by Diane Munier
He frowns a little cause I've never called him crazy before. "My house appraises at two-eighty-nine."
"In Lowland?"
"Now listen. Marcus's is at two-twenty-five."
"You cops. You look into everybody's business like it's no big deal."
"We both own outright. His is more kept up than mine…updated. But mine has more real estate and that second story. I was wondering if you two would want to swap even."
"How is that even, Dad?"
"You'll have to put some money in mine, you know. It's back there in the nineties…."
"Eighties," I interrupt.
"…like you always say. But it's got the space you need to raise a family. And Teresa and me…if she'll have me…we won't need that much…and regardless, I won't need that much. Marcus's is in fine shape. It's perfect for an old man like me. And our house, with some fixing, it could be just the place for your growing family."
We stare at one another for a little bit.
"What?" he finally says.
"Well, it's not even."
"It is. I haven't been able to do all for you I'd like, and you're gonna end up with that place someday anyway. Figured why not now while you really need it? Then I get to watch the whole thing. It's nothing but a win for me. Then…if Teresa will have me…I can leave her Marcus's place cause my share in this business will go to you and Marcus. But I know her job here will always be secure. She's had it hard. I'd like to do something…."
"Well…I can see the sense, Dad, but of course, it's up to Marcus too, I mean, he's worked really hard on his house and…."
"I already talked to him."
Less friendly, "Oh you did?"
"I didn't mean to go behind your back, but I also didn't want to stir things up for him if he was opposed. So I just said what would you think about this and I laid it out."
"What did he say?"
"He said he would think on it, and he wanted to know…," Dad waves his hand around toward me, "…what you said."
"Well, thanks for letting me in on it, Dad. Sheesh."
"I had to start somewhere, and he was over chopping wood so I ran it past."
"Well, he didn't tell me."
"I asked him not to. I wanted to tell you myself to make sure you didn't talk each other into it. You both have to agree."
"I know that, Dad. I'm not going to force Marcus to leave his home."
"You work pretty hard to please your old dad, kiddo. I wasn't taking chances."
For heaven sakes. I could hug him, then ring his neck, then hug him some more. I wouldn't force Marcus from the home he loves…not even for Dad. Well, Dad doesn't have to know it, I guess.
I had to fight off Elaine and Dad, but I won the bid to pick Juney up from his last day. Granted I'd left work and we were headed right back there for a little bitty bit more, but to Juney that was a holiday.
"What do you have a taste for?" I asked because he's always starving after school.
"Can we go get Scrapper?"
"He's already at the diner." He's in the office in his crate.
"Okay. How about Chinese?"
"Now that's about perfect," I say. "Teresa made fried rice today."
"With chicken?"
"Is there any other meat?" I say.
He's grinning big. This weekend we start the big swap.
Chapter 71
Marcus has CDs. But he doesn't want to ruin 'his ladder,' as he calls it. So he cashes in a couple of those, and he plans to take a mortgage for thirty thousand, then he ups it to fifty. He says that's nothing for a couple as young as we are. This is where I feel our age difference most keenly. He's fearless like a man with a big gun…with a big…head. And he makes me fearless. I might even believe I can push this baby out when the time comes. He's sure I can—tells me I'm smarter and stronger than any woman he knows.
And he's done his best to pave the way, he says.
Yes, he's done a number on me all right, I tell him.
He bought his share of Billy's with money he inherited a couple of years ago from Elaine's childless aunt who didn't care for Marcus's dead father and less for Don. She left Marcus her money because she had adored Elaine in the days before she married either one of the reprobates and unlike that scalawag Don her grand-nephew had taken a turn for the better and never became an attorney.
In the lean years when Elaine was between husbands, this same aunt helped a little, but Elaine had to hear about it.
Marcus said he pretty much agreed with Auntie's assessment of the men, but when it came to treating Elaine poorly, he said a donkey is a braying animal not likely to become a unicorn. In other words, his old aunt was an ass. That's how I took it.
