The Second Time Around

by Marie Ferrarella

  It was a marvelous age they were living in, she thought. And her children would see an even more marvelous one.

  “Soon,” she assured Morgan. “I think there’s a proper time frame for it. I have to talk with my doctor about it.”

  “Do you want a girl?” Christopher asked.

  She glanced toward Jason to see if he had an opinion to offer. Once, she knew, he’d had his heart set on a girl, but that had faded after Morgan. With Christopher, they’d both just assumed the baby would be a boy. And here she was, with another chance at the baby lottery.

  The idea of having a girl thrilled her to death. Not that she didn’t love each of her sons dearly, but a daughter, well, there were things you could do with a daughter that you couldn’t with a son. There were rituals to pass down through generations and, while she would have never traded even one of her sons for a daughter, she had to admit, however secretly, that it was nice to entertain that possibility at the outset.

  Christopher glanced at his watch again, shifting impatiently. “Okay, any other bombshells you want to drop on us? Like one of us was really adopted, or something like that?”

  “Nope, no other bombshells,” she assured him cheerfully. “You’re free to see your girl of the week.” Catching her youngest off guard, she brushed a quick kiss against his cheek.

  “I’ve been seeing her for three weeks,” he protested.

  “My mistake.”

  Laurel did her best to look properly contrite as Christopher quickly hurried out the front door.

  “Sorry, Mom, but I’ve got to fly, too,” Luke told her less than a minute after his youngest brother left. “I promised Denise I was going to pick her up at her place for dinner and a movie.” He looked at his mother for a moment, then shook his head. “Oh God, wait until I tell her the news.”

  Bidding everyone else goodbye, Luke was almost out the door when he came to a sudden, almost skidding halt. He swung around to look at his mother. “Mom, the wedding’s in four months. Are you still going to be able to attend?”

  Tucking her arm through his, she turned him back around toward the door. “I’m pregnant, Luke, not in a coma,” she told him with a laugh. “Even if I was, wild horses couldn’t keep me away from your wedding.”

  Luke’s eyes swept over her form as he pressed his lips together. “I wasn’t exactly thinking about you missing the wedding—”

  And then the light dawned on her and she understood. “You were thinking about how Denise might feel if I took some of the attention from her because by the time the wedding comes, I’ll look as if I’m smuggling beer kegs to a frat party?” He wasn’t saying yes, but she recognized guilt when she saw it. “Don’t worry, Luke, I’ll pick something out that won’t let everyone know your mother’s been fooling around with your father.” She saw color rising to her oldest son’s face.

  “Barring that,” Jason told him as he moved next to Laurel, “I can always throw a sheet over your mother and we’ll pretend she’s a mystery gift.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Luke mumbled, more to himself than to anyone there. It was painfully clear to him that his parents thought of this as some big joke. But then, they didn’t have to face a woman whose mother had been planning her wedding ever since she’d begun eating solid food. “I’ll give you a call,” he said into his chin as he hurried out the door.

  “You shouldn’t torture him like that,” Morgan commented, referring to his mother’s response. “Luke embarrasses easily. Must have something to do with his repressed childhood,” he deadpanned.

  His mother was the most open parent he’d ever known. Unlike his brothers, he’d always felt comfortable around her. Comfortable enough to ask any question and hear any answer. Growing up, he’d always thought of himself as being fortunate because he’d had her for a mother instead of some of the mothers his friends had.

  “So,” Debra said as if some huge hurdle had been met and conquered. “Are we going to celebrate the good news?” She looked at Jason expectantly.

  Laurel grinned. “Is that a hint that you want to go out for dinner, Mother?”

  Debra shrugged, spreading her hands out wide. “Out, in, it doesn’t matter. As long as the meal is taken together with the family. What about you two? Are you free?” she asked, glancing from Lynda to Morgan.

