Merry Christmas, Babies

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  As she picked up the phone and pushed the speed dial button, Elise told herself to get used to it. She needed him.

  “Dr. Braden, please.” Joe looked pointedly at the shaking pencil in her hand and Elise dropped it. If the news was bad…

  Joe was here.

  THE OBSTETRICIAN HAD a couple of things to discuss with Elise. “But first,” she said, prolonging Elise’s stress, “the good news. Your liver and kidneys are fine. There’s no sign yet of gestational hypertension. Of course it’s early yet—the chances of the disease occurring rise considerably the further the pregnancy progresses. Like I told you, fifty percent of quad pregnancies result in some degree of high blood pressure, toxemia or pre-eclampsia, so this is something we’ll be watching closely.”

  Elise was used to doctors, had spent more time, more holidays, with them than with friends during her teen years. This one scared her.

  And engendered her complete faith.

  Dr. Braden had told her on her first visit that gestational hypertension was the number-one cause of premature deliveries with a multiple pregnancies. She was glad the doctor was taking the threat seriously.

  “And on that note, I need you to come back in for another diabetes test,” Dr. Braden continued, her voice completely lacking in emotion. Good or bad.

  Elise wanted to ask if there was a problem, but was too conscious of Joe standing there to do so.

  “Friday’s test came back positive, but it’s not a sure indicator.”

  Diabetes. She couldn’t even remember all the complications that could arise from that. Not even fourteen weeks along and it was starting already.

  “Okay.”

  Why had she ever thought she could do this?

  Ignoring Joe’s intense stare, she picked up her pencil again, pretending everything was just fine.

  “And I want to see another ultrasound,” Dr. Braden said as though reading off a list. “I’ve scheduled you here in the office for ten o’clock next Friday. Can you make that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Terrific. Everything sounded fine on Friday, I think we’re good to go, but I want to keep a close watch on the growth and placement of the babies. You can expect at least monthly ultrasounds.”

  Oh. Well, fine. It could be worse.

  Much worse.

  “SO?” JOE COULD BARELY contain his frustration by the time Elise hung up the phone.

  “What?” She looked up at him as though she had no idea what he wanted.

  “‘Okay’ and ‘yes’ were the sum total of your half of that conversation.”

  “Oh. Well, everything’s fine.”

  “She asked you to call her ASAP to tell you that your condition is status quo?”

  The woman was maddening. Independent to the point of insult. They were going to have a talk about being considerate. And cooperative. He had a job to do and he was damn well going to do it properly.

  “I have to have another diabetes test—I’ll do that tomorrow—and then a week from Friday I’m scheduled for an ultrasound.”

  “What’s that for?”

  “To monitor the babies’ measurements, mostly.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  Her smile relaxed him a bit. “Not at all. I’ve already had one. They run a camera kind of thing over my belly and the sound waves vibrate back a picture.”

  Important. And not too invasive.

  “Okay, what time?”

  “Ten. Why?”

  “I’m coming.”

  “You most certainly are not.”

  Joe almost stormed around the desk to make his point clear, but thought better of it just in time. Instead, he settled on a corner of her desk and turned to look at her.

  “It’s going to be just you and me through much of this, Elise,” he told her, lowering his voice to the level he used when trying to convince his mother to follow the diet her kidney doctor gave her. “I’m accepting a bit of responsibility. It’s only fair that I be as educated as possible about what’s going on. How will I know what to watch for? What to expect? If I’m informed, I’ll know whether to be alarmed or just thrust smelling salts under your nose if you pass out.”

  “I’m not going to pass out. Have a seizure, maybe, but no passing out.”

  He got to his feet, alarmed all over again. “A seizure?”

  “I’m joking, Joe.”

  Then why wasn’t there any sign of humor about her, a curve in those tense lips, light in those concerned eyes.

  He started a mental list of things to ask her doctor at the next appointment. “Seizures” was at the top.

