A Dutiful Wife

by Sydney Michelle

 

Chapter Nineteen

 

Redoing my face after work that Thursday was a strain. The lights would be dim in The Back Bench; that called for more dramatic makeup. But it was Dad, still not completely comfortable with his one and only son in a dress. In a dress that curved in all the right places, no less. I hesitated while Blake changed, getting out of a three piece business into a flowing, high necked dress. "What the hell."

"You say something?"

"It’s about time Dad got used to it."

"Huh? Did I miss something?"

"I’m going to have a baby. Dad has had two years to get used to the idea of me being a wife. Tonight’s the night. Get out my blue gown, please."

"I love you in it, but are you sure?"

"Uh-huh." I bent forward, fumbling for my eyelash curler. "Your wife should look her best around other barristers. Dad will just have to get used to it."

I left off my nose ring, that did freak Dad when he saw it, but I was to the nines. Sophisticated, not trampy, eyeshadow and eyeliner extended to widen my eyes, dark red lipstick outlined with a slightly darker lip pencil, a bit of blush on my cheek bones, some darker below to hollow my cheeks. But it was the jewelry that set me off: ring, stud, and drop in each ear, my pearl choker with the cameo, the rhinestone leaf set in front of my fan chignon. I wore a three strand faux pearl bracelet to complement the choker and my ever present wedding set.

My dress didn’t hurt either. Dark blue satin and sequins made a teardrop shoulder, the bodice definitely showed I had real cleavage, my pits smooth and hairless. The skirt flared out from my hips, a discrete side slit letting me move freely and showing a very nice leg when I put my mind to it. The hem trailed on the floor, even in my three inch heels, so I really used the lift strap to avoid tripping. With a white silk fringed shawl, I was ready to be shown off. It took a few tries for me to decide whether to arrange it draped over my head or just over my shoulders. I went with the mantilla effect, deciding that would minimize Dad’s shock until my unveiling. Besides, I thought it was a touch more eye-catching.

Even the valet did a double take when I alighted from the Cheetah. I didn’t blame him. Thanks to my Merry Widow, I distinctly curved in all the right places. Maybe I wasn’t the classic hourglass, even nipped I had a 26 inch waist, but I was definitely curvy. If Mike had been around to see me, you would have had to wipe drool off him.

Gene was his usual cool, dapper self, oozing complete control of his dining room, his staff. He had phenomenal vision, almost like a gator, able to look up and down at the same time. His head was down, scanning the reservation book and seating diagram as we entered. "Good evening, Mizzes Jones." His head came up and he gave me his full attention. There was momentary silence.

"You look especially nice this evening, Mrs. Jones. Something special?" Gene would never have said anything if we hadn’t been friends of Thelma and Kenzie. Generations of food service had given him an innate sense of dignified propriety, of the need for patrons to feel they were special.

"Just meeting my father, Gene. Has he arrived?"

"In the salon, Mrs. Jones. If you and Miz Jones will join him, I’ll make sure your table’s ready."

The "salon," actually a very nice mahogany bar area, was not large. Kenzie did not believe in a mandatory visit before dining. He sold enough wine with meals to make up the loss. It was easy to find Dad, neat in a gray single breasted and vest, a dark blue foulard with small red dots neatly tucked away.

"Hello, Dad." I gave him a dutiful peck on the cheek.

"I’ll have your table right away, Mr. Jones." Gene silently disappeared.

Blake drew out my chair. I looked up gratefully as I sat, gloved fingers holding my silver lame purse. I studied my hands as I drew off the fingers, avoiding eye contact while Dad took in his first impression. The light in the bar was quite dim, so he didn’t get the full effect.

"So how did your brief go, Sir?"

"Very well, I think. Your tips about Justice Gellman’s slant were very helpful."

"Would your party like something from the bar, Sir?"

"We should be at our table momentarily. Just add my bill to that tab."

"Very good, Sir." The waiter withdrew as silently as he came.

I silently debated whether to take down my shawl. I decided to wait until we were at table. It would give me one less thing to fight, and the light would be better.

"Uh, Jaimie? It is you under there, isn’t it?"

"Of course, Dad. Who else would Blake bring?"

"Your table is ready, Mr. Jones."

"Thank you, Gene. Lead the way." Dad downed the rest of his bourbon and branch before rising.

