Be My Baby Tonight (34 page)

“Yes. He had another nosebleed last week,
which is silly, because I don’t have nosebleeds. I’m waiting for
his ankles to start swelling.”

“The nosebleeds are part of it, probably
something hormonal. There are several conflicting opinions. Do you
know that many physicians believe that male pregnancy symptoms are
a good thing? They believe it brings father, mother, and baby
closer. And they’ll disappear as soon as the baby—the babies—are
born. Now, just a few more pictures for my trophy wall, okay?”

“Okay,” Suzanna said quietly.

“I can give you the sex of one of them, but
that second little bugger is still being pretty modest, hiding
behind the other one. Woman to woman, Suzanna, no wonder you’re
having backaches. So, do you want me to tell you?”

“No, please don’t. Tim and I—well, me,
actually—I decided I didn’t want to know.”

Once the examination was over, Dr. Phillips
told her that from now on she wanted to see her weekly, because
although she was due in mid April, she might be as much as a full
month early, which was not all that uncommon with twins.

“Isn’t that too soon?” Suzanna asked as the
technician helped her off the examination table.

“Not for twins, no. And, since we’re still
not sure of your due date, and considering your size, and the size
of those babies—you’re feeding them well, Suzanna—I wouldn’t be at
all surprised if you were early. Don’t worry.”

“March? Oh, no. Tim will be in Florida in
March, for spring training. He leaves the third week in February.
If I tell him this, he won’t go.”

“I don’t want to butt in here, but he’s your
husband, Suzanna. You have to tell him.”

“Maybe,” Suzanna said, sighing. “Are you sure
I could be early?”

“They’re babies, Suzanna. Nobody can be sure
of anything.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t tell him we’re having
twins,” Suzanna said, mostly to herself. “But if I tell him I might
be early, then he’d ask why, because he knows I couldn’t have
gotten pregnant any sooner than last July.”

Dr. Phillips motioned for the technician to
leave the room, then said, “Suzanna, I don’t want to pry, but I’m
not just treating you and the babies; I’m treating all of you, your
family. When I last saw Keely, she told me you and Tim are still,
well, still getting used to the marriage?”

“We’re... We’re doing okay. Even better than
okay, lately.”

“Good, that’s very good. But I don’t
recommend keeping this a secret from him, even if you think it’s
for his own good. He needs to know, then make his own
decisions.”

Suzanna sniffled, then wiped at her eyes. “I
know. Thank you, Doctor. I’ll... I’ll think about it. But, in the
meantime, can I please ask you to keep my secret.”

“Against my better judgment, yes.”

* * *

“Who speaks for this child?”

“We do,” Tim and Suzanna said together.

They stood in the large vestibule of the
church the first week of February, where the baptismal font was
located, Suzanna holding Johnny, Tim standing beside her.

Jack and Keely stood on either side of the
priest, beaming at them, Candy held high against Jack’s
shoulder.

Aunt Sadie sniffled into a white handkerchief
with yellow ducks printed on it, and Mrs. B. stood with her chin
lifted, as if to make sure the priest wouldn’t drown Johnny when
the time came to drip water on his little head.

Joey was recording the entire thing with a
palm-sized video recorder while Bruno held up portable lights, high
above his head—which was pretty high.

Mort was outside, for the second time,
talking into his cell phone.

Tim was grateful Father O’Mara had rehearsed
them so well, because he was feeling decidedly queasy, again. The
closer Suzanna came to her due date, the more his symptoms snuck up
on him at the damndest moments. He could tell Suzanna was worried
about him—because most nights she suggested they eat out, rather
than experiment with her home cooking.

“We do renounce him,” he and Suzanna said,
then continued through more responses, Suzanna’s voice more steady,
clearer than his. Ten minutes later the christening was over, and
Keely had grabbed a definitely unhappy Johnny back into her arms,
quickly stuffing the pacifier into his mouth.

“Poor baby,” she crooned as Suzanna helped
her rebutton Johnny’s long white gown. “They strip you down, they
get you all wet, they put salt on your tongue. You’ve had better
days, haven’t you?”

“That’s not it. He’s crying because he’s
wearing a dress,” Jack said, earning himself a nasty look from his
wife.

Tim walked outside to join Mort, grateful for
the cold, crisp air. “What’s up, Mort. You missed the whole
thing.”