Marcus says the old lady believed by-passing her niece and leaping to the nephew was her final up yours.
"And you didn't have a problem with taking it?"
"No," he answered simply. "Wherever she ended up, they don't take bribes."
"Why didn't she leave it to charity?"
"My guess is she hated strangers even more than her blood."
So Marcus invested most of the windfall in Billy's and used the rest to build his ladder.
He says it's not a fortune since he put three hundred thou on Billy's including the remodel—one-eighty-five is left--a nice nest egg he doesn't want to peel too closely.
I tell him to peel it. CDs aren't making squat so to me it's preferable to use them over carrying debt. Once we've updated the house, we can open a line of credit against our equity to use in the event we need money for an emergency our savings can't cover.
He gets it, but it grates him some to think we'd be creating debt in the middle of an emergency. I say it's all money and my way we're only creating debt on the back end if for some unforeseen reason we'd need to and in the meantime, we can start to rebuild the ladder.
We end up having sex. But eventually, we do it my way.
He's sat with me and gone over his financial business as far as his check and the bills, and his retirement fund and health insurance, life insurance, and Juney's college fund, and of course, his ladder. He's been so responsible and done well with what he's been given. I'd marry him all over again…but I don't need to since the first time took.
And here is how the great house-swap plays out. Marcus has Artie's house inspected and the remodel proves to be substantial. On the outside, a new roof, gutters, two solar panels, a solar-based water-heater, and energy efficient windows. On the inside, demo on the up and downstairs bathrooms, refinishing the cabinets, and tearing out some of the uppers to put in open shelving like Marcus has at his old house and I love, a new sink and wooden countertops and new shiny appliances.
Deeper in still the plumbing and electric need overhauled. Lighting, most definitely. All the wood floors need refinished, and varnished smooth as satin and the ceiling and walls need paint.
So Artie has to move out, and since we can't move in we have to stay put for a while.
Dad arranges to live with Teresa, and that means there's another quick wedding cause she signed onto this freight train a long time ago I think, and like Dad said, he's not getting any younger.
Keep in mind Dad, Teresa and I are still running Billy's. And I'm growing a baby, and Marcus is running for sheriff and wins the election mind you, and that took some evenings let me tell you.
Juney and I are so proud we could fly. And Dad? Now there's a can of worms. On one hand…it's tough. He was sheriff for a lot of years. Marcus has replaced him. I know it can be tender. Marcus gets his job, his house and his daughter. But Dad is better than that. He is a grateful person. He may give Marcus a few too many pointers, but Marcus takes it patiently. He makes Dad proud.
I tell Marcus that the day he's sworn in. "You're a man that inspires pride…in all of us."
There's nothing between us but love. And my growing stomach. But he's standing there in his uniform, his hair cut short now…in Litchfield, his eyes so green. He's just been handed the key, to another kingdom. His key ring is heav
y. The baby kicks and I know…it's about to get heavier still. I want to say more, but the room is full of people milling about. They want him—to shake his hand. So he puts his arm around me, and he lets them file past and congratulate him, and I have my hands on him, one on his chest, one on his back, and I am not so much in the moment as I am feeling him, alive, my husband, my man.
So Marcus transitions the office, moves things around and orchestrates a clean out. He upgrades, starting with new, lighter weight vests. He has a lot to live for.
And in between, Marcus and I, and sometimes just I, keep up with my doctor appointments. But I can't imagine it, not really, not even when they give me pictures…not even when I feel the rolling kicks.
I know it's my child, but I'm also detached from that reality.
What I really believe—I'll just be pregnant forever.
The final term of school winds down to break for the summer, which means there are band concerts and parents' nights and end of the year field trips and a school picnic. Then this ten-year-old kid is let out for the summer, and we've got baseball games and camp and swimming lessons, and if it wasn't for Elaine willing to do as much of that as I'll allow, then drop him off at Billy's where he gets busy sweeping and bussing, and taking out trash, I don't know what I'd do.
