The Baby Gift

by Bethany Campbell

  His half-smile was tender yet sardonic. “If I’m not there and you’re not there, who exactly gets our, uh, components together? A stork in a lab coat?”

  He had a small scar under his left cheekbone. She resisted the urge to stroke it. “No stork. An embryologist. I think it’s Dr. Chan.”

  “The Chinese doctor?”

  “Yes. He’s from Hong Kong.”

  Josh smiled and rubbed his nose against hers. “So you and I aren’t creating our baby? The nice man from Hong Kong does it for us.”

  She put her hands on his shoulders. “And you came all the way from Moscow to do your part. It’ll be a very international baby,” she said.

  His face sobered. “If there is a baby,” he said. “Don’t get your hopes too high. It might not work this time.”

  This was the specter that always haunted her. “I know. It might take more than one try. But I hope not. This is hard, Josh. It’s so hard. I don’t know how infertile couples go through it time after time.”

  He put his hand behind her head, lacing his fingers through her hair. He drew her to his chest again, and she rested there gladly. The coming days would be interminable. By tomorrow, the doctors would know if the eggs were fertilized. But not until the third day could they tell if the fertilized eggs seemed healthy. And not until the fifth day could they learn if the broken chromosome was in any or all of the eggs.

  So many ifs. So much uncertainty. So many questions, some far too difficult for her to answer. Her head ached.

  She told herself all that mattered was to try to save Nealie and to give the baby as good a life as possible. Boy or girl, she was certain this child would be special, as much a child of love as Nealie was.

  She took a deep breath and pulled away from Josh. “I’m better, thanks. We should go home. I need to get back to work. Penny’s been doing everything, and I know she’d like to go over and help Harve again.”

  He frowned in disbelief. “Work? This afternoon? Why don’t you just go home, lie down and take it easy?”

  “I’d rather keep occupied,” she said.

  “I guess I should go help Harve, too,” Josh muttered, snapping shut the buckle on his seat belt. “But I’d rather stay with you. You still look pale.”

  “I’ll be fine. It’s just, for the first time, I think the reality’s sinking in.”

  He sighed through clenched teeth. “Yeah. Me, too.” He turned the ignition key.

  She said, “You know, don’t you, that I’ll never be able to thank you enough for this.”

  “I can think of a way you could thank me.”

  She knew he meant marriage. For a crazy moment she wanted to say yes. But instead, she said, “This isn’t the time to talk about it. You know it, and so do I.”

  “Will there ever be a time?” he asked.

  Suddenly a picture flashed into her imagination—how he would look holding a new baby. She remembered the expression on his face the first time he’d stared at Nealie in his arms.

  “Maybe,” she said, so softly it was hardly audible.

  But he heard. He nodded. “For now, maybe will do.”

  THAT AFTERNOON at Harve’s, Josh stood knee-deep in snow, helping load burned debris into a pickup truck. Larry worked with Josh, but he moved slowly, and in spite of the cold, sweat stood on his forehead and upper lip.

  In the ruins of a first-floor bedroom, Harve swung a sledgehammer, knocking down what remained of an outer wall. “Harve,” Larry called in a harsh voice, “you ought to do that from the outside. You could fall right through the damn floor into the cellar and kill your—”

  He broke down in a fit of coughing. He couldn’t stop. Josh pounded his back. It didn’t help. Larry coughed until he nearly choked.

  Penny came running with a thermos of water. Josh filled the cup as Penny put her hand to Larry’s forehead. “Good grief,” she said. “You’re burning with fever. You should go home right now.”

  Larry managed to drink a few swallows, coughed again, took another drink. “I feel like hell,” he admitted.

  “You were coughing yesterday, too,” Penny scolded. “You should take better care of yourself.”

  Larry protested, but Josh could tell his heart wasn’t in it. When Larry could finally stand, he seemed weak-kneed. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he vowed. But when he walked toward his van, his gait was unsteady.

  “Gee,” Penny said to Josh in a low voice. “Do you think he should drive by himself?”