“Nothing,” Mort said, flipping his phone
closed and sticking it back in the pocket of his topcoat—the
cashmere one with the fur collar. “Oh, all right, if you’re going
to drag it out of me. It’s Sam. He’s had a heart attack.”

Tim blinked, unable to take in Mort’s words.
They had come flying toward him from so far out in left field that
he couldn’t believe them. “Sam? Our Sam? Sam Kizer?”

“Yeah, that Sam. Hell, Tim, he was a walking
time bomb, and we all knew it. Anger management class? That was
like trying to put out a forest fire with a thimbleful of water.
Not to mention the cheese steaks he ate every day. But he’s okay.
He’s had the surgery.”

“Open-heart?”

“I suppose so. At home, in North Carolina. I
was just on the phone with his wife. He wants to see you.”

Tim pressed both bands to his chest. “Me?
Why? I mean, sure, I want to fly down and see him, but why now?
He’s still in the hospital, right?”

Mort took Tim’s arm and led him down the
walkway to the street. “Tim, who’s been on this team the
longest?”

“Me,” he said, still not understanding. “I’ve
never been anywhere else. You know that.”

“Right. And who’s captain of the team? You
again, right?”

“So? I’m a player, not a manager. And Sam’s
coming back, isn’t he?”

“His wife says so, once the doctors give the
okay. Remember Dan Reeves? Football coach?”

“Yeah. He had open-heart. And he’s still
coaching.”

“So why should it be any different for Sam,
right? Maybe I can get him one of those cholesterol-lowering
commercials. Ask him about that, okay? Hey, Jack, come over
here.”

Jack, carrying Candy, walked over, looked
from Mort to Tim. “What’s up? I can feel Mort’s radar quivering.
Mort?”

“Sam Kizer had open-heart surgery eight days
ago. They’ve kept it from the press, all hush-hush, but they’ll be
going public later this afternoon. He wants Tim there with him
tomorrow, when he’s released from the hospital, to do a quick press
conference. I couldn’t talk his wife out of it.”

“Why?” Jack asked, echoing his brother.

“Well, here’s the thing. The pitchers report
early to Florida, and for some reason, Sam wants Tim there then,
too, before the rest of the team.”

“What the hell for? The minor league catchers
will be there.”

“That’s what all the phone calls were about.
Sam’s got it in his head that Tim’s the stability on the team. That
he’ll keep everyone calm, keep the program going.”

“He’s got a full staff of coaches, Mort,” Tim
pointed out, trying to be reasonable. Of course, using “reason” and
“Sam Kizer” in the same thought was pretty ridiculous no matter
what the situation.

“But he wants you. You’re good with the
press. Face it, Tim, most of his coaches talk in grunts. And Larry
Watkins stutters when he’s upset. He never talks to the press. I
can’t help it if you’re the silver-tongued devil, Tim.”

Jack shook his head. “Doesn’t Sam know
Suzanna’s pregnant?”

Mort shrugged. “Bigger question, Tim. Does he
care? And tell me, how do you turn down a guy with a zipper in his
chest? You’ve got Jack and Keely here, Tim. Sadie, right? What
could go wrong?”

Tim looked back toward the church, watching
Joey as he kept his hand on Suzanna’s elbow, so that she didn’t
slip on any remaining patches of ice left over from last week’s
fifteen-inch snowfall. Joey was being a real brick, driving up from
Bayonne, helping Suzanna whenever he could. But leaving Suzanna
with Joey? “Cripes,” he said. “It’s bad enough I was going to be
leaving in a month. How am I going to tell her this one?”

* * *

Suzanna sat on the bedside chair and watched
as Tim packed his suitcases. “Are you sure I can’t help you?”

“No, that’s okay. You just rest. We stayed
longer at Johnny’s party than we should have. I’ve got to catch the
last flight out of here tonight. Are you sure you’re going to be
all right?”

She pinned a bright smile on her face, even
as she looked down at her swollen ankles as she rested her feet on
the footstool Tim had dragged over to her. No more salt. That was
it, no more salt! But Keely baked such a wonderful ham, she hadn’t
been able to resist. “I’m going to be fine. I’m surrounded by
people who will take care of me, you know that. And I’ve got the
cats to keep me warm at night.”

