Page 112 of Bountiful
“The drugs were probably responsible for part of it. But also I was just so exhausted. She took a good eighteen hours to arrive. I was practically speaking in tongues by the time they handed hertome.”
“Who was with you at thehospital?”
“My mom was with me the whole time. And the rest of the brat pack was out in the waiting room. My brothers. My uncles. Audrey and Griffin.” I yawned. “You know what’s funny? I thought Nicole was the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen. Reallyperfect.”
“Sheis.”
“She isnow. But on her first birthday, my mother gave me a photo album of her first year. And in the newborn photos she’s red and wrinkly, and looks like a skinnyoldman.”
We both laughed. And then I got up and fetched him that photo album, so he could see for himself. At two in the morning we looked at those pictures. It was a lovely, ordinary thing that most mothers had always done with their babies’fathers.
And it was every bit as wonderful as I always expected ittobe.
Dave
In my dream,a baby waschattering.
Wait, no. That wasn’t adream.
I opened my eyes to see sunlight streaming in Zara’s windows. Beside me, Zara groaned sleepily, but her eyes were stillclosed.
“Bah bip ta-da!” Nicole demanded from somewherenearby.
I swung my legs out of bed, pulled on my boxers and stuck my head in her room. She stood in the crib, waiting. “Da-da!” she yelled when Iappeared.
The clock on her wall said 6:45, but it felt earlier. I scooped her out of the crib and changed her diaper, even though my eyes were only half open. When I carried her into the hallway, I heard Zara saymyname.
“Don’t make a bottle,” Zara murmured from the bed. “My boob is about to explode. She hasn’t nursed since yesterdaymorning.”
Nicole lunged for her mother, but this time I anticipated it, lowering her safely down. She wasted no time snuggling in beside Zara and clamping her mouth onto a nipple. They both closed their eyes and relaxedtogether.
Watching them, that unfamiliar emotion returned—the one I didn’t have a name for. A warm spot in the center of my chest—some kind of sentimental yearning that I wasn’t used tofeeling.
I stepped away to use Zara’s bathroom and splash some water on my face. Then I lay down beside the two of them and dozed, trying not to do the math on how soon I’d have to leave Vermontagain.
ChapterThirty-Two
Zara
Every summerthere came a moment when the season began to turn. And this year—like every year—the moment took me by surprise. The next afternoons were sunny and warm, but the June bugs had stopped smacking into the window screens at night. The frogs stopped singing in the ponds, fallingsilent.
And when I stood outside the coffee shop one afternoon, turning the sign on the door from OPEN to CLOSED, I heard it—the first cicada. Its hum rose up to fill the air, and it was quickly joined with its friends’songs.
That’s when I knew. Summer was practically over. Fall would soon paint the leaves red. Busses full of leaf-peeping retirees would crisscross Vermont. There wasn’t a freaking thing I could do to make summerlinger.
And this year that hurt me a little more than it had last year. Gofigure.
The days after Dave gave me the deed to the house on Main Street were bittersweet. Audrey was back, so I had some much-needed time off. “Go!” she’d say, shooing me out the door of the cafe on more than one occasion. “I’m back, I’m feeling better, and you put in your hours already. Go play with your baby and visit with your man. I’ll see you at ThursdayDinner.”
The thing was, I hadn’t been to Thursday Dinner in a really long time. Dave had distracted me, and Griff and Audrey’s honeymoon hadupendedme.
Should I go? And more importantly, should IbringDave?
Still unsure, I called Ruth Shipley to offer her a half-bushel of my uncles’ earliest pears, and to ask if I could bring a guest to Thursday Dinner, justthisonce.
“Of course, sweetie!” she said. “Bring himeverytime.”
Ifonly.
