Chapter Twenty-Seven
STACEY WOKE UP feeling exactly the same way she had when she went to bed the night before—swollen, exhausted, achy and crabby. She wanted to pick a fight with pretty much anyone and wished she could get one of those foam bats so she could pound away without hurting anyone. She didn’t want to eat or drink or talk, she just wanted to feel better.
She forced herself to shower, then stood in the bathroom and tried to convince herself she would be fine once she got to work. Only for the first time maybe ever, she couldn’t imagine dragging herself into the lab today. She called Lexi and told her she was taking the morning off, pulled on maternity yoga pants and a T-shirt, then went into the kitchen, dreading a disgusting breakfast of protein-fortified oatmeal, fresh fruit and herbal tea.
She found Ashton sitting at the table, his tablet in front of him. He looked up when she walked in.
“Morning. You’re not going to work?”
“Maybe later. I’m just so tired.”
He eyed her swollen belly. “Dragging all that around can’t be easy. Can I fix you breakfast?”
His unexpected question almost made her cry. She sank into a chair. “Thank you. That would be wonderful.”
“No problem.”
He got up and filled the teakettle and put it on the stove. After measuring out the oatmeal, he put it in a bowl, then pulled out a container of cut-up fruit.
“I heard back on the online class,” he said, sounding sheepish. “I got an A.”
“Congratulations.”
“Don’t say that. I don’t deserve it. I have no idea why I was goofing off like that. It was really stupid.”
“There could be a lot of reasons. You’re still settling in to living here, so nothing is familiar. You’re adjusting to having Becca in your life. You’re ambivalent about your mother and guilty about your success when compared to what she’s going through so you self-sabotage.” Bay wandered into the kitchen, one of her puppies trailing after her.
“You’re uncomfortably insightful.”
She waved away his comment as she patted Bay. “Just speculating. I’m not sure the why matters so much now that you’re aware of what you did. I think as long as you don’t let it happen on a regular basis when you go to college, you’ll be fine.”
He measured loose tea into the teapot before adding the boiling water. He set the pot, a cup and saucer, along with a tea strainer in front of her. He added a container of yogurt, a spoon, some fresh fruit and a napkin.
“I’ll get going on the oatmeal.”
“Thank you.” She felt the strangest need to cry and did her best to push away the tears. Talking about something less emotional than him preparing her breakfast seemed the best way to cope.
“Are you nervous about college?” she asked.
“Some.” He measured out water from the kettle and poured it, along with oatmeal, into a pot, then adjusted the temperature on the stove and began to stir the mixture. “Not counting you and Kit, no one I’ve known has ever gone to college. I’m not sure what to expect.”
Finally a topic on which she could excel. If there was one thing she knew and knew well, it was how to get through the maze that was higher education.
“The first thing you have to be prepared for is how huge the campus is. All major colleges are practically their own cities. The dorms have very specific rules about when you can show up and what you can bring, but don’t worry about that. We’ll go in a few days early so you’re completely comfortable with where everything is.”
Ashton glanced at her, all the while stirring her oatmeal. “You’re coming with me when I go to MIT?”
“Not if you don’t want me to, but I’d planned on making sure you were settled. We can ship a lot of your stuff ahead, but some things just aren’t practical. I’ll have to read the rules for the dorms. Sometimes you can have a mini fridge and sometimes you can’t. That sort of thing. Linens matter, believe me. A good desk chair. You’re not used to the winters so you’ll need several coats in different material to manage the weather. We definitely want to buy those there. Los Angeles is not the place to try to buy a heavy-duty coat.”
“Thanks, Stacey. That means a lot to me.”
He spoke without turning around and his voice sounded slightly strangled. She wasn’t sure what that meant but decided it was better not to ask.
“Once you start school, you have to be prepared for the speed at which everything moves. Academically, you’ll start to feel lost within a couple of days. Don’t let that throw you—everyone is experiencing the same thing. Find out who the TAs are. Go to tutorials. You’re going to have to create your own support group, but don’t jump into anything. You want to find out who’s smart and who’s working hard. They aren’t always the same people. Protect your study time. Create a study schedule and stick to it. You can party after you graduate.”
He turned around and grinned. “You’re saying I’ll have temptations?”
“More than you can count. Not just parties, but other activities. Lectures and workshops. They can be just as interesting.”
“What were you tempted by?”
She poured herself a cup of tea and took a sip. Bay had settled at her feet. The other puppies had joined the first and now they all climbed over their mother, who seemed content to ignore them. “I went to college when I was fifteen. No one bothered with me, but I saw what was happening around me.”
