If Stella were here, she’d tell me to mind my own business.
“But she’s like a daughter to me,” I mumble.
Stella would say, “I know.”
I climb out of the Tahoe and amble across the yard. “Traffic was murder.” As I take the steps up the porch, I ask the expected question, “You okay?”
Before she can even answer, a weariness washes over me and I resist the urge to sit down right there and just lean against the railing. I am tired. More tired than I have felt since those all-night vigils with Stella. I’d work all day while the nurse sat with her, and then I’d spend the night entertaining her or just watching her breathe. I was terrified that if I closed my eyes, I’d wake up and she’d be gone.
“I don’t know,” Liv admits. “‘Okay’ is suddenly complicated.”
These words surprise me. Liv isn’t one to bemoan her lot in life. If she’s having a bad day, she usually pretends it’s merely challenging or that she has no idea what I’m talking about. She keeps her chinup. Always. Even, I’ve learned lately, when one of those headaches kicks her butt.
“How complicated?” I pause at the door as she steps aside to let me in.
“You should have a drink.”
“Oh.” I groan. “That complicated.”
Liv is not a drinker. The occasional glass of wine or beer, but she’s way too levelheaded to go overboard with either. Never smoked. Runs and works out. Eats all those natural, colorful veggies they say are good for you. The list of healthy stuff she does makes me exhausted just thinking about it.
I lower myself onto Dr. Newhouse’s leather sofa. Liv rounds the bar and pours me a scotch. My mouth waters. This won’t be the cheap stuff. Her daddy bought only the best. She returns to where I wait, but she’s carrying only one drink.
“What about you?” I accept the glass she offers.
“That’s part of the complication.”
I knock back a slug of the scotch, clear my throat. “All right. I’m listening.”
Liv sits down on the coffee table, her chin in her hands, elbows on her knees. “All these migraines and feeling utterly exhausted all the time really had me worried. And I was late.” She glances up at me, and I nod in understanding. “So I took a pregnancy test and it was positive. That’s really why I went to the doctor. With all the headaches, I thought something might be wrong.”
The wind goes right out of my sails. I’m nodding again, like a cheap bobblehead doll. “What does your fiancé have to say about this?”
I recognize my tone is accusing as if the man has done something bad and needs taking down a couple of notches. When she smiles, some of the heaviness lifts from my chest.
“You’re the only person besides my doctor who knows.”
My smile turns into a grin. “He won’t like that you told me first.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s the least of my worries. I don’t know if I’m properly equipped to be a mother, Walt. This is seriously complicated.”
I reach out, take her hand in mine. “First, yes, it’s complicated, but it’s also amazing and crazy wonderful. Stella and I wanted children so badly. It’s a blessing. After losing your father, it’s a miracle. That’s what it is. Second, you’ll be an incredible mother. The best. No question.”
“I wish I could feel as sure as you do.”
My mind goes back to the logistics of all this. “So is the pregnancy causing the headaches?”
I’m hoping the answer is yes and that there isn’t some other underlying issue.
“Dr. Raiford said it’s a combination of the pregnancy hormones and all the loss and stress I’ve experienced lately. She thinks it’ll pass or at least ease up in the next few weeks as I move into the second trimester.”
Anticipation has me asking, “So when is this baby due? I have to start making plans, kid.”
“December fourteenth, give or take a few days. We’ll know more after an ultrasound.” She shakes her head. “Merry Christmas to me.”
The pages of the calendar—the days, weeks, months—whirl in my head. I have to get to that cardiologist and get my act together. I need to be here for Liv ... for the baby.
I square my shoulders and do the fatherly thing. “You have to talk to Preston about this. It’s not right to leave him out.”
