First Comes Baby Page 8

  “You’re pregnant,” she declared, giving Laurel the once-over.

  “You think?”

  Her grin flashed. “Get dressed. Quit lazing around. Time’s a-wasting.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Pretending to grumble, Laurel went to the bedroom and grabbed jeans from a drawer. Her loosest jeans—she’d already given up on several pairs that had been favorites. She managed to get them up, started to zip them, then stared down in shock at the gap where the zipper clearly wasn’t going to close. How could they have gotten too small in a week?

  She moaned. Okay, she’d been leaving buttons unfastened for several weeks on slacks and skirts for work, but this was ridiculous!

  “Are you all right?” Meg stood in the doorway to the bedroom. Her gaze went straight to the gap. “You look like…well, not a house, not yet, maybe just a cottage, but you’re five months along, and you’re still trying to get into your old jeans? Jeez, Laurel. Don’t you have some with that ugly stretch panel? Or do you plan to go à la Kate Hudson and bare the belly?”

  Laurel rolled her eyes. “Gee, you make both alternatives sound fun. Do I look like Kate Hudson?”

  Megan turned to her dresser. “Well, then, where’s the maternity clothes?”

  “Um…I haven’t bought any?”

  Her sister looked genuinely stunned. “Because you thought you were going to have an exceptionally tiny baby and never get big?”

  “You know I don’t like to shop. Besides,” she grumbled, “I’m always tired.” How could she leave the house with no clothes?

  “Guess what we’re going to do today, like it or not?” Meg went to the closet and rifled through the shirts on hangers, finally selecting a peasant-style tunic in a not-quite-sheer cotton that was embroidered around the hem and neck. She tossed it to Laurel. “Wear this. It’ll hide the waistband.”

  Laurel tried to balk. “What about Summerfest?”

  Her little sister made a rude sound. “Like either of us needs another pretty something to put on a shelf. Whereas you, sweetie, do need clothes. And my advice about what to buy, of course.”

  Laurel meekly followed orders. While she finished getting dressed, Meg checked the Yellow Pages.

  They started at a shop in University Village that also sold baby clothes and toys. Laurel fingered rattles and tiny socks until her sister dragged her to the racks of clothes. Meg made her model everything that wasn’t first rejected for being too cutesy.

  “You will not,” she ordered, “wear a T-shirt that says Baby On Board.”

  “Now I have to buy one.”

  She spent an outrageous amount of money, loaded her purchases in the trunk of Meg’s sports car, then suggested the aquarium.

  Meg hardly glanced at her. “Don’t be silly. We’ve barely begun.”

  Next on the list, apparently, was a shop on Pine called A Pea in the Pod.

  “Isn’t that cutesy?” Laurel asked hopefully.

  “No, it’s just cute,” she was told.

  Another small fortune later, she was outfitted. If she did laundry regularly.

  “You can pick up some practical stuff at Macy’s,” Meg said as they got back in the car. “More jeans, bras, whatever.”

  “Really? I’m allowed?”

  “Come on. Admit it. If I’d left you to your own devices, you would have gone to the department store and bought the absolute minimum, and everything would have been drab. Why not be stylish?”

  “Because I never am?”

  Meg patted her. “You would be if you listened to me more often.”

  “Can we have lunch now?”

  They continued down Pine and parked under the viaduct, decided they weren’t in the mood for the aquarium anymore, but did go to Ivar’s for chowder, clams and chips.

  They took carryout down to the harbor steps, where a breeze off the Sound made the temperature bearable, and sat there to watch boat traffic.

  They ate in contented silence, entertained by the array of humanity that wandered—or skated—by, as well as the marine traffic.

  After downing a French fry, Meg asked, “So where’s Caleb?”

  “Um.” Laurel had to think. “Ecuador. No, maybe Bolivia by now.” And she didn’t like to admit how much she missed him.

  “Why isn’t he hanging around holding your hand?”

