Baby on Board (12 page)

“He’s trying, Kate.”

She shook her head again. “I don’t want him to try anymore. I just want him to leave me alone.”

Ian’s jaw flexed and she could see a nerve jump in his cheek. She expected him to lose his temper, but when he spoke, he was calm. “Imperfect as it is, Patty is doing the best he can. Please, just consider giving him another chance. I think you’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t.”

“I can’t,” she whispered.

Ian stood up and walked over to the glass bowl again. “He inspires you, Kate. Isn’t that worth something?”

“He
inspires
rage, Ian. That isn’t what I’m looking for in a father for my baby.”

“But if he makes you that angry, what other emotions can he inspire in you?” he asked, looking over at her. His face was serious and solemn. “An emotion that powerful doesn’t stand alone. There’s always more underneath.”

“I’m sorry, Ian. I know you want to help your brother, but there’s nothing you can do, or say.”

Ian walked back to face her, his hands in his pockets. He looked down at the floor, frustration written in every line of his body. “Think about it. Please. For your own sake. For the kid.”

He turned and left the room. She heard the door open and close again with a soft click, then his boots on the stairs outside. Kate sat where she was, hugging the pillow to her chest.

She had no tears now, only a well-deep sadness. She tried to blank out Ian’s words, but they rang in her head. She held the cushion tighter. She concentrated on her meeting with Steve that afternoon. He was her future, not Patrick. Closing her eyes, Kate took a deep breath. She and her baby would be happy, she vowed. With Steve they would be a family. There was nothing else she wanted. Nothing else, she told herself.

Kate added heat to the glass with the torch, blew into the soffieta and expanded the bowl of the goblet just a little more. Holding the piece up by the punty, she judged that it was balanced now. The plumper globe was more proportionate to the height of the stem. She was pleased with the color, as well. The thin, dark red belt of glass around the middle of the vessel stood out beautifully on the lustrous, silver-tinged Pyrex. She transferred it to a fork, tapped it off the punty and put it in the annealing oven next to three other goblets just like it.

Closing the door on the oven, Kate striped off her heat-proof gloves and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. She sat on a stool and rested for a minute, pushing her goggles up onto her head. She hated how short of breath she was these days, but the doctor said that was nothing to be alarmed about. She was six-and-a-half months’ pregnant. It was all part of the process.
Like having to go to the bathroom every five minutes,
she thought with a twist of her lips.

The door opened and Molly walked into the studio in a red dress dotted with yellow ducks. Her hair was its usual wild mess, pulled up today with yellow banana clips. “Hey, how are you?” Her smile was bright and cheerful.

“Fat. Pregnant.” Kate leaned an elbow on the workbench and rubbed her lower back. “How are you?”

Molly laughed and came over to hug her. “Bad day, huh?”

Kate shrugged. “I’m just tired, that’s all. I did get a set of glasses done, so that’s good.” Her lips twisted in a lopsided smile. “Four lovely, pregnant goblets. Everything I make these days is round.”

“Why don’t you go take a nap? Women who are pregnant are supposed to take care of themselves.” She rubbed Kate’s arms lightly.

“I think I will do that. I want to be rested for class tonight.” She rose, steadying herself a bit with Molly’s help.

Kate hadn’t realized pregnancy would make her so ungainly. With the baby sticking out in front, her center of balance was completely off. Nor had she expected the pregnancy to last forever. She wondered if she would ever have the baby.

“Steve called the shop earlier,” Molly said. “He asked me about tonight.”

With a sigh, Kate adjusted the controls on the annealing oven and tidied up the workbench. “I’ll call him later.”

“He wants to come with us.”

“I’m supposed to be learning how to relax in class. And leaning on my coach the whole time?” Kate shook her head. “How relaxed can I be with a man who’s afraid I’ll go into premature labor if he touches me the wrong way?”

Molly laughed. “You have a point there. No Steve this time. Just you and me and baby makes three.”

Kate nodded and pulled the bandanna from her head. She kissed Molly on the cheek and left the studio at a slow waddle. The September air felt cool and wonderful after the heat of the crucible. Kate was limp and wrung out. She had pushed herself too hard today. But in the studio she only thought about her art. Anywhere else, she was too prone to brooding about the baby and Steve.

And Patrick.

She sighed and opened the door to her house. If only she could be as certain as she had been the first three months. That clarity of right and wrong seemed so distant and blurred now. She ambled into the bathroom. There, she stripped off her clothes and climbed into the shower. The wet heat felt good against her lower back, which seemed to ache constantly.

