Two Wrongs Make a Right (18 page)

She unscrewed the lid on her water bottle and took a long slow drink. Her stomach churned. There were people to tell and sharing the news made her anxious. Who first? Not Mother. Quinn wanted her at the bottom of the list. She didn’t want Mom putting a damper on the euphoria. Megan? No. Save her for last. Mom moved up a notch.

She couldn’t wait to see Dad’s and Gramps’ faces light up. They’d be thrilled. She wanted to tell them, but not today. She could save the news until the next food delivery. Poppa. Paw-Paw. Pops. What would he want to be called? There was plenty of time to choose a name. She had other pressing matters.

A crib. Car seat. High chair. She’d have to make a list. Pulling herself together, she drove down the street to Wee-Ones Boutique, and found a parking space nearby. She jumped out of the car and walked into the shop with a bounce in her step.

Every female in the place looked to be in a different stage of pregnancy. Surprised by the number of men in the store, and how happy they acted, she wondered if Dak would be attentive. She shook the notion away, before it sullied her mood.

A young blue-eyed woman approached. “Shopping for a gift or yourself?”

Quinn smiled. “Myself. It’s my first, and I don’t have a clue where to start.”

“I can help you. We have a list of everything you’ll need during the first twelve months. Do you plan to bottle or breastfeed?”

Quinn’s eyes went wide. In her mind, she’d not gotten past dressing and rocking the baby. “Uh—breastfeed, I guess.”

The girl wheeled around, headed toward the counter, and spoke over her shoulder. “Let me get you the list that includes a pump and nursing bras.”

Quinn followed, her gaze flitting past pink ruffles and bonnets. She stopped short at a display of plush animals and picked up a teddy bear, so soft, she wanted to bury her face in it. The bunny she’d had as a child came to mind and how she’d wagged it everywhere until it became so tattered and worn, her mother took it away. She’d cried for days, but Mom had said Kindergartners were too old for stuffed toys. A week later, Dad bought her a new one, but it never felt the same.

Funny. She’d not thought of that in years. She replaced the bear and picked up a caramel colored rabbit with floppy ears, big brown eyes, and a pink bow. She hugged it to her chest and imagined her baby loving it as much as she’d loved Roscoe. She looked at the tag. Roxie. That was a good name. If it turned out she was having a boy, she’d switch out the ribbon and shorten it to Rox. She’d let her son or daughter carry it until they started high school, if they wanted.

Taking it to the register, she laid the animal on the counter. “I want this for sure.”

“Okay. Here’s the list. Some of the items you won’t need right away, but you’ll need a car seat for the trip home from the hospital. Everything is marked according to when you should purchase. I won’t bother you while you browse, but let me know if you have questions.”

“Thank you.”

A display of maternity tee-shirts caught her eye. Sliding them along the rack, she read the captions.
Eating for two. Watch out, I kick. Bake at 98.6 for 40 weeks.
They were all so cute, and a perfect way to announce her condition.

She spent the next hour looking and touching lush blankets, frilly dresses, baseball caps, tub toys, and all sorts of lotions and potions that smelled downright edible. She soaked it all in, loving every single minute.

Back in the car, she took the furry animal out of the bag and hugged her close again. Soft fuzz tickled her chin. Closing her eyes, she imagined a curly top, sleepy eyed, toddler clutching it tight.

February was a long way off, and she was barely pregnant. That made her laugh out loud. She wasn’t
barely
pregnant. She was all in. But before sharing the news, maybe it was a good idea to wait until the second trimester. As much as she hated considering it, something could go wrong. Dr. Baker had made it clear. How did she say it? An ‘elderly prima gravida’—older first-time mother. Not good to be considered elderly at thirty-five, but in the motherhood department, she was.
AARP will call any day.

Quinn rubbed the bandage where they’d taken blood. Doctor B pointed out the risk of having a child with chromosomal abnormalities, and because of Quinn’s age, her chances increased by three and a half times over younger women. Then there was the danger of hypertension and the possibility of an emergency C-section during labor. So many things to consider, it made her head spin.

No. She shouldn’t broadcast the news and get everyone excited until she was sure everything would be fine. There were tests to rule things out. They all carried a slight risk, but the benefits outweighed the danger.

