Very Merry Wingmen

by Daisy Prescott

  “Shall we? It’s cold and now that Hailey mentioned donuts, I’m hungry.” Diane rubs her rounded belly. “Baby Boy agrees.”

  Unlike us, the Days know they’re having a boy this time. I imagine a tiny lumberjack living in a tiny log cabin in the middle of her abdomen. Like one of those sugar eggs with an oval cut out of the side where you can peer in and see a miniature world.

  “Has a baby ever been born with a beard?” I ask no one in particular. “Because I have to be honest, I’m picturing a smaller version of John in there.”

  John casts me a dirty look, but Diane laughs.

  “Apparently you’re not the only one. All the baby gifts have been either plaid or wood themed,” she says, tucking her arm through his. “Including a tiny felted wool axe.”

  We stroll down the sidewalk with the two of them ahead of us.

  “I thought they weren’t doing a shower. Why weren’t we invited?” Yes, I’m hurt I wasn’t dragged to another baby shower. But this is John, my wingman for life.

  Hailey whispers back, “People still send gifts. Even without an official shower.”

  I pause my steps. “Hold on. We’re going to be getting more stuff? What else can we possibly need? We have enough blankets and quilts for the biggest fort ever.”

  She laughs. At me, not with me. “Our friends and family want to celebrate our baby. It’s a good thing.”

  Suddenly her laughter stops and her smile turns into a grimace. “Uff,” she groans.

  I press my hand over her belly. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Probably.” She doesn’t sound confident in her answer. “I think the baby just punched a kidney. Or dented a rib.”

  Rubbing circles over her bump, I lean closer. “Listen, little ninja, Mom’s going to get you a donut and then sit down for the rest of the night. Think you can hold off on the martial arts for a bit?”

  Standing up, I catch the amusement in her eyes. “What?”

  “You’re adorable.” She arches her neck, inviting me to kiss her.

  “Don’t tell anyone I’m sweet. I’ll never hear the end of it at work.” I give her a soft peck.

  “You’re lucky I can be easily bribed with donuts,” she says, smiling against my mouth.

  “And you’re lucky I’m happily bribed with sex. Win-win for everyone.” After another quick kiss, I take her hand in mine.

  “My husband is insatiable.”

  “When it comes to you? Always. I’ll shout it from the rooftops like Santa.” I point to the festive lights on the Dog House.

  “Not necessary.” She pulls our joined hands closer to her.

  “How about in the middle of First Street?” I ask as we cross the intersection.

  “You’re crazy.”

  “And yet you love me. I think that makes you crazy, too.” I kiss her again, middle of the street, not caring who sees us because I want the world to see what real love looks like.

  “We’re all mad here.” Her warm breath caresses my face when she laughs.

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Now let’s find you some donuts.” I spot the donut truck parked kitty-corner to the Dog House. White lights stretch from the roof to an umbrella stand, creating a cheerful landing strip to guide us to the truck.

  “Ooh.” Diane changes directions ahead of us, making a straight line for the truck. Too big to run, she and Hailey speed waddle to the front of the line.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Two bags of mini donuts along with large cups of cocoa purchased and partially consumed, we stroll toward the bar. We pause near the small park because carolers in hideous holiday sweaters block the door.

  “Any sign of the Olafs?” Diane asks, biting into a cinnamon sugar covered donut.

  “Maybe they’re already inside?” Hailey’s mouth is full and her words come out in a jumble.

  The chorus is mid fa-la when they abruptly stop singing.

  “Uh oh,” Hailey whispers between bites.

  Carolers scatter as a mass of white tumbles out the Dog’s front door.

  “Enough! You’re all banned for the rest of the year,” Olaf shouts, not amused.

  “That’s only seventeen days,” Erik says, sounding disappointed.

  “Shut up. You want longer?” Carter grumbles and shoves his brother into the street.

  “I swear they want to get banned for life. Last year was the Rudolf onesie and then the grumpy old man costume for Halloween.” I’m both impressed and scared for them. Even I know when to draw the line.