  “You think because he donated sperm he should be constantly at my side?”

  “He’s a little more than a sperm donor.”

  Laurel didn’t argue. Caleb was…Caleb. Her best friend. Now the father of her unborn child.

  “Traveling is what he does,” she said simply. “It’s why he agreed to be the father. He isn’t sure he sees himself getting married or having kids otherwise.”

  Her sister gave her an incredulous look. “Men who travel for business get married.”

  “Successfully?”

  Her sister mulled that over. “Maybe it’s tougher.”

  “He doesn’t see it right now. That’s all I know.”

  “Hmm.”

  Laurel narrowed her eyes. “What’s that mean?”

  “Nothing.” Meg widened her eyes in a way that told Laurel she was lying and it had meant something for sure. “Back to Caleb. He’s just planning to stop by once in a while?”

  “He’s planning to be here when I need him. I don’t right now.”

  They’d talked about it a couple of times. He’d been reluctant to make this trip, but she felt good right now. Sometimes she still napped at her desk, but mostly she was fine. “When I get mountainous,” she’d told him, “you can grocery shop for me. And I know you want to be here for the birth.”

  She had mixed feelings about that, torn between wanting him holding her hand and not liking the idea of him seeing her so vulnerable. But she was learning that the adult Caleb was stubborn. He intended to be there, and that was that.

  Plus…she thought she wanted him there more than she didn’t want him.

  About her last remark, Meg conceded, “I suppose it makes sense for him to get his trips out of the way during the easiest part of your pregnancy. I was starting to develop a grudge.”

  “Don’t. He saved my life when he made me take that week off.”

  She hadn’t been so happy in a long time as she’d been during that week. Maybe not since she’d graduated from PLU and hugged all her friends goodbye.

  “You never do anything fun,” Meg said.

  “I’m trying to do better.” And she was. Last weekend she’d gone on a west Seattle garden tour, getting the chance to see glorious, small gardens that had given her a million ideas. Two weeks before that, she’d spent a few hours wandering the Pike Place Market. Another day, she’d ridden the ferry to Bremerton and back, as she’d promised herself. She’d loved the sunshine and salt air, but missed having Caleb beside her.

  “Do you ever hear from your college roommate?” Meg asked, as if she sensed how close Laurel’s thoughts had edged to her loneliness. To the fact that she’d done all those things by herself.

  “Oh, I got an e-mail a while back,” she said vaguely.

  Five months back, to be precise. And she’d meant to call or e-mail in response, to say, Guess what! I’m pregnant, too. But she hadn’t, because…oh, she hardly knew why. Because she didn’t want to talk about why she hadn’t responded to Nadia’s overtures in the previous years?

  Probably, Laurel admitted to herself. She already knew she had created a whole life around her cowardice. The counselor she’d seen for several years had supported her venturing back into life one toe at a time rather than diving in. Laurel wasn’t sure she’d meant the kind of caution that shut out old friends, though, and she’d sometimes used the word temporary. As if she assumed Laurel would someday take up her life where she’d left off, if wiser and sadder.

  That evening, after Meg had gone home, Laurel made herself a salad for dinner and thought more about Nadia. That day when she’d taken the ferry just for fun, she could have gotten on the one going to Bainbridge Island. She�
�d chosen the Bremerton ferry instead because the ride was longer, she’d told herself, but now she thought it was also another form of mental avoidance. Nadia lived on Bainbridge. Laurel would have had to think about her if she’d seen the island rearing up. It would have been so easy to call and say, I thought I’d hop on a ferry. Want to have lunch?

  What would Nadia have said? Had she given up on Laurel, after yet another friendly approach was rebuffed?

  What would she say if Laurel called now? As in, this evening now? As soon as she finished eating now?

  Familiar anxiety climbed into Laurel’s throat. Of course, she could e-mail instead. It was so much easier to explain herself when she could reread and edit than when words just came out and couldn’t be taken back. That made sense, she thought, relieved. Maybe later tonight she’d see if there was an e-mail from Caleb and then she could compose one to Nadia. Or tomorrow.

