by DW Davis
Fourteen
Hans raised his eyes slowly and met mine. “April did ask Rhiannon, but Rhiannon said no.”
My feelings moved quickly from surprise to relief to irritation. “She said no. What’s her excuse? April is one of her best friends.”
“From what April told me, Rhiannon’s first question when April asked her was if you were going to be there. When April told her you were, she asked if your wife was going to be there. April told her that she planned to ask Maeve to be a bridesmaid.”
Shaking my head, I said, “I can imagine what Rhiannon said to that.”
Hans snorted. “Yeah, I bet you can. Anyway, Rhiannon asked when the wedding was going to be. When April told her, Rhiannon said she couldn’t because she’d already made plans to be visiting friends in Africa the last two weeks of May.”
I sat up and swirled the remnants of ice around the bottom of my cup. “Rhiannon’s going back to Africa. Do you believe that?”
“April doesn’t believe it, but she didn’t press Rhiannon about it.” Hans tilted his head and looked hard at me. “April doesn’t think Rhiannon’s gotten over the fact that you married someone else, Michael. And that’s why Rhiannon won’t come to our wedding, because you’ll be there with Maeve.”
I felt bad for April, and for Hans. Hans and Rhiannon had been friends as long as he and I had.
“I’m sorry, Hans. Tell April I’m sorry that Rhiannon feels that way.”
Hans reached across the table and put a hand on my shoulder. “April doesn’t blame you, Michael. She knows it’s Rhiannon’s issue to deal with, not yours. And, besides, she’s already found someone else to be her maid-of-honor. You remember her college roommate, Theresa.”
“That makes sense. They roomed together right from fall semester, freshman year.”
“Theresa is April’s sorority sister. April always said Theresa was like the real sister she never had,” Hans said. “She was going to ask her to be a bridesmaid with Beth and Maeve. I guess this works out better.”
Theresa, the moms, and the bridesmaids got together and held a surprise bridal shower for April in, aptly enough, late April. The groomsman and I had a bachelor party for Hans the Saturday before the wedding. This was at his request since he wanted his party at Wrightsville Beach and the wedding was going to be in Garner. He didn’t want us all to have that long morning-after drive.
The couple opted for a late-morning wedding and a luncheon reception. It was a beautiful ceremony and a wonderful reception. The newlyweds departed late in the afternoon to catch a flight to their honeymoon destination, Lake Geneva, Switzerland.
Maeve and I, rather than drive all the way to River Dream, stayed at the Hilton where we'd spent our wedding night.
“It's funny when you think about it, isn't it?” Maeve commented. “It hasn't been a year since our wedding, and here we are again, on a wedding night.”
I chuckled. “But it's not our wedding night this time,” I reminded her.
With a coy look, she said, “We could pretend it is.”
Fifteen
Hans' wedding fell right in between my finishing final exams and the end of Maeve’s first year as a high school teacher. We celebrated with a two-week-long bareboat sailing charter around the Sea of Cortez, starting and ending in Guaymas, Sonora.
The idea for sailing the Sea of Cortez came from one of my professors, Ned Chelte. Dr. Chelte spent months cruising the waters between Baja and mainland Mexico while studying the Manta Ray for his doctoral thesis. He described the area as a sailing and diving paradise.
Summer ended, school started, and life continued much the same way for the next few years. During football season we made every Laney home game. The rest of the time we spent nearly every weekend at River Dream. Each summer we would plan a couple of weeks of sailing adventure at a different destination that promised much to see and much to learn.
Because I was taking a light course load, it took me five years to graduate with my Bachelor's Degree in Marine Science. Maeve and I celebrated by taking a whole month that summer and traveling to Australia to sail along the Great Barrier Reef. It was during that cruise that we first began seriously talking about starting a family.
“Michael, can you hear that ticking?” Maeve asked as we relaxed in the cockpit of our chartered Beneteau 37.
Concerned that she had noted something wrong with the boat, I perked up and listened intently. “What ticking?”