Was there ever such a year in the life of anybody? I swear I could write a book.
It's late August when the first weird pain comes. Well, at first it's a throbbing. I just feel weird. It's fair time in Lowland. Juney has entered five of the potatoes he grew in Artie's old raised bed in the produce competition. We still live across the street because Marcus decided last minute to have the basement remodeled, and the washer and dryer brought up and installed in the mudroom. That meant more plumbing…more everything and the ladder has become a couple of rungs.
So here we are, Juney and me at the fair, in the basement of the long building and he's arranging his potatoes and worrying over the Yukon Golds next to his, worrying like an old farm wife.
"All the sweeter when you kick his butt—I mean win," I say in a low voice.
He laughs. I'm hopeless as a mom, and here I am having another, and that's when the pain hits, and I tell God I'm sorry.
But another one comes, and it has presence. "Crap," I say cause I just don't learn.
"What's the matter?" Juney asks.
"Nothing," I say defensively. I don't want him to worry.
"Mom…you look ready to pop."
"Don't say that." He knows I hate that term. That and foal. I look daggers when some old boy at the diner asks me when I'm ready to foal.
So Juney takes my arm. "Mom…we should call Dad."
"No," I say. Marcus is in court. I don't want to interrupt that. These weird pains pass. Though they are never this weird.
We're halfway up the long flight of stairs when my water breaks. I am so surprised I stand there and stare…with Juney.
"Mom," he says, "what is that?"
"Oh wow," I whisper.
"Mom," Juney says more alarmed. It's a lot of water.
I have a sick stomach ache. "Juney," I say, one hand on the banister, "go to the restroom and get some paper towels."
I'm already digging in my big purse for my phone. As soon as Juney runs off, I text Marcus. I tell him I'm just going to go over to the hospital. No biggie.
Of course by the time I get there Marcus is waiting. I know this because he tears my door open and almost gives me a heart attack on top of it. He's in uniform. Seems that's the only way I see him anymore. "Baby," he says, a little rattle in his voice. He's helping me out of the car.
"Good thing you painted my toenails last night," I'm saying. And he shaved my legs, but I still have the presence of mind not to give TMI.
He's got his arm around me. "Well…I love you," I say.
"And I love you," he says. "Are you okay?" There's all this energy in his voice.
"No," I laugh. Then to Juney, "I mean yes."
"I'm right here," Marcus says, and he's leading me away from the car toward the hospital and all the freaking pain I've got ahead of me. But it's better now, with him here. If I only touch him, it always calms me, and even today, it's pretty spectacular to lean on him.
On the way here I've explained to Juney that the water on the stairs was normal. It's the water the baby was in. He knows that from all the pictures I've shown him, all the talking we've done for so many months. He just didn't think about it coming out. Well, me neither.
Now Juney is telling Marcus about the water. He's saying it in a very distressed voice. That makes me stay strong. I have an arm around Juney and Marcus has his arm around me. He wanted to get me a wheelchair, and I said no way. But we stop, the three of us. I'm locked in such a pain I can't walk just then.
"Juney…go get a chair," Marcus gets out. Then to me, "I'll carry you, baby."
"You will not," I say to him. "Juney, stay right here." I'm holding onto him. "We're having our baby. Let's just be happy," I say with such fake cheer I cry a little right after, just one strangled sound and then I catch it.
"It'll be all right Mom," Juney says patting my back. "They can't hurt you. I won't let them," he declares.
Marcus and I rush to calm him. "This is normal," I'm saying while Marcus is saying, "No one is going to hurt your mom. You know I wouldn't let them." Then Marcus says, about as vehemently as Juney, "You'll be all right Babe."
But it won't be. Not for a while at least. As they lead me through the double glass doors…I know there's no way out…but through.
Chapter 72
"There won't be any more," I say to Marcus gasping. "Sorry."
"It's all right. Whatever you say."