But she wanted to tell someone, so that left Raynie. Quinn started the car and shifted into drive. Ten minutes later, she parked on the opposite side of the street and watched Rico exit from the shop’s alley door. Then she thought of the tribal art on Dak’s arm, and her heart kicked up a notch. She could add him to the list.
Hi, Dak. Remember me? Molly? Well, guess what? My name isn’t Molly. I don’t work or live in El Paso—and you’re going to be a daddy!
Yeah, he’d love that. Of all the women he’d been with, he knocks up the spinster.

She picked up a quarter from her coin holder.
Heads I tell him. Tails I don’t.
She gave it a toss and let it land on the shopping bag.
Okay, best two out of three.
Another short lob.
Crap
.
Once more will decide
. Again. She cast her eyes toward heaven as if she’d get some Devine intervention, then stared down at the coin once more.
Dammit. Best three out of five.
Two more tosses.
This was a stupid idea.

Getting out of the car, she strolled to the front entrance. When the door swung wide, a bell tinkled. Her friend came from the back, smoothing her hair in place.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Raynie asked.

“Better question is what have you been doing with your next door neighbor? I saw him leave. Something going on with him?”

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Nothing serious. Back to you. Why are you here? Wait. That didn’t come out right.”

Quinn held up her hand. “You’re right. I don’t come by unless I need something.”

“Well then, name your poison. Tarot reading. Horoscope.” She walked to the end of a counter and ran fingers along the shelves. “Incense? Essential oils? Healing stone? Tibetan Singing bowl?”

“I’ve got something to tell you, but first, I need the ladies’ room.” Bathroom visits had increased in number, but Quinn wouldn’t complain. Peeing was nothing compared to puking. She disappeared down the hall and when she returned, she looked at her friend. “What I’m about to say can’t be repeated to anyone.”

“Even Megan?”

“Especially Megan.”

“Cups, swords, and wands! What is it? You didn’t catch Charlie cheating, did you?” She threw her hands in the air. “If you did, I’ll whack off his willy and hang it from a tree.”

Quinn grabbed her shoulders. “No. It isn’t about her. It’s about me. I’m pregnant.”

“Holy shit! Are you sure?”

“I just came from the doctor. I’m due in February.”

Raynie took her by the hand, and pulled her to a stool behind the counter. “Are you okay?”

Quinn hung her head and spent the next few minutes filling Raynie in on the egg attaching and how she’d misinterpreted the period. When she finished, she wiped a tear away, and rested her arm on the counter. “Do you think I should tell Dak? I mean, when I thought I wasn’t pregnant, I’d decided to see him again. I planned to show up at his office, confess everything and hope he’d forgive me. But now that I am, I’m conflicted.”

Raynie opened a drawer and took out a deck. “Let me do a reading. The outcome may guide you in the right direction.”

Quinn let her attention wander to the cards, reminding herself how crazy it would be to rely on them. But what the hell? They were as dependable as flipping a coin. God, the baby hormones must already be making her irrational. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to see him. Kiss him. Have him lay his hand on her belly. Beam with joy. “Let’s do it.” She followed Raynie to a nearby table and sat.

Raynie shuffled, then riffled, followed by three more hand over hand shuffles, and divided the deck into three stacks and Quinn pointed to the middle.

“Page of Swords Reversed. As you can see, this is a single figure passing over rugged land, holding up a sword. He’s looking around as if an unexpected enemy might appear and he’s unprepared.”

A lump formed in her throat. She fixed her eyes on the picture, then at Raynie. “Does that mean I’ll be seen as the enemy?”

“Not necessarily. It shows muddled thoughts. I need to turn the other two before we get a clear picture. Here we go. Ten of Pentacles. This is better. You see a man, woman, and child beneath an archway giving entrance to a house. That could be you, Dak, and the baby. It signifies family.”

Quinn brightened. “So it means there’s a chance we could be a family?”

Raynie presented the last the card and her face drew tight.

“What? Tell me. It can’t be good, but just say it.”

“Five of Pentacles Reversed.”

“Oh no. It’s a woman walking away from a man. She doesn’t look happy, and neither does he. It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“It usually means material trouble, but it can also refer to love, lovers, husbands, wives, or friends.” Raynie leaned forward with body language that said,
this isn’t good
. “I’m sorry. According to this, those alternatives can’t be harmonized. But keep in mind, the cards aren’t always a hundred percent right.”

