Chapter 21
I signed up for three weeks of birthing classes starting in May. There would be six to eight couples, meeting in one of the rooms in the older section of Alameda Hospital. However, I couldn’t do it alone. I needed to make a decision about Edward’s offer to be my partner.
I’d told Cecilia about Edward’s offer, but she and I hadn’t had time to talk about that. Granted, I needed someone to take the birthing classes with me, yet she was my only friend in Alameda. Since Weston and I had moved here last year my life had been a roller coaster ride, and I hadn’t established any other contacts besides her. And Edward, of course. But was that reason enough to ask him to be my partner?
Cecilia had always been my perfect sounding board since the day we met, so I invited her over for coffee. When the doorbell chimed, I anxiously ran to answer it. “Come in, Cece! You look great. How’re you feeling?”
“Queasy in the mornings, but overall, Dr. Farney says everything’s going well.”
“Good. Don’t you love Dr. Farney? She’s so friendly, like a girlfriend.”
“Yeah. Hey, did you sign up for birthing classes?”
“Every Tuesday at seven o’clock. Will you be taking them too?”
“Yeah. Ours start in October. Perry and I are really looking forward to it. He’s so jazzed about this baby, Brandy. What about a partner?”
“I wanted to talk to you about that. Come in and sit down. I’ll make us both a decaf latte.”
I prepared our coffees while trying to negotiate my stomach around the island in the middle of the kitchen. “I’m on the fence about it. I’ll be a single woman in a matter of months. Weston’s not coming back. There’s really nothing stopping me from accepting Edward’s offer, right?”
After taking a sip of her coffee, she gazed out the window overlooking the back yard. “I’ve been thinking about that.” She turned back toward me. “You told me Weston’s living with Carol, right?”
I took a deep breath, stuck my finger in the foam at the top of my latte, then licked it off. “The fact she left the company obviously didn’t end their relationship. And when he came over to pick up his things, I asked him if he was in love with her. He said he didn’t know then he left. Like he was running away. From the feelings he still has for me…That’s what I think anyway.”
She patted my hand, gave me a little smile. “Water under the bridge, Brandy. You said your divorce will be final in October?” I nodded. “Then, I’d go for it. Tell Edward yes.”
I grinned. “You’re right. Why the hell not?”
It felt so good to share thoughts and feelings with another female, especially someone expecting a baby too. Cecilia had a good head on her shoulders and I took her advice seriously.
“I’ll call Edward and tell him I want him to be my birthing coach. Is that weird or what?”
She stood up to leave, giving me a quick hug. “You’ll get past the weirdness of it. I gotta go. Paperwork awaits me!” She raced out the door.
I waited until later that night, found Edward’s phone number, and went into the front room to put my feet up. It felt awkward phoning him but he was the father of my child. Weston had already gone. I was alone, soon to be a single mom, needed someone to lean on. Maybe it would be Edward. He answered the phone immediately.
“Edward. It’s Brandy.”
“Hey, how’re you doing? I’ve been thinking about you. How did it go with Weston? Last time I spoke with you, you said he’d filed for divorce.”
“I retained an attorney, Claudette Delacroix, and the divorce should be final in October. It’s an uncontested divorce. He and I agreed to all the terms, the finances, the houses.” I paused. This conversation seemed surreal—telling Edward about my divorce?
“Claudette’s a good attorney. I’ve known her a few years, attended several conferences with her. Nice lady. I’m glad everything’s going smoothly with Weston. It’ll make your lives so much easier that it’s uncontested. So, what’s up? Why the phone call?”
“I’ve been considering your offer of being my partner in the birthing classes and, if the offer still stands—”
“Of course it still stands. I’d be honored. When do classes start?”
“On May fifth. I’ll send you an e-mail with the days and times. I appreciate your doing this, Edward. I couldn’t do it alone.”