"Tell me…oh God…," I work my way through another pain. When it ebbs, "…I'll never have to go through this again."
"You won't," he says. He's rubbing my back for all he's worth because the labor is in my back. I've been at it three hours and the pain…well, who knew. He's been rubbing and telling me to breathe, reminding me that every pain is progress and that small-framed girls deliver babies naturally all the time, and I'm doing so well.
"Shut-up and rub," I say as another pain starts up on the tail of the one that just left.
"Mother of God," I say soon as I can. I roll onto my back and open my legs.
Marcus is dabbing over my face with a wet rag. I don't know what I want other than this kid out of me, but that rag is not working. I strike out, and he says sorry.
No, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a bitch, but my body is clenching up for another one. "God I'm going to have it right now!" I say loudly.
Then here I go and this pain…could I describe it you'd think I was making it up. It's a T-Rex, I'll say that.
"Look at me baby. Breathe. Look at me."
I look at him, and he has no idea how the room just got dark around him. "It's coming," I pant.
"Not yet, Babe. They were just in here, and they said…."
The doctor just wanted to get down the hall to deliver that other one. "It's coming," I think I yell.
I have repositioned myself, and Marcus takes a look, and he says, "My God. There's a head." He's down there with his hands positioned like he's about to catch a football. I'd tell him to get the nurse, but I've got another pain.
Just then the door opens and she shows up anyway and she says, "Oh my God," just like he did, and he's reading her the riot act for not being around when the baby decided to poke its head out.
I'm going into this growl that starts somewhere in my chest. I can't control it cause I'm pushing. The nurse tells me to stop, and Marcus gets a little louder saying I'm not stopping. Another nurse comes in, then another. The doctor hurries in next. I get a flash of Marcus backing up for a minute, his eyes on me, in that one flash I see his helplessness, but that doesn't last long cause in a couple of minutes he's drawn close, part of the team, all of them fixated on my hoo-hah like it's a seventy-inch HD TV.
But I can see the joy in Marcus's face. The baby is
out, and it cries right off, a little bleat. And he's crying too, my husband.
And they're all carrying on down there, but they hold it up for me to see, this perfectly formed…doll. My child. From me.
They're jabbering at me, but I don't hear. This darling…came from me.
Marcus cuts the cord. He's following the nurse who's holding our child, and the doctor is saying the baby is fine, the nurse lays it in the little bed and messes around while they mess around with me. But I can't take my eyes away from that little form, its noises and movements, and then the look on the daddy's face.
After a time Marcus comes over to me then, he kisses me, and I remember what got me in this trouble in the first place.
He kisses the hand he holds. "Oh, Babe. Wait 'til you see."
Then he's gone again, out of my way and he's holding the baby. He comes to me and lays her in my arms.
"Here's your beautiful Mama," he says. And I take that little fist, and she has her eyes open, I know she's as shocked as I am right now, but it will be all right. I won't let anything happen to her.
My Rebecca.
Chapter 73
When I am presentable, and the medical staff is finished checking over Rebecca, and she is wrapped and wearing her little cap, Marcus goes to the waiting room to retrieve the family.
Dad comes in my room first, the tapping cane, his deep voice. He's happy. He's already congratulated Marcus I know.
Marcus said he about broke his hand with the famous Artie shake. The Perkinson's hadn't weakened that.
His eyes are on me. I am holding her. I think Dad sees the Madonna and child or something. He doesn't swallow, he gulps.
He gets close to me. Teresa is behind him. She takes a picture. Dad's eyes are glassy. "Well, I'll be darned. You did good pumpkin face, got a millionaire's family now…one of each."
He pokes his big finger into Rebecca's little fist. Her delicate hands are so fragile looking, her fingers are long…perhaps like Marcus's because my hands are small, and long nails that have already scratched her soft cheek grow from their tips while shaggy skin covers her little knuckles. She's under seven pounds, but there's strength in her arms when I pull her hand from her face.