  Morgan had temporarily moved back home after graduation, intent on saving his paychecks until such time as he had enough for a down payment on a condo. On occasion, his evenings meshed with those of his parents. Tonight seemed like one of those nights.

  “I’ve got nothing planned, Grandma,” Morgan told her. “Celebrating sounds like a good idea to me.”

  “Well, then that’s settled,” Debra began. “So—”

  “I have to go,” Lynda interrupted.

  Debra made no effort to hide the annoyance her younger daughter’s declaration generated. “Where do you have to go?”

  “Someplace,” she said forcefully, refusing to elaborate any more than that. Crossing back to the love seat, she picked up her purse. Lynda slipped on her coat even as she made her way back.

  “Wait, I’ll walk you out,” Laurel volunteered, hurrying after her.

  Lynda stopped to fix her collar. “No, you stay,” she ordered, then attempted to smooth over the way she’d snapped by adding, “Don’t want to risk catching a cold now, do you?”

  Without breaking stride, Laurel grabbed her own coat from the rack. “That’s why God invented coats,” she told her sister, quickly slipping hers on.

  The second they were outside the door, and out of earshot of the others, she took hold of Lynda’s arm, stopping her from going to her car. “Okay, Lyn, what’s up?”

  Lynda turned but avoided looking at her as she asked innocently, “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I didn’t expect you to exactly do handstands over this news, but I thought you’d at least be happy for me.”

  “I’m happy,” she retorted.

  “I’ve seen happier faces on the news when the camera pans a crowd of people who’ve just found out they were being laid off.” Laurel made it clear she was not about to let her sister go without some kind of explanation. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t think getting pregnant at forty-six—”

  “Forty-five,” Laurel corrected her patiently.

  “Forty-five,” Lynda repeated, then waved her hand at the number. “Whatever—is such a good idea.”

  Neither had she, on the outset, Laurel thought. But she’d gotten very used to it very quickly, and now, if she didn’t think of the obstacles and didn’t allow any wet blankets to dampen her enthusiasm, she was rather happy about the idea.

  “Well, it’s not like we planned it,” she allowed. “But now that the baby’s on its way—” Laurel stopped abruptly, something sad in her sister’s face catching her attention. She was familiar with the look from years back. Lynda was brooding.

  Because she was pregnant?

  That didn’t make sense. “That’s not it,” she decided out loud. “All the other times, you were always the first one to be excited for me.” She remembered when she’d told her about being pregnant with Luke. Lynda wouldn’t stop begging until she’d promised to make her his godmother. She’d bought gifts for him for weeks before she was finally stopped.

  Lynda shoved her hands into her pockets, staring off down the street at the two little boys attempting to play soccer. Four and five, they kept missing the ball each time they tried to kick it.

  “I’m just being more logical these days. That happens when you grow up.”

  Laurel read between the lines. “This is about Dean, isn’t it?”

  Lynda glanced at her sharply, a denial hot on her tongue. Then she sighed, as if defeated. “I was supposed to be a mother by now. It was my turn this time, not yours. And yet, look at you. Three with one on the way. Even at this age, you’re doing it better than I could.”

  The divorce had hit Lynda hard, blindsiding her. Dean hadn’t been caught fooling around,
hadn’t taken a walk to the candy store one evening, never to return, hadn’t even announced that after thirty-four years, he’d suddenly realized he was the wrong sexual orientation. He’d just looked at her over toast one morning and said that he didn’t love her anymore. That whatever he’d felt for her, for no apparent reason, was gone. He wanted to get out of the marriage so that he could find the one he was meant to be with. Leaving her reeling and emotionally stranded. The family had rallied around her, but it still didn’t help the wounds heal. And Laurel knew it.

  She put her arm around Lynda’s shoulders, but her sister pulled away, keeping her hurt to herself. “I was just lucky to find Jason, that’s all. But your turn will come.”

  “When? When will my turn come?” Lynda demanded angrily. “Just before they close the casket? Is that when I’m going to get my shot at being happy?”

