The Baby Gift

by Bethany Campbell

  “I suppose I have to. The last thing we need at this point is a big confrontation. Oh, Josh, I’m sorry. This is humiliating. But what else can I do?”

  He laid his forefinger against her lips. “Calm down, babe. At least Harve is out of the picture for a while.” He kissed her on the tip of the nose. His nearness made her tingle. She wanted him to kiss her again, in earnest. He bent nearer, as if he meant to.

  But then Nealie was there. “Is supper ready?”

  Briana broke away from Josh guiltily. “In just a few minutes, honey. Do you want to help Daddy make the salad?”

  “Yes.” But Nealie looked wistful. “Mommy, do you have to go to Grandpa’s again tonight?”

  “I’m sorry,” Briana said. “I do. But Daddy will stay here with you.”

  Nealie seemed no happier. “I’d like it better if you were here, too. Why can’t the three of us be together anymore?”

  Something made Briana want to burst into tears. She hoped it was the hormones.

  “IT’S A fiendish plot,” Leo fumed. He sat in his recliner and smacked his hand against the arm of the chair for emphasis. “That man is after my daughter. He wants to get into her pants again. I know it.”

  Inga winced. “Maybe you could put it a little more delicately—”

  “Delicate, shmelicate,” Leo retorted. “I’m a plainspoken man. He’s probably got a girl in every port. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  Inga didn’t think so. She had seen the way Josh looked at Briana. And she was starting to think that maybe Josh and Briana were already making love to each other. Harve said he would forgive her anything. Had he decided he could not forgive her that?

  Still, Inga was a woman of boundless optimism. “Maybe she just has to get him out of her system. Sometimes it happens that way.”

  Leo sniffed in disdain. “Now she’s gone and lost Harve for good. What have I done to deserve this?”

  Inga picked up the teapot. “I don’t think she’s lost him for good.” She wasn’t sure of this, but she believed in looking on the bright side.

  She filled a cup and said, “It might do her good to have him gone. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. When he comes back, she’ll look at him with new eyes.”

  “And what if he doesn’t want her anymore?” Leo demanded. “What then?”

  Inga brought him the tea, then sat by his side. “Harve is temporarily discouraged, that’s all. If he loves her, he’ll be back. Love conquers all.”

  “Love conquers squat,” Leo said grimly. “I love my daughter, and look what it’s got me. She’s over there with that philandering wastrel. I wanted a decent man for her. One who’d give her healthy children.”

  Inga, usually unflappable, was shocked. “Why, Leo. You adore Nealie. How can you say such a thing?”

  “I do adore her. But all the good in her comes from my side of the family. Not his. He hardly even knows who his family is. He’s the one who gave Nealie that sickly constitution. I understand genes. I’d bet the farm on it.”

  “Genes? You mean her allergies?”

  “Her allergies, her nosebleeds, her being tired all the time and getting every infection that comes along.”

  “But Larry’s prone to infections,” Inga said. “And Briana’s being treated, too.”

  “Briana? It’s all in her mind,” Leo argued. “Look at her. She’s healthy as a horse.”

  Yes, Inga thought. She certainly seems to be. And it was not odd for Larry to have sinus infections. He constantly worked with things that gave off dust and molds.

  But the child was another matter. Inga could see Nealie was fragile, and something in Leo’s words haunted her. She thought of her students through the years, and one came to her mind with sudden, frightening clarity. A boy named Jason Castleman.

  A boy who had constant nosebleeds, who was tired all the time, who got every infection that came along. A boy who proved to have a sickness that could not be cured. He’d been buried in December, when the cemetery was bleak and cold.

  The memory struck her like a blow, but she tried to keep her voice neutral, casual. “Leo, tell me more about those nosebleeds, will you?”

  BRIANA WENT through the next two days in a kind of surreal fog. Somewhere in the fog her father kept making demands, and Glenda was overwhelmed and needed help.

  On the fringes of this fog, the Haven Manufactured Home Company caused a used mobile home to materialize on Harve’s property. It was put in place as swiftly as if it happened in a dream.