  “He wouldn’t let me take him,” Josh said. “Or you, either.”

  Penny gave a sigh of disgust. “He always has to be so macho.”

  Josh said nothing. He watched Larry drive off. If Larry got seriously sick, it would be one more problem to weigh on Briana. Heritage Farm was already running behind schedule, and Larry was the only able-bodied man working it full-time. By working at Harve’s, Larry had already sacrificed two days at his own place.

  Penny screwed the lid onto the thermos. “He should be okay,” she said. “He’s got the constitution of an ox.”

  “I hope so,” Josh said moodily.

  Penny shrugged and headed back to work. Josh once again started flinging charred rubble into the bed of the truck. But he wasn’t thinking of the ruined house or of Larry or of Heritage Farm. Instead he wondered if, in St. Louis, Dr. Chan was about to go into the lab and make Josh the father of Briana’s second child.

  BRIANA COULD NOT face spending another night at Leo’s. She phoned and told him so. “Harve can stay there,” she said. Leo fussed, but Briana was too dazed to care.

  When Josh got back from Harve’s, she still felt strange. She supposed it was more emotional than physical strain, and Josh seemed to understand.

  They said little. They spoke of Harve’s house, Larry’s cough. But they were both thinking of what might be happening in St. Louis.

  After supper he helped her with the dishes, kept Nealie occupied by drawing pictures with her, then joined Briana in putting the child to bed. He said he’d read the bedtime story and told Briana to rest.

  When he came down at last, she was sitting on the couch, the lights dimmed. Soft music played, something haunting and Celtic. She held a mug of hot cider and had set a glass of wine on the coffee table for him.

  He settled beside her. He nodded in the direction of Nealie’s room. “She’s asleep,” he said. “She tried to hold out for you to come up and kiss her one more time, but she couldn’t make it. Hope you don’t mind.”

  Briana shook her head and gazed at the fire. “She needs her sleep.”

  He sighed gruffly and picked up his glass. “So do you. You look beat.”

  She raised her chin. “No. Not really.”

  “I forgot,” he said, watching her over the rim of his glass. “You’re never beaten. Not you.”

  There was no sarcasm in his voice. She knew he meant it as a compliment. But she didn’t think she deserved praise for courage. At this moment, she felt little bravery.

  “I keep thinking about it,” she said.

  She knew there was no need to define it for him. By now, Dr. Chan had done his job. What would be the result? She had no idea, only a hoard of conflicting hopes and fears.

  Josh touched his glass against her mug. “To Dr. Chan. And his success.”

  They each took a small drink. To Briana the cider was tasteless. She toyed with the mug nervously and stared into the flames of the fireplace.

  Josh said, “They’ll call tomorrow, right? To let us know if fertilization’s taken place.”

  “Right,” she said.

  She nibbled at her lip. The doctors had been able to take only five eggs. The low number disturbed her, for the odds were that only sixty percent of them could be fertilized.

  That meant that only three of the eggs might grow. Of those, all might be healthy—or none. All might carry Nealie’s anemia. Briana would have to wait months to start the cycle of drugs again, crucial time would be lost, and help for Nealie would be even more distant.

>   Briana squared her shoulders. She wouldn’t dwell on the negative. She said, “If we get a healthy embryo, the doctors will want you there when they implant it. Did they tell you that?”

  He winced slightly. “No. Is it an operation?”

  She almost smiled. “You—squeamish? You’ve seen everything.”

  “I don’t want to see you being hurt, that’s all.”

  She patted his arm. “It won’t hurt. The procedure’s not surgical. They’ll put me in a thing that looks like a dentist chair with stirrups. I’ll probably be covered up so much that only the doctor will see me.”

  He lifted his eyebrow wryly. “No glimpse of your irresistible nether parts? I don’t get a single break in this procedure, do I?”

  She knew he was trying to raise her spirits. “Nope,” she said. “You don’t.” She added, “You don’t have to be there if you don’t want to. If it would make you uncomfortable.”

  “Briana. I want to be there.”

  Her throat tightened. “That’s kind of you.”