Gene led the way toward a table discretely to one side.

"Oh, please, Gene. Can we have that one?" I indicated an empty table in the middle of the floor. "I want everyone to see how handsome my Daddy is tonight."

Gene inclined his head the barest fraction. "As you wish, Mrs. Jones."

Blake greeted a few acquaintances as we worked our way to the table, acknowledgments of attorneys she had come to know while she was clerking. When we were settled in, I unwrapped my shawl, sliding the hood back to reveal my hair before unwinding it. Gene took it away to coat check. Dad sat stunned, eyes not moving off me. He hadn’t been that stupefied since my graduation.

"Jaime? You look, you look . . ."

"Glowing?"

Ursula appeared. All Kenzie’s staff just appeared. Between extra carpet pad and rubber soles, there was never a sound to disturb his patrons’ conversations. ‘Chef has prepared specials tonight . . ."

"I’ll order, if you don’t mind, Dad."

"So long as it’s red."

"Oxtail soup to begin. If that’s not available, the French Onion. The house salad with raspberry vinaigrette dressing. For my father, the rack of lamb for three, medium rare with lemon roasted potatoes and asparagus Hollandaise. We’ll decide on dessert later. I’ll have raspberry tea, a pot. Let us consider the wine list."

"Very good, Madam. Jason will be with you shortly."

"You are acting very grown up, Jaimie."

"I have, in case you had forgotten."

Dad’s eyes swept over me, taking everything in, including the definite swell of my breasts. He sighed. "It’s how you have grown up that I keep forgetting."

"Out of sight, out of mind?"

Dad shook his head. "Never. Never out of mind. But tell me, you do usually keep things more, shall we say, out of sight than tonight?"

"I don’t dress like this for the Library, if that’s what you mean. You could have stopped by to see me today, you know. We’re just a hop, skip, and a jump from the Court, you know."

"We were last up. Of course we had to review, and by then you should have been gone."

Ursula deposited my cup and a silver pot. Jason was right behind, handing the wine list to Dad.

"What would you recommend with lamb, Jason? Medium rare. I was thinking a Merlot."

"We just received some very nice Australian Shiraz, overtones of currants and blackberries, a nice finish."

"That sounds lovely. Two glasses, please. I’ll have to pass."

Jason retrieved the list from Dad, retired as quietly as he had come.

"I was going to ask how you two were fixed with your news, but if you dine here as regularly as it appears, you are either flush or beyond help."

I straightened impeccable silver before picking up the pot. That way Dad got the full effect of my scarlet, definitely manicured, nails. "It helps that Kenzie and Thelma are friends. She’s pregnant too."

Dad sipped water. Blake sat very upright and very much out of the line of fire.

"About this pregnancy thing."

Jason appeared at his elbow, presenting the bottle. I added sugar and just a little cream to my tea, taking a sip. Dad nodded his approval, Jason de-corked. Blake squeezed my hand under the table. Jason poured, Dad tasted, the glasses were filled.

I set my cup down, fingers distended slightly to avoid the heat of the cup. "Isn’t it wonderful? You and Mom are going to be grandparents. At last."

"It’s the how, not the whys and wherefores, that bothers me."

"Why? We did everything in the proper order."

"You know why. Stop pretending."

"Dad, I’m fine with it. More than fine. I want it, I really do. It’s only been three weeks, but already I’m starting to love the thought of our Mary Elizabeth next to my heart, growing within me. Two years ago, last year even, I had doubts, but no more. Be happy for us, for me, won’t you please?"

"You make it sound like a tumor."

"Dad! Were you this bad with mother?"

"I wasn’t a strutting cock of the walk, if that’s what you mean. I wanted you, and Gwen so your mother could have a daughter, but I kept thinking of all that could go wrong. Too many malpractice cases I suppose." He turned to Blake. "And now you’ve gone and done this to her. Him. My son. At least I suppose Jaimie’s still my son. Looking across the table, I’m not so sure."

"Everything’s still in working order. Very nicely working since you asked."

"I don’t need details." Dad looked grim.

Ursula set out soup, thank goodness. Dad, that is we, needed a break. It was the French Onion.

One advantage of being in the middle of the floor was that Dad had to keep it down. Not that he was routinely loud, but he was under a lot of pressure, almost as much as I was.