  “Well, I’m not,” he told her now. “I’ll leave the room for anything too private, but I’d feel a lot better if you’d agree to allow me to attend your appointments with you.”

  “Is this a contingency to the deal?”

  He wanted to say yes. Almost gave in to the temptation. “No.”

  “But it would make this whole thing easier on you?”

  “Yes.”

  She considered him for a long moment. “How about if you go with me next Friday and then we’ll see after that?”

  It was more than he’d expected. Joe grinned. Agreed. And left to reschedule the meeting he had on the following Friday with a chain of learning centers.

  Now that his mission was accomplished and he was actually sitting at his desk contemplating what he’d be doing a week from Friday, Joe broke out into a cold sweat.

  He couldn’t lose Elise. B&R was his life. He’d sacrifice just about anything to keep the business healthy. Even if the toll it took was great.

  He could curse his partner for getting herself into this mess. And yet, he couldn’t really. She’d signed on for one baby, not four.

  And after hearing the miraculous and tragic story of her youth, he couldn’t find fault with any of the decisions she’d made.

  Joe jumped up, grabbed his keys, as another thought occurred to him. He didn’t just want Elise healthy and her pregnancy successful for B&R, he wanted it for Elise.

  And as he drove to his first appointment, two facts continued to hound him. These babies were important to Elise.

  That made them important to him. B&R aside.

  Like it or not, he was in this with her.

  January first couldn’t come fast enough.

  ON WEDNESDAY NIGHT a week later, Elise made chicken picatta for dinner. The dish was one of her favorites—and something she only made when she had someone to cook for, which, since Joe and Kelly’s divorce, was rarely. She tossed a salad, adding a little cabbage for extra zing, and took the time to prepare risotto from scratch.

  They’d fallen into a routine, she and Joe. She wasn’t all that unhappy with it. Almost as if they were at work, they allowed room for each other’s idiosyncrasies without judgment or ridicule. She was quiet when she got up at five and was gone before he needed to get to the coffeepot at six-thirty. He kept the noise down after eleven at night. She made room for his frozen pizzas and he put up with Darin and Samantha. She cooked dinner—just as she did on Fridays for their staff. And he cleaned up afterward—as he used to do at work before the women insisted on doing it for him.

  Joe had always had that effect on women, except for Elise. As a rule they vied for opportunities to fawn all over him. To spoil him. Take care of him. Elise taught him how to take care of himself. And expected him to do so.

  Every night, after she left the office between 5:30 and 6:00, she came straight home to make dinner, for which he showed up at seven, completely famished. They never spoke of the meal—never had “see you at dinner” or “what’s for dinner?” conversations. She always cooked and he always arrived in time to eat.

  But not tonight. Seven came and went. Elise turned down the heat on the rice and, dousing the chicken with a little extra sauce, covered it and set the oven to warm. She fed the cats. At seven-thirty, because her babies were getting fussy, she ate some of the salad. And by eight, added a dish of past-its-prime, sticky risotto to the offering.
At nine, she cut the chicken up into little pieces, bagging them in separate portions for future meals for Darin and Samantha.

  When the clock hit ten, she took Samantha and Darin and went in to bed. She wasn’t angry. Why should she be? Joe owed her nothing. They weren’t a family. Had no reason to share meals or to count on sharing meals.

  They just ate together when they both happened to be in the place at mealtime. Strictly for economic purposes.

  She heard him pull in at ten-thirty. He knew she went to bed at eleven. Elise jumped up, pulled on sweats and a t-shirt over her nightgown. She’d forgotten to water the plants. Every Sunday, Wednesday and Friday, immediately after dinner, she watered all the plants in her house.

  He came through the kitchen just as she was getting at the philodendron over the sink.

  “Smells good in here.”

  That rankled. “Chicken picatta.” Where the hell were you? She stopped the thought, revised it. Where were you? And didn’t voice it, either. It was none of her business where he was.

