by Leslie Pike
I waddle my way back into the house to where the housekeeper is. I find her in the second dining room setting the table for tonight’s dinner.
“Oh that looks beautiful, Magda.”
“It’s a pleasure to set this table, Mrs. Alden. I love this room.”
“Are you ever going to call us by our first names?”
“No. It wouldn’t be right. That’s how I was trained.”
I’m reminded of Downton Abbey and the staff there. I look around at our little nest. When I moved in with Jack, he decided the formal dining room was too big for just us two. So he surprised me with this charmed private space. He had one of the bedrooms on the first floor remodeled into a romantic dining room. With its gorgeous view of the backyard and beyond it’s a warm cocoon complete with Venetian chandelier rich ebony walls and the same dark wood floor. The lighting is sexy and low. We sit close to each other in the center of the room, on a custom mosaic table he had shipped from France.
“My mind is like a sieve lately. What time is the chef getting here?” I ask.
“You told him to be here by five thirty. He plans on serving dinner at seven.”
“Okay,” I say, looking at my watch. “Jack will be back soon. It’s five now, so I’m going to go get put together. It’s taking me a little bit longer to get going these days.”
“You look beautiful in whatever you wear, Mrs. Alden.” She lays the final touch on the table, the small shallow crystal bowl of floating gardenias. The scent is intoxicating.
“Thank you, Magda. But I want to look extra nice tonight,” I say as I leave the room.
As usual, it takes me some time to climb the stairs. It’s really getting more difficult by the week. My legs even feel tight tonight, not just my feet. I’m retaining water today. I’ll take my blood pressure just to stay on top of things. But first I want to visit the nursery. As I reach the top of the stairs, I make a left. We made the second large office into the baby’s room. I turn the knob.
Each time I walk in here it makes me happy. It’s all in muted colors of oatmeal, gray and baby blue. The state-of-the-art antique looking crib is against the window, overlooking the ocean view. In the center of the room is a large chandelier casting its soft glow. My new favorite chair and ottoman sit waiting for us to rest in while I breast feed. But it’s the unique wall art that commands your attention. One entire wall is painted with the sheet music from Brahms’s Lullaby. It runs the whole length of the room, and on the lines are perched baby animals like a bunny, a chipmunk and a bird. The artist who did the work was a perfectionist and it shows. And lastly, on either side of the picture window hangs Bliss’ shower gift’s to us, our beloved framed toys. I walk over to the changing table and rearrange the items on top, fussing with them ad infinitum. There’s just one final sweeping look before leaving the room.
A shower sounds wonderful, but I’m even a little tired for that. I’m glad to have the bench to sit on if I get too fatigued. But the thought of the warm water pouring over me wins me over. I go to my closet and get out of my clothes. Then I catch my image in the full-length mirrors. It’s really shocking every time I see how my body has changed. My breasts are big. That’s a sentence I thought I’d never say. And my nipples are bigger. It’s impossible to see my pussy any more, and has been for a few months. I’m hairier than I’ve been in years. Turning sideways I run my hand over my enormous belly. It’s easy now to picture a little baby resting inside.
“How beautiful you look,” Jack says softly.
I turn to find him standing in the doorway.
“Oh no, Jack!” I say grabbing the wrap from the hanger and covering myself.
He comes to me and removes it. “Please, let me see you.”
So I let my fears and the cover go. He comes up behind me and together we look at my reflection.
“I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight. I mean that,” he says.
He runs a gentle hand over my breasts and stomach.
“You’ve got a good mouthful now, man.”
He chuckles. “Your breasts have always been just the right size. Then, now, doesn’t matter to me. But now I’m going to have to share.”
“And according to what I’ve read, it might be awhile before you get your turn, sore nipples and all you know.”
He turns me around and brings me as close to him as possible. “I’ll be patient.”
“I know you will. You’re going to be a great daddy. I have no doubt about that.”
“How would you like to take a shower with me before dinner?”
“Mr. Alden, you read my mind.”
As Jack loses his clothes and I grab my robe, we talk about the day.
“How were the stairs today?”
“Tougher.”
“The next time you get pregnant I’m putting in an elevator.”
“Next time? Let’s get past number one first.”
We move to the master bath. I remember the first time I saw this room. I was stunned by its beauty and the fact that it was just for two people. The shower alone could fit six. We haven’t been able to use the whirlpool tub for months now, but it’s normally a favorite for both of us.
Jack brings up my favorite playlist and the music fills the room and sets the mood. Helping me into the shower he climbs in behind me. His smooth hands run over my back. He picks up my long hair and lays it over my shoulder out of the way. Then kisses my neck and with his fingers follows the curves of my body down to the top of my ass. He soaps his hands and reaches around to the front of me. I feel his hard cock. But his touch is as soft as a whisper as he washes me. My breasts, my stomach, the tops of my thighs. But when he tries to reach my privates his reach is greater than his grasp. My enormous stomach’s blocking his goal. We start laughing. Then that makes me pee a little. I turn toward him.
