“No!” Elise’s eyes met Joe’s again, and he finally understood. She wasn’t trying to be difficult. She wasn’t even trying to be secretive.
She just couldn’t do this.
“What Elise is trying to tell you is that she’s going to need your help a little bit more than usual around here over the next few months. We all know how much she’s given to this company—to all of us—and now it’s time for us to thank her by returning the support. Starting with congratulations. She’s decided to start a family.”
Exclamations broke out around them, heads jerking toward Elise, as though for confirmation that Joe was sane and not telling stories about her.
“Yes, yes, it’s true,” she said. She stood in the center of the room as though uncertain of how to respond to the smiling faces around her.
“Are you going to adopt a boy or a girl?” Ruth asked.
Elise’s expression froze. “Uh…”
“She’s not adopting,” Joe jumped in, cursing himself. It wasn’t like him to act without foresight, without planning. But then, it wasn’t like his partner to get pregnant, either.
“You’re going to have a baby?” Angela’s voice rose with excitement. She was at Elise’s right elbow.
Elise nodded. “More than one, actually.”
“Twins?” Carolyn Ramsey, B&R’s workers’ compensation specialist, joined the women by the sink.
“Quadruplets,” Elise said as though it was commonplace. The woman just wasn’t facing the situation, Joe thought. Which worried the hell out of him. How could he count on her to take care of herself if she wasn’t going to acknowledge what needed to be done?
Whatever the hell that was.
Everyone in the room was staring. “I’m eight-and-a-half weeks along,” Elise added.
“Quadruplets!” Angela’s eyes were wide. “Cool. I’ve never known anyone who had four kids at once.”
“Are you going to tell us next that you’re the happy father?” Mark Oppenheimer asked, taking his plate to the sink.
The idea floored Joe.
But not, apparently, their staff. The room grew quiet, eyes on him.
“No, he’s not,” Elise said at last. “Joe’s a wonderful business partner, but spare me his eating habits. I could never live with a man who eats leftover pizza for breakfast.”
Laugher broke out and Joe started to breathe again. She’d never experienced the bliss of cold pizza in the morning? That was her problem.
“Nor could I expose my children to such habits with a clear conscience,” she continued.
“Then who…”
“But…”
He should have anticipated the awkward situation he’d put her in. Should have done this differently. Presentation was his business.
“Elise elected to do this alone,” he told the group. “She had artificial insemination, and I, for one, admire the hell out of her for having the courage to pursue her own brand of happiness.”
Cheers filled the room and Joe could no longer make out the excited chatter around Elise. He waited around another minute or two—long enough to make sure that she was okay, and then escaped to his office.
She’d be well taken care of. If he’d read their staff right—and reading people, Elise aside, was one of his most prominent skills—she’d have no fewer than nine surrogate watchdogs at the office over the next months.
Which let him solidly off the hook.
“HI, ELIZABETH, it’s Elise. Is Thomas home?”
Seven-thirty on Saturday morning, he should be. Unless he had a golf game. Samantha rubbed up against her, purring.
“Of course. Let me get him for you, dear.”
“Thanks.”
“I hear congratulations are in order. I was thrilled when Thomas told me it worked so quickly. And don’t worry about the rest of it, dear. You know how the good Lord works. In his time, not yours. He’s taken pretty good care of you.”
Including sending such a wise woman to keep her head straight, Elise thought. If only she had Elizabeth’s confidence. “I know.”
“I’ll get Thomas.”
“ARE YOU FEELING OKAY?” Thomas’s greeting was right to the point as always when he came on the line moments later.
“Yes.”
“Following doctor’s orders?”
“Don’t I always?”
“Any problems?”
“Not so far.”
“Good. So you like this Dr. Braden? You trust her?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I made some calls—heard nothing but good about her.”
Elise smiled, though she almost started to cry, as well. “Am I ever going to get too old for you to look out for me?”
“Nope.”
She was glad to hear that.
“It’s going to be hard carrying four babies at once.”
“Harder on some than others. You’re strong and in excellent health. Just keep taking all your vitamins.”
She paused, knowing what he’d say, but she had to voice her concerns anyway. If not, they’d continue to go around in her head driving her quietly insane.
“What if something happens to me, Thomas? What’ll happen to my children?” Darin jumped into her lap and she stroked his back.
“You trying to do God’s job again?”
Just as she’d expected.
“No.”
“Lots of things can happen. Each with its own solution based on where you are in life when it happens. No point trying to find solutions for circumstances that are not yet set.”
Also what she’d expected.
“Then can we deal with here and now?” she asked. “I’m afraid there are a million things I’m not thinking of.”
“I doubt that, my dear, but I’m happy to help, you know that. Tell me what you’ve done to provide for the kids in case something happens to you.”
“I took out another life insurance policy last week.” Her father had taught her well.
“Good. Anything else?”
“Set up a trust.”
“Excellent.”
“Will you and Elizabeth execute for me?”