She dipped her spoon into the yogurt, then left it there. “You’re as smart as anyone else, but you won’t feel it. Just know that they’re faking it, too. If you don’t understand the assignment, ask. The professors are intimidating on purpose. They want to weed out those who aren’t going to stick to the program. There’s a reason the class size gets smaller as you move through your studies and not all of it is because the subject matter is harder. People drop out.”
She thought about what else she could tell him. “They’ll have seminars for freshmen. Go to all of them. Learn about campus life. Once you’re in a groove with your studies, you can start to branch out socially. If your roommate parties all night, ask to change rooms. Don’t stop asking until you’re in a living situation that works for you.”
“You know your stuff.”
“I went to school for a lot of years.” Getting two PhD’s had taken a bit of time.
There was more, but she felt an odd pressure in her belly. Something uncomfortable.
She rose. “I’ll be right back.”
As her pregnancy had her running to pee continually, Ashton didn’t ask if she was all right, which she appreciated. She made it to the master bathroom only to realize she didn’t have to go at all. Her bladder wasn’t full, it was—
She was unprepared for the pain that ripped through her. One of the books she’d read had likened contractions to menstrual cramps, but except for location, these had nothing in common. The sharp, almost-twisting band of tightening muscles had her leaning against the wall and trying to catch her breath. A quick wave of nausea swept over her before fading. The contraction eased, and then her water broke.
What was it with the human body and fluids, she thought as she stared at the mess on the floor. The steady dribble down her legs warned her this wasn’t like the movies where there was a clean whoosh and then nothing. Even more significant, she sensed things were going to get worse before they got better.
She dropped towels on the floor, before getting out of her wet pants. She used a sanitary napkin to manage the amniotic fluid as best she could, then put on clean yoga pants and took a few minutes to try to relax and catch her breath before she went to find her phone.
Bay was waiting outside the closed door. The dog whined low in her throat when she saw Stacey.
“I’m okay,” Stacey told her. “It’s just...”
Another contraction hit. This one was just as intense, just as unwelcome.
“Stacey, are you—” Ashton hovered in the doorway to the bedroom for a second, then rushed to her side. “What’s wrong?”
She handed him the phone and did her best to keep breathing. “I’m having contractions. Call Kit.” She looked at Bay. “How did you get through this so calmly?”
Bay moved close and licked her hand. Stacey patted her and tried to steady her breathing. “I’m going to be fine,” she lied, terrified that nothing would ever be fine again.
* * *
Stacey acknowledged that she was most likely not the first woman to be annoyed by the euphemism of the word labor to describe what her body was going through. She could actually see her muscles rippling with each contraction and the sensation to push grew with every passing second.
The epidural had helped, but it didn’t take away all the pain, nor did it ease her sense of helplessness. The baby was coming and she couldn’t stop it. Much of the universe was built on randomness. A single act set forces in motion and once they were moving, they could not be stopped.
She’d met Kit, had fallen in love with him and now she was having his baby. For most women, this day would be the culmination of hopes and dreams—something to be celebrated, not dreaded. But then Stacey had never been like everyone else.
“Look at me,” Kit said gently. “You’re going to be fine.”
Statistically he was telling the truth. Childbirth was safe and, despite her age, she was healthy and had done her best to stay that way through the pregnancy. While there were always unexpected developments that could injure or even kill her, they seemed unlikely. No, her bigger problem would be that everything went well and she delivered her baby. And then what?
Bunny walked into the labor room and crossed to Stacey. “I’m here. How are you doing?”
Their relationship had always been troubled, always difficult. Stacey had grown up knowing she was a chronic disappointment—she didn’t want to learn how to bake or sew or decorate for Groundhog Day. She wanted to know why the stars moved and some people were better at math than others. Being the kind of wife and mother Bunny admired had been an anathema. She’d prided herself on being better than her mother, on escaping what she viewed as the trap of Bunny’s life.
Only now she was the one who didn’t know how to make things work. She was left with nothing but useless knowledge and an unskilled heart.
“I can’t do this, Mom,” Stacey whispered. “I can’t. All those times you said there was something wrong with me? You were right. I’m not like you.”
Bunny took her other hand and squeezed tight. “Don’t be silly. There’s nothing wrong with you. And of course you’re not like me. You’re your own person and that’s how it’s supposed to be. If you can cure MS, you can have a baby. Even birds have babies.”
“I’m not curing MS, I’m helping reduce the symptoms and birds don’t give birth. They hatch out of eggs.”
Her mother sniffed. “See how smart you are.” She smiled. “Stacey, you’re going to have this baby because your body knows what to do. It doesn’t matter what your head thinks. In this battle, your body will win.” She squeezed harder. “You’re not alone, Stacey. I’m here and Kit’s here and your sister is on her way. We’re going to get you through this.”