  Although her emotions were pretty much strung out because of her condition, Laurel did her best to sound understanding. “Lynda, you’re thirty-five, not ninety-five. Nobody’s closing a casket on you just yet.” She smiled at her encouragingly. “It’ll happen.”

  Lynda made no effort to keep the bitterness from her voice. “Yeah, I hear romances run rampant in old folks homes.”

  “You’re not set to enter one of those for at least another year or two,” Laurel said. And then she put her hands on her sister’s shoulders, refusing to let Lynda shrug them off. “C’mon back inside, Lyn. We’ll go out. All of us. Like the old days.”

  A half smile played on Lynda’s lips. “In the old days we used to go to those family-style restaurants where we’d spend half the meals if not more chasing after Luke, Morgan and Christopher, trying to get them to sit down and eat.”

  Laurel grinned. “I’ll see if I can get Morgan to run around the table once or twice for old time’s sake,” she said, squeezing her sister’s shoulder. “What do you say? Sound good?”

  Slowly, a smile began to emerge. “Yeah, why not?”

  Laurel nodded, then stopped just before she opened the front door again. She turned to look at Lynda.

  “Dean was a mess, Lyn.”

  “Yeah, I suppose.” Her voice was full of pain and just a little wistfulness. “But he was a gorgeous mess.”

  “Maybe so,” Laurel allowed, “but there’s something better out there for you.”

  Lynda whispered, “Promise?”

  Laurel drew an x over her heart, then held up her hand in a solemn oath. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  “I’ll hold you to that, you know.”

  Laurel paused. “The dying part?”

  Lynda shook her head. “No, the promise part.”

  Laurel grinned again. “I’m not worried.”

  “Sure, why should you be?” Lynda laughed drily. “You’re pregnant.”

  “Trust me, your turn’ll come. And I for one am going to enjoy every lovely minute of it.” Laurel opened the door and called, “Hey, everybody, we’re going out.” She didn’t bother taking off her coat. Instead, she looked at Jason. “I don’t feel like cooking.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Is this a preview of the next nine months?”

  “Eight,” she corrected. She was over three weeks along. “And maybe.”

  Jason nodded, agreeably, going to get his jacket. “Just so I know.”

  CHAPTER 11

  “I guess they’ll survive,” Laurel said as she placed her hair-brush back on the bureau. It was later that evening and she and Jason were getting ready for bed. Morgan had gone out again shortly after they’d returned, saying he’d be home before midnight. They were alone in the house.

  She glanced into the mirror to see Jason’s reaction to her words.

  “Why shouldn’t they survive?” Jason kicked off his shoes. The left landed near the closet, the right found a home near his side of the bed. He tried to keep the resentment out of his voice. “They’re not that directly affected.”

  Habit had her picking up his shoes and arranging them side by side within his portion of the closet. “Excuse me?”

  Jason shrugged, as if debating whether or not he’d chosen the right words. “All right, they’re your sons, your mother, your sister, but they’re not the ones who are going to be lying on that table in eight months, biting off their lower lip as they’re struggling to push out a brand-new life.”

  Was he aware that he’d just awarded her the family, giving up any claim to them? It might have been her sister and her mother, but they were their sons.

  With an inward sigh, Laurel decided it wasn’t worth bringing up. However, she couldn’t allow the second half of his statement pass. Pride wouldn’t let her. “I never bit off my lower lip.”

  His laugh told her that he begged to differ with her memory. “Came damn close with Christopher.”

  There were times when all that seemed as if it had happened yesterday instead of over two decades ago. Vivid memories returned to her as she changed out of her clothes and into the nightgown she favored.

  “If I did, it was just that I didn’t want to scream in your ear.”

  He sat down on the edge of the bed, pitching his socks one at a time in the general direction of the hamper in the bathroom. He missed by several feet. “I would have moved away if you hadn’t had a death grip on my arm. Took me five days to get the feeling back.”

