by H. M. Ward
I tell her I’m still struggling with morning sickness. As she listens, she jots a few things down and scans my chart, reading the notes made by the nurse. She turns a page and then lifts her gaze to meet mine. “I’ll give you something for the nausea and we’ll check you carefully since you’re spotting.”
Nodding, I finally accept the offer. “Alright.”
Sean is silent, listening, but something about him becomes rigid. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t interrupt the doctor.
“It should ease up soon,” Dr. Liz continues, pushing back her brown braid, tossing it over her shoulder before gripping the stethoscope around her neck with both hands. She rocks on her heels for a moment, her mouth tipping down in the corners. “It’s unusual to have morning sickness throughout the pregnancy, but some women do. You’ve done well managing your weight. Haven’t gained too much or too little.” Excusing herself, she pulls open the door, and grabs a machine on a rolling cart from the hallway. As she rolls in the cart, she explains, “Let’s see how things are going...” She reaches for the tube of gel on the counter.
Sean is next to me, his hand on my shoulder. Dr. Liz wasn’t the one doing tele-med with me on the island. Her concern doesn’t match the previous doctor’s. She seems worried, her face pinched tight, more stern than normal.
“You’ve been spotting? Why didn’t you say something?” Sean asks me softly, his hand on my shoulder.
“I didn’t want to worry you.” That’s a half truth. I was terrified. It started right after we got home. The spotting wasn’t a lot, but the doc wanted me to come straight in. Especially since I hadn’t seen her yet.
“Worry me, Avery. Please. Next time, say something.” Sean’s voice is tight as we wait for the doc to tell me what to expect. If I’m okay. If the baby is okay.
The doc does her thing, setting up the machine and squirting goo on my stomach while this terse conversation with Sean ends abruptly. He locks his jaw and swallows anything else he planned to say.
The doc slides the freezing cold knob over my skin and keeps moving it. So far she hasn’t said anything. Her eyebrows knit together as she clicks a button on the machine. Then she slides the probe a little, more clicks.
Fear wraps its fingers around my heart and squeezes. Sean’s grip on my shoulder tightens and I swear he’s stopped breathing. He’s standing a step behind me, so I can’t see his face, but I know it’s a mask of ice.
Something is wrong.
Dr. Liz notices our silence. She looks up for a split second, flashes a fake smile, and says, “Just a few more measurements—”
My stomach is in knots. Maybe the bleeding wasn’t nothing. Maybe the morning sickness caused damage elsewhere. The fact that I don’t know what’s possible and what’s not is driving me crazy. We shouldn’t have stayed away so long. I should have come home sooner.
The tension cords up my arms and down my spine. I can’t take it anymore. I blurt out, “What’s wrong?”
Doc is concentrating, shifting the probe and clicking, her gaze flashing back and forth between the screen and my tummy. Due to the angle of the cart, we can’t see anything. “One more second. I just need to be certain—”
My heart drops into my stomach. I can’t breathe. I know it can happen, a pregnancy can self-terminate, especially early on. But I thought we were past that. I felt movements. I swear I did. Shit. Grinding my teeth, I clench down hard. My mouth turns to sand as realization after realization pounds me. I didn’t take care of us early on. I didn’t have a chance with my lunatic brother gunning for me. Regret takes hold as sorrow weeps through my veins.
A feminine hand on my forearm startles me. The doctor is looking at, trying to catch my eye. “Avery, do you want to see?”
“Is everything all right?” Sean voices the concern for me.
Dr. Liz says, “See for yourself.” She turns the cart towards us so that we can see the screen. She smiles, says, “Congratulations.” When I don’t reply, she offers, “Why don’t I give you both a moment. I’ll be back shortly.”
We nod as she exits the room. On the screen is a mixture of unidentifiable static sprinkles with weird shapes and blobs all tangled up. Toes, fingers. A nose. I squint.