“Oh my God! I’m peeing, Jack! Stop making me laugh!”
“A golden shower from a pregnant woman? Kinky.”
But suddenly I’m off balance. I grab his arm. “Oh, I’m dizzy.”
He puts an arm around me and guides me to the bench. “Sit down.”
“I think I was standing too long in one place.”
He grabs the shower arm. “Let me wash you off. Then we’ll get out.”
I don’t fight the suggestion. He washes the soap off us both and shuts the water off. Opening the shower door, he grabs the heated towel from the bar and wraps it around me.
“Come on.” He guides me out onto the cushy mat.
“That’s good, Jack. I feel better.”
But he doesn’t let go of me. “Let me just walk you to the bed. You should lie down.”
“No! I’m fine. Really. I have a great dinner planned. And I want to talk to you about something.”
He’s standing naked, dripping water everywhere. But he’s unaware. All he’s thinking about is me.
“Are you sure?” he says.
“Let’s get dressed. I’m starving,” I say, pretending to feel perfect.
We make it downstairs and into our intimate dining room within twenty minutes.
“Isn’t this the most romantic setting?” I ask.
“With you it is. With you both here with me it is.”
He reaches across the table and entwines his fingers in mine.
“How did you like the meal?” I say.
“I think this guy’s the best we’ve tried. What’s for dessert?”
I take a deep breath before I speak. “Let’s talk first.”
He sits back in his chair. I can tell he’s reading me, and he knows something’s up. “Sure.”
I look at that face, that mouth, those eyes. “You look tired tonight, Jack.”
He runs a hand through his thick unruly head of hair. “I know. It’ll pass. I just need a good night’s sleep.”
“You haven’t been sleeping soundly for a while now. I hear you sometimes lately getting up in the middle of the night.”
He looks surprised. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wa
ke you.”
I take his hand back. “It’s a wife thing. I feel it before I see it. And I know why it’s happening.”
He doesn’t try to deny the truth. “I’ll get it together soon. It’s just that things are so up in the air. But I don’t want you to worry about it, Nicki. You’ve got enough on your plate without my problems interfering.”
“Don’t you know your problems are my problems?” But I say it with all the tenderness I feel. “And your happiness mine too?”
He looks confused. “I don’t know where this is going.”
“Jack, I’ve thought long and hard about this. I’ve turned it over in my mind a thousand times. But I always get the same answer no matter how I look at things. I think John should come and live with us when his mother dies. He’ll need to be with his father. I think he should become part of our family.”
He stays perfectly still and when he speaks it’s barely above a whisper. As if acknowledging what I’ve said will make it just a dream. “Really?”
“Really. It’s the right thing to do. Not just for John, but for us. I don’t think you could be happy knowing he was somewhere else. And if you’re not happy, I’m not happy. I love you, really truly love you.”
I’ve never seen the look he has on his face. It’s so full of emotion, happiness, love. His eyes narrow.
“I’m shocked. I never would have asked you to consider it. Especially not with our baby coming. But I’ve dreamt of it. I have. I’d love for him to live here and to be able to spend whatever time he has left with me. It kills me to think the last years of his life would be spent with strangers.”
I just let him talk. I don’t want to interrupt what he’s feeling.
“I don’t know what to say, Nicki. But have you really thought this out? I mean the gritty details. It’s not going to be easy for you, or for him or for our child when he gets old enough to absorb the whole story. Not even for me.”
“I know that. But we’ll figure it out together. Where there’s love there’s strength. The fact that we can afford round-the-clock help factors into my decision. I won’t pretend otherwise. But it can work, if he’s just half as wonderful as his mother and father.”
He gets up and comes to me, then kneels down to look directly into my eyes. He’s so moved he can’t speak, but just nods his head with relief and gratitude. I rest him against me and kiss his forehead.
By nine thirty we climb into our bed fully satisfied, both physically and emotionally. Two hours later I wake with a start. Oh, my head. It’s pounding harder than I’ve felt before and I feel nauseous. I lay still for a moment but it doesn’t pass.
“Jack! Jack!” I call out trying to wake him.
It only takes those two words to wake him out of his deep sleep.
“What? What’s wrong?” he says groggily.
“I don’t feel well.”
That brings him to full consciousness, on alert. “Okay. Let’s take your blood pressure.”
He starts to get up.
“Bring me something in case I have to vomit.”
I don’t need to look at his face to know I’ve just frightened him.
“Okay.”
He’s up and headed for the bathroom. He brings a small wastebasket from under the sink.
“That’s good,” I say.
Walking to the dresser, he retrieves the BP kit.
“Let me have your arm.”
I stretch it out and he works to attach the cuff.
“Oh, my head’s killing me.”
“We’ll call Doctor Nakamura after I get a reading.”
I hear the machine release its grip.
“One forty-five over eighty-three. I’m calling.”
I don’t protest. It seems like an eternity before he’s talking with the doctor.
“It’s Jack Alden,” he says. “Nicki’s having a bad headache and she’s nauseous. Her blood pressure is one forty-five over eighty-three.”
