Bundle of Joy

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  But what happened wasn’t what he’d expected.

  “Grandpa!” Alicia cried.

  Joe stopped in the kitchen doorway, taking in the scene before him. Grandpa Roger had collapsed on one of the vinyl chairs. His arms hung loose at his sides while his head rested on the table surface. His eyes were closed. He looked unconscious.

  “Grandpa?” Alicia touched his shoulder.

  He groaned in response.

  “Joe, call for an ambulance.”

  He was already headed for the phone.

  “Wait.” Her grandfather sat up slowly. “I don’t need an ambulance.” His words were whispery thin.

  Joe held the receiver in his hand; he could hear the drone of the dial tone. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. Just help me to my room. I only need a short rest.”

  “But Grandpa…”

  Her grandfather took hold of her hand. “Relax, my girl. It’s not a heart attack. I’m overtired. That’s all.”

  Alicia glanced toward Joe, her eyes filled with fear.

  Joe figured it wasn’t wise to argue with him. Better to do as he said and call the doctor later.

  He placed the receiver in its cradle, then crossed to the table. “Ready?” He put one arm around the elderly man’s back.

  “I’m ready.”

  “Okay. Here we go.” With care, he helped Alicia’s grandfather stand. “We’ll go only as fast as you want, sir. You set the pace.”

  Grandpa Roger nodded. “Sounds good.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Would you get me a glass of water, my dear? I’ll want to take one of my pills.”

  “Right away.” Her voice quavered.

  “Do what you can to comfort her,” Grandpa Roger said softly as he and Joe left the room. “I don’t want her making herself sick over me.”

  “You worry about yourself. I’ll take care of Alicia.”

  “I know you will. And it does my heart good to see the way you love her. Does my heart good.”

  By the time Grandpa Roger was lying on his bed, covered with a handmade quilt, Joe had to admit he didn’t look too sick. His coloring was good, and he seemed to be breathing normally. He hoped Alicia was coming to the same conclusion as she hovered near the bedside, watching her grandfather dutifully swallow his pill.

  “I’ll leave the door open, Grandpa,” she told him. “You call if you need me.”

  “A nap is all I need, and I’ll be fine.” He waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Now go on, both of you, and let me be.”

  Alicia obeyed with obvious reluctance.

  As they stepped into the hallway, Joe thought she looked in far worse shape than her grandfather. From the telltale quiver of her chin, she was fighting tears.

  “He’s going to be fine.” He drew her into his arms. “You’ll see.”

  Alicia hid her face against his chest. “Oh, Joe, I was so scared.”

  “Your grandfather’s okay.” He kissed the top of her head. “We’ll take him in to see the doctor if it’ll make you feel better.” He patted her back. “Don’t worry, Alicia. Don’t worry. He’s going to be fine.”

  Hearing his granddaughter tell her new husband that he should leave and put an end to “the sham,” as she’d called their marriage, had made Roger Harris’s head hurt. No doubt about it. Still, he may have laid it on a little thick, using his health against them in his attempt to force those two to work things through instead of giving up.

  Why was it that he could see so clearly the love they felt for each other and neither of them could see it?

  Lord God. He closed his eyes. Draw Alicia and Joe closer to You so that they might also grow closer as man and wife. Help them find their way. Grant me wisdom so that I may guide and not hinder.

  He thought of his wife and wished she were still living. Teresa would have known exactly the right thing to do. She’d been blessed with the gift of discernment, and her compassionate heart had helped her use that gift for the benefit of everyone whose lives she touched.

  Roger had to work a little harder at finding God’s will. Knowing that, he reached for his well-worn Bible on the nightstand.

  I love you…

  In the wee hours before dawn, Joe stared at the ceiling and let the memory of Alicia’s words play over and over again in his head.

  I love you, Joe.

  Was it possible she really loved him? That she wasn’t merely grateful for his help? And if it was love she felt, what did she want from him in return?

  He suppressed a groan.

  He might not know the answers to the first two questions, but he knew the answer to that last one. She would want marriage. She’d want the real thing.

  He’d been inches from a clean getaway. She’d told him to leave, that they were going to end the charade once and for all. If not for her grandfather’s weak spell that afternoon, Joe would’ve been out of there. Gone. Vanished from her life.

  Wasn’t that what he wanted? Freedom.

  He wasn’t husband material. His faults were legion, too many for any woman to want to overlook. His failed first marriage had proven that. God had been working on him, helping him change, but there was a long way to go for him to become the man the Lord wanted him to be. Besides, didn’t one of the epistles say it was better to be single?

  As for kids? Well, if he was bad husband material, he would be even worse father material.

  I love you, Joe.

  Why had he married her? Had it really been just to do her a favor?

  He recalled the moment he’d kissed her in the nursery, smudging her cheek with wallpaper paste, and a question began to churn in his head: If he had a chance for something more in his life, if he had a chance to love and be loved, would he take it or let it slip away?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Pale morning light fell through the nursery windows. Long icicles, hanging from the eaves beyond the glass, cast odd shadows across the hardwood floor, a floor covered with ruined wallpaper. It was rather emblematic of the mess she’d made of her life, she thought as she stuffed another strip into a large garbage bag.