  Briana vaguely understood that Harve was almost camping out in the trailer. Neighbors had given him used furniture and appliances, but he still didn’t have the utilities hooked up, and Inga couldn’t move in with him until he did.

  At the edge of Briana’s consciousness Inga fluttered, trying to be helpful, but to Briana she was no more substantial than a moth. Even the solid and dependable Penny seemed as spectral as a ghost.

  All she could think about was that Wednesday morning she would get a call from the clinic, a call that involved life and death. If there was a healthy embryo, it would be implanted. If it grew into a child, it would be a miracle of creation in its own right, and it might save Nealie’s life, as well, a second miracle.

  If there was not a healthy embryo, she would try again. And again. And again. As many times as she had to.

  As she waited, something was happening to her emotionally. She deeply wanted this second child. Body and soul, I want you, she kept thinking. She yearned to hold this baby, to gaze in wonder at the newborn face, to feel the tiny hand curl around her finger.

  It was as if Briana were on a small island in this great sea of fog, and among the few realities were her own thoughts, hopes and fears. Her beloved Nealie was real. And Josh. Always Josh.

  WEDNESDAY MORNING, Briana asked Penny to work in the greenhouse repotting. Penny had done such duty before and didn’t seem surprised. “Sure,” she said.

  Josh had driven Nealie to school. He would come straight back to spend the morning with Briana, waiting for the call from the center.

  As Briana saw him pulling into the drive, the phone rang. The sound stabbed through her heart like a spear of ice, striking her numb. The ring pierced her a second time. It’s come. We’ll know, she thought, her emotions spinning almost out of control.

  She made her way to the phone. “Hello?” she said. Her voice shook even over that single word.

  “Mrs. Briana Morris, please,” said a woman’s voice. Briana knew that voice. It belonged to one of the clinic’s chief nurses.

  “Th-this is Briana Morris,” Briana stammered, and it seemed to her as if her whole life stood poised, uncertain, waiting to be changed forever.

  “This is Anna at the IRH Center,” said the nurse. “Mrs. Morris, we have good news for you. There’s a healthy embryo waiting. It shows no chromosome damage whatever. Can you be in the office by nine o’clock tomorrow morning? Dr. Langdon can do the implantation then.”

  “Yes,” Briana said, dazed and not yet fully comprehending. “Yes. We can be there.”

  “Fine. Nine o’clock it is. And congratulations, Mrs. Morris.”

  Briana’s whirling mind seized on one question. “Anna?”

  “Yes?”

  “The other embryos?”

  There was a slight pause. “They didn’t survive, Mrs. Morris. Dr. Chan thinks it was the result of the genetic flaw. We’ve seen this sort of occurrence before. It’s fairly common. The important thing is that you have one that is fine and seemingly healthy.”

  “Yes,” Briana managed to murmur. “Yes. Thank you.” She hung up the phone.

  The front door swung open and Josh walked in, a burst of cold air behind him. Briana ran and flung herself into his arms, laughing and crying at once.

  “We’re going to St. Louis. Tomorrow at nine o’clock.”

  It was all she needed to say.

  He held her tight.

  THAT NIGHT Nealie went to bed before eight o’clock. Josh didn’t want Briana t
o go to Leo’s. She did not seem to want to go, either.

  They sat together on the sofa, the lamplight low, and linked their hands. He’d put on her favorite Celtic music and built a fire in the fireplace, hoping to cast a spell that would make her linger with him.

  She stared at the flames pensively. “Nealie seemed worn down tonight—and too quiet.”

  “Yes,” he said, stroking his thumb over Briana’s knuckles. The child’s fatigue had worried him, too. Sometimes it seemed that Nealie kept going on pure willpower and adrenaline, but tonight her little body had run out of both.

  He put his arm around Briana’s shoulder. “Tomorrow, babe. We go to St. Louis, and when we come home, you’re going to have her little brother or sister in the nest.”

  He patted her flat stomach, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. “Heaven willing,” she said. She said it softly, but he heard the tension in her voice.

