His Christmas Gift ; Decadent Holiday Pleasures

by Janice Sims

  “Oh, it was pretty routine. But I do need to run something by you.” She sighed as she waddled—a term that was a bone of contention between them—into the kitchen. She referred to her manner of walking these days as waddling, but he didn’t agree. He claimed she was poetry in motion. She’d insisted he not contradict her. She was a woman who knew what poetry in motion looked like. She’d danced ballet in her early years and if she weren’t nine months pregnant, she’d still be doing exercises at the bar in the gym that had been put there specifically for her to do her ballet barre workout.

  Her hair was in loose braids down her back, the edges laid down as she liked them to be. He smiled at that. It was her opinion that a lot of women who wore braids had their hair fall out because the braids were too tight and they didn’t take care of their edges. Women and their hair. But who was he to talk? He was as obsessed about his locks, which were coming along nicely. They were six inches long now, dark brown and healthy looking.

  “What do you need to run by me?” he asked, hoping it would be enough to get his mind off his hair.

  They sat down on high stools at the center island. Alia Joie looked into his eyes. “Chance wants to do an hour-long special on Dubai because he says more and more African Americans are going there on vacation.” She maintained eye contact, seemingly expecting a surprised reaction from him.

  However, he felt no particular surge of emotion on hearing her news. He liked Dubai. The people had been welcoming. He’d felt no overt racial prejudice coming from the people while there. In fact, when he’d gotten there he’d been pleased to see so many other visitors with an abundance of melanin in their skin. He had expected nothing but rich white tourists. But there were plenty of people there with black and brown skin.

  Showed how closed-minded even he, a scientist, could be on occasion.

  He smiled at Alia Joie. He sensed she was worried that he might react negatively to the company’s plans to do a special on the place where he’d been living when he’d been snatched and held against his will, but he didn’t feel that way. He placed his hand atop hers and dipped his head, peering into her eyes with a gentle smile on his mouth. “Alia Joie, you can stop worrying about me. I’m fully back home now. I don’t have nightmares anymore. The mention of Dubai isn’t going to send me spiraling into that dark abyss I was in when I got back home.” He placed his hand on her belly. “This is all I care about. You, me and our little one. I don’t blame the city of Dubai for what happened to me. Sure, we were living there when something bad happened to us, but bad things happen everywhere. The people there are like people all over the world—they just want to live their lives in peace and have a safe place to raise their families. They depend on tourism. If the special gets them more tourists, good for them. At the same time, if the special keeps African Americans safe while visiting, even better.”

  The look of relief on her face was almost comical. But he didn’t laugh because this must be serious if the thought of his having a breakdown at the mention of Dubai put her under so much obvious stress. He stood and wrapped his arms around her while she sat on the stool. “Listen to me, my beautiful wife. You shouldn’t be worrying about anything at this point in your pregnancy. Let it go. You and I are okay. Not just okay, we’re splendid.”

  She looked up at him and smiled. “I’m glad we’re splendid because our baby deserves to be born to splendid parents.”

  She looked down at the floor. Water was spreading beneath the stool she was sitting on. He glanced down, too, and wondered why the floor was wet.

  By the time his brain processed the answer to his question, Alia Joie was up and moving toward their bedroom. “My water just broke,” she said as calmly as if she’d said the sky was blue. He hurried after her, seeing the wet spot on the back of her dress and trying his best not to panic. They’d planned for this, after all. Her bag was packed. She would now phone her obstetrician. His job was to phone her parents. Her parents would phone her brothers and best friend, Macy. His job was also to be there to do her bidding.

  So he trailed behind her to the bedroom, his heart pounding, his mission to do what he was told and stay out of the way otherwise. This was new to him, and he’d just play it by ear.

  Alia Joie looked back at him and smiled. “I’m not in pain,” she told him. “Don’t look so stricken.”

  Do I look panicked? Yeah, probably. “Just tell me what you want me to do,” he said.