“Is that..?” My voice trails off as I point at the screen, from one smudge to another? A rush of emotion wells up and I start crying. I can’t tell what I’m looking at. It’s a massive gray blob.
Sean leans down and wraps his arms around my shoulders, kisses my cheek. His voice is full of joy, and hope. “I never expected it either.”
“Expected what? That Baby Baby Pants has an extra leg?”
He smiles. “Avery, that’s not a leg. Don’t you see it?” He whirls to my side, kneeling next to me.
“No!” I start crying while I ramble, “Where are the baby’s hands? Why can’t I see anything but blobs? Why is it so still? Sean, I expected to see a curled up tiny baby with little fingers and toes. That’s what my Mom told me I’d see. It’s what that big fat pregnancy book said I would see, so why is there none of that? I thought….I thought—”
Tears start as I blubber incoherently thinking the worst has happened.
Sean holds me with one arm and pulls the cart closer with the other. “Look here.” He points to a large white area. “This is the baby’s head. The baby is positioned away from us, but you can see little hands here.” He points to the tops of the screen.
I stare for a few moments. I can see that. “Why isn’t the baby moving? And what’s that?” I point to the blob next to it.
Sean kisses my cheek, repressing a smile. “The baby isn’t moving because this is a picture. Remember? She has to have the probe on your stomach to see the baby moving.”
“Right,” I nod. I knew that, but that second blob has me near hysteria. “But that other part. Is it bad?”
Sean does the same thing. Leans in towards the screen, outlines the second white spot with his finger. “This shape is about the same size as this one. And see this—” he points to the bottom, to little wisps, “—fingers. And that third leg isn’t a leg, but we should ask the doctor to be sure.”
“What?” I choke out the word. “What are you saying?”
“There are two babies, Avery. One here and one here.” He takes my hand and puts it on the screen, touching the first child and then the second.
“Twins?”
Sean nods, beaming at me with paternal pride.
CHAPTER 10
Sean holds my hand tightly as he watches my face, recognition finally dawning on me. “What do you think? Say something.”
I’ve been quietly starting at the screen, uncertain of anything. “I don’t know how to be a mother to one kid, never mind two. Sean…” my voice cracks on his name.
He pulls me into his arms and we stay like that until the door opens, and the doc walks in.
“So, twins.” Dr. Liz, swings the machine around. “Both are healthy and measuring what they should. It appears to be fraternal, due to the second placenta. I know you wanted to wait, but I’m giving you nausea medicine and suggest you take it easy. Try to be as least stressed as possible. Do things that you enjoy.” She scribbles on a prescription pad and hands it to me.
“Are you sure?” It’s a stupid question, but I manage to blurt out the entire thought. “They’re both okay?”
Dr. Liz stands at my foot and looks me in the eye. “I know you went through an ordeal in the beginning of this pregnancy, but these babies are unharmed. Your last doc gave you prenatals and checked you, right?” I nod. “But he didn’t tell you there were two babies?”
Sean shakes his head. “No. The sonogram was done early.”
It’s clear that she won’t speak against the other doctor. “It’s possible the first scan wasn’t conclusive. Either way, it is now. These are twins. Healthy, too. There’s no indication of duress or anything to be concerned about at this point. I want you to take it easy because you’ve had such an ordeal. Having time to mentally prepare for these babies an
d what your life is going to be like will be good for you.”
I nod. I already heard this speech several times, but it’s hard to talk about any of it.
Sean speaks for me. “We will.” That’s interesting. He said ‘we.’
The doc seems satisfied. She hands Sean a card. “Here’s the next appointment. If you need anything between now and then, call me.”
“Wait,” I hold up my hand as she’s about to walk out of the room. “Can you tell what they are? A girl or a boy, I mean?”
Dr. Liz smiles, explains, “I’m supposed to tell you that I can’t tell 100% either way, but I can.” She winks at me and points to the screen, “This one is a boy. The other appears to be a girl. Sometimes it depends on the position of the babies, but, you have a strapping son and a daughter.”