With the water pounding on her skin, Kate tried to wash away the loneliness that had crept into her soul. Even with Molly next door and Steve around in the evenings, she still felt alone. In the middle of the night, when she wanted to be held, there was no one there. As much as it pained her to admit it, there was only one person she wanted with her at those moments. Pushing the thought aside, Kate snapped off the shower faucet and grabbed a towel.

After drying herself, she slipped into a loose, light gown and climbed into bed, lying on her side with a pillow for support. Running a hand over her belly, she could feel the kicks and jabs of her baby. She closed her eyes against the stab of tears that threatened. Childbirth class started tonight. The end was in sight, she told herself. Then everything would be better. Everything. She imagined it was true and eventually spiraled down into sleep.

Patrick watched as Kate walked across the alley to her house. She moved slowly with one hand on her lower back. The blue shirt she wore belled out over her stomach, swaying in time to her steps. He almost ducked down in his front seat, but she disappeared into the house without glancing his way. She looked tired, he thought.

He wondered what it felt like now, that bulge of her belly. He remembered touching her, smoothing a hand over the warm, taut skin. Would he be able to feel the baby move if he pressed against her now? Patrick lowered his head to rest on his hands where they gripped the steering wheel. He had missed too much.

When he was certain Kate was safely out of the way in her house, he slipped out of his truck and walked to the studio. Molly wasn’t hunched over a potter’s wheel this time, but stood with a paintbrush in one hand by a waist-high worktable. Before her was a light brown pot on a stand that rotated. She dabbed pale blue paint onto the pot, slashing and swirling the brush as it turned. He cleared his throat.

“Hello, Molly.”

“Patrick! How’s the seafarer faring?”

“I—” He paused. “I did what you asked. I stayed away from Kate. I’ve spent the past five weeks delivering a boat so she could have the time you said she needed.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders. “But being apart from her is killing me.”

“Good. So you want to know if she’s ready to see you again?”

“Something like that. And to ask for help.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “From me?”

Patrick walked over to the bench where she was working. “Please, Molly. You have to convince her to give me another chance. Whether she realizes it or not, Kate needs me.” He met the older woman’s level stare, swallowing hard. He had to force the next few words out, as if they were wrenched from his soul. “And I need her,” he said softly. “I didn’t realize how much until I went away.”

Molly set down her brush and wiped her hands on a rag. She screwed the cap on the jar of paint, keeping her eyes on the task. Patrick waited, holding on to his patience with both hands.

“Steve’s still in the picture.” Molly looked over at him briefly, her eyes narrowed.

Patrick drew in a sharp breath, then nodded once. “Okay.” The information was a blow, but one he could deal with. If he had the chance.

“Kate starts birthing class tonight,” she said, eyes on her task again. “I’m supposed to be her coach.”

“Why isn’t Steve doing that?”

“You’ll have to ask Kate the answer to that question.” Molly turned and surveyed him. Her face was solemn, almost stern. “If I let you substitute for me, you have to promise me—” she looked in his eyes and stabbed a finger at his chest “—
promise me
that you will be there for every session. No mistakes and no excuses this time.”

Patrick felt his heart lift. Here was not just one chance with Kate, but a whole series of them. “I promise, Molly. Kate comes first, no matter what.”

Molly eyed him soberly. “She won’t be happy about you taking my place.”

Patrick grinned, his delight refusing to subside. “I won’t tell her if you don’t.”

T
HREE HOURS LATER
, Patrick waited impatiently as one couple after another walked through the glass doors into the vestibule. His earlier glee had diminished to anxious anticipation. He tried to smile at the people who glanced his way, but he didn’t think he looked very cheerful. He suspected he looked like what he was—a nervous father. He reasoned with himself:
When she sees me, what’s the worst she could do? Tell me to get lost? Loudly. While throwing things at me.

The doors opened again and Patrick caught sight of Kate. When she spotted him, instead of launching an immediate attack, she froze, halfway inside the door, her face a shocked blank. Patrick realized that the worst imaginable wasn’t a tantrum; it was no reaction at all.

He stepped toward her just as Molly, carrying a large bag, bumped Kate from behind. Kate stumbled on the floor mat. He rushed forward to stop her fall. She landed against him heavily, her sweet scent enveloping him in roses. It was all he could do to not bury his face in her hair and drink in that aroma. Steadying her against his body, he felt a thump where her belly rested against his. Surprised to feel the baby kick so powerfully, he looked at Kate, his eyes wide. Her hard stare softened slightly.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Molly’s apology seemed to come from far away. “Are you all right, Kate? You stopped so quickly.”