  Once Olaf’s stormed back inside, we approach the Kelsos. Carter’s rolled down the top of his onesie and tied the arms around his waist. He’s got to be cold in only a white T-shirt.

  “You still look like a snowman,” John tells him. “Only now you’re half melted.”

  He makes a good point. “You shouldn’t antagonize Olaf. He has a heart condition. You want him to blow an artery over your antics?”

  I’m about to start yelling about staying off of Olaf’s lawn. John rests his hand on my shoulder. “I think you made your point. I don’t think anyone is trying to murder Olaf with laughter.”

  “No one wants him dead,” Erik says, serious for the moment. “Dan’s taken over managing the business for him so Olaf can focus on being cranky.”

  “Where is Dan?” Hailey asks, and I don’t like the eagerness in her voice when she says his name. I’m well aware all the women on the island have a crush on him.

  “He’s in Seattle with Roslyn,” Erik replies. “Some fancy party. He was grumbling about wearing his tux.”

  “Batman,” Carter and I say at the same time.

  “Where’s Ashley?” Cari spins around. “Why didn’t she get kicked out with the rest of us?”

  “I think she’s in the bathroom,” Carter answers, his brows drawn together with worry. “She’s been in there a while.”

  Cari and Diane meet eyes. “Uh oh. We’ll go check on her.”

  Hailey joins them, leaving the guys standing on the sidewalk surrounded by confused carolers, the sippers, and the strollers.

  A woman with two pint-size mini humans approaches and asks if her daughters can get their picture taken with Carter and Erik.

  Even ridiculous, the two of them are magnets for selfies.

  Erik agrees, but asks the pics don’t end up online or social media. The mom looks confused, but agrees. She must not be from around here.

  After they get their pictures, the group wanders away singing about building snowmen.

  “You two should take it on the road,” I suggest.

  “We could dress up the goats. People love goats in pajamas and costumes.” Carter takes me seriously. The man is obsessed with goats.

  “We could have onesie day at the coffee house. I bet Jonah would be into it,” Erik muses out loud.

  “Where is the dark one?” I ask.

  “He said he had an event over in town tonight. I don’t think holiday festivities are his thing,” Erik explains.

  “Anyone know what his thing is?” John asks. “Just curious. He’s always kept to himself.”

  “He likes live music. Obsessed with good coffee. And tattoos. And his old VW Bus.” Carter lists random things like he’s reading off Jonah’s dating profile.

  That’s it. Four things we know about Jonah.

  “He also doesn’t mind standing around in a coffee hut all day.” Erik doesn’t add much to the knowledge pool.

  “He’s always been quiet,” John comments, which coming from a guy who doesn’t talk a lot himself is saying something.

  A sharp blast of icy wind shakes the boughs around the windows and jostles the decorative bells.

  “Why are we standing around outside? We’re not banned.” I jerk my thumb toward the door. “I’m going inside for a beer.”

  John agrees and we head inside.

  There’s no sign of our wives, Ashley, or Cari near the front of the bar. We order beers and find a spot near the wall to stand.

  “How long unt
il we send a search party into the women’s room?” John asks, then swallows a third of his pint.

  “They’re fine.” I sip my own beer and watch Olaf yell at more customers who start singing “Do You Want to Build a Snowman?” near the door.

  “No blocking the exit,” Olaf shouts from his spot behind the bar. In that position, I can imagine him hiding behind a wall of snow, lobbing snowballs at his enemies. Maybe next year I’ll bring him a supply of real snow to toss at anyone who pisses him off. Knowing him, he’d probably complain about the snow melting on the wood floor.

  “Hey.” Hailey slides next to me.

  “Hey yourself. Everything okay with Ashley?” I sling my arm over her shoulders.

  Diane makes a small gagging noise. “She barfed again.”

  “We’ve all been there,” I confess, vaguely recalling a night right after I turned twenty-one. “I upchucked off the back deck.”

  Ashley appears at her side in leggings and a long sleeve T-shirt wearing Diane’s sweater, her onesie balled up in her arms. “Ugh. This might be worse than when I threw up on the ferry.”