“No problem. My e-mail is ‘edwardbarnes’, one word, no caps, ‘at gmail dot com’. Just send me the info. I have another call, so I’ll talk to you soon. And, thanks, Brandy, for saying yes.”
“You’re welcome.”
I placed the phone back and sat thinking how strange life can be sometimes. Who would have thought I’d be a soon-to-be-divorced woman, expecting a man’s baby who I’d known in high school but didn’t know much about now, and I planned to attend birthing classes with him! Totally bizarre.
I’d wanted to share this experience with Weston, but that couldn’t happen. And, yes, I felt depressed about his leaving me during this eventful time in my life, but Edward appeared excited about being a part of this pregnancy and birth. I resigned myself to the fact I couldn’t have what I wanted and would have to accept this altered situation. Life didn’t always go the way I planned, and I’d have to change my attitude in order to enjoy this experience. I was happy to be having a child, thrilled I’d soon be a mother, and Edward was happy about being a father. Overall, life was good.
Chapter 22
I planned to spend the entire month of May putting the final touches on my second novel. I’d be entering my ninth month and wanted to finish the majority of the editing before the baby was born. Over the last few months, dealing with the divorce and meeting with my attorneys had made it difficult to concentrate on writing, and soon I’d have an infant needing my attention. I had just sat down with my MacBook and opened the iPages program when the phone rang.
“Hey, Brandy! You busy?” It was Cecilia.
I smiled. It was always a treat to be interrupted by my best friend. She rarely phoned during the day, aware I had a personal schedule I tried to adhere to with my writing, and blogging on my website took an inordinate amount of time.
“Hi to you, too. I’m trying to finish up this book. I don’t want Brent to see it before I’ve gone through it at least a hundred times.” I chuckled. “He hates it when I make his job too hard.”
“When will this one be published?”
“Oh, I don’t even have a contract yet. Brent’s a real stickler for perfection. He knows what he wants and won’t take anything less. But if this book gets published, it’ll be because of him. He has great contacts and I think it’s just a matter of time.”
“Lucky you—I don’t want to take up anymore of your time. I just wanted to ask if you’d be interested in co-hosting our summer block party in a few weeks. Perry and I will organize the whole thing. Your due date is coming up in early June, and we don’t want you to stress out over this. We just wanted to know if we could have it at your place. Ours isn’t big enough and your back yard is huge.”
“Sure, I’d love to. Will you know ahead of time how many people will be coming?”
“Yeah. I’ll go door-to-door and get a fairly accurate head count. But usually there are quite a few people who show up unannounced, you know—people’s friends or family. You can invite anyone you want since the party’s at your house.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Will you ask Edward?”
“I haven’t had time to think about it.” I chuckled. “But, yeah, why not? Our birthing classes start on May fifth. He and I really don’t know each other well. I mean, it’s been many years since we were in high school and now he’s going to be my birthing coach? It’s a little embarrassing, if you know what I mean.”
“I understand the classes can be pretty touchy-feely, so I see what you’re saying.” She paused. “Just so you know, Perry’s inviting Weston, but you probably already figured that out.”
“Now you mention it, of course he’d be invited. Perry and
Weston are best friends. But there shouldn’t be a problem. We’re all adults. Weston’s the one who wanted the divorce. I’ll be polite and friendly. If Edward decides to join us, he’d be the perfect gentleman, I’m sure. I’m not worried about it.” I paused, thinking of the elephant in the middle of the room. “Is Weston bringing Carol?”
“Perry told me he isn’t but he didn’t tell me why Weston’s not asking her to come. Anyway, I just wanted to keep you apprised of the situation. Hey, I’ll let you get back to work. We’ll talk about particulars later. See ya’.”
I opened my laptop again and stared out the front room window, thinking about the block party, when the phone rang again. I shook my head, trying to break out of my reverie, then answered it.
“Brandy, it’s Edward. How’s it going?”
“Fine. I knew you’d be calling. At least, I hoped you would. Are you still up for doing this?”