Her mother’s gaze locked with hers. “Not just for the birth, either. We’re all going to help you through the whole thing. You’re going to do just fine.”
“I want to believe you.”
“Then maybe it’s time you started listening to me. You never have before, so I figure I’m due.”
Despite everything, Stacey chuckled. “Thanks, Mom.”
Bunny kissed her forehead. “You’re my baby girl. I’m not going to let you down and you’re not going to let yourself down, either. Now, let’s have this baby.”
* * *
Joule Wray Poenisch lay in her bassinet. She was tightly wrapped in a blanket with a tiny pink cap on her head.
Becca wrinkled her nose. “Is she comfortable like that? I wouldn’t like not being able to move around. I think it would freak me out.”
“You didn’t just spend nine months in a womb,” Harper told her, looking at all the babies and letting the wonder of birth fill her with happiness.
“Gross, Mom.”
“Is this where I remind you I not only carried you for nine months, but then I gave birth to you through my vagina?”
Becca covered her ears with her hands and began to loudly hum.
Harper laughed. “All right. I’m done messing with you. She’s so beautiful.”
“She’s red and scrunchy.”
“That’s what newborns look like.”
“Not in commercials or on TV.”
“They use older babies,” Harper told her. “You can tell by how they cry. It doesn’t sound the same. A newborn cry is distinct.” She sighed as she sifted through memories. “You cried right away, which was a relief, but you were so small. I was terrified I was going to break you or drop you or something. Plus, I had no idea what to do. The theory of a baby is very different than the reality.”
“Was Grandma there with you?”
“She moved in for two weeks and when the time was up, I begged her not to go.” She hugged Becca. “That happens a lot, by the way. One day you’ll be begging me to never leave.”
“Maybe.” Becca sounded doubtful.
Harper let it go. There was plenty of time for her to be proven right. “I remember the first time I was alone with you at home. I held you in my arms and you looked up at me and I wondered how on earth I was ever going to know how to be your mother. I was so scared. Sometimes I still am.”
Becca looked at her. “Why?”
“Everything is always changing. You’re not the same little girl who raced home from school so we could bake cookies together.” Harper kept her attention on Joule Wray. “You don’t talk to me as much anymore and I’ve tried to figure out when that changed. Do you know?”
Becca was silent. Harper risked glancing at her and saw her daughter staring at the ground.
“Was it the divorce?” Harper asked quietly. “Were you mad at me for what happened with your dad?”
“Some, but not much.” Becca looked at her. “I know you had to get a job and the VA business means you’re home a lot, but you stopped being there. You were always so busy and you never had time for me. One day I realized you just weren’t listening so I stopped talking.”
Each word was like a knife to the heart and some cut all the way through. She wanted to say it wasn’t true—things hadn’t happened that way, but what if they had? She wanted to defend herself, to say it hadn’t been like that at all. She’d been trying to hold things together, to keep food on the table. She’d been scared and alone and...
And none of that mattered, she reminded herself. Not to Becca. From her daughter’s perspective, she hadn’t just lost her father, she’d lost her mother, too. At least a little.
Sure she could say that Becca could have tried harder or been more understanding, but Becca was the kid in the relationship. Once the business had started going, Harper had gotten caught up in growing it. They’d fallen into bad habits that had led to more estrangement.
Shame wrestled with defensiveness. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I never meant to let you down.”
“Mom, you didn’t. I’m sorry I said anything. It’s fine.”
“No.” Harper faced her. “It’s not fine. Given the circumstances, I did okay, but I could have done better. I should have recognized what was happening.”
“You were caught up in a lot of stuff. I know you were scared when Dad left.”
And hurt and ashamed and whole lot of other emotions her daughter didn’t need to know about.
“I was pretty selfish,” Becca added. “I think it comes with being a teenager. I don’t mean to be, but it’s hard to think about other people sometimes.”
Harper pulled her close and hugged her. “Maybe we can try to do better.” She drew back and smiled at her daughter. “Ignore that. What I meant to say was I’m going to do better. I want us to be close again. I want to know what’s going on with school and your friends and Ashton and the classes you’re taking Jazz to.”
Becca started to cry and hugged her hard. “I want that, too, Mom. A lot.”
They hung on to each other for a long time. Harper hoped it wasn’t too late, that they weren’t just saying words but would actually follow through with their plan.
If it was up to her, the answer would be yes.
* * *
The dog agility class was more than a little intimidating. The equipment at the obedience school was a lot more heavy-duty than the used stuff Becca had bought, and the course was laid out differently. Becca had watched a few YouTube videos and done some reading, but still hadn’t been able to figure out the best way to use her equipment. She hoped the class would help her with that.