  “I’ve never prayed at the porcelain throne here,” John brags.

  “Me neither.” Diane grins up at him. “Then again, I didn’t grow up here.”

  “We’ll make you a plaque,” I tell them. “Are you okay, Ashley?”

  “I feel better, but think I’ll call it a night. Where’s my dear husband?” She scans the crowd.

  I point to the front door. “Out in the cold with the rest of the exiled snow people.”

  Cari joins our group. “Oh no. For how long?”

  “Only two weeks.” John laughs.

  “Erik will be disappointed, yet relieved it’s not for longer,” Cari says, with a disapproving shake of her dark hair. “He’s a magnet for trouble.”

  “Olaf must be feeling generous with the holiday spirit.” Ashley gives us a weak smile. “And on that note, I’m going to go home. If I don’t see you before, Merry Christmas.”

  “Hopefully we’ll have this baby before then,” Diane says as they hug. “You’re on the phone tree list, right?”

  Ashley nods. “Roslyn’s too.”

  Hailey fidgets next to me. We’re way past her having any reason to be jealous over Ashley. Our mutual history is ancient. But the two women are never going to be best friends. Still, Hailey rubs Ashley’s shoulder and gives her a friendly smile. “Hope you feel better.”

  “You too. Get off your feet and drink some water.” Ashley squeezes Hailey’s hand. “And with that, this girl is going home.”

  She and Cari weave their way through the crowd around the pool table.

  My eyes go to Hailey. “Are you okay?”

  “My back’s bothering me and I’m feeling a little crampy.”

  “Are we sure Ashley’s not contagious?”

  “I hope not.” Hailey’s hands drop down to support her belly. “There’s been enough vomiting tonight.”

  “And enough talk about it, too.” John finishes his beer before setting it on the ledge behind us. “We need to collect Alene from my aunt. They’re at the gingerbread house display down the street.”

  Diane’s eyes widen. “I completely forgot about our daughter. I’m a horrible mom.”

  “Blame the Kelso brothers and their shenanigans,” Hailey offers. “That’s what Tom does.”

  I nod. “Always makes me feel better.”

  John pulls his phone from his jacket pocket. With a couple of taps, he opens up a picture of Alene happily smiling, face streaked with red, green, and white icing. “She’s fine.”

  “We should go give your aunt a break.” Diane wraps her blanket scarf around herself.

  “You’re going to freeze out there.” John pulls off his jacket and cocoons her inside it. Even pregnant and about to deliver a baby, the coat swallows her up. Because John’s a giant.

  Beside me, Hailey sighs.

  “I can give you my jacket if you want,” I whisper to her. “Anything for you.”

  She sighs again. Or exhales with force. I can’t tell the difference.

  “Hailey?” I step away from her to get a better look at her.

  Carolers open the front door and begin entering the bar as they sing and play their tambourines.

  “Christmas, Christmas,” the women in their festive holiday sweaters sing. The carolers in the front jam themselves between the exterior door and the swinging bar doors like cows in a chute.

  “No!” Olaf shouts.

  The soloist drowns out his voice as she sings the first words, “The snow’s—”

  “Leave! You’re trespassing!” Olaf waves his white bar towel in a circle around his head. “Out!”

  Only they can’t exit because they’re shoved together in the narrow space, blocked by the ones behind them, all belting out the joy of the season at the top of their voices.

  “I just peed myself,” Hailey shout-whispers in my ear over the carolers’ singing.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Add peeing herself to the list of things I never expected to hear my wife tell me in public. Especially not at the Sip n’ Stroll. Or standing in the middle of the Dog House.

  Or anywhere.

  “Better here than in the fancy baby store on a thousand-dollar chair,” I shout back, figuring that will make her feel better.

  Or not.

  Her eyes are wide, and I take her expression as embarrassment.

  “At least you didn’t puke.” I lean close to reassure her and speak directly next to her ear. “Don’t worry. Olaf’s had far worse on this floor. He’s got a bucket of industrial cleaner in the back. He’s distracted enough I can probably grab the mop and take care of it before he notices. In fact, steal that empty barstool and chat him up while I clean up.”