“A girl and a boy?” I breathe, as I glance over at Sean.
“You’re entire life is going to change. Congratulations.” Dr. Liz rips a little piece of paper that printed from the machine and hands it to us before she walks out of the room, leaving us behind, and slightly shell shocked.
It’s the sonogram image of the twins.
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THE ARRANGEMENT 23
Read this section to refresh your memory before reading book 24.
CHAPTER 21
The strangest things happen when you least expect them. I worried about Constance ripping my mother’s frail emotional state to shreds. I mean, the woman was barely talking. Mom retreated so far into herself to survive the terrors that met her daily for months on end. There was no break, no time to gather herself and rebuild her mental state during that period. The doctor warned me that she’d need a lot of patience and understanding. Trauma victims tend to behave differently, and the slightest thing could set her off and cause her to regress—a turn of phrase, a sight, or smell.
I walk on eggshells around her, but not Constance. At first, I berated Constance for it, but she didn’t listen to me. She explained, “Acting as if she’s broken will only keep her that way.”
Constance is a paradox of a person. She’s fierce and kind with my mother. I don’t understand how she’s both at once, but it doesn’t send Mom back to the darkness. I watch the two of them together and know they’ve shared more time talking than they let on. They seem to have more in common than a grandbaby and the misfortune of meeting the Campones.
When morning breaks, I’m green with nausea. I roll out of bed trying not to wake Sean. An eyelid opens, and a groggy voice asks, “Are you okay?”
Nodding, I tug on a robe and explain quickly. “Morning sickness. It’ll pass. Go back to sleep.”
Sean watches me for a moment. I feel awful, but his eyes say I’m a goddess. “I love you.”
I smile at him, wishing I could say more but then feel my throat tighten and rush to the bathroom. After that settles down, I decide that getting sick with something in my stomach would be far better than dry heaving.
I head down the hallway to the kitchen. It’s barely five in the morning, but there’s a light cutting through the darkness. When I round the corner and enter the room, the sight surprises me.
Mom is wearing yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt. Her dark hair is tugged into a high ponytail with wispy curls sticking out. There’s a dusting of blush on her cheeks, and a sweep of mascara on her lashes. Sleep is long gone from her eyes. She’s clinging to a cup of coffee, holding it in front of her and inhaling deeply. There’s a soft smile on her lips. She’s happy at that moment. There’s no need to wonder if it’s a fake attempt to be content just then. There’s something about the sweep of her shoulders and the light touch of her fingers on the mug that tells the story on her face is real. She’s far from all better—I’ve heard her wake in the night, screaming.
There’s a long way to go, for both of us. Restlessness woke me and it didn’t begin with morning sickness. Dreams churned into fear which twisted everything until I had a knife in my hand and watched Marty’s eyes become lifeless. The dream repeats every time I close my eyes. Out of all my sins that one I regret the most. I was wrong about him. Marty played his hand so well that I couldn’t tell which side he was on until it was too late.
Sitting opposite from Mom is Constance in her blood red dupioni silk robe. It has a floral pattern woven into the thick damask. Velvet lined lapels extend down to a thick scarlet sash tied tightly around her narrow waist. Constance’s hair is a mess, one side flat with the other side still kempt as if she slept on that one side all night.
They stop talking and turn to watch me. Mom smiles. “How’s my baby this morning?”
Constance smirks and adds, “You look awful. Saltines are on the counter.”
Mom glances at me again and corrects Constance. “She doesn’t look awful. Avery’s glowing.”
“Because she just vomited,” Constance replies with a flick of her eyes. “Make sure you brush and floss every time you wretch or your teeth will rot. Then the dentist will tell me he thinks your bulimic and the newspapers will have a field day and blame me.” She rolls her eyes and then sips her coffee.
Mom nods in agreement before she sees me still standing in the doorway and lifts her mug. “Do you want some coffee, honey?”