"You say you love him, yet you would put him through this?"

"Jaimie means the world to me. We want children. My earnings will be much greater. Ergo, Jaimie will have our children now that there’s the opportunity. Case closed, counselor."

"All the courts have not ruled on this one, counselor."

"The courts that count . . ."

"Would you two put a lid on it? This is not a case of who is the Bull of the Woods. This is about Mary Elizabeth, my daughter and your granddaughter, Dad. I love the idea of having children, of carrying them, nursing them, loving them. If Jen were having a child, would you have a fit? No. So be happy I’m having a baby, that you will have another generation to teach to fish and love the woods and the River. Be happy for me, Dad. I am a coman and Blake’s wife and wouldn’t have it any other way." All this was delivered in a low voice and with a giant smile on my face. If all else fails, I might have a career in acting.

"But you’re not Jen. You’re not built like her. Well, you’re a lot more like her now, only more so, the way you spill out of that dress. But in one critical component, you’re not like her."

"It’s not like I’m going for natural child birth."

"But if something goes wrong? If the child wants out early?"

"I’ll be monitored and never far from delivery."

"Dammit! It’s not natural!"

"It’s as natural as any couple who need assistance. In vitro, gene testing, host bearers, it’s all been done." Blake leaned forward, deflecting the heat.

"So why do I feel like Jaimie is a guinea pig in some mad scientist’s experiment?"

"Because you love me?"

Dad sat silent, spooning down his soup. It was good soup, rich, the croutons soaked with flavor, the cheese thick and gooey. When we were done, Ursula whisked away the bowls, replacing them with the salads. We all sipped a little, trying to collect our thoughts between rounds.

"Sometimes, Jaimie, I suspect you don’t have good sense. Your grades were Okay, but sometimes it seemed like you had to do things just to see how it would turn out. Even when you knew it would be bad."

"For instance?"

"There was that time when we went fishing and you thought the fire was taking too long to build up, so you added a little starter fluid."

"I was cold!"

"Not after that stream exploded. I was scared to death rushing you back into town."

"They were only second degree."

"Thank the Lord. I had only told you a thousand times not to squirt starter fluid on an open fire, but you had to do it anyway."

"It’s not like I was the only child to mess up."

"No, but you were our child. It was our hearts in our throats on those trips to the Emergency Room. But you wouldn’t know. You aren’t a parent."

"I am now. Even now I feel protective of Mary Elizabeth. I wouldn’t do anything to harm her. If I had thought for a moment that my carrying her would harm her, I’d never have done it. Nor if there is any indication for our others, I won’t."

"Others?"

"You know we settled on four. Yes, others. The others like Mom wanted."

Dad sat quietly, picking at his rabbit food. It was crisp, filling, keeping us occupied until the rack was ready.

"What others? How did you know?"

"Mom said she wanted more children but you said no. It was just the two of us." I pushed a cucumber slice around with my fork. "Dad, my life isn’t going to be like yours, obviously."

"That’s a definite understatement."

"But I am going to be happy with Blake, Just as happy as you and Mom made each other. Be happy for that."

Dad paused with a fork full in mid-air. "I’m trying. But what am I supposed to do for the next nine months? Commit myself?"

"Eight."

"Eight what?"

"Eight months. I’m scheduled the twentieth of May."

"You have a due date already?"

"One advantage of this process is they book surgery as soon as you’re confirmed."

"Oh. Lord, surgery." Dad put down his fork, his salad only half eaten. He took a deep swig of his wine, made a sour face. Red wine and vinaigrette dressing do not go well together. He washed it down with a full glass of water. Ursula was right there to refill it and disappear.

"You would prefer I did natural childbirth?"

"No. It just hadn’t fallen into place. I was a nervous wreck when Dr. Peyton took out yours and Gwen’s tonsils."

"How did you survive our childhoods?"

"From crisis to crisis. With regular but vary moderate visits with Uncle Jim. By trusting in your mother’s ability to make almost everything better."

Blake downed her last croton, made eye contact with Ursula. The salad plates disappeared.

"You loved us very much, didn’t you. I mean I knew it, just not how much."

"And when one does something insane, you try to head it off, to avert the heartache."

"Like having a baby?"

"Like having a baby."

I sipped tea, having gained an entirely new insight into my father. You live with someone your whole life, and then you find out. Blake squeezed my hand.