  And that was as it should be. As it must be if they were going to survive all these months under the same roof.

  “I’m sorry I missed it.”

  She spun around. He was through the kitchen, at the arch leading into the dining room that would take him to his bedroom. He had his tie in his hand.

  “Me, too.” Only because he would’ve liked it.

  He turned back. “You sound as if you’re on edge. What’s up?”

  “I’m not on edge.” She couldn’t have sounded more innocent if she’d been a newborn babe. She was innocent. At least if motivation and desire had any say in it.

  “Yes, you do. ’ Fess up. I left my dirty socks somewhere and it made you mad, right?”

  His hair was mussed. And the top two buttons of his shirt were undone.

  “I don’t sound on edge,” she repeated.

  He studied her for a time and shrugged. “Have it your way.” He started toward his room, then faced her again. “But don’t hold it against me if I keep doing whatever it is I did—”

  “Dinner was ruined waiting for you.”

  Elise could have bitten her tongue for letting the words escape. She came across like a poor rendition of a bitchy housewife—not like a business partner who appreciated his assistance in a personal matter.

  He took a couple of steps toward her. “I should have called.”

  Elise faced the faucet, refilled her watering can. “No, you shouldn’t. We aren’t like that.”

  “Like what?” His voice was only a few feet behind her.

  “Like people who owe each other explanations.”

  “For the time being we live in the same residence.” Joe’s voice, as calm as she wished hers was, irritated the crap out of her. “It’s common decency to let the other person know if we’re going to be out. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  She slowly faced him, ashamed and grateful at the same time. “I’m overreacting.”

  “You had no reason to think I wasn’t expecting dinner tonight, no reason not to prepare one.”

  He was right. Which meant she was, too. Elise almost giggled with relief. She wasn’t getting too proprietary or acting out of place. She’d merely been frustrated by the inconvenience. As anybody would be.

  “Did you have a good time?” she asked him, much more charitable now that she didn’t have to worry about her reactions.

  “Relatively. Melanie’s an intelligent woman, fun. I was just a little preoccupied tonight. Thanks for asking.”

  With that, he wished her good-night and went to his room.

  While she’d been home waiting dinner for him, he’d been with a woman.

  The anger she’d thought truly quelled burst into flames once more.

  Anger at his inconsiderate actions. But more, anger at herself for caring. She’d better control that before she wrecked everything—for him, for her, and for the babies who were counting on her to bring them safely into the world.

  Still, her last thought, as she drifted off to sleep cradling her slightly protruding stomach, was to wonder if Joe had made love with Melanie, the paragon, that night.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ON FRIDAY JOE WENT TO WORK as usual and presented himself at Elise’s office at the exact time she’d specified in the note she’d left on the kitchen table that morning. The note had also said that her doctor had called and she didn’t have diabetes.

  He hadn’t seen her, except in passing at the office, since Wednesday. She’d gone shopping for maternity clothes the night before and he’d played racquetball with a client-turned-friend. He’d stayed afterward to have a drink and talk shop.

  And now, waiting outside the room while Elise prepared for the test, he considered exchanging his current plans for another visit to a local bar. They’d driven separately, at Elise’s insistence. He could head right out that door.

  A very pregnant woman walked by—if you could call the painful-looking waddle walking—with a little kid on either side of her, small hands clasped in hers. She was going to have at least two in diapers at the same time—possibly three. Big boxes of different-size disposables, being at the beck and call of rashes and smells that needed attention, lugging all the stuff everywhere, fussing when things weren’t attended to quickly enough.

  Joe shuddered, held the door to the waiting room open for her.

  Elise was going to have four in diapers at once.

  He loosened his tie, unbuttoned the top of his shirt.

  He, of all people, didn’t belong here. Kelly would laugh uproariously if she could see him.

  He tried not to think of Elise on the other side of the door, getting undressed, of him seeing her that way. He really hadn’t thought this through in enough detail. Seeing Elise in a state of undress would be embarrassing. For her and for him.