Maeve laughed lightly at my confusion. “My biological clock is ticking. I think it’s time that we started thinking about having a baby.”
Annoyed at having been fooled, I asked, “What in the world brought this on all of a sudden?”
Judging by the look on her face, I asked a bit too hastily.
“What do you mean?” Maeve responded, her voice tinged with a trace of her own annoyance. She sat up straight and put her glass on the table. I swallowed hard as she glared at me. “You do want children, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course I do,” I said quickly. Knowing I had to repair the damage already done, I reached out and gently took her hand. “I guess you just kind of caught me by surprise. My thoughts weren’t exactly on the parent track tonight.”
Maeve visibly relaxed and leaned closer to me. “No, I don’t imagine they were. But when we saw that pod of porpoises with their young today it got me thinking about us having a baby,” Maeve said wistfully. “Michael, I would really like for us to have a child.”
I slid closer on the seat and put my arm around her. “Babe, I would love for us to have a baby. If you’re ready, then I’m ready,” I assured her. “In fact, why don’t we go below and get started right now?”
“Fresh!” Maeve exclaimed, but she was smiling when she said it. “It won’t be quite that easy. I’ll make an appointment with my doctor when we get home, before going off the pill. Then we can start working on a baby.”
Hugging her to me gently I said, “All right, that makes sense. We could still go below and practice.”
“Yes, we could,” Maeve agreed as she stood and reached for my hand.
As it was a couple of weeks before we got back to the States and another couple of weeks before Maeve could get an appointment with her doctor, it was well into the school year before we were able to start working on having a baby. Even then we had to wait until spring to get the good news that we were going to be parents.
We began to suspect it near the end of March. On the first day of spring, the doctor confirmed it. Maeve was pregnant; we were going to have a baby.
“I guess this makes it official, Michael,” Maeve said with a warm smile as the doctor told us the news. “We’re going to be parents.”
“Yes, you are,” said the doctor, looking up from her chart. “I’d say you’re about seven weeks along.”
There was a lightness and joy in my heart like nothing I'd ever felt before. “We’re having a baby, sweetheart,” I said to Maeve as if she hadn't heard.
Maeve graced me with a tolerant smile. “Yes, Michael, I know.”
“You’re due near the end of October,” the doctor told us.
We left the doctor’s office that day with a bag full of brochures and pamphlets. On the way home we stopped by the bookstore to see what sort of books they had for couples about to become parents. Maeve and I were giddy with anticipation. When we got home we couldn’t wait to call and tell her parents.
“That’s wonderful news,” Phyllis said, clearly excited. “Congratulations to you both. When can we expect to meet our grandchild?”
After getting all the details from Maeve, Phyllis finally put Ted on the phone so he could hear the news from his baby girl himself.
“Yes, Daddy, it’s true. Your baby is having a baby,” I heard Maeve say. She paused briefly, listening. “Daddy, I’m not much of a little girl anymore.” She was quiet for another moment. “Yes, Daddy, I’ll always be your baby girl,” Maeve said as a tear escaped her eye. “I love you too, Daddy.”
O
nce she got off the phone with her folks, we headed down island to my parents’ house to give them the news in person. My parents were thrilled. Malori was ecstatic with the idea of becoming an aunt.
“What wonderful news!” my mother said, in an echo of Phyllis’ response. “Now when did you say you were due?”
I sat up a little straighter and said with a touch of pride, “The end of October.”
Mom smiled tolerantly at my preening. She turned to my father. “Is that not wonderful, Owen? We are going to be grandparents!”
“And I’m going to be an aunt!” Malori exclaimed. She was practically dancing with excitement and bombarded Maeve with questions.
Now that we were going to going to be parents, we would have to make some adjustments. The Nadeau house, being a three-bedroom house anyway, would require the least amount of work. Maeve had no trouble with the idea of turning my den slash workout room into a nursery.
River Dream would take a little more work. When I designed it, I never thought about the idea of children living there someday, but that day was upon us. Changes would have to be made.