  “No. I mean it. I want to. The father ought to at least be in the same room when the mother gets pregnant. Don’t you think?”

  She smiled. “Purist,” she said.

  The two of them were silent a moment. The fire crackled. Outside, the wind made a branch rub against a window, a low, whispery sound.

  Zorro came padding across the floor from his food dish in the kitchen. He looked at Josh and Briana with his pale green eyes, then leaped onto Josh’s lap and settled there, tucking his paws beneath him. He gave his peculiar purr.

  Briana was touched and surprised. Zorro was shy. He’d never favored anyone with such intimacy except Nealie and Briana.

  Josh said, “The phantom cat’s materialized. What’s this mean? He usually avoids me.”

  “I guess he’d decided you’re one of us,” she said, then wanted to bite her tongue.

  Josh stroked the cat, but he said nothing. She stared at the profile of the man who had been her husband, the man who today might have fathered her second child.

  You are one of us, Briana thought. And you’re not one of us. You belong with Nealie and me—but you don’t. You’re a paradox.

  She said, “I really wish you’d told me what happened to you when you were a boy. I might have understood you better.”

  In the shadowy light, his half-smile seemed cynical. “I doubt it.”

  “But if we talked—”

  He cut her off. “No,” he repeated. “Not now.” He gave her shoulder a brief squeeze. “Try to rest. Tomorrow isn’t going to be easy, no matter what happens.” He finished his wine and stood. “I’ll be over early tomorrow,” he told her. “I want to be with you when you get the news.”

  She should have been relieved he was going. Instead disappointment welled in her. Reluctantly she walked him to the door, watched him don his parka. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. The caress was meant to be almost brotherly, but it filled her with churning emotion.

  When he left, the house felt as empty as if someone had died. Zorro came and rubbed against Briana’s ankles.

  “I know what I want for Nealie,” she whispered, picking him up and holding him close. “But I don’t know what I want for myself anymore.”

  AT LEO’S HOUSE, Inga came out of the kitchen. Harve, standing by the living room, hardly noticed her.

  “I was on the phone,” she announced. “With Glenda. Larry isn’t any better. She’s afraid he’s got bronchitis. He’s prone to it.”

  Harve should have felt sympathy, but he didn’t. He wished his problems were as small as a case of bronchitis.

  Inga shook her head in concern. “She says he’s also been getting sinus infections the past few years. That they hang on forever. The bronchitis might bring on another one.”

  Harve gave no answer. He kept staring out the window. He watched as Josh’s rented car pulled away. “He’s leaving early tonight,” he said.

  “Well,” Inga said briskly, “that’s good, isn’t it?”

  She and Harve were alone. Leo had gone to bed.

  Harve kept staring at Briana’s house. “She spends a lot of time with him. Why’d he have to go with her to St. Louis today?”

  Inga sat in the rocking chair and took up her crocheting. She had found Briana’s mother’s yarn and crochet hooks and was making Harve a muffler. “Maybe he was worried about her. The roads were icy this morning.”

  Harve ran his hand through his hair, turned and saw the dining room table strewn with his papers. He’d been filling out insurance forms all evening, and the task weighed on his spirit.

  He was depressed that Briana seemed so caught up in herself she paid hardly any mind to him or his misfortune. He said, “I don’t know why she’s running off to St. Louis all the time. She doesn’t seem sick to me. She doesn’t look sick.”

  Inga snipped her yarn. “Actually, she looks as if she’s under a strain. I noticed it that day I met her at church. I thought, there’s a woman with something on her mind. And she’s moody, touchy.”

  “She may have something on her mind, but at least her house didn’t burn down,” Harve grumbled.

  “You still have your land,” Inga told him. “You can build a new house. In every end is a new beginning.”

  Harve shoved his hands into the pockets of his overalls. “Who knows how long before I have a home of my own again? Months.”

  “Leo’s invited us to stay as long as we like,” Inga said. “I should think that you’d be happy to be near Briana.”

  “She acts like I don’t exist,” Harve said. “And besides, now I feel like I’m living on Leo’s charity. It was better when he owed me favors.”

