Motherhood Without Parole. Tanya Michaels
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Delia had hit her professional stride as an executive for a leasing company that oversaw commercial properties, she looked fabulous and, by all accounts, had an enviable sex life with a thirty-seven-year-old man who laughed at her jokes and danced with her at country club events. Unless…was Delia wanting to settle down, and Alexander refused to commit?
“Please don’t tell me forty-three’s a bad age,” Kate joked. “I’m coming up on it fast.”
“Forty-three is great for certain things. But pregnancy?”
“Pregnant!” Kate hadn’t meant to shout. She never raised her voice. In a near whisper she asked, “When did this happen? I mean, when did you find out?”
“About five o’clock this morning.”
Kate made her way to the two-person breakfast table in the corner and sank into one of the chairs, gesturing toward the other. “How sure are you?”
Delia sighed. “I don’t know. The box was at the back of the cabinet—a two-test pack with one left over from God only knows when I bought the thing—and I didn’t think to check for an expiration date. So maybe it was wrong?”
“Maybe? I’ve never used one.”
Delia rolled her eyes. “You’re probably one of those every-twenty-eight-days girls you could set a calendar by. You’re organized even on a biological level. I didn’t even notice when I missed the first period. I stay busy, and frankly it’s not like I’m anxious to experience the cramps and accompanying joys. But then when I realized I’d missed a second one… I got up at five this morning, needing to pee for the third time since going to bed, and knew there was no way I could fall back asleep. But honestly I was expecting a negative. I figured that it would just confirm my suspicions that after forty things get less predictable. Well, this was certainly unpredicted! I haven’t figured out how I’m going to tell Ringo, but the man’s likely to keel over in shock at the news.”
Which explained avoiding him and using the extra time of his New York trip to think it through. “You should get a second opinion,” Kate said. Surely there was room for error in an expired grocery store pregnancy test.
“Oh, trust me. I play tennis sometimes with an OB and I called her on the way here. She told me to swing by her office first thing in the morning, but she went ahead and answered a few questions.”
“About your age?”
“For starters.” Delia stood, clearly restless, and ended up by the island, pivoting the champagne bottle on its base. “Risks, side effects, the drinks I’ve had lately. Even I know pregnant women shouldn’t have alcohol, but the doc said I wouldn’t be the first woman to imbibe before she knew she was expecting. After talking to her, I’m not as worried about what’s past as what the hell happens next.”
“Wow.” It was a lot to take in. Kate could only imagine how her friend felt.
“Yeah. Pregnancy? Wow barely begins to cover it.”
“Is someone pregnant?” Neve chirped.
Both women jumped, having been so intent on the conversation that they hadn’t noticed the teenager at the carpeted edge of the kitchen. Or the woman who was arriving behind her.
“Lily!” Kate stood. “I didn’t hear the doorbell.”
“I opened the door when I saw her drive up,” Neve offered.
Maybe Lily was just here for a friendly cup of coffee, but Kate couldn’t help thinking of a woman in her office who’d adopted a baby and was periodically subjected to unannounced visits from social workers. “Well, good morning. You remember my friend Delia from the wedding and…everything?” The two women had seen each other in the courtroom, as well. “She came over to help me with breakfast for the kids.”
Lily’s laser-beam gaze shot from the bottle of champagne in Delia’s hands to the cookbook open to a bare-chested hunk, then back to Kate. “Uh-huh. Well, is there anything I can do to add my assistance? PJ says he’s really hungry.”
“Starving,” the little boy moaned from the next room with drama Kate wouldn’t have thought the easygoing child capable of an hour ago.
“I, um, was just about to pour cereal.” At least she’d cleaned up the mess caused by their waffle attempts. “You can grab some bowls, if you’d like. Or check the fridge for fresh fruit.”
Delia volunteered to do the latter, burying her head in the refrigerator.
Lounging in the doorway, Neve watched the women retrieving milk and silverware. “So is someone having a baby?”
Lily actually dropped the bowl in her hands, her gaze flying toward Kate.
She thinks I might be pregnant, Kate realized. It was almost funny. But not.
The possibility was less laughable with Delia sitting there facing that very real prospect. Besides, Kate couldn’t scoff at the thought of herself being a mother. Even if she never gave birth, Neve and PJ were here now, her responsibility. Not just for the five months, either.
Though she imagined the situation would become easier once Paul was home, her life had been changed for years to come. Unlike her husband’s temporary confinement in West Virginia, motherhood was a life sentence.
If there was one thing Neve hated, it was the way grown-ups were allowed to change the topic when they didn’t want to answer a question. Kate had conveniently declared breakfast ready without ever addressing the baby issue again. Like that would work if a kid tried it, Neve thought as she chased soggy cornflakes around the bowl with her spoon. She could just imagine her father demanding, Would you like to explain the grade you got on this pop quiz? and her trying to respond with, Hey, Dad, did you know I could roll my tongue into this funny U shape? It would never fly.
Then again, since when had her father taken a pressing interest in her day-to-day schoolwork? As long as her final grade on the report card was okay, he gave her plenty of space. States and states of it. One of Neve’s science teachers had said that the ability to curl your tongue was genetic. Since Neve could, either her father or her mother should be able to, as well. Wonder which one.
She should ask her dad next time she saw him. At least then she’d have an opening line for her first visit to the jail. Her throat clogged as she tried to remember if she’d ever seen her mother do it. Mom made funny faces when no one was looking, just to make Neve and PJ laugh. And she always made macadamia brownies on days that sucked.
Lately it felt like most days sucked.
“Can I be ’scused?” PJ asked. He sat at the small table with Neve, while the three women in the room ate standing around the kitchen island. The cornflakes hadn’t merited a sit-down meal in the carpeted dining room.
“It’s excused,” Neve corrected. “You’re too old to talk like a baby.”
“Neve.” Aunt Lily’s tone was sharp. “Yes, PJ, you may be excused. Put your dishes in the sink first, okay?”
“Excellent idea, Aunt Lily,” PJ said, crossing his eyes in Neve’s direction. “After I rinse my bowl out, can I play the Xbox?”
Brat. “You’ll need help hooking it up,” Neve reminded him. Their father put it away in the closet when they weren’t home. She wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much. After all, she could hardly envision Dad and Kate sitting down to a challenge match of Crazy Taxi, but still… She didn’t like to think of her things stuffed onto crowded shelves and forgotten while her father and Kate did whatever it was boring, married adults did.
Mom was never boring.
She glanced up to find Kate looking at her. “What?” It came out disrespectful, and she was surprised Aunt Lily didn’t reprimand her again.
“Are you all finished?” her stepmother asked.
“Yeah, I guess I wasn’t very hungry.” Now that breakfast was over,