  He kissed her hair. “Do you want a boy or a girl?” he asked.

  “I’ll gladly welcome either,” she said, putting her hand over his and pressing it to her stomach. “But Nealie would want a girl. What would you want?”

  He kissed her hair again. “Either one. Have you thought of names?”

  He felt her hand tighten over his. “No. It seems too soon. I guess I’m afraid to.”

  “Don’t be afraid,” he said and drew her closer.

  She was quiet for a moment then drew back and looked at him. “Josh?”

  She was so beautiful in the dim and dancing light, her eyes so dark, hair darker still, mouth so full and inviting.

  He said, “What, love?” Perhaps he shouldn’t call her that, but that’s what she was, his love, the love of his life.

  She glanced away as if suddenly taken by shyness. “Dr. Langdon told me—he said—”

  He leaned nearer. “He said what, love?”

  “He said it might be a good idea for us to make love tonight. It could improve the chance of a successful implantation. If—you’re willing?”

  He could not believe he’d heard her correctly. “He said that? Nobody told me anything—”

  She shook her head. “He said since we weren’t married any longer, he’d let me make the decision. But—I want to, Josh. If you do.”

  He gripped her upper arms. “If I want to? Good Lord, Briana, I’ve wanted to since the second I saw you again.”

  She lifted her face to him, her lips parted.

  He kissed her with all the pent up longing of the past weeks. He didn’t understand the science of it and he didn’t care. Perhaps Briana felt no real desire for him. Perhaps to her he was merely a medical prescription that might prove useful. He didn’t give a damn, he wanted her too much.

  She wound her arms around his neck, and he stopped thinking of anything except pleasing and possessing her. He lowered her to a lying position and pulled up her white sweater.

  He kissed her stomach, savoring the silkiness of her skin, the delicately salty taste of her. She sighed and laced her fingers through his hair. His kisses moved higher and became more intense. At last his tongue explored the valley between her breasts, and his hands closed over their warm swell.

  She arched her back. He groaned. “Let’s get behind a closed door and get these damn clothes off you,” he said.

  “Let’s. And yours, too,” she said.

  It was a difficult course to navigate, the way to the bedroom. They kept stopping, swept up in storms of kissing and embracing, and twice they found themselves lying on the stairs, almost too inflamed with sexual hunger to move any farther.

  But Nealie was upstairs, and she might waken. Somehow they got into the bedroom, and soon their clothes were scattered across the floor, and he had her naked and in bed just as it used to be.

  He felt the wonderful curving of her hips, her waist, her breasts. He tasted her mouth, her nipples, her navel, the moist bud of pleasure between her thighs. He loved her with his lips, his hands, his arms. His legs twined with hers.

  Her hair smelled like summer flowers. So did her flesh. Her breathing grew faster and harder, and so did his. When he touched her or kissed her a certain way, she cried out softly, in the way he remembered, the way that drove him crazy.

  At last he could stand it no more. “I can’t hold out any longer, babe,” he said, breath ragged.

  She settled more deeply into the bed, her hair fanning out on the pillow. He propped himself above her as she opened her legs, and he entered her as if she were paradise.

  She wrapped her slender legs around him, her calves and feet pressing against his hips, helping him even more deeply into her. He thrust, and she twisted beneath him, timing her movements with his, building to a crescendo he was sure would kill him.

  When it happened, everything went black for a moment, then bursts of light shot off in flashes behind his eyes. He felt her contractions like sensual ripples inviting him to drown in her, and he did.

  He withdrew at last, breathless and spent yet wanting more. “Again?” he asked, lying beside her and pulling her close.

  She laughed in the intimate way he remembered. “This was just what the doctor ordered. But he didn’t say twice.”

  “Then stay with me. Let me sleep holding you,” he said, caressing her breast again.

  She sighed, turning to him. She put her hand on his bare chest. “I can’t. I have to go to Poppa’s. He’s probably already fuming.”

  “Let somebody else go,” he said. “Stay here with me.”