“And you see Dr. Phillips again tomorrow? I
wish I could go to the appointments, but I’ve been so busy since
that damn snowstorm took out half the roof at the bowling
alley.”

“I know. But Mrs. B. has been a brick. And
she even stops at Stop signs. Besides, it usually takes two hours
of sitting in the waiting room to see Dr. Phillips for five
seconds. You went to all of the classes. Thank goodness we got them
out of the way early, because of your spring training.”

He shoved several long-sleeved knit shirts
into a duffel bag, and Suzanna winced, trying not to think what
they would look like when he took them back out again.

“You’re doing a lot better with your weight,”
Tim said, reaching into his sock drawer.

“I know. Only five pounds this month. I still
weigh less than you do. When you stepped on that scale, and I
realized that I was actually only thirty pounds lighter than you?
It was a real wake-up call, I can tell you.”

“You were skinny when we met up again. You
could have used a couple of extra pounds.”

She rolled her eyes.
“Now
he tells me.
Although I’m sure you didn’t mean this many extra pounds.”

He stopped packing and walked over to her,
going down on his knees beside her. “Are you going to be all right
at night? I mean, without me there to...”

“I’ve already decided to sleep in the back
bedroom, and I’ll just stuff some extra pillows behind me. And
remember the cats—although they won’t replace you. I’ll be fine,
Tim, just fine. And you’ll be home as often as you can.”

“Every weekend, I swear it. Damn it,” he
said, getting to his feet again. “Two steps forward and one back.
That’s what my mom always used to say. We’re doing so well, Suze. I
don’t want to leave.”

Suzanna looked up at him, blinking back
tears. “And I don’t want you to go.”

He was beside her again in an instant. “You
don’t? Why, Suze?”

She reached out to cup his cheek in her hand.
“You know why, Tim Trehan, but I’m not going to say it first.”

He grinned. “If I say it, will you say it
second?”

“Probably,” she said with a watery smile.
“Try me.”

“Okay—wait. Will you believe me when I say
it? Have I proven myself yet? Do you... Do you trust me now?”

“Oh, Tim, I trust you. I really do.
Everything you’ve done these past months? Putting up with me when
I’ve been so... so silly? How can I not trust you? I love you.”

His grin went nearly ear to ear. “Made you
say it first,” he crowed, then took her hands, pulled her to her
feet, and took her into his arms. “Ah, babe, I love you, too. I
love you so damn much it hurts.”

“Promise?” she whispered against his chest as
he stroked her back, holding her, but gently, as if she might
break.

“Promise,” he said, kissing her hair. “You’re
my life, Suze. It just took almost losing you to realize that I’m a
slow learner.”

“I make you look like the class genius,” she
said, pushing her head back so that she could look up into his
face. What she saw there made her knees go weak. He was crying. Her
Tim. Crying.

“Oh, Tim,” she said, slipping her arms up and
over his shoulders. “If I could only get closer.”

“Yeah,” he said, blinking. “Someone’s come
between us, huh?”

She began playing with the hair at his nape.
“Do you think there’s an early flight tomorrow? Do you have to go
tonight?”

He put his hands on her shoulders. “Oh, babe,
you do pick your times. There’s nothing I want more than to hold
you, to love you, but the books I read—”

“The books are just books. Dr. Phillips says
it’s all right until it’s not comfortable anymore. I think I could
be... very comfortable.”

He sneaked a look at the bed. “Really?”

“Really,” Suzanna said, not caring that her
belly button had, just in this last week, decided to become an
“outie” rather than an “innie.” Not caring that she was far from
the slim-waisted woman who had fallen into bed with Tim last July.
Not caring one single bit.

Because he loved her; he’d proven that in so
many, many ways. Because he looked at her as if she were the most
beautiful creature in the world.

Because she loved him. So much. Not the way
she’d thought she’d loved him, when she was young, and idealistic,
and stupid. She loved him for the man he was, not the boy she’d put
on a pedestal, worshipped from afar.

They had both grown; they had both changed.
And now here they were.

At last, at long last, here they were. And it
had all been worth the trip.

“Tim? You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

He looked down at her, smiled with just one
side of his mouth, but with both eyes. “Only when you cook, babe,”
he said, and then he led her toward the bed.

She felt like a princess as he guided her up
onto the two-step affair that had first intrigued her, then
troubled her, and now would help lift her on the way to a new
paradise.