Trapped in Kate’s chocolate-brown eyes, Patrick echoed Molly’s question. “Are you all right, Katie?”

He brushed a lock of her hair behind one ear. He couldn’t stop himself from trailing his fingers down her cheek, just to feel the soft skin and touch her any way he could. The caress seemed to jolt Kate out of her stasis. She jerked back. Patrick steadied her gently, then dropped his hands to his side.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was high and tense as a flush rose to her cheeks.

“I want to be your birthing coach.”

She slowly shook her head. “No. That’s not possible.”

“Sure it is,” Patrick said softly. “If you let me, Katie. Please.”

“I think the man’s right,” Molly said. “You should let him do it.”

Patrick watched Kate turn an astonished face toward her aunt. “What? Whose side are you on?”

“He’s the father of your child, dear. Like it or not, he’s the best man for the job.”

Kate looked first at her aunt, then at Patrick. He couldn’t read anything from her face. Kate had rejected Steve’s presence. Why would she welcome him instead?

“Why not give him another chance?” Molly asked. “For the baby’s sake.”

“But I—”

“Please, Kate,” he added quietly. “It’s
our
baby.”

After a long, tense moment, she nodded once. “All right.”

Molly handed Patrick her burden. “Here are the two pillows they told us to bring. You’ll deliver her home afterward, won’t you?”

Patrick nodded. His heart was pounding and his head felt light. He felt as if he had won the first leg of the most important race of his life. Molly kissed Kate on the cheek, turned and left.

Patrick took Kate’s arm. “Come on. I think we’re meeting in that room over there.”

A woman in a long green dress stepped out of the classroom and looked down the corridor. “Are you part of my birthing class?” she asked with a warm and welcoming smile. “Please come in and find a seat. We’re ready to start.”

Patrick pulled gently on Kate’s hand and led her into the room. They took their places on the remaining two chairs drawn into a circle. The instructor, Marla, greeted them first by introducing herself and listing her qualifications. Then she asked each couple to introduce themselves and tell the group when their child was due and what they liked most about being pregnant.

When their turn came, Patrick let Kate do most of the talking. He was more interested than anyone else in hearing how she was getting along. Kate mentioned how much she loved eating ice cream and talking to her baby when she was by herself. Patrick introduced himself, then quickly told the group that he liked to feel how the baby kicked and squirmed when he touched Kate’s stomach.

Next, Marla showed them a video on childbirth and preparing for the trip to the hospital. After that, she called a brief recess and invited everyone to have something to eat and drink at the back of the room. Patrick stuck close to Kate’s side, getting her a cup of iced tea and filling a plate with homemade oatmeal cookies for them to eat.

“How are you feeling these days?” Patrick asked casually, careful to preserve the fragile peace between them.

“Fine. Tired.”

“The baby’s okay, too?”

“Yes.” Kate sipped her tea. She darted a look at him.

Patrick held back a sigh. He told himself that her monosyllabic replies were better than no answer at all and curbed his impulse to press her for more. It was not easy after five weeks. He hadn’t lied when he said he liked to feel the baby kick. Once was definitely not enough. It was all he could do not to ask Kate if he could put his hands on her belly and feel that thump of life again. They stood awkwardly together, not saying any more until Marla reconvened the class and they returned to their chairs. Their instructor began the second half of class by explaining what life in the womb was like for the baby.

“It’s not dark in there, you know,” Marla said. “When you see the sonogram, you often get the idea that it’s pitch-black inside. There’s really more of a rosy glow. Remember putting a flashlight behind your hand when you were a kid and seeing all the veins as dark lines while your hand was bright pink? Well, it’s a bit like that for the little one inside the mama. Light filters through your skin.

The baby can even see the shadow of your hand as you press it to your stomach.”

Patrick looked at Kate and found the same look of delight on her face that he felt. It was a moment of perfect amity between them. He felt a surge of hope. Marla talked for a few minutes about what to expect in the coming weeks of the class. She asked for questions and, when those were answered, clapped her hands together.

“All right,” she said. “Let’s move those chairs out of the way. We’re going to practice some relaxation techniques before we call it a night. Guys, I want you on the floor first, with Mom propped up against you. Use those pillows to make it comfy.”

K
ATE PUT HER HAND
in Patrick’s and he supported her as she lowered herself to the floor. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, she couldn’t help her snort of laughter. She felt as graceful as a drunken elephant.

“What?” Patrick asked.

“You’re going to need a crane to get me up again.”

His eyes twinkled and he got down on his knees behind her. “No problem. I know where I can get a twenty-ton travel lift.”