“We could change the office into a nursery,” I suggested.
“Then what would we use for an office?” Maeve countered. “I do a lot of work in there on the weekends, Michael. That’s where I spend Sunday afternoons grading papers and writing lesson plans while you while away the hours feeding worms to fish.”
This was a bit of an exaggeration. I spent almost as much time in the office doing work for the master’s degree classes I was taking as she did for the classes she was teaching; however, I’d learned not to take exception to Maeve’s occasional forays into hyperbole.
I tried to picture the layout of the house in my mind, something at which I've never been good. My friend Hans could have done it easily enough. That's what made him a good engineer.
“We could build up the back porch screened room into an office,” I offered.
“Then where would we grill out?” Maeve asked. “And where would we sit out with our guests to enjoy a nice ice tea on a warm summer evening?”
I started to point out that we also had a screened room on the front of the house and a screened house at the head of the dock but thought better of it.
“What I think, Michael, is that we should just add a room off our bedroom,” Maeve said with a sweet smile.
I grimaced as I thought of what that would do to the symmetry I had tried so hard to build into the design, but I bowed to the inevitable. Standing behind her chair, I rubbed her shoulders and kissed her lightly on top of her head.
“Of course you’re right, sweetheart,” I conceded. “That would be the most practical solution.”
The architect who drew up the plans for River Dream was available and soon had plans for the new room drawn up. The contractor who built the house didn’t handle small projects like additions but recommended someone he said would do an excellent job. While I handled that part of the task, Maeve concentrated on planning the interior of the nursery. We were busy with preparations and excited about the adventure of becoming new parents.
Sixteen
Only we didn’t. One morning in early May, Maeve woke up with bad cramps and pain.
“Michael!” she cried from her side of the bed, curled into a ball and holding her stomach. “Something’s wrong. It hurts so bad.”
A cold chill swept over me as I looked at her lying there. Trying to stay calm, I helped Maeve to her feet so she could get to the bathroom. That’s when I noticed the blood spots on the sheets.
“You’re bleeding, Maeve,” I said in a quavering voice. “I think we need to get you to the hospital.”
Maeve’s body shuddered. She looked up at me, tears filling her eyes, whether from pain or fear I couldn’t tell. “Yes,” she choked out through clenched teeth. “Right now, Michael.”
I helped her lie down on the edge of the bed and dressed as quickly as I could. With fear in our hearts, we rushed to the hospital where we learned the bad news.
“Mr. and Mrs. Lanier,” the Emergency Room resident said, “we did everything we could. I’m sorry. We couldn’t save your baby.”
Maeve had miscarried. We’d lost our child.
I put my arm around Maeve and pulled her close. She buried her head against my chest and sobbed. I stroked her hair as my tears fell, unable to put into words the agony we were feeling in our hearts.
Maeve was moved into a private room shortly after the resident made his sad announcement. Her obstetrician arrived as they were getting her settled in. There in that hospital room, I sat by Maeve’s bed and held her hand while the doctor tried to assure us that these things sometimes happen, they were no one’s fault, and that there was no reason she could see that we couldn’t try again once we were ready.
Maeve and I accepted her assurances stoically. They kept Maeve overnight for observation and let me stay with her. The next morning the doctor told Maeve that she could go home. I contacted the school and told them they needed to arrange a substitute for the rest of the week.
I took Maeve to the house on Wrightsville Beach. She slept most of the day. I kept myself busy cleaning the house, keeping an ear out for Maeve should she need me. The next morning I woke to find Maeve already up and making breakfast in the kitchen.
“You should be in bed,” I said, walking up behind her and putting my arms around her.
Maeve leaned her head back against my shoulder. “I want to go home, Michael,” she said. “I don’t want to stay here right now.”
Maeve insisted she was up to the trip, so, after letting her folks and mine know we were going, I took her home to River Dream. That night on the front porch, mugs of hot tea in hand, we talked about what to do next.