There were eight other dog owners, most of them way older than her. She noticed a teenager about her age and walked over to her. The petite blonde smiled.
“Hi, I’m Shara.”
“Becca. This is Jazz.”
“Hi, Jazz.” Shara patted the black-and-white border collie at her side. “This is Ivan.” He was a handsome dog with one blue eye and one brown eye.
Becca kept her grip on Jazz’s leash as the two dogs sniffed each other’s butts and seemed to get acquainted.
“Is this your first agility class?” Shara asked.
“Uh-huh. I don’t know much about it, but I wanted to do something Jazz would like. She’s happier when she’s busy.”
“My aunt is seriously into it,” Shara admitted. “She competes and everything. I took one of her older dogs to a couple of competitions and it was fun.” She sighed. “My mom raises Yorkies. The house is filled with moms and dads and puppies all the time. We have to socialize them and I know it sounds fun, but it gets to be a drag. I’ve been asking for a big dog and finally they agreed.” She patted Ivan again. “He’s stubborn but really smart.”
Becca tried to picture Ivan with tiny Yorkie puppies underfoot and couldn’t. “He does okay with the babies?”
Shara laughed. “Border collies are herding animals. He’s great with them. As soon as they’re old enough to start exploring, he goes on duty to keep them safe. The moms totally trust him to handle things while they take a nap. It’s pretty funny.”
Shara looked at the layout, then back at Becca. “I’m saving to get a few things for the backyard, so I can train Ivan at home.”
“I bought some used equipment a couple of weeks ago,” Becca said. “I’m still figuring it out. You can bring Ivan over if you want to practice together.”
“That would be great. You know, we’re really too old to start competing at the junior level. There are seriously little kids out there with their dogs. But I’m still looking forward to trying.”
“Me, too.”
The class began. The instructor took them through the weave poles and the teeter-totter. Jazz was familiar with both and took her turn quickly and easily. Becca picked up a few tips for training Jazz and met a few more of the dog owners. Everyone was nice and friendly.
When the Corgi mix bolted, Shara sent Ivan after him. Becca couldn’t believe how Ivan got in front of the Corgi and herded him back to his owner.
“How did you do that?”
Shara grinned. “Last summer my folks sent me to a cattle ranch where they train dogs and their owners to herd. Ivan loved it and I got to hang out with cute cowboys.”
They exchanged numbers and agreed to get together to practice in a couple of days. Becca was just about to start the walk home when Ashton pulled up and called out.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
Becca blushed as she waved. Shara sighed.
“Is that your boyfriend? He’s totally hot. Seriously hot.” She grinned. “Sorry. I don’t mean anything by that. It’s just how I talk.”
Becca laughed. “It’s okay. Ashton is kind of hot.” And sweet and affectionate and just good to her.
She introduced Shara and Ivan before they left, then opened the back door for Jazz and slid in next to Ashton.
“Did I know you were going to stop by?” she asked after he’d kissed her.
“I’m a surprise.”
“Yes, you are.”
“How was class?” he asked.
“Really good. I met Shara and Ivan, of course, and we learned a lot. Jazz was an excellent student, weren’t you, sweet girl?”
Jazz barked in agreement.
“Shara and I are going to practice together and there’s a beginners competition in August the instructor thinks we should sign up for.”
“Are you going to?”
“Yeah. It’s scary to think about, but why not? It’ll be good for us.”
He chuckled. “I’m glad the competition is in August so I can be there.”
Right, because he was leaving for MIT in early September and would be gone forever.
“Don’t,” Ashton said quietly as he pulled up at a red light. “It will go fast.”
“What?”
“The time I’m at college. One of the reasons I’m working as many hours as I can is to save enough money to fly home for Thanksgiving.” He shrugged. “Christmas makes sense—it’s a longer break and I’m sure Stacey and Kit planned to send me a ticket, but Thanksgiving is different.”
She felt that if she weren’t held in by her seat belt, she might float away. Happiness and hope and love all made her weightless.
“To, um, see me?” she asked cautiously.
He reached for her hand. “Yes, Becca. To see you.”
She wanted to ask how much he cared about her and if he’d had other girlfriends he’d liked more and where he saw them in two years and if there were other good colleges by MIT because maybe she could apply there, but instead she told herself to breathe and enjoy the moment.
They arrived home far too quickly. As Ashton pulled up in front of the house, Becca saw a familiar car in the driveway. She knew her mom was gone and Dean didn’t work on weekends, so her dad had no way to get in the house. She wondered how long he’d been waiting and what he could possibly have to say to her.
“Who’s that?” Ashton asked.
“My father.”
“You don’t look happy.”
“I’m not.”