“For now.”
In a routine established years before, he helped her organize her thoughts one by one. Breaking everything down into parts she could manage.
“I’ve got all this energy,” she told him half an hour later. “I’m supposed to be tired, aren’t I?”
“Wait another couple of weeks,” he replied. “In the meantime, why not shop? You’re going to need four of everything. Make your choices, have things delivered, get the house ready in case you’re too tired to walk from one room to another later on.”
Four cribs. Where was she going to put them? She moved through the house. The family room would need cradles. And a changing table. And swings. Nothing in the living room.
Four of everything. The cribs would all fit in the second bedroom.
Too tired to walk, he’d said. Oh, God. Could she do this?
“Do you recommend disposable diapers?” Thomas was still on the phone. She had to say something.
“For a single mother of four? Absolutely! Get on the Internet, Elise, and find one of those quad scooter things, too. They use them in place of strollers. I’ve seen them at conventions a time or two and I’m guessing you won’t find one at a local baby store.”
“Okay.” And if she found one, would she have the strength to push it?
“And start looking around for a nanny now. I’m assuming you’re set enough to be able to afford one?”
“During the day.” She was an accountant. She’d done the math every way there was to do it. Over and over these past weeks. “We just bought the suite of offices and I owe a chunk on this house and would take huge penalties to get out of either loan.”
“And knowing you, I’d guess most of your savings are tied up in long-term investments.”
“IRAs, mostly. I have enough cash to see me through several months in case of an emergency, but I’ll need
that cushion now more than ever. I was expecting one baby. Paid maternity leave. And day care. I could do that on my salary.”
“Check out programs at the local college. I think Grand Valley State is there. See if there’s a child care class that will accept you as part the class curriculum. Students could get credit for assisting you with the babies while they’re still too young for day care. It won’t do much for your nighttime feedings, but it could sure help in the daytime at little or no cost to you. At least at the beginning. The college would screen and oversee applicants so you’d be safer than hiring someone on your own.”
Elise sat down on the queen-size bed in her second guest room, smiling and crying at the same time. “You are a godsend, my friend.”
“I’m an old man. Live long enough and you hear about everything.”
“I’ll call the college on Monday. Thanks for the idea.”
They chatted another twenty minutes or so, and when she hung up, Elise’s smile was genuine.
Thomas could always instill the sense that she wasn’t alone even when she was.
CHAPTER FOUR
SATURDAY MORNINGS were sacred. Free time to do whatever he wanted. The time reserved for no responsibility. The complete antithesis to the Saturdays of Joe’s youth that began before the sun rose with a house full of arguing and whining and the unending chores that the conglomeration of needs and wants of so many children living under one roof necessitated.
He was thinking about taking his canoe out to the river, seeing how far he could get before stopping at one of the restaurants on the shore for lunch. Some were right at the mouth of the Flat River, where it joined the Grand River, but he could travel seventy miles on the Flat alone if he wanted to. Of course his favorite little diner was right there on Main Street in Lowell.
Maybe he’d go to the gym and shoot some hoops instead. And then go to the Levee for lunch. If he went to the gym he’d have to shower again.
Turning off Main Street along the river, Joe considered the canoe again. A day alone, and the physical exertion of paddling sounded good. He could pack a lunch and spend the whole day on the water. The sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky. The July temperatures were perfect. And there would be a breeze on the river.
Sounded like heaven.
He passed her house. Continued on.
She’d taken off after making tacos for them all for lunch yesterday. She’d had her twelve-week doctor’s appointment.
Joe slowed. Turned around. He had to go back for his canoe anyway. And to exchange his sandals for running shoes and put sunscreen on skin left exposed by his denim shorts and loose tank top. He should probably grab a T-shirt instead. Right after he stopped by Elise’s. He’d hoped she’d call—not that she ever had before—but he had an investment in what was going on here. His livelihood was firmly tied to hers. If something happened to her…
Joe pulled into her drive.
SOMEONE WAS AT the front door. Staring at the bathroom ceiling, arms and hands lying beside her on the cool tile, Elise considered rolling over, getting up onto her hands and knees, crawling to the door. And couldn’t think of a single person who would be there who would be worth the effort. A blessing, at the moment, of being alone in the world.
Her eyes were closed when the second knock came.
She was throwing up again at the third.
And by the time the side doorbell rang, she was experiencing enough of a reprieve to stand. Shakily, but at least she was upright.
The way she planned to be for the entire pregnancy, though how on earth she was going to make it through the whale stage on her feet she didn’t know. She was only at the beginning of the fourth month and needed nothing as badly as she did to lie down.
After rinsing her mouth and gargling only the tiny bit of mouthwash she dared put in her mouth lest it incite another bout of retching, she shuffled her way to the door facing the river. She hadn’t showered yet. Hadn’t even run her fingers through her hair. And was still wearing the sweatpants and sleeveless top she’d slept in.
