadn’t spent weeks in the hospital recovering from broken bones and swelling that compressed her brain. And because she couldn’t, he assumed she was weak, that she would falter as a mom.

Knowing he thought like that stung.

But her father being her father, he disarmed her hurt and resentment before dinner was over. He set down his fork, looked at her and said, “Laurel, I want you to know that I didn’t mean to imply you can’t do this on your own.” His smile held regret and remembered grief. “I just wish you didn’t have to.”

“Oh, Daddy!” Blinking back more tears—damn, she wished she didn’t cry so easily these days—Laurel stood and hugged him. With her eyes closed, the familiar scent of him in her nostrils, and his strong arms closed around her, she felt so safe.

Straightening away from him was a wrench, just as moving out of his house the second time had been. She couldn’t be Daddy’s little girl forever, and she would forever know she wasn’t really safe.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and went back to her place at the table.

When he and Megan left an hour later, Caleb was at her side to wave goodbye.

“I really appreciate you coming,” she told him, assuming he was leaving, too.

“Hmm? Oh, no problem.”

“Are you taking off, too?”

“I thought I’d hang around for a while.”

“Okay,” she said, although he hadn’t asked for permission.

Inside, he asked, “How’s the stomach?”

She’d remembered what the doctor said and barely nibbled. “Actually, I feel fine,” she said with surprise.

“Good. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you some herbal tea?”

That sounded nice. Grateful everyone had helped clean up, Laurel headed toward the couch, ready to relax.

That is, until behind her Caleb continued, his tone flat. Maybe even hard. “And then, you and I need to have a talk.”