Merry Christmas, Babies. Tara Quinn Taylor
the crib sheets had arrived. The mattresses had been bare for almost a week. Or it could be the…
“Joe?” Elise squinted up at her business partner, feeling as though she’d stepped onto another planet. Joe played on Saturday mornings. She’d never once heard from him then. Not even in college.
“I thought you were a changing table,” she said, leaning against the door, half blinded by sunlight. “I was hoping to get it put together this weekend,” she added irrelevantly.
He’d never seen her without makeup. She felt too wretched to care.
“I got you out of bed.”
“No.” She started to shake her head and stopped. Too much movement, too quickly. “I’ve been up over an hour.”
Making love to the toilet.
“What’s wrong?” Something had to be or he wouldn’t be there. And whatever it was, she’d deal with it. She’d promised him.
“That’s what I’m about to ask you.”
“Oh. I’m fine.” She leaned her head against the door. “Just trying to convince my children that eating is a necessary part of my life.”
She’d started laughing at herself half an hour before. Right after sobbing had caused another bout of vomiting.
He frowned, staring at her.
“Morning sickness,” she explained and bit back a smile at the embarrassed dawning of understanding that crossed his features.
“Should I call a doctor?”
“Nope. It’s happened before. It’ll pass. I could be as good as new in a matter of minutes.”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “It looks to me like you should spend the day in bed. If it’s anything like the flu, you need rest to regain your energy.”
“Nope. Eating takes care of that—once I’m allowed to do so.”
“Is it always this bad?”
She really wasn’t in the mood to chat.
“For me, or in general?”
“Either.”
“For me, yes. In general, I have no idea. But I’d guess not. I can’t imagine women electing to go through this a second time.”
He had to have a reason for being there other than the state of her stomach. It would be good if he’d just tell her and be on his way before she gave in to the urge to slide down to lie on the floor. The entryway was tile, too, and tile was her friend. It was cool. And didn’t move at all.
He didn’t say anything. Didn’t seem to be leaving.
“My theory is that if one kid objects to nutrition, all the rest will decide to give it a try.”
She’d come up with this theory in the middle of the night a week or so ago, picturing her four offspring with minds and motivations of their own—it made them seem more endurable somehow.
Joe’s bark of laughter surprised her. She wasn’t usually able to amuse him.
“They’re considerate brats, though,” she continued babbling, closing her eyes as she felt the breeze coming up from the river across the street. “They refrain from midday or evening interruptions, keeping all food rejections to the night and first thing in the morning.”
Would he never leave? The living room sofa was through the foyer door and six yards away. The light green cushions were silky, soft. They’d be cool.
And they didn’t smell.
She could let go of the door. Take enough steps to make it there.
The world would stop spinning as soon as she lay down. In another fifteen minutes, assuming her babies were done protesting, she’d be good to go.
Cool cushions against her cheek. Six yards away. Fifteen minutes.
Pushing off from the open door, Elise stumbled toward her destination.
JOE CRACKED HIS ARM against the doorjamb in his haste, but he got to her before she hit the floor. With fear in his heart, he picked up his partner, holding her gingerly as he carried her to the closest piece of furniture in the house—the living room sofa.
He’d never held her before. Wasn’t even sure if they’d ever hugged as good friends sometimes do.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, squinting up at him as he straightened her legs against the cushions and grabbed a throw pillow for beneath her head. “I got dizzy there for a second.”
She licked lips that looked chapped. He debated calling an ambulance.
And he settled for her doctor.
“Where’s your doctor’s number?” he asked, striding over to the phone.
“I don’t need her.” Her voice sounded stronger.
Hands on his hips, Joe stared at her. “Well, you clearly need something. What can I do?”
“A bottle of water from the fridge might help,” she said. And then, when he was halfway to the kitchen, added, “And, Joe? There’s a box of crackers on the second shelf in the pantry by the stove. Would you mind bringing it, too?”
He’d have felt better calling a doctor.
TWENTY MINUTES LATER JOE conceded that she’d been right. While Elise still needed a shower and fresh clothes, her color—and her wits—were back to normal as she sat curled on one end of the couch, still munching away. She’d finished half of one of the four packs in the box he’d brought in since they’d been sitting there.
“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” he finally asked, half-amused as he sat across from her. Another minute and he’d go.
“Last night.” She pulled one last cracker out of the tube and put the rest in the box. “But apparently the kids don’t like spinach and salmon. I don’t think they let me keep any of it.”
That couldn’t be healthy.
Nor could walking around ready to pass out at any moment.
“Does your doctor know you live alone?”
“No.”
He’d expected an affirmative. Expected to find that there was some practical explanation for why she should be safe, alone, in her condition. He’d expected to be told that he was overreacting again.
“She thinks you have a roommate?” She’d know the history of Elise’s pregnancy, surely, that she was a single woman who’d chosen artificial insemination as a means of procreating.
“Or a live-in caregiver.”
The hesitant way she spoke gave him pause. And with years of practice of communicating with Elise, if not reading her expressions, he filled in the blanks.
“She told you it wasn’t safe for you to be here alone.”
“She said it wasn’t wise.”
Damn. Joe lost all appetite for a picnic lunch on the water.
“Not so much because of the morning sickness,” Elise continued as he barely bit back the reprimand he needed to utter. “With four babies there’s the possibility of some complications—I told you this before.”
“Yeah,” he muttered. What could possibly have driven her to do this to herself? Remembering that night more than a month ago when he’d met his longtime friend for the first time, he answered his own silent question.
“That’s not to say there’ll be any,” she added quickly. “I could have a perfectly normal pregnancy.”
“What are the odds?”
She