Samantha and Darin were entrenched firmly beneath her bed. They’d hated her retching, too.
Maybe the crib sheets had arrived. The mattresses had been bare for almost a week. Or it could be the…
“Joe?” Elise squinted up at her business partner, feeling as though she’d stepped onto another planet. Joe played on Saturday mornings. She’d never once heard from him then. Not even in college.
“I thought you were a changing table,” she said, leaning against the door, half blinded by sunlight. “I was hoping to get it put together this weekend,” she added irrelevantly.
He’d never seen her without makeup. She felt too wretched to care.
“I got you out of bed.”
“No.” She started to shake her head and stopped. Too much movement, too quickly. “I’ve been up over an hour.”
Making love to the toilet.
“What’s wrong?” Something had to be or he wouldn’t be there. And whatever it was, she’d deal with it. She’d promised him.
“That’s what I’m about to ask you.”
“Oh. I’m fine.” She leaned her head against the door. “Just trying to convince my children that eating is a necessary part of my life.”
She’d started laughing at herself half an hour before. Right after sobbing had caused another bout of vomiting.
He frowned, staring at her.
“Morning sickness,” she explained and bit back a smile at the embarrassed dawning of understanding that crossed his features.
“Should I call a doctor?”
“Nope. It’s happened before. It’ll pass. I could be as good as new in a matter of minutes.”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “It looks to me like you should spend the day in bed. If it’s anything like the flu, you need rest to regain your energy.”
“Nope. Eating takes care of that—once I’m allowed to do so.”
“Is it always this bad?”
She really wasn’t in the mood to chat.
“For me, or in general?”
“Either.”
“For me, yes. In general, I have no idea. But I’d guess not. I can’t imagine women electing to go through this a second time.”
He had to have a reason for being there other than the state of her stomach. It would be good if he’d just tell her and be on his way before she gave in to the urge to slide down to lie on the floor. The entryway was tile, too, and tile was her friend. It was cool. And didn’t move at all.
He didn’t say anything. Didn’t seem to be leaving.
“My theory is that if one kid objects to nutrition, all the rest will decide to give it a try.”
She’d come up with this theory in the middle of the night a week or so ago, picturing her four offspring with minds and motivations of their own—it made them seem more endurable somehow.
Joe’s bark of laughter surprised her. She wasn’t usually able to amuse him.
“They’re considerate brats, though,” she continued babbling, closing her eyes as she felt the breeze coming up from the river across the street. “They refrain from midday or evening interruptions, keeping all food rejections to the night and first thing in the morning.”
Would he never leave? The living room sofa was through the foyer door and six yards away. The light green cushions were silky, soft. They’d be cool.
And they didn’t smell.
She could let go of the door. Take enough steps to make it there.
The world would stop spinning as soon as she lay down. In another fifteen minutes, assuming her babies were done protesting, she’d be good to go.
Cool cushions against her cheek. Six yards away. Fifteen minutes.
Pushing off from the open door, Elise stumbled toward her destination.
JOE CRACKED HIS ARM against the doorjamb in his haste, but he got to her before she hit the floor. With fear in his heart, he picked up his partner, holding her gingerly as he carried h
er to the closest piece of furniture in the house—the living room sofa.
He’d never held her before. Wasn’t even sure if they’d ever hugged as good friends sometimes do.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, squinting up at him as he straightened her legs against the cushions and grabbed a throw pillow for beneath her head. “I got dizzy there for a second.”
She licked lips that looked chapped. He debated calling an ambulance.
And he settled for her doctor.
“Where’s your doctor’s number?” he asked, striding over to the phone.
“I don’t need her.” Her voice sounded stronger.
Hands on his hips, Joe stared at her. “Well, you clearly need something. What can I do?”
“A bottle of water from the fridge might help,” she said. And then, when he was halfway to the kitchen, added, “And, Joe? There’s a box of crackers on the second shelf in the pantry by the stove. Would you mind bringing it, too?”
He’d have felt better calling a doctor.
TWENTY MINUTES LATER JOE conceded that she’d been right. While Elise still needed a shower and fresh clothes, her color—and her wits—were back to normal as she sat curled on one end of the couch, still munching away. She’d finished half of one of the four packs in the box he’d brought in since they’d been sitting there.
“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” he finally asked, half-amused as he sat across from her. Another minute and he’d go.
“Last night.” She pulled one last cracker out of the tube and put the rest in the box. “But apparently the kids don’t like spinach and salmon. I don’t think they let me keep any of it.”
That couldn’t be healthy.
Nor could walking around ready to pass out at any moment.
“Does your doctor know you live alone?”
“No.”
He’d expected an affirmative. Expected to find that there was some practical explanation for why she should be safe, alone, in her condition. He’d expected to be told that he was overreacting again.
“She thinks you have a roommate?” She’d know the history of Elise’s pregnancy, surely, that she was a single woman who’d chosen artificial insemination as a means of procreating.
Merry Christmas, Babies Page 4