  They were in the bedroom by now, and she was picking up her cell phone. She punched in the doctor’s number. The phone was at her ear and she held up a finger. “Ringing. Just grab my bag on the shelf above my winter coats in the closet,” she said, and frowned. “A little squeezing of the belly,” she explained. “Baby girl or boy has decided to change position.”

  Adam frowned. That couldn’t be good. Baby Braithwaite was probably as impatient as his or her mother.

  He went and got the bag, which was heavier than he imagined it ought to be when it contained only a change of clothes for Alia Joie and the baby’s outfit for coming home in. Or were there other things in this bag he didn’t know about? And why couldn’t he stop panicking? Women have been giving birth, according to his biblically minded mother, since Eve gave birth to her firstborn, Cain.

  Concentrate on Alia Joie, he ordered himself.

  He went back into the bedroom carrying her hospital bag. She was talking on the phone. He heard her say, “Yeah, all right, thank you, Doctor. We’re heading to the hospital now.”

  Now? Adam thought. I haven’t phoned her parents yet.

  Alia Joie looked up at him. “I’m calling for the car.”

  They’d arranged with a car service to take them to the hospital and bring them back home.

  “I’ll phone your parents,” he said.

  When they answered, James panicked and gave the phone to Debra, who didn’t sound perturbed in the least. “I’ll let everyone else know, and we’ll meet you at the hospital.”

  He and Alia Joie got off their phones at around the same time and looked at each other across the room. He suspected he still looked panicked to her, but he couldn’t help it. She appeared serene, though, for which he was grateful.

  “I’m going to change my clothes,” she announced and went into the walk-in closet to do so. He still had the bag in his hand and set it down on the bed.

  He knew what he could do while she changed and they waited for their ride to arrive. He’d clean the fluid off the kitchen floor. He was good at cleaning. Cleaning relaxed him. Cleaning would help him focus.

  “I’ll be in the kitchen,” he called to Alia Joie.

  “Okay, sweetie,” she called back.

  He took care of the floor in no time. This done, he headed back to the bedroom, from which Alia Joie was exiting, having put on fresh clothing and thrown her purse on its long strap onto her right shoulder. “I’m ready,” she said.

  Adam had to look down at himself to see if he was ready. He was fully dressed. He checked his back pants pocket to see if he had his wallet. Check. Cell phone? In the kitchen.

  “I’m ready, too,” he said. “Let me just grab my cell phone.”

  The car was waiting at the curb when they got downstairs. As the driver, who already knew where they were heading, pulled into traffic, Adam took a deep breath. “Okay, tell me how you’ve been feeling today. No contractions? I read that after the water breaks, contractions could already be underway. If you haven’t been having any, it can take twelve to twenty-four hours for them to start.”

  Alia Joie closed her eyes a moment before speaking. “Actually, I’ve been having some cramping throughout the day. Nothing alarming. I just shrugged them off and kept working. I didn’t call you because I didn’t want you to worry. I figured having this baby is going to take its course, no matter what I do. I—we—are just along for the ride.”

  Adam’s brain almost exploded. She’d b
een having contractions all day, and it hadn’t occurred to her to come home early and get off her feet? What was the matter with modern women? First, his sister-in-law had given birth to his nephew in a bookstore, an event his wife had been present for, and now this?

  “Alia Joie, when you told me how quickly Petra had Benji, I assumed you would try to be more circumspect about giving birth. I didn’t think you’d take from that example that it would be a good idea to ignore your contractions like she did!”

  Alia Joie looked at him and broke into hysterical laughter. She could hardly catch her breath, and he supposed that was probably because her huge belly, now, no doubt, in the midst of another contraction, was obscuring her lungs. Crazy woman. He needed Ramona here to talk some sense into her. But then, Ramona would more than likely be on her side and say to let nature take its course, too.

  “It’s okay, sweetie,” she finally said, wiping tears from her face with her fingers. “The doctor says more than likely it’ll be hours before I give birth. The key is to get to the hospital. Once there, we’ll be in good hands. Try not to worry.” As an afterthought, she added, “Oh, call your mom.”