He listens to the doctor’s instructions.
“Do you have any bleeding?” he asks me.
“No.”
“No, doctor. No bleeding.”
“Have you thrown up?” Jack relays the doctor’s question.
“No. That’s passing.”
“No. She says it’s getting better.”
The doctor’s telling him something.
“Okay. Now? Tonight?”
Another few beats pass.
“All right. We’ll meet you there.”
He disconnects and looks at me with the oddest expression. His face looks calm and he’s acting cool, but he’s scared. His eyes are a little too wide opened.
“So, she said we need to meet her at the hospital. Just as a precaution. In case you have preeclampsia. She wants to check you out.”
“In the middle of the night?”
“Yes. And really, Nicki that’s the best place to be. They’ll monitor you and the baby. And make sure you’re hydrated.”
I’m silently calculating how far along I am if the ultrasound was right. Eight months and maybe twelve days. It’s early, and the doctor said that calculation may be off as well. In which case I’m even earlier.
“So come on, babe. I’ll help you down those fucking stairs. You don’t even need to put different clothes on.”
I don’t fight him. I’m a little scared too. And I feel too shitty to care about what I’m wearing.
“Get me my lavender robe and my black flip flops. I can still fit in those.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
BLISS
“How long do you think you’ll be there?” Steven asks drinking the last of his coffee.
We’re sitting at the breakfast table planning our day.
“I don’t really know. Carl’s surgery is at nine and I have no idea how long the procedure is. And of course I’m going to visit Nicki and Jack.”
“Are they keeping her there till the baby comes?” he asks.
“I know nothing. When Jack called he only had a few minutes. I guess she wasn’t feeling well last night and ended up in the hospital. He said he’d explain it all when I come visit today.”
“I hope the baby’s not in danger.” His brow furrows with concern.
He said it’s just a precaution. I called Anne and had her gather some things to bring to Nicki. I tried to think of what they’d need from home.”
“That was sweet of you.”
“I’m going to stop by and pick them up on the way.”
He gets up and gathers his script, phone and keys from the counter. “If you get a chance let me know how it all goes. I’ll be at the studios all day in meetings. But leave me a message if I don’t pick up,”
“I will, honey.”
“If I get home early enough I’ll text you to see if it’s a good idea for me to visit.”
I get up and wrap my arms around his neck and lean my head to his. “Give me a butterfly kiss.”
We bring our faces to each other and flutter our eyelashes.
“You’re crazy woman. Look what you have me doing,” he says sweetly.
“Remember when the real butterflies were all around us?” I say.
“I remember. That was a very good day to say the absolute least.”
He brings his hips to mine.
“Naked with Steven in a butterfly sanctuary. That’s what my answer would be if someone asked me how I’d like to die.”
He kisses me and carries me away.
“Bliss, why do you always do this to me?” He tosses his keys and script and phone back onto the counter.
“No! I can’t. Really, Steven. I want to be at the hospital before Carl goes in for surgery.”
If looks could kill a wife, I’d be laid out cold. He adjusts the bulge in his pants and steps away.
“She-devil witch. That’s what you are. I’m out of here. Don’t come near me again!” He laughs.
He lifts his hands and positions his fingers in the shape of a cross to ward me off. “Back!” he jokes.
> When he leaves I grab my purse making sure my phone is inside and at the last moment my iPad. There may be a chance to write a bit with all the sitting and waiting involved. I hear the Cobra fire up as I lock the front door behind me. That sound is sexy as hell, and unmistakable. It reminds me of that first day. Steven backs out of the driveway and he’s gone with a wave.
It’s a quick hop skip and a jump to my destination. Here I am again in Mission Hospital, for the second time in a month. I’ve got my arms full with purse and iPad and I’m pulling along the suitcase Anne packed for Nicki and Jack. Walking through the front entrance, I’m stopped by the guard standing at the information desk in the center of the room. Two senior volunteers sit waiting to direct visitors to their intended floors.
“Excuse me miss,” he says putting out his hand to stop me.
“Yes?”
“You’ll need an I.D. badge if you’re going past this point. Can I see your driver’s license, please?”
“Really? Okay.” I put my things down and take out my license.
“Thank you.” He moves around to the other side of the desk, and makes a photocopy of my license picture. In a few moves he hands me back an embossed I.D. with a small clip attached.
“Thank you,” I say clipping the badge to my purse handle. I start to speak to the kind looking woman who’s looking at me smiling. She almost looks like she recognizes me.
“Can you tell me what room Carl Kennedy is in?” I say.
“I’ll show you, darlin’.”
I turn to find Finn standing right behind me. He leans in for a quick kiss.
“Oh Finn, hi.”
Now it makes sense. I know exactly why the woman is smiling. It’s the Finn effect.
“Thank you,” I say to her.
“The elevator’s over there,” Finn says pointing the way. “Let me take that for you.”
He wheels the suitcase to his side.
“How’s your dad doing?”