  Frowning, she presses her hand against her belly.

  “Oh, right. You probably don’t want to sit in pee pants.”

  Her brows crease together and she continues to sweep her hand low over the baby.

  “Sweetheart, it’s not a big deal. I’m sure it’s happened to other pregnant women, too. Want me to find Diane? Maybe she has some spare maternity leggings at the studio.” Reassuring her, I pat her shoulder, slowly turning her in the direction of the stool with my other hand.

  “Tom,” Hailey says my name so quietly I barely hear her

  “You’re right. We should go home. How many times can we listen to Sally take a solo on this song before we want to jump off the bluff? And you’re completely sober. I’m an asshole. We should’ve left after your jumbo cup of cocoa. No wonder you peed.”

  “Tom.” She repeats my name, but this time with a serious tone. “Stop.”

  I lift my hand off of her shoulder so she can face me.

  The carolers finally finish “Baby Come Home” and the crowd politely claps while Olaf tries to herd them out of the bar.

  “If you want to stay, you all have to buy something to drink. Cash only,” he bellows at them as he tries to get through the crowd.

  “I think my water broke,” Hailey shouts at the same time the room quiets. Her words echo around the bar like we’re in an empty cavern.

  “Your water broke?” I yell into the silent void because maybe the two guys at the urinals in the men’s room didn’t hear her the first time.

  Embarrassed color heats her skin while she nods. “I think so.”

  Two young bucks in elf onesies take giant steps away from our general area like she might blow again.

  It’s too late to avoid the splash zone. Not that there’s much to see. Not like in the movies. Given the lighting in here, I can’t see anything on the floor. But I’m not about to put my face down there to take a closer look.

  “Tom?” Hailey’s voice is far away and muffled.

  Olaf’s grumbling and stomping around, madder than normal. He rings the large brass bell at the end of the bar he normally reserves for last call or closing time. “I’m only going to say this once, so everyone listen up. I need you cater
wauling miscreants to zip it, and back the hell up. Clear the damn door! There hasn’t been a baby born in this bar in over fifty years. That’s not going to change tonight. We’ve got a woman in labor. I need all you numskulls to clear a path to the door.”

  While he’s rambling on, I’m staring at the floor. Someone snaps their fingers in front of my face.

  “He’s frozen,” a woman’s voice comments and a few people snicker at the movie pun.

  “Carry him out if you need to, but you better get to the hospital.” Olaf’s familiar snarl breaks through the fog.

  “Your water broke?” I ask for confirmation.

  Hailey nods. “We should go.”

  “To the hospital?”

  “I think we can go home and call our OB,” she corrects me. “I don’t think I’m having contractions.”

  “You’re not due for another two weeks.” I’m not ready. I thought I was prepared, but I’m not. Panic and flashbacks from the birthing videos release a cold sweat down my back. “Are you sure it wasn’t pee?”

  “I went while we were all in the bathroom.”

  “There’s a storm coming in. We should go to Coupeville.” I don’t want to delay and get stuck.

  “We’ll probably be sent home,” Hailey says, with a grimace. “Oh. Uff.”

  Her face crumples and she grips my arm tighter.

  “Contraction?” I stare at her stomach as if I can see through her body.

  “Maybe?” She exhales through her mouth.

  Resolved, I straighten my back. “That’s it. We’re going to Coupeville.”

  “We don’t have my bag or the things for the baby with us.” Hailey stalls. “Just because my water broke doesn’t mean I’m having the baby tonight.”

  “We’re going to the hospital. Storm’s kicking up and I don’t want to recreate some sort of pioneer home birth with boiled water and shredded bed sheets. Someone can swing by the house and get everything. Text your mom on the way to Coupeville.”

  Hailey nods and exhales again. “That was definitely a contraction.”

  She’s in labor. Something clicks inside my brain. “How bad’s the pain? Should you sit down?”

  “No sitting. No babies born in this bar. I’ll call nine-one-one if I have to.” Olaf’s shooing people out the door. Even though he’s slowly clearing us a path, he tells us to go through the side door.