  “There isn’t anybody else.” Her hand trailed down his chest, drew a circle round his navel.

  “I’ll call Glenda. She’ll do it.”

  “She can’t. Larry’s sick.”

  “He isn’t dead. The kids’ll be asleep. I’ll talk her into it.”

  “You can’t.”

  “I can.”

  He did.

  He slept the night with her nestled against him, his arm around her and his cheek against her shoulder. He thought I’ve come home.

  In the dark hours of early morning, he forced himself to leave against his will. He kissed her goodbye but didn’t wake her. She needed her rest. They had to go to St. Louis, and science would try to give her his child.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  DRAWING A CHERRY TREE was hard work.

  Nealie sat at her desk at school with her crayons. The tree’s trunk was straight and brown. The leaves were a ball of green atop the trunk, like a big green lollipop on a brown stick.

  She had left white spots in the green ball where she was carefully drawing the red dots that were the cherries. This was a picture of the cherry tree that George Washington had chopped down when he was a little boy.

  The teacher was telling them about George Washington because he had a birthday coming up. George Washington was the first president of America and the father of his country.

  This made Nealie think about her own father. He was the best of all possible daddies, but she was unhappy with him because he hadn’t taken her to school this morning. She’d had to ride with Penny because Mommy and Daddy had to go to St. Louis.

  She missed riding with him and was sad because she knew he soon might have to go far away again. The call might come at any time. He had to leave because it was his job to go places. Her mommy had to stay here because it was her job to help Grandpa.

  Nealie loved her grandfather, but she thought he’d been acting funny lately. In fact, lately all the grown-ups had been acting funny. She pushed her glasses up on her nose and tried to sort her thoughts and feelings. She loved it when her daddy came home, but he seemed to make everybody else act different.

  Nealie didn’t understand this, and it bothered her. Grandpa and Uncle Larry didn’t like Daddy, and Daddy didn’t like them. Why? Grown-ups always told her not to fight and to get along, but they didn’t do it themselves. It puzzled her until her head spun, so she decided to stop thinking about it.

  Nealie put down her red crayon and studied her picture. The cherry tree looked all
right, but the picture seemed to need something more. She took her yellow crayon and started to draw a sun in the sky. She would put yellow rays coming out of it and then color the sky blue, and that would be really good.

  She would give this picture to Daddy so he could take it with him when he went away. There was one thought she couldn’t stop thinking no matter how hard she tried. She wished Daddy would stay and that he’d marry Mommy again. If they got married, they could have a baby sister for her. She had always wanted a little sister, and for her to be named Julia. This was Nealie’s favorite name. Julia Ann.

  Yes, she decided, that’s truly what she wished for most. That Mommy and Daddy would stay together and give her a baby sister.

  “Julia,” she said softly to herself, drawing rays on the sun. “Julia Ann.”

  IT’S DONE, Josh thought.

  The implantation had been performed much as Briana had said it would. It had taken a surprisingly short time.

  During the process, he’d had the eerie feeling that he and Briana had been kidnapped by space aliens. She’d lain on a strange bedlike device that looked to Josh as if it came from some future civilization. She was covered to the waist by a white sheet. A doctor in surgical garb and gloves had hovered over her, chatting softly, being reassuring, saying all the right things. At least Josh supposed they were the right things. He could not remember a word the man had said.

  Too many thoughts and emotions had cascaded through him. He wondered if this was like drowning. Lifetimes flashed before his eyes.

  Briana had to rest, and he stayed with her, holding her hand. “Are you all right?” he kept asking. “How do you feel?”

  She said it hadn’t hurt. She said the worst part was the suspense. It would be two weeks until a blood test would show if she was pregnant.

  He held her hand as they walked to the parking lot. The day was crisp and sunny, with no ice on the sidewalks, but he had the absurd desire to take her by the arm and lead her as carefully as if she were great with child.

  He opened the door of the car for her. She gave him a wan smile and got in. He slid into the driver’s seat, but he could not bring himself to start the car. He turned to her and put his hand on her cheek. “I never felt really alone with you in there.”