  She heard water running in the shower and knew Joe was up. She released a deep sigh. They needed to talk about what had happened yesterday, but she wasn’t sure she was ready yet.

  Holding the garbage bag over her shoulder, she left the nursery. She paused at the guest room door and peeked inside. Her grandfather still slept. She was thankful for that. She meant to make certain he spent the day right there, except for a visit to the doctor.

  She continued her way to the kitchen where she pressed the button on the coffeemaker to start it brewing. Then she carried the garbage bag through the utility room and deposited it on the back porch. Rags had completed her morning inspection of the yard by this time and dashed into the house while the door was open. Alicia paused long enough to ruffle the dog’s ears before filling both food and water dishes. Those chores finished, she reentered the kitchen.

  Joe was waiting for her there.

  “You didn’t have to clean up the nursery,” he said as she closed the door behind her. “I would’ve done it.”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t mind. I was awake.”

  “How’s your grandfather this morning?”

  “He’s sleeping peacefully. But I’m going to ask him to see the doctor.”

  “Probably a good idea. It would make you feel better if nothing else.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  He looked out the window.

  She glanced down at Rags, standing next to her, tail wagging.

  “Alicia—” Joe began.

  “Joe—” she said at the same time, looking up again.

  They both stopped, their gazes locked.

  Finally he said, “You first.”

  “About yesterday.”

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”

  “You’re wrong, Joe. I do need to explain. Or at least talk about it. We can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

&
nbsp; For a moment she thought he might disagree.

  But then he nodded. “Let me get my coffee first.”

  She breathed a silent sigh of relief as she sat at the table.

  I wish I didn’t love you, Joe. It would make everything so much easier.

  Coffee mug in hand, he sat opposite her. He looked too handsome, too self-confident, too much like an attorney.

  She lowered her gaze to her hands, clasped atop the table. “When I suggested you help me by pretending to be my husband, I never imagined things would get so complicated.”

  “I know that.”

  She gave her head a quick shake but didn’t look up. “Don’t interrupt, please. Let me get it all said.”

  “Okay.”

  “I was ready to tell Grandpa the truth. You know I was. But after yesterday’s spell, I’m back to being afraid what the truth would do to him.” Her hands clenched more tightly. “I can’t take the risk. Not as long as I have a choice.”

  “I’m not asking you to risk it. I plan to see this through.”

  “I know you will.” Now she looked up. “Because that’s the sort of man you are.”

  He frowned a little, as if not sure what she meant.

  “Joe, I’m not going to ask for more than you can give. I shouldn’t have said I loved you.” Silently, she added, I do love you, but I shouldn’t have said it.

  He opened his mouth, then closed it without speaking.

  She gave him a small smile of thanks. “What I’m asking is that we go back to behaving like friends again. We like each other. There’s even some mutual attraction, I think.” She had to look away, afraid he would deny it. “If not, we never would have married, not even for Grandpa’s sake.”

  Above the rapid beating of her heart, she heard the tick of the clock on the wall and the soft whir of the refrigerator.

  Shoring up her courage, she lifted her gaze to meet his. “It would make it so much easier during the next fifteen days if we remembered we were friends first. Then it won’t be so hard to pretend we’re anything more.” She extended her hand toward him. “Fair enough? Friends?”

  The clock continued ticking; the refrigerator kept whirring.

  “Fair enough,” he said at last, taking hold of her proffered hand. “Friends.”

  She wondered how it was possible to smile while her heart was breaking.

  That evening Joe took hold of Alicia’s arm and helped her out of the vehicle.

  “Are you nervous?” he asked as they walked toward the medical clinic’s entrance.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Good thing one of us isn’t.”

  She laughed, a pretty sound in the crystal cold night.

  Joe was glad for it. He was glad for the talk they’d had, glad they’d cleared the air. He was glad she’d realized she wasn’t in love with him, that they were good friends and nothing more.

  Inside at the front desk, Alicia asked for directions to the birthing class.

  “Right through that door and to your left. In the conference room. You can’t miss it.”

  The woman was right. They couldn’t miss it. Four other couples had arrived before them. The women were all well along in their pregnancies. One looked as if she must be carrying triplets, triplets who could make their entrance at any moment.

  Joe didn’t feel much like joking now.

  An attractive woman in her thirties—the only one not obviously pregnant—approached Alicia and Joe with an outstretched hand and a welcoming smile. “Hello. You must be the Palermos.” She shook Alicia’s hand first, then Joe’s. “I’m Pat Grisham, your instructor. We were just about to get started with a video.” She motioned toward a grouping of chairs in front of a television set and, speaking to everyone in the room, said, “Please take your seats.”

  If anybody had told Joe two months before that he would find himself surrounded by pregnant women while watching a video of a live birth, he’d have told them they were insane. But there he sat. And the odd thing about it was, he found it fascinating. Okay, the video made him a little squeamish, but it was still fascinating.