“Of course I am. I’m not one to change my mind once I decide to do something. Would you like to go out to dinner before class starts, say five-thirty or so? Class begins at seven, so we won’t be late.”
“I’d like that.”
He said he’d be by around five o’clock. Like deja vu, I remembered back in August, the second time we saw each other at Peet’s, when he’d asked me to come to his house for dinner. I hadn’t spent a moment thinking about my answer. It was as if someone else was speaking for me. And that’s how I felt now. I blurted out I’d go to dinner with him without thinking twice. Was this a wise idea? Did he consider it a date? And, if so, what in the hell was I doing?
I e-mailed the final draft of my second book to Brent. He and I were hoping Harper Collins would pick it up for publication. In the meantime, having written two books already, I knew after typing “The End” on the last page of your novel, beginning the next one was the only way to improve one’s craft, so I’d already started writing my third book. It always felt good at the end of the day, seeing how my writing had improved after all my hard work.
On the night of the first birthing class, Edward arrived a few minutes before five. When we walked out the door, I noticed an expensive Porsche, a two-seater, shiny hunter green parked at the curb. I remembered when he’d driven Weston and me home from South Shore he had an SUV. This car had “bachelor” written all over it. A twinge of jealousy ran through my veins, though I couldn’t explain why. Perhaps it was the fact I was in my ninth month and felt like an oversized meatball.
And here was Edward, looking as delicious as an Italian meatball, single, no obligations other than work every day, rushing to my side of the car to open it for the fat pregnant lady. I felt so unattractive and frumpy. After packing myself in the passenger seat like a sardine in a tin can, I tried to put my seatbelt on, not realizing it would be an impossible feat to do alone.
“Hey, let me help you with that,” he interrupted my frustrated grapplings with the end of the belt. “This car’s kind of small. I apologize but the Yukon’s on its last breath and this is all I’ve got.” He leaned over me toward the window to get hold of the metal clip. He was having a hard time finding it, lying across my big belly, struggling to grab the clip with his left hand. I could smell his cologne—Abercrombie & Fitch’s Fierce. I breathed in the scent as he pulled the belt over me and plugged it into the holder on my left side. Everything about him exuded maleness. He was sexy looking as hell but he didn’t act as if he knew it.
“Thanks. I feel like a ninety-year-old lady, needing help with everything.”
He seemed to take it in stride, grinning. “Comes with the territory, eh? We’re going to L’Orangerie, off Park Street. Ever heard of it?”
“No, but it must be French. That much I can figure out.”
“Nice place, great service. I love it.”
“Then you’ve been there before?”
“Two or three times. Usually for lunch though. Partner meetings. Pretty boring. It’ll be nice to eat there without having to talk business, believe me. So, hey, Brandy, do you realize we know almost nothing about each other’s lives before we met in high school?”
“I don’t know what happened with you after high school either. You know, I can picture your mom, but that’s about all I remember about your family.”
“Where did you live before you moved to Alameda? I know you didn’t have any brothers or sisters, right?”
We pulled up to the L’Orangerie restaurant where a valet drove the car away and parked it for us. Edward had made a reservation, so we were shown to our table next to a window overlooking a lovely little garden at the back, in the middle of which stood a cascading fountain. After placing menus in front of us, the waiter discreetly left us alone and stood off to the side, waiting for a sign we were ready to order.
“I was born in Oakland,” I said. “Grew up in San Leandro. Middle-class parents. You remember my dad, Bill?”
He nodded. “How could I forget him? He was a fireman, wasn’t he?”
“In Oakland. For thirty-five years. My mom stayed home and took care of me. I went to St. Felicitas Grammar School in San Leandro and we moved to Alameda when I was ten years old. You and I met during freshman orientation, remember?”
Grinning, he said, “How could I forget? You were eating a chocolate chip cookie from the refreshment table and I was watching you—”
I put my hand up, palm facing outward. “No,” I interrupted. “Don’t remind me.”