Ursula pushed over a cart with a tall silver dome, Kenzie following in his whites. He kissed my cheek. "I heard you were here and thought I would bring this out personally. Hello, Mr. Blair. Nice to see again. Thelma is so excited that she and the girls are expecting together."

"Your first, if memory serves."

"That’s right. Last wed, first bred." Kenzie grinned. "Thelma will turn me into an old man yet."

"Nonsense. Children keep you young, open to new things. Besides giving their parents a few gray hairs from worry and fright along the way."

"Parenthood sounds like an extended Halloween."

"More like Christmas. New things to unwrap almost every day. Most of them pleasant."

"I hope so. And I hope you enjoy this." Kenzie lifted the cover from the rack, the Frenched bones in little paper tassels. Six roasted new potatoes graced the edge. Kenzie carved each rib, dividing the six chops onto three plates. Potatoes and asparagus joined them with a flourish, along with a sauce ladle of natural gravy and Hollandaise. The plates were beautifully presented, each with a pickled apple ring, a carrot curl, a radish rose, and a parsley flower for garnish.

Kenzie and Ursula withdrew, leaving us to mint jelly, crisp rolls, sweet butter and silence. Lots of silence. Finally I put down my utensils, took a last sip of tea.

"Dad, is your problem with this that something might go wrong? That I might be hurt?"

He looked up, surprise on his face. "I just don’t see why you have to take the chance."

"We aren’t. Not as much as a woman’s pregnancy, not with all the monitoring I have. I can arrange for you to talk to Dr. Cordray at ESU if that will ease your mind."

"Maybe."

"At least you could tell me I look nice."

"Let’s not go into that one."

"Then that you love me? And respect our decision?"

"I suppose it’s too late to change it?"

"I am not killing Mary Elizabeth."

"I had more in mind changing hosts." Dad cast a glance at Blake.

"Dad. Look at me. I want to carry her."

Dad took a long sip of wine.

"Mr. Blair, it would mean a lot to Jaimie to know we have your blessing."

"Now you ask?" He drained his glass. "If nothing else, this place serves good wine." He took a last bite of bread, sopping up the lamb gravy. "A blessing? You want a blessing?"

"Yes, Sir. Preferably not a ritual sacrifice."

Dad sighed deeply, looked down in his lap. "Who am I to say that if God gave us the intelligence to figure out how to do this thing that it might not be for the best? I do know that all things that are possible are not wise. And man, in his hubris, often does not stop to consider the difference.

"Some of the biggest fools I know are doctors who confuse their training with God. Others are in universities, entranced by the echo of their own voices. The worst of all are our fellow lawyers who mistake speaking well for wisdom once they have been elected.

"I cannot say that this is what I would prefer, but perhaps, like many parents, the pitfalls loom too large, the benefits becoming invisible. It is, as you say, too late to do otherwise. Like Eisenhower, once the word to go was given, I can but sit and wait to hear of the outcome. Unlike Ike, I had no part in the planning.

"I can but pray that the outcome is good and that your decision was wise."

"That’s a blessing?"

Dad sighed. "Jaimie, I can’t pretend to what I don’t feel, not with someone I have spent twenty-four years watching over. I do hope the process is as successful as you two hope it will be. I sincerely hope we won’t get a distraught call in the middle of the night, that you and your baby grow healthy until your time, and that the delivery is without surprises. What more can you ask of me? It’s too late for my permission."

"Assurance that you won’t stop loving me."

"That you don’t have to ask for. It’s not possible, short of your becoming a serial killer. Somehow I doubt you’re going to kill me to marry your mother."

I looked down and smiled. "I doubt Dr. Linwood would accuse me of having an Oedipal complex. But promise me one thing?"

"What?"

"Five summers from now, show Mary Elizabeth how to cast without a snarl."

Dad laughed and threw up his hands. "First you want a blessing. Now you want a miracle."

The miracle was he kissed my cheek as we left The Back Bench. That and he told Blake that she had better be careful or a promising career would come a cropper for sleeping on the job. Wives didn’t gussy themselves up just to impress a parent. Mothers aren’t the only parents who perceive too much.

 

Epilogue

 

"Jaimie? Jaimie, Honey, are you awake?"

My eyes fluttered, adjusting to the dim light. There was a form close by