Merry Christmas, Babies

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  Noticing them?

  Of course, Joe was a man. Men noticed breasts. But Joe? Looking at hers? The idea was…was…

  She didn’t know what it was. Nor did she like how the thought made her feel—as though she wanted him to like her breasts. Enough to want to touch them.

  Must be her hormones. And the fact that she was beginning to feel like an unattractive, over-weight piece of machinery.

  He was still nodding. Chewing. The TV droning softly.

  “What?” she finally asked, though she was pretty sure she should have followed her instincts and left the room instead.

  “I was just trying to figure out how you could breast-feed, which is best for the babies, and have someone help you with feeding times. I hadn’t considered the pump idea—wasn’t sure how that would work with feedings every two hours. But if you’re going to be supplementing with formula, anyway, whoever is helping will be able to do those bottles.”

  Joe seemed to be spending a lot of time lately thinking about her personal life. More time than he’d spent, collectively, in fifteen years, she’d wager.

  She kind of liked that.

  And hated that she felt that way. It was only going to hurt her in the end.

  Because it would end. She knew that without a doubt. Joe had lost the love of his life because he couldn’t get over his anxiety at the thought of children in his home, needing things he couldn’t provide, creating chaos he couldn’t control. Elise ought to know. She’d nursed many a cocktail with him as he dealt with the angst of watching his marriage die over something he couldn’t seem to change.

  If Kelly hadn’t been enough to keep him around for one baby, Elise sure as hell wouldn’t be with four.

  JOE STUMBLED OUT OF BED at his usual time Friday morning, heading for the bathroom instead of an extra few minutes’ snooze in the kitchen while his coffee brewed. He had a breakfast meeting with Michigan Local Banks that morning and would be sure to get his daily supply of caffeine there.

  The peaceful quiet of the well-kept old house wrapped around him. He liked these times in the morning after Elise left for work. Alone, but not alone.

  Eyes still half closed, he made it through the dining room to the hall without stubbing his toe, divesting himself of the T-shirt he’d been wearing to bed only since he’d lived here. He hopped and stepped out of his shorts, as well, intending to drop them both in his side of the laundry receptacle behind the bathroom door.

  His underwear would follow as soon as he’d shaved. In that Joe was a creature of habit. Shave first, then shower. No matter what they said about warm, wet skin making for an easier shave. It was also, in his experience, a less-close one.

  He reached for the bathroom door and knocked into warm flesh instead.

  “Oh!”

  Joe’s eyes opened wide as his hands grabbed instinctively, catching Elise by the sides to steady her. And himself. His T-shirt and shorts fell to the floor.

  “I thought you were gone.”

  In a sleeveless shift and sandals, she was obviously ready for work. “I’m late. The babies weren’t real cooperative this morning.”

  He meant to drop his hands, but studied her color instead. “Maybe you should stay home.”

  “No.” She wasn’t moving. At all. “I’m fine now.”

  Elise’s gaze dropped, and then rose again—to about his chest. He waited for her to pull away. To do something, since he obviously wasn’t doing so.

  “You’re always in the kitchen sleeping right now.”

  God, she was exquisite. Her gray eyes huge, luminous, her mouth trembling, moist, inviting. How could he have missed seeing this before?

  “Breakfast meeting. Too much caffeine.” He hoped the response was pertinent to whatever she’d said.

  She didn’t seem to find anything wrong with it. Didn’t object to it.

  She licked her lips. He noticed. And kept noticing them. They looked so soft, so open.

  They seemed to be calling to him. Joe lowered his head an inch. Stopped. Studied those lips some more. They didn’t move away. If anything they seemed to move toward him.

  He lowered his head a little more, cautiously reaching for something, and touched his mouth to hers. Tentatively. Testing. Needing to know.

  It wasn’t a kiss, not really. His nerves were jumping, urging him to do more, take them someplace else, discover what was just out of his grasp.

  Suddenly aware of Elise’s warmth coming through his fingers, his palms, as they kept contact with her sides, Joe pulled and she came closer, her dress touching his bare legs, enflaming him. And he covered her mouth completely.

  A kiss had never been so much. She tasted cool, of toothpaste, and smelled like flowers. He recognized the scent. He showered with it wafting around him every morning. And her tongue was hot, bold, giving him a response he didn’t recognize as Elise at all.

  Arms around her now, her breasts against his bare chest, he found her buttocks with both hands and pressed her against him.

  And felt the hardness of her belly, a wedge between them, stopping him cold.

  Joe froze for a moment, with no idea how to end the moment.

  As it turned out, he didn’t have to. Elise pulled away, stepped around him and into her room, closing her door behind her.

  Staring at the door, he knew he should knock. Speak with her. Apologize.

  Set things straight between them.

  And he had absolutely nothing to say. Not to her. Not to himself.

  With a silent curse, Joe entered the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind him, and turned on the shower.

  Today shaving would have to wait.

  AT HER DESK Friday morning, Elise dropped her pencil and stared at her stomach. Had that been a baby moving? The sensation had come and gone so fast she couldn’t be sure. But she was fairly certain she’d never felt that little bubble-pop sensation before in her life.