  Adam did as instructed. It might help him to hear Ramona’s voice, however bossy.

  She picked up the phone with, “Ay, is it that time? Alia’s going to have the baby?” She sounded excited. He heard her turn off either the radio or the TV and yell, “Adam! Your son’s on the phone!”

  “We’re going to the hospital now,” Adam told his mother. “We just wanted you to know. I’ll call again later.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Ramona. “Put Alia on the phone.”

  Adam handed his cell phone to Alia Joie, who took the phone and held it to her ear. “Hello, Momma Ramona.”

  He heard his mother say, “Today, you learn what it means to become a mother, my sweet girl. You already know what it is to be a woman, but this is special. You won’t be the same after this. You will know what it means to love someone even more than your own self. You’re a strong woman—you can make this transition. And remember, once you have that baby in your arms, you won’t mind what’s happened just before it got here.”

  “Momma!” Adam exclaimed, horrified by his mother’s words.

  He was trying to relax Alia Joie, not terrify her. He tried to take the phone from his wife. But she held on to it.

  She smiled at Adam and whispered, “She’s right.” Then she said to her mother-in-law, “Thank you, Momma Ramona, I’ll remember that. Goodbye, I love you!”

  “I love you, too, child,” Ramona said. To Adam, she said, “Don’t panic, and don’t faint.”

  Adam couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Okay, Momma, I won’t. Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye,” said Ramona.

  His wife smiled at him after he’d hung up. “I adore your mom,” she said.

  “I know you do,” he said, also smiling. “Infuriating women often stick together.”

  That made her laugh. He supposed being called infuriating was a compliment to her. God, he loved this woman.

  Chapter 15

  After being in labor for a little over thirteen hours, Alia gave birth to Adam IV, who came into the world weighing eight pounds, fourteen ounces, and measuring twenty-two inches long. Alia took one look at his face and realized Ramona had been right—the misery of the labor and birth receded into the back of her mind, and was replaced by a flood of love so strong she felt overwhelmed with emotion.

  Adam was holding him close so she could peer into his face. She smiled up at Adam. He’d been her rock. For one thing, he had been by her side the entire time. He’d refused to leave when she’d told him to take a break and send her mother in. He went and got her mother for her, but he remained there with his steadying presence. She didn’t think she could have done it without him. She continued to gaze at Adam IV, marveling at his features. Though they were quite scrunched up like most newborns’, you could already see he had his father’s nose shape, which was a little on the long side, and his ears, too.

  His eyes were closed. They’d remained closed even when he’d been breastfeeding a few minutes after birth. She couldn’t wait to see what color they were, whether her cinnamon colored or his father’s milk chocolate or somewhere in between. His skin was a coppery brown. Lighter than hers and his father’s. The tips of his ears were darker, and she remembered the old wives’ tales her folks would tell about African American babies’ skin color being lighter when they were born, but if the tips of their ears were of a darker tint, more than likely the rest of their skin would eventually become darker as the months passed.

  Suddenly Adam IV opened his eyes and appeared to be looking right at her. She knew newborns didn’t focus well at first. But it made her happy to see them open. The color of his eyes was like golden-brown honey.

  “Well, look at that,” Adam said, chuckling softly. “He’s got your eyes.”

  “He’s got your...everything else,” Alia said. “I’m glad he’s got something from me.”

  “Let me see him,” James said as he came into the room, followed by Debra, Chance, Petra, Brock and Macy. Up until then, she and Adam had been alone with Adam IV. Adam IV. They had to think of a nickname for their new son.

  Everyone took turns looking over the baby. Permission was given to snap pictures without using the flash, so her family and Macy took out their cell phones to record the occasion. They were good enough not to stay long, though. Alia was tired, and Adam IV went to sleep peacefully in her arms after his father had placed him in them.