  In sweats, fine. Without a shower, great. But not nude.

  Not that she would be. Patients were always covered with at least a sheet in hospitals. But if he knew she was nude underneath them?

  Sweat beaded on his forehead.

  What the hell was the matter with him?

  They hadn’t said ten words to each other in two days. This was a business transaction. He needed to get a grip.

  “Mr. Bennett? We’re ready for you now.” The technician, dressed in green scrubs, looked to be in her early thirties. She seemed kind. Joe liked her immediately—couldn’t run out on her.

  Hands in his pockets, he pasted on his best salesman smile and entered the dimly lit room. Television monitors were set up in what he supposed were strategic places. He had a clear view of two of them and kept his gaze firmly focused there, doing his best to ignore his peripheral vision and a view of his business partner that made him entirely too uncomfortable.

  Still wearing the loose white blouse and elastic waistband black skirt she’d had on the last time he’d seen her, she was lying on the table, her belly exposed. Her skin was white, silky-looking, beautiful. Unscarred. He had an urge to kiss her there.

  And then the show started. Flashes of shadows appeared on the screen, indiscernible black and white and gray shapes. And a ruler.

  “Okay.” The technician’s voice penetrated the eerily quiet room. An arrow appeared over one of the larger gray shadows. “Here’s Baby A.” The ruler moved. She called out head circumference, arm and leg measurements—all the while pointing at things that barely resembled a swimming blob, let alone a human being, albeit in the beginning stages.

  “And,” the woman said, her voice rising a notch, “we’ve got a boy!”

  “A boy?” Elise’s emotion-filled cry was foreign to him. She seemed to lean forward, but with only his peripheral view, he couldn’t be certain. “Are you sure?”

  “Yep,” the woman said, zooming in. “There’s your proof.”

  A boy? Joe leaned in closer. A boy? Where? He stared at the monitor. Didn’t really matter if he could make out babies or not. This trained professional could. Elise was having
a son. The concept was almost impossible to grasp.

  “On to Baby B,” the woman was saying when Joe tuned in again. His mouth was dry. He wondered if there was any water nearby. He let his gaze wander away from the measurements and…proof that his partner was really planning to give birth to four new people.

  Were her kidneys there, too? And her liver? He wouldn’t mind looking at them.

  “Another boy!” The technician sounded as if she was solely responsible for the news.

  “Two boys!” Elise giggled.

  And Joe looked straight at her. Her gaze was focused on the one screen she could see. And then her gaze sought his—just as he’d realized he was smiling at her.

  “I’m having two sons, Joe,” she said, no hint of embarrassment in her tone, no hint of anything but pure joy.

  For the first time since the ordeal began, Joe was glad he was there.

  “TWO GIRLS AND TWO BOYS, can you believe it?” Elise was still flying high when he walked with her out to their cars half an hour later, the films they’d given her clasped tightly in her hands.

  Squinting in the early-August sun, she glanced over at him, and he reached to put an arm around her, then caught himself just in time. He scratched his head, instead.

  He couldn’t believe any of this. Kept waiting to awake from the nightmare, get up, drive in to work and find Elise as slim as ever at her desk. No fire, no tragedy, no chaotic home life in sight.

  “What are you going to name them?” he said now.

  “I just found out what I’m having twenty minutes ago, Joe,” she said, chuckling. “And I’ve been a little preoccupied since.”

  “And I know you.” He worked up a grin. “You’ve had plans for any eventuality already in place.”

  They’d reached her car. Only then did Joe notice that she’d sobered.

  “You’re right, of course.” She paused, as though considering her answer. Then, “I’m naming three of them after my brother and sisters. The fourth is going to be called Thomas.”

  The babies—her new family—were to be named after the family she’d lost. So easy for him to forget, to see her as the calm, efficient woman she’d always been, while every moment of every day Elise carried burdens he’d never even imagined.