  Inga looked up sharply. “Dear, you must learn, when life gives you lemons to make lemonade.”

  Harve frowned. “I hate that saying.”

  “You shouldn’t. You have a golden chance. Don’t think of it as taking charity from Leo. Instead show him how well you can earn your keep. Make him think you’re indispensable.”

  Harve’s frown turned to a look of puzzlement. “Me? Indispensable?”

  “Indispensable,” Inga repeated with conviction. “You’ve seen all the things around here that need fixing. Larry’s overworked. Now he’s sick on top of it. Who can keep this place running? Josh Morris? Of course not. But you could, sweet boy. You could be the salvation of this farm.”

  Harve thought. Once the ruins of his house were cleared, it would still be months before he could plant his main crop, corn. It would also be months before construction could start on his new house. He could spend time helping Leo.

  Inga said, “Who knows? If you married Briana, it might even lead to joining the two farms. Wouldn’t that be something?”

  He turned and faced the window again. In spite of Inga’s encouragement, he was starting to feel his chances with Briana were hopeless. “I—I’ve got this bad feeling about her and him.”

  “Oh?” Inga snipped another piece of yarn. “You think they’re involved again?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Inga said, “Would it make a difference in your feeling for her? If she and he were having an affair?”

  He spun around, his mouth falling open. “Aunt Inga!”

  She examined her handiwork, then set it aside. “Don’t be shocked, Harve. I asked a simple question. If she had another fling with this man, could you forgive her?”

  Harve put his hand to his forehead in misery. Since Josh had returned, he had been torturing himself with this question. Inga could read him like a book, a very simple, very open book.

  “I guess I’d forgive her for anything,” he said.

  “Anything?” asked Inga, examining the points of her scissors.

  “Anything,” said Harve.

  SATURDAY MORNING, Briana was taking the breakfast biscuits out of the oven when the telephone rang.

  Josh saw her jump at the sound. She caught her breath, and every muscle in her body seemed to stiffen. She looked at Josh, an
d he looked at her.

  At the same moment, they realized the phone call was too early to be from the center. It was not yet eight. Briana exhaled in relief and said, “It must be Poppa. Will you get it, Nealie?”

  But Nealie had splashed orange juice all over her hands, so Josh answered the phone.

  The caller was Glenda, sounding harried. “Josh? Larry’s got bronchitis, I’m sure of it. And probably the start of a sinus infection. It’s laid him low. I think he’d better stay in bed.”

  “I’m sorry,” Josh said. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

  Glenda sighed in exasperation. “No. I know the routine by heart. Aspirin, cough medicine, make him rest, turn on the vaporizer.” She paused. “I just talked to Poppa. This is kind of awkward, but—”

  “But what?” Josh prodded.

  He could smell the aroma of biscuits and melting butter, bacon and coffee. He wanted to sit down to breakfast and pretend he was a normal man having a normal breakfast with his nice, normal family.

  Again Glenda hesitated. “Harve is coming over to see Briana. With Larry sick, Poppa’s kind of let him take charge. He wants to get copies of Briana’s shipping orders. He says he’ll handle the heavy items. Some of those boxes weigh a lot.”

  Josh thought, I smell more than bacon. I smell trouble.

  Glenda said, “Poppa said since Harve’s going out of his way to help us, it would be nice if he had some able-bodied man to help him.”

  Mentally Josh swore. He said, “That means me, right?”

  “I’m afraid so. Poppa says he’s going to phone you himself. I thought I should warn you.”

  “Thanks, Glenda,” Josh said. He told her goodbye and hung up.

  “What was that about?” Briana asked. “Sit down and tell us. Breakfast is ready.”

  “Come eat, Daddy,” Nealie said.

  The phone rang again. Josh picked up the receiver, knowing he was going to hear Leo. “Hello,” he said, hearing the fatalism in his own voice.

  “Josh,” said Leo, almost jovially. “Harve’s on his way down there to get some shipping orders from Briana. Larry’s under the weather, and Harve volunteered to fill in for him.”