  After hanging up her clothes, Laurel turned to gather his socks and deposit them into the hamper. She glanced toward her husband, a fond smile playing on her lips. He was coming around, and she simply had to be patient. “I never knew you were prone to exaggerating.”

  His mouth curved faintly. “Must be the company I keep.”

  Once he took off his shirt, then his slacks, Jason let them drop where he stood and pulled on the pair of very worn cutoffs he wore to bed. He yanked on a faded Angels T-shirt. Holes had begun to form beneath each arm, but he remained blissfully oblivious to them. He was nothing if not loyal, even when it came to clothing.

  Jason moved back the covers and slid into bed. For a moment, he watched his wife in silence. Watched her pick up the clothing he’d just absently discarded. Watched and thought about how he’d seen her do this exact same thing night after night for what seemed like eternity. There was something strangely comforting about the familiar sight. Something comforting about having her here with him.

  His conscience nudged at him. He had taken all this for granted, had assumed it would always be this way. Nothing just continued. Everything was finite. Some things sooner than later.

  Uneasiness reared its hoary head again. “Are you sure about this, Laurie?”

  After depositing Jason’s clothing on a chair, wondering what it took to educate such an intelligent man to do a few simple things like hang up his clothes, Laurel turned to look at him. He’d asked the question so softly, for a second she thought she’d imagined it. But he was watching her like someone who expected an answer, so he must have said it. So much for thinking he was coming around.

  Maybe it was going to take him a little longer.

  Her hand slipped protectively over her stomach. There was a part of her that was proud of her flat belly, proud that, at age forty-five, she looked more than ten years younger. She was sacrificing a great deal for this tiny invader she had not knowingly invited into her life.

  But in her heart, there was no other path she wanted to take.

  “I’m not having this conversation again, Jase,” she informed him with finality. “This baby isn’t some afterthought I can delete with the press of a button on the keyboard.” She paused. She didn’t presume to know what was best for any other woman in her position, but she knew what was right for her. “I can’t just sweep it from my life.”

  “I know,” he said quickly. “You’re right and I wouldn’t ask you to, it’s just that…” An expert at capturing what it was a client wanted to convey in an ad, Jason had never been any good at putting his own feelings into words. “If I had to do without you…”

  “You’d drown in a
sea of your own dirty clothes within a month.” Laurel grinned, slipping into bed beside him. She kissed his cheek fondly. “I know perfectly well that if I died, you’d wind up standing in the middle of the living room, naked, looking for your car keys.”

  “Not funny, Laurie,” he said so fiercely he almost took her breath away.

  He was really worried, she realized. Suddenly, she was filled with love. “Don’t worry, I’ve got no intention of dying.”

  His expression was stony. “It’s not always up to you.”

  “Yes it is. I’ve got a deal going with God. He gave me this list of things to accomplish before my time down here is over.” A whimsical smile played on her lips. “I’m so far behind now, I can never die, so you have nothing to worry about.”

  He laughed as he kissed her forehead. And then, as he put his arms around her, Jason kissed her again.

  On the lips.

  With feeling.

  Laurel could feel the heat rising within her body even as she banked down her surprise. It had been a while since Jason had wanted to make love to her without her initiating. She’d begun to think that was the way he wanted it.

  Apparently not.

  She felt his fingers coaxing her nightgown from her shoulders. The next moment, his lips had moved there, creating a web of kisses that fed into one another. A warm smile filtered all through her as her body temperature rose several more degrees. She could feel his body hardening with desire.

  She couldn’t help thinking how lucky she was, still in love with the same man after all these years. And having that man still in love with her.

  Restraining herself because all she wanted to do was rip off his beloved T-shirt and frayed cutoffs, she drew back for a moment. This was her husband, right? Not some sexy clone programmed to pleasure her.

  He looked at her quizzically. “Something wrong?”