“Maeve, if you want to stay here, if you want to go somewhere, or if you want to go back to your classroom, that is what we’ll do,” I told her. “Just know how much I love you and that nothing is more important to me than you.”
“I know, Michael. I love you, too. It’s just that I was so looking forward to becoming a mom,” Maeve said, unstoppable tears streaking her cheeks. “I feel like I’ve failed somehow.”
I set my teacup down and put my arm around her. “No, sweetheart, you didn’t fail. Nature is cruel sometimes, and there is nothing we can do about it. What we can do is keep loving each other and keep on trying.”
“I do love you, Michael, and I do want to have your baby. I know that you’ll be a great dad,” Maeve said, before she broke down and began to sob.
I held her and whispered loving and reassuring things to her. I held her until her sobs subsided, until she’d cried as many tears as she needed to cry.
She heaved a great sigh, looked up at me, and said, “I’ll be all right now, love. Thank you. Thank you for loving me.” She smiled through trails of tears mapping the heartbreak on her lovely face.
Gently brushing a tear from her cheek, I promised her, “I will always love you, Maeve. Nothing will ever stop me from loving you.”
Seventeen
The next morning dawned clear and cool with a light northwesterly breeze.
Looking out over the Neuse, I said to Maeve, “I think we should take Riverscape out for a sail. Some time on the water would do us good.”
Having convinced Maeve that a day of sailing was just what we needed, it didn’t take me long to rig Riverscape. After breakfast, we put the wind to our backs and headed downriver toward Pamlico Sound.
Maeve started near the front of the cockpit, looking out over the river as it rushed by our hull. After a time she moved back beside me. We ran before the wind, leaving our pain and loss behind us. Christopher Cross said it best in his song, “The canvas can do miracles.” We found some peace as the wind carried us beyond our tears.
“Michael, we can turn back now,” Maeve told me as we passed the mouth of South River. Those were the first words she’s said since we’d left the dock. Her face, which had been drawn and creased, was now peaceful and relaxed.
<
br /> “All right, sweetheart,” I said.
We tacked hard about and brought Riverscape close hauled on a course for River Dream. Upon arriving home, I helped Maeve up onto the dock. She went on up to the house while I secured Riverscape. She was in the kitchen putting water on for tea when I got there.
“What would you like me make you for lunch, sweetheart?” I asked Maeve. “How about some grilled cheese and tomato soup?”
“I think that would be perfect, Michael,” Maeve said with a tired smile as she took a seat at the kitchen table.
She was quiet while I prepared lunch. As I set her plate and mug of steaming soup before her, she smiled up at me.
“You take such good care of me, Michael,” she said. “Thank you.”
“I’ll always be here to take care of you, Maeve,” I said as I sat down with my lunch. “I love you.”
“I know you do, Michael. I love you, too.” Maeve took a careful sip of her soup.
“Michael, after lunch I’d like to drive out to the stable,” Maeve said. “I’d like to see Raven.”
“All right,” I said.
I thought seeing Raven might be good for her, so after I cleaned up from lunch we drove the Cherokee to R&R. Rita knew Maeve well enough to know something was wrong as soon as Maeve walked into the barn.
“Maeve,” Rita asked her, “is everything all right?”
Maeve just shook her head as she walked by on her way to Raven’s stall. I stopped to explain to Rita what had happened.
“Oh, Michael,” Rita said. “I’m so sorry.”
She went immediately to Maeve’s side. Maeve had reached Raven’s stall. Raven came to the door and was standing there still and quiet while Maeve stroked her cheek. It was as though Raven could sense what Maeve was feeling.
“Maeve, honey, I’m so sorry,” Rita said as she put her arm around her.
Maeve took a deep breath before replying, “Thank you, Rita.”
Later in the week, Maeve felt she was up to some riding and spent some time at the stable with Raven. I went with her the first day to keep an eye on her and make sure she was really up to it. I was being overprotective, but Maeve didn’t seem to mind.