  She held her breath, waiting for it to come again. Glancing out her window to see who was around, she wanted to call out to someone to come witness the miracle going on in her office. But didn’t want to risk shocking her children into stillness.

  If, indeed, any of them were moving at all.

  They all had the right number of arms and legs. She’d seen them. But with the babies measuring not much more than two inches apiece, those tiny limbs might not be strong enough to move with enough force to get through the placenta to her nerve endings.

  Elise giggled. What normal mother sat around analyzing body parts at a time like this?

  She glanced at her phone, the inner office line. She wanted to call Joe.

  And couldn’t.

  Then the phone started to ring. But no lights were blinking.

  Another ring and Elise blinked, focused. Someone was calling her cell phone. Was it Joe? Ready to speak to her again?

  Was she ever going to be ready to speak to him? To face him?

  “Hello?” She grabbed it on the third ring.

  “Elise Richardson?”

  The voice was female. And unfamiliar.

  “This is Elise.”

  “Ms. Richardson? This is Joyce Merritt, director of the Bonder Fertility Center.”

  Why were they calling her? She’d paid her bill in full.

  “I…um…have an unusual situation here…”

  Something was wrong with her babies. Genetically. And they knew about it. They’d used the wrong sperm, one with abnormalities that should have been disposed of. Elise’s thoughts tripped over themselves, racing to one fear after another, each topping the one before it. Could a clinic recall kids? Force her to terminate her pregnancy?

  “What?” she managed when the other woman left her last sentence hanging. Just tell me, dammit. And I’ll deal with it. Whatever it is.

  “Your agreement with us was a bit out of the ordinary,” Ms. Merrit said slowly, almost defensively.

  “It’s legally binding, agreed upon by your lawyers.”

  “Yes, I know. We aren’t qu
estioning that. We just don’t have a policy to govern certain issues—paternal issues.”

  “This has to do with my babies’ father?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know which of the five men fathered them?”

  “No,” the woman said. “At least, I don’t. And neither does anyone else here. A choice was made, the appropriate number assigned to the choice was recorded, but no one looked up the name. And those records are sealed, according to your agreement.”

  Which meant she got the right specimen, didn’t it? Elise rubbed her belly, breathing a little easier. The babies were fine. That was the main thing.

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “According to your contract, the five potential fathers were all granted the right to seek out knowledge of any resulting children when said children reach adult status.”

  “Correct.” A provision provided because it was usual practice.

  “Prior to that, the fathers can seek knowledge only with the permission of you, the mother, through us.”

  She knew all of this.

  “And that’s why I’m calling,” Joyce Merritt said, speaking more quickly now. “One of the five men you brought to us as donors has requested the right to buy back his sperm, if indeed he was one of the four unused. If he was used, he’d like contact with you and the resulting child. Or children.”

  The clinic knew she was having quads.

  “Five months ago all five men swore they had no interest in contact.”

  “This man has since contracted mumps, which left him sterile.”

  Elise felt the news, the blow, as though it were her own. “Was he married?” Suddenly the question she hadn’t asked mattered.

  “His wife was killed in a car accident last year.”

  Elise’s heart opened with compassion—and closed with defensiveness at the same time. She hated that another human being was suffering tragedy. And these babies were hers. She’d been very careful to establish the singleness of her ownership—her parenthood—from the very beginning.

  “With your permission, we can unseal the records and find out if he is, indeed, the father of your children.”

  “No.” The answer was straight gut reaction.

  “Then Mr. Fallow requests that we ask if you’re willing to see him, speak with him. If nothing else he wants to make certain that you’re taken care of, that you and any children resulting from your encounter with us are provided for.”

  Elise sat still in her chair, staring at the hallway outside her door. Joe was right down that strip of carpet. Unless he was out.

  “Adam Fallow is the one?”

  “Yes.”

  She’d never met him in person, only seen a picture and communicated by phone and e-mail.

  “You don’t have to have anything to do with this, Ms. Richardson,” Joyce Merritt added, her voice not without sympathy. “I’m just under obligation to relay the request.”

  “I understand.”

  Far more than she wanted to. What if her only chance to have children of her own had been given away to someone else? It would be another kind of death. Suffered through and grieved as those she’d lost before.

  Could she be so cruel as to willingly allow, in a sense, cause, that anguish for someone else?

  And yet, if she did as this man asked, she’d be losing the very thing she most needed and wanted—her own family. Her children weren’t even born yet, and already they’d be facing a life of split family, split home. She’d be facing times, holidays, without them.

  Exactly what she’d prevented by hiring a very expensive attorney and signing the airtight document that had been created at her behest.

  She could unseal the records. Find out if the man was the father. If he wasn’t, they were home free. She wouldn’t know who the father was. No one else would know. They’d only know that the number of the donor didn’t match that of the now sterile man. He could have his sample and go on his way.