  He wondered what it would be like to be present in the delivery room, watching as his child was born.

  When the tape ended, Pat Grisham turned off the television and faced the five couples. “So…are we ready for delivery?”

  Nervous laughter swept through the group.

  “I guess you know it’s too late to back out now,” the instructor said.

  It wasn’t too late for Joe. He wouldn’t be around for the delivery of Alicia’s baby. He wasn’t the father.

  He looked at the other couples, husbands and wives awaiting new additions to their families. One couple was young, no more than late teens or early twenties. Another couple looked to be in their forties. The other pairs were somewhere in between, more like Joe and Alicia.

  Like Joe and Alicia.

  Like a husband and wife.

  Like a couple.

  The Palermos.

  Strange. That didn’t sound bad.

  For the most part, Alicia had been happier today. She was determined to love Joe and take pleasure in what they had now, this moment, and not to worry about tomorrow.

  But when Ms. Grisham instructed each husband to reach around his wife and place his hands on her abdomen, Alicia was reminded how much she’d ached for his touch. Now that she had her wish, she wanted it to mean something, too. To really mean something.

  “Humphrey’s active tonight,” Joe said softly near her ear.

  The warmth of his breath on her skin caused gooseflesh to rise along one arm.

  “It’s an amazing thing, isn’t it?” he continued.

  “Awesome.” She knew he was talking about the baby, but her heart meant something—or rather, someone—else.

  “Dads,” their instructor droned on, “don’t be surprised if your wives say some rather…shall we say, unkind things to you during labor.”

  Despite herself, Alicia leaned the back of her head against Joe’s shoulder and closed her eyes. It was easy to pretend he was her husband in his heart as well as legally, that he was the father of her baby. It was easy to imagine going home with him tonight and crawling into bed and snuggling close.

  “Hey,” Joe said, “what are you smiling about?”

  “Nothing much.” Without opening her eyes, she rolled her head from side to side. “Just thinking.”

  “Must be happy thoughts.”

  “Very,” she whispered. “Very happy thoughts.”

  “How was your class?” Grandpa Roger asked them upon their return home.

  Joe helped Alicia out of her coat. “It was fine.”

  “We watched a video of a baby being born.” There was a teasing twinkle in her pretty eyes as she looked at him. “Joe turned green around the gills.”

  “I what?” he protested in mock indignation.

  Her smile brightened. “It’s true, and you know it.” She turned to her grandfather, who was seated at the kitchen table, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I thought Joe was going to pass out. It was sad. Very sad.”

  “She’s telling a whopper, sir. Don’t believe a word of it.” Joe leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “The instructor warned the men about irrational behavior and unkind remarks. I see she was right.”

  Alicia laughed. “She meant during labor.”

  “Does that mean you’re practicing being irrational and unkind?”

  “I have not yet begun to fight.” She punctuated the famous quote with a flourish of an invisible sword.

  “Wish I’d felt up to visiting your class.” Grandpa Roger rose from his chair. “But if there’s going to be fainting and fighting, it’s just as well I stayed home.” He gave Alicia a return kiss on the cheek, then smiled at Joe. “A word to the wise, my boy. Accept the fact that the wife, especially when pregnant, is always right. It will make things much easier on you.”

  “Thanks, sir. I’ll take your advice under cons
ideration.”

  “Good night, you two.”

  “Good night,” they answered in unison.

  Once her grandfather had left the kitchen, Joe returned his gaze to Alicia. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “That would be nice.” She covered a yawn with the flat of her hand.

  “Tired?”

  She nodded.

  “Why don’t you get comfortable while I fix it for you?”

  “Sounds wonderful. Thanks, Joe.”

  Alicia returned to the kitchen five minutes later, wearing her sweats and slippers. Rosie followed her mistress into the room. The cat stopped when she saw Joe near the stove, then she arched her back and hissed, announcing her displeasure.

  He wondered if a hot teakettle, thrown from six feet away, could kill a cat. “Maybe I should find out.”

  “Find out what?”

  He kept staring at Rosie. Only the cat’s tail twitched; otherwise, she was motionless.

  “Joe?”

  Rosie darted out of the room, as if she’d guessed what he was contemplating.

  Triumphant, Joe grinned. “Nothing important.”

  “Hmm.”

  The kettle’s whistle rescued him from having to say more, and he was thankful for that. He didn’t want to spoil the evening by saying—again—that he hated her cat.

  He filled a mug with hot water, then carried it and the variety box of herbal teas to the table. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.”

  He sat across from her and watched as she selected her tea bag, dropped it into the cup, and stirred until the color was right.

  “You were a good sport tonight,” she said softly.

  “Good sport?”

  She glanced up. “You know what I mean.”

  “Hey, I enjoyed myself.”

  An arched eyebrow proclaimed her skepticism.

  “It’s true.”

  She smiled and sipped her tea.

  Why did it bother him so much that she didn’t believe him? He couldn’t say he blamed her. He’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in kids and all the things that went with them.