He laughed in a deep, low chuckle. “Your eyes got all wide and you were looking around like a madwoman, ran over to the garbage can, and spit out a big gob of something…”
“And when I looked around you were standing there watching me…”
“I started laughing so hard. I thought you were puking your guts out.”
“Those were the worst cookies I’d ever tasted in my life!”
“So I brought you a cup of water and asked if you were sick—”
“And I told you I wasn’t sick but the cookies were enough to make anyone hurl.”
“So I offered to bake you the best chocolate chip cookies you’d ever taste in your entire life.”
“And that was the beginning of our friendship for four years.”
I couldn’t stop giggling over the memory. Edward reached across the table and squeezed my hand. Looking up, our eyes locked. He held my gaze until I gently pulled my hand away from his.
“We lost touch after high school,” he continued. “Didn’t you go to Cal?”
I nodded, took a sip of water. “Where I got my master’s degree in Creative Writing.”
“What did you want to do with your degree?”
“At the time, I thought I might teach. But, I couldn’t picture myself standing in front of a classroom, lecturing behind a podium. I started writing my first novel when I was working part-time as a teaching assistant at Alameda Junior College.”
“Did you get published?”
Smiling at the memory of receiving “the call,” I answered, “Yeah, I did. Passing Through Brandiss hit the shelves about two years ago. I’m working on my third book now while waiting to see whether this editor at Harper Collins is interested in my second novel.”
He sat back, eyebrows arched. “Wow! So you’re a real live author. I’m impressed. When did you and Weston meet?”
“About ten years ago. I met him at a wedding in the Oakland hills. A friend of mine introduced us. We hit it off and were together about two years before we got married. We lived in San Francisco for a few years. I got pregnant and we moved to Alameda. After our baby died, I had a meltdown. Then you and I met again at Peet’s—”
“Wow! Your life sounds like a book.”
“As long as I get to have my HEA.”
He looked confused. “What’s an HEA?”
I smiled and explained, “It stands for happily ever after. I learned the phrase after writing my first book. It didn’t have a happy ending and I quickly found out it wouldn’t sell without one.”
“Does it look like you’ll have you
r own personal HEA, as you put it?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know yet, but I hope so.” It felt cathartic, sharing my life in synopsis form. And he seemed truly interested in what I was saying. “What about you?”
He gestured to our waiter who briskly came to our table and took our orders. After refilling our water glasses, he left us alone and Edward sat back in his chair, glanced up at the ceiling then looked across the table at me.
“I grew up in Salinas, east of Carmel and Monterey. Not even close to middle class. I was an only child too, but like I told you before, my dad split when I was ten years old and I haven’t heard from him since. Mom and I moved to Alameda when I was thirteen. She was a nurse, got a job at Alameda Hospital. After I graduated from Hastings Law School in San Francisco, I worked at a small firm here in Alameda, made partner early, and here I am. Much less drama in my life than yours, Brandy. In comparison, quite boring. No one would want to read about my life, that’s for sure.”
“And you’ve never been married?” He shook his head. “Have you ever come close?”
“Not even. I think I may be a commitment-phobe! I mean, I’ve had a few serious relationships, but the women all had visions of walking down the aisle in their white wedding gown with hundreds of people celebrating at a black-tie reception. It just didn’t feel right. I couldn’t picture myself with any of them for the long term—you know, sitting across the kitchen table, growing old together, that sort of thing. So, I’d make my excuses, take a permanent hike, until the next woman came along.”
“We sure have lived different lives, huh?” I wiped a few breadcrumbs from the tablecloth, focused on the silver spoon next to my plate. “People intrigue me. Everyone’s so unique. It’s what makes the world so interesting I guess. The stuff books are made of.”
Again Edward reached for my hand and ran his thumb over my knuckles. “That’s why we have authors like you, Brandy. Maybe I can get an autographed copy of one of your books?”
I looked up at him and grinned. “I’d be delighted,” I said, suddenly realizing I was having a good time.
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