  Or they’d find out that Adam Fallow was the father of her four babies. And everything she’d planned for, everything she wanted for her children, would be irrevocably changed. She didn’t want the person who’d sold sperm to have a specific face and name. To stake a claim to her family.

  He was a donor. That was all he’d wanted to be.

  And what if he was a man who’d lost the chance to ever father children of his own?

  “I’ll see him.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  JOE TOOK A PASS on the weekly staff lunch. He met Melanie at a popular eatery in Grand Rapids instead. And made a point of kissing her goodbye when they parted at her car an hour later. They weren’t exclusive. Melanie saw other men and he saw other women. He just needed to get his kisses back where they belonged—which was anywhere away from his partner.

  And then he got his butt back to the office.

  “I need information by this afternoon detailing the software integration necessary to bring Michigan Local Banks onboard,” he greeted Elise from her office doorway immediately upon his return.

  “I’ll have Mark and Colby get right on it,” she said, naming their chief financial officer and resident computer guru with barely a glance in Joe’s direction. “And could you make a call regarding the employee packets on the new child care group? They want their first payroll to run next Friday and we’re missing more than we have.”

  “I’ll do it right now.” He turned to leave.

  “I won’t be home for dinner tonight,” she said. Joe backed up, glanced at her bent head. He’d hoped this morning’s episode was going to go away. That she’d be big enough to ignore the lapse and allow them to continue as though it had never happened.

  It appeared they were going to have to talk about it. “I’m meeting someone after work,” she added.

  Her head rose, her gaze on him for a split second, before it settled just over his left shoulder. Her mouth fell open.

  Joe swung around at the same time that Angela spoke.

  “Home for dinner?” she said, her mouth open. “You two are living together?” Angela’s voice rose, finishing a squeal that could probably be heard on the floor below, let alone both ends of their suite.

  “What?” Sam came around the corner. “Did Angela just say the two of you are shacking up?” With a huge grin, he nudged Joe. “Does this mean the babies are yours, after all?”

  “No!” Joe thought fast. And came up with nothing. Except to stand in front of Elise’s door, blocking her from the immediate view of their staff.

  “My doctor would rather I not stay alone,” Elise said, getting up and pushing past him to face the employees quickly filling the hall. “Joe has offered to stay at my house until I can make other arrangements.”

  She made it sound so temporary. But then, she wouldn’t tell their staff that she was financially strapped. Nor would he have her do so.

  “It’s strictly business.” Elise’s tone was filled with such no-nonsense confidence, Joe believed her himself.

  Which left him to wonder who she was meeting after work. And why he cared.

  ADAM FALLOW WAS A NICE MAN. A good-looking nice man. In his midthirties, his light summer slacks, polo shirt and leather shoes giving him the air of a man who had the world at his fingertips. A man who could get what he wanted.

  Elise debated walking away before she introduced herself.

  “Mr. Fallow?” she asked instead, approaching the cement bench outside the busy restaurant in downtown Grand Rapids.

  He stood immediately, the concern in his eyes the only sign that the man had suffered a day in his life. “Ms. Richardson?”

  A couple passed between them and when they were gone, Adam was staring at her stomach. Elise wished again that she hadn’t agreed to this meeting. She had an airtight contract. Owed Adam Fallow nothing.

  “I’m Elise Richardson, yes.”

  The man looked her up and down, twice, his gaze finally coming to rest on her face. “Forgive me,” he said then, shoving his hands in his p
ockets. “I didn’t mean to stare. You’re breathtakingly beautiful.”

  The discovery seemed to surprise him.

  “Thank you.”

  Shaking his head, he chuckled and stared at his shoes for the time it took a family of five to pass by. “That was rude, too, wasn’t it?” he asked. And then continued. “I’m sorry, I’m not handling this at all well. I just… I mean, a woman with your looks could have your pick of men…”

  Elise’s heart softened slightly as he dug himself in further. “It’s okay,” she broke in before he could completely bury himself. “If I’d heard about a woman choosing to have a baby as I did, I’d probably have expected her to be date-challenged, too.”

  “Well, yeah…I guess,” he said, peering at her from under his brow. “I…” He stopped, rocked back on his heels. “Would you like to get something to eat?”

  She was starving. And looking forward to splurging on a burger from Fuddruckers right down the street. Topping it off with one of their award-winning chocolate fudge brownies. Her one food extravagance for the duration of the pregnancy. Today she deserved the treat.

  “Not tonight,” she told Adam. “I don’t think we should get to know each other any better until I decide what I’m going to do next where you’re concerned.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “You requested this meeting. What did you want to say?”

  “I’m not sure.” His honesty was disarming. “I just thought that if we met, face-to-face, we could bring the human element back into all this.”

  Which was what she most wanted to avoid.

  “The contract you signed is binding.”

  “I’m not disputing that.” He stepped back behind the bench and away from any further interruption from dinner-goers.

  She joined him there. “But you’re counting on the emotional element to compel me to set it aside.”

  “I’m not counting on anything. But let’s face it, I have nothing left to lose. I figured that someone who wanted children so badly that she’d go to all the trouble you did to have them, would understand what I’m facing.”