  Her tension eased.

  Soon, anyway.

  Relaxed again, she had stood to take her dishes to the sink when she heard again the tendrils of her self-dialogue as if an echo had returned to her. Laurel stopped halfway into the kitchen. How many times had she soothed herself that way? Her favorite words were soon, someday and maybe next year.

  Cowardly words. The kind she would have despised when she was twenty-two and ready to take on the world.

  They were the kind of words that let her off the hook. Next year could be renewed every year. Soon was ill-defined enough that it might never come and that was okay.

  What was she afraid of? That Nadia would be angry? That she would have plainly lost interest in their friendship?

  Or that she’d want to renew it?

  Laurel honestly didn’t know. But she felt something she hardly recognized: a stiffening of her backbone, maybe. A determination to ignore this anxiety instead of deferring to it.

  It would be nice to talk to Nadia. All the time she’d been spending with Caleb had reminded her of the fun they’d had, of the hours out on the lawn or slouched on dorm beds when they’d debated and dreamed and schemed. Not just Laurel and Caleb, but also Laurel and Nadia. They’d become like sisters.

  Nadia, she vaguely remembered, had barely left her side at the hospital. Laurel was the one to let it be known that she needed some space, that old friends made her uncomfortable.

  As compared to new friends?

  She wouldn’t know. Matt was the only real friend Laurel had made since she was released from the hospital. She’d had high school friends, college friends and legal aid friends. Except for him, the last new ones she’d made had been other first-year law students. They’d rallied, too, but drifted away when she didn’t return phone calls and their lives moved on while hers didn’t.

  Only family had stuck. Family, and Caleb. But she’d never felt really easy even with Caleb until these last months, when she’d spent so much time with him. He didn’t seem disappointed in her. Maybe Nadia wouldn’t be, either.

  Would she love Nadia any less if she’d gotten a waitress job out of school instead of acting on her dreams?

  Of course not. That’s not what friendship was about.

  No, she reminded herself, but friends couldn’t help but be mirrors she would see herself in.

  And that, in a nutshell, was what created the anxiety. She didn’t want to compare herself to who she’d once been, and who she might have been.

  Well, duh. She’d known that, in a way. But maybe she was ready to start peering at herself in those mirrors, if obliquely. Remembering, she’d discovered with Caleb, wasn’t all bad.

  Heart pounding, she found herself picking up the phone with no memory of having set down her dishes. She had never once called Nadia at the Bainbridge home she shared with her husband and had to look up the phone number.

  She dialed and listened as the phone rang once, twice, three times. Then it was picked up and a man said, “Hello?”

  Taken aback, forgetting there was a husband, Laurel fumbled, “Um, may I speak to Nadia?”

  “Let me check and see if she’s lying down. May I ask who’s calling?”

  On a flare of alarm, Laurel thought, Lying down? Then, Wait. She told me she was pregnant five months ago. That must mean she’s at least eight months along.

  “Laurel,” she said. “Laurel Woodall.”

  “Really.” There was a significant pause. “Hello, Laurel Woodall. You, she’ll get up for.”

  So Nadia had talked about her. Was that good, or bad? She waited, rigid, fingers tight on the phone.

  After at least a minute, Nadia came on the line. Her voice was cautious, but also thick, as if she was on the verge of tears. “Laurel? Is it really you?”

  “It’s me.” What else could she—should she—say? “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry? For what?”

  “That I haven’t called in years.”

  “But you’re calling now.” Definitely teary.

  Shying from the emotion, Laurel said, “And you, you’re pregnant.”

  “Due in less than two weeks. Can you believe it? You wouldn’t recognize me! I’m a hippo. I keep expecting the doctor to tell me he’s hearing two heartbeats, but no. Apparently I’m just bearing a baby who’ll be featured on a tabloid cover. ‘Newborn ready for preschool,’ obstetrician says.”