I shake my head and go straight for the box of crackers before sitting down next to both of them. I pull one out from the plastic wrapper and suck on it. Constance glares in disapproval. I glare at her and take the cracker from my mouth.
“Yes?” I dare her to say one more comment on dental hygiene or morning sickness.
“Nothing, dear.” She smirks at Mom and takes another sip of coffee.
I ask my mother, “What do you have planned for today?” I shove another cracker into my mouth and slouch forward. Constance’s perfect posture makes mine seem like an aerodynamic granny.
“We’re planning to go shopping. Constance made us an appointment at one of those little boutiques. I want a poet’s shirt with lace.” She grins broadly and wiggles her fingers just below her chin, indicating a lacey neckline.
Constance snorts. “You’re lucky that style made a comeback or we couldn’t be seen together. If I have a hippie friend, people will talk. Suddenly everyone will think I’ve gone soft.”
I laugh from behind my crackers, “No one will ever think that. Like ever.”
Constance puffs up, proud. “Well, it doesn’t matter what other people think.”
“Oh really?”
She eyes me. Her long tapered fingers and ruby polish are immaculate. “I’m completely serious. I earned my reputation protecting my family. You’ve done the same. People will define you in ways that are unbecoming. Just look at what the chatter about you—”
Mom must have kicked her because Constance suddenly stops talking.
I flick my gaze to Mom and then Constance, and then back to Mom. “Why, what are people saying about me?”
Mom tries to soften it. “Your parentage is being discussed, and the disappearance of your only sibling is creating gossip.”
“Ma, I don’t care what they think, but I still want to know. Vic was an abomination, and I’m not sorry that he’s gone. I guess that makes me a monster.” A frown twists my lips as I stare at my row of crackers.
Constance snorts. “A monster? You?”
I lift my eyes, not shying away from my thoughts. I know what I did. I’m just not certain who I am because of it. Confessing bluntly, I admit, “Yeah, me. I lost it that night. I let the beast off the leash.”
Constance starts laughing, and it's a high-pitched giggle. She presses her fingertips to her mouth after putting down her cup of coffee so that it won’t spill. She places a hand on my arm. “Your beast is not a monster. It’s a character trait many people wish they had. You’re the girl who stood up to Satan and walked away.”
“Right, but at the same time, doesn’t the person who killed the devil become the devil?”
“No,” Constance snaps, entirely confident. “It’s not as if he were possessed by an evil spirit that now resides in you. Vic was a man, a deranged one, but his decisions were his own. His sins don’t flow into your hands.”
I realize that I don’t believe her. I twist in my chair, not liking this topic of conversation, but I manage to spit out what’s been keeping me awake. It’s a tiny thought, one that will fester and putrefy if remains unaddressed. “Vic became who he was because of me. If I hadn’t—”
Mom cuts me off, her hand suddenly on mine, possessive and assuring. “If you hadn’t been born? You can’t think like that. You did nothing to make him that way. Vic made his choices, and you made yours. You are not responsible for his actions. Sometimes people become so fixated on one thing. They think that their life would be better if this person didn’t exist. It poisons the well and seeps out into every aspect of their life. Blaming someone for your shortcomings is easy. Looking in the mirror is not. Avery, you spend more time examining yourself and your motives than anyone. You’ve tried to stay true to yourself, and you have. What do you care about more than anything?”
I swallow hard and blink back the tears in my eyes. “My family. But Mom—”
She pats my hand and squeezes. “And you saved yours. If you didn’t directly challenge Vic, I’d still be locked in that godforsaken basement. You saved me.” There are tears in her eyes. It’s the first time she’s talked about any of this with me.
Constance leans back in her chair and adds, “You saved my clan as well. That makes your loyalty unquestionable. You’re family, Avery. I hope you didn’t have plans on leaving because now you’re one of us. I meant it when I said that the other night. As far as I’m concerned, you earned the name Ferro.”
Tears well up and I start sobbing. Before I plaster my hands over my eyes, Mom and Constance exchange a horrified expression.