Quinn’s head hurt. There was no need to fight it. First the coin toss said no, now the reading had the same outcome. “No, they confirm what I’ve known all along. As much as I want the three of us together, he’ll never forgive me.”

The grocery store checker slid the last of twelve cans across the scanner and looked at Quinn. “You must love Beanie-Weenies—and Whoppers.”

“The malted milk balls, yes, but I hate weenies, so it’s crazy I’ve been craving them for weeks. Sometimes, I’ll drive to Dairy Queen to get a hotdog at midnight.”

The woman leaned over the counter to check out Quinn’s belly and read the wording on her shirt. “That’s cute, but you don’t look pregnant.”

“I’m not showing yet. Wouldn’t you know I’d have both morning and evening sickness, so that must be what’s keeping me from gaining weight. But my pregnancy book says it should be over already.”

“First baby?”

Quinn nodded.

“Don’t fret. I’ve got friends who puked the entire time.”

“Yeah, my doctor says it’s not unusual.”

It was weird discussing her condition with strangers, but other than Raynie, she had no one else. For the last few days, keeping the secret pressed heavy. She was in her second trimester and everything was going great, except for the odd cravings and puking day and night. It was time to tell everyone. Raynie would be relieved. It’d been hard for her to keep the news from Megan, and Quinn felt terrible for asking. But today was the day, and she knew where to start.

The late afternoon sun blinked through the trees as Quinn parked in the drive. She honked the horn and Dad and Gramps came to help her carry the food in. After putting the weekly fare in the freezer, she turned to face the two men.

Gramps focused on her shirt. “What’s that mean? What’d you bake at ninety-eight degrees?”

Dad turned his attention to Quinn, threw his arms around her, and spoke to Gramps. “She’s baking a baby, you old coot. You’ll finally be a great-grand-gramps and I’ll be a grandpa! Right?”

Quinn pushed away from him and tried to read his face. “Yes, and I know I’ve disappointed you by not doing it the old fashioned way.” She had more to say, but burst into tears. “I’m sorry, Daddy. Please don’t be mad at me.”

“Mad at you? For giving me my first grandbaby? No way.” He pulled her back into his arms and kissed her cheek. “When’s it due? Boy or girl?”

She laid her head on his shoulder. If this had happened two years ago, before the cancer, he’d have had plenty to say, but facing death changes a person and their outlook, opinions—and tolerance. But, if he knew the circumstances, even the threat of his mortality wouldn’t keep him from being upset. That made her sad. “February nineteenth. I’m not telling anybody the sex. I want it to be a surprise.”

“Good enough.”

Quinn decided early on she’d keep the gender a secret. Somehow, she felt it made her connection to the baby stronger. Silly, she guessed, but it was something she wasn’t ready to share.

Gramps pounded the coffee table. “What about the daddy? Won’t he do right by you?”

She wiped her eyes. “He would, but I haven’t told him yet.”

Gramps relaxed his hand. “But you plan to.”

“I’m not sure.”

“Why not?”

“Gramps, leave her alone. She’ll tell us everything when’s she ready, won’t you?”

“I’m just saying.” He stiffened. “Any man worth his salt will do the right thing.”

She nodded. “He’s a good man, and not married, if that’s what you’re wondering. It isn’t the time to hit him with this kind of news. He has a lot going on at work, and doesn’t need the extra stress.”

“This isn’t the kind of secret you can keep for long,” Dad said. “Better you tell him, than have him notice.”

Gramps shook his head. “Young people today. I don’t understand what in the devil is happening. They get surgery to change’em to a different sex. Have babies without being married. The whole damn world is going to hell in a hand basket.”

Quinn changed the subject. No need to get Gramps more riled up than he was. “How about I make us sandwiches before I go?” She took bread from the pantry, then moved toward the fridge.

“Sounds good. Once you tell the father, will he marry you?”

Quinn saw worry lines form on her dad’s forehead. She hated adding problems to his life. He had enough to deal with, and what was one more lie? She was getting good at telling them. “Yes. That won’t be a problem. But, I don’t want you to worry about that. Okay?”

“Are you going to keep living in that small apartment? With one bedroom, I’d think you’d want a bigger place.”