  Once again alone with their son, Adam bent and gently kissed his sweet head. Then he kissed Alia on the lips. “Thank you for giving me this beautiful child.”

  She smiled at him. “We did it together.”

  “You did most of the work,” he said.

  “And I’m tired, so you’d better take him while I sleep,” she warned him with a huge yawn.

  Adam took Adam IV into his arms, and that was the last thing she remembered until a nurse came into the room to check on her sometime later. Adam was asleep in a recliner in the hospital room. “Where’s my baby?” she asked the nurse.

  “He’s in the nursery with the rest of the newborns,” the young African American nurse said. “We’ll bring him to you when it’s time for his next feeding.”

  “Okay,” Alia said, glancing over at Adam, who was snoring softly. “I guess I’ll sleep until then.”

  “That’s a good idea,” the nurse told her. “Get as much sleep as you can. You’re going to need your energy the next few...years.”

  Alia laughed softly. “So true.”

  * * *

  Adam took three months off from work to give Alia Joie time to get her strength back. He’d offered to take more, but she’d insisted she wouldn’t need him to stay home after three months because she’d have everything organized by then. And, even if she didn’t, she’d have three more months off from work to figure it out.

  Adam’s priority became Alia Joie and A.J., which is what they’d decided to call Adam IV. A.J. let them know he was all too human. He kept them up all times of the night. He demanded attention, and there was no leaving him in a crib when he was wide-awake and interested to see what was going on in the rest of the world.

  He was very curious and a fast developer. By three months A.J. was already rolling over, pulling himself into a sitting position in his crib and grasping at the bars. He could hold his head up. And when he looked at you, you knew he was paying close attention to you. To Adam, his rate of growth was uncanny, but he supposed that was because he was a first-time father. Alia Joie told him the doctor had said some babies simply developed faster. His mother, Ramona, had her theory, though. One day he was on the phone with her and she’d told him, “Of course A.J. is growing fast. He’s making room for the next one. He wants a sister or a brother, preferably a sister.”

  “Momma, you�
�re the one who wants another grandchild,” Adam called her out. “Stop using A.J. as an excuse to campaign for more grandchildren.”

  Ramona had laughed. “Doesn’t hurt to try.”

  Adam was a hands-on dad. After A.J. became used to breastfeeding, Adam was able to give A.J. expressed breast milk from a bottle when Alia Joie wanted to rest. He changed him, bathed him and rocked him to sleep. He also started A.J.’s education early by reading to him, letting him listen to different styles of music and singing to him.

  Alia Joie encouraged him to sing to A.J. just before putting him to bed at night, and she would leave them alone. Adam knew she invariably stood in the hallway, out of sight, listening. He could sense her presence.

  He loved her even more for giving him those precious father-son bonding moments with A.J., who would look him straight in the eyes and grin like crazy. His son’s skin was now a uniform reddish brown like his, but his eyes remained the color of cinnamon or dark honey like his mother’s. His cheeks were so chubby, Adam often kissed the soft skin there and breathed in his baby scent. A.J.’s hair was dark brown and silky with waves instead of curls. Adam figured it’d get curlier as he got older. He’d seen photos of Alia Joie when she was a baby, and she’d also had wavy dark brown hair.

  One night after he’d put A.J. to bed, he and Alia Joie decided to make it a spa night and took a soak in the tub together.

  He was washing Alia Joie’s back with a sponge, enjoying the relaxing circular motions, looking forward to getting her out of the tub and into bed where they could cuddle, when she said, “Do you know what important date you recently missed?”

  He racked his brain, trying to think if he’d missed a landmark holiday or something. Was it her birthday? No, that had been about a month or so ago. Their anniversary? Nope, they’d been married in the summer, and it was now mid-December. Then it occurred to him: in November of last year, he’d phoned her from the Pentagon and told her he was free. How could that have slipped his mind? The anniversary of that date had occurred a month ago. Obviously he’d missed it because he was happy. Those thoughts didn’t intrude on his peace of mind anymore.