  Laurel laughed, wondering how she could have forgotten how funny Nadia was.

  “Do you know if it’s a girl or boy?”

  “Nope. Mystery kid.” Nadia told her she’d be coming over to Seattle to have her baby at Swedish, contractions and ferry schedules permitting.

  “I’ll come and see you. And your baby.”

  “You could come sooner than that. I’m dying of boredom. I’m a mere ferry ride away.”

  Rather than answering directly, Laurel blurted, “I’m pregnant, too.”

  “Really?” Nadia said in amazement. “Oh, Lord. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded! Just that you swore you’d never…”

  “It’s okay,” Laurel assured her. “Actually…I haven’t. I did it the high-tech way. Well, really not that high tech, because I…” She didn’t have to explain that she’d inseminated herself, for goodness’ sake! “Caleb donated sperm.”

  This final, bald statement brought silence. Finally, “Caleb?”

  “We’ve stayed friends.” She knew she sounded defensive.

  “With Caleb.” It wasn’t a question. Instead, Nadia was making a small, sad statement. With him, but not with me.

  “He wouldn’t go away.”

  “You mean, he didn’t give up like I did?”

  This was harder to explain than she’d expected. “He just kept showing up no matter how rude I was to him.”

  Another moment of silence. “I’m sorry I did give up, Laurel. We were better friends than that.”

  “He was always stubborn.”

  “You love Caleb.”

  Willfully, Laurel misunderstood. “I love you, too.”

  “No, I mean…” Nadia stopped. “You’re having Caleb’s baby. Damn. I wish we’d set up a pool. I’d be raking in dough.”

  “You thought I’d have Caleb’s baby?”

  “I thought you’d end up with him. Having his baby being the finale.”

  “But I’m not with him. We’re still just friends.”

  “Same result, though.”

  Laurel looked down at her swelling stomach. “Well…yeah.”

  “How far along are you?”

  They spent a happy ten minutes comparing symptoms and complaining about the myriad miseries they’d encountered since conceiving.

  “You lost weight?” Nadia said incredulously. “God. All I’ve done is gain! My doctor has been nagging me since month three. I don’t want to count calories. I just want to eat.”

  “Now that I’ve gotten over puking, me, too. I’m making up for lost time.”

  “Just think. We’re pregnant at the same time.”

  It was true. Maybe their lives hadn’t diverged so very far.

  “Can you
make it over here?”

  “You’re not working?”

  “Through my seventh month. Then I took a leave of absence. Honestly, I may not go back for a year or more. What about you?”

  “I can’t afford not to go back.”

  “Isn’t Caleb doing really well? I keep reading about his stores expanding.”

  To yet another person, Laurel had to explain that she couldn’t let a man who wasn’t her husband or even lover support her just because she’d asked him to donate sperm.

  “Is that how he feels about it?”

  “It’s how I feel.”

  “You always had trouble taking favors. Even compliments. So I guess money isn’t any surprise.”

  Favors? So she liked to make her own way. That was a failing? And the compliments she’d had trouble taking were the ones on her appearance. She knew she wasn’t anything special to look at, and didn’t appreciate insincerity. So what?

  “I’d really like to see you,” Nadia continued.

  “I’d like to see you, too.”

  “It needs to be soon. I’ve been getting twinges.”

  Sunday was her day for grocery shopping, but she could put it off. “Tomorrow?”

  “Really?” Nadia sounded weepy again. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you so much!”

  They discussed the ferry schedule, and Nadia called to her husband who agreed to meet Laurel at the dock.

  Dazed, Laurel hung up. She sagged into a chair and searched for the familiar anxiety only to find it missing. She’d called Nadia. She was fine. Better than fine. She was excited.

  She had to tell Caleb.

  Only minutes later, she was online.

  I called Nadia, she typed. And guess what? I’m going to take the ferry to Bainbridge tomorrow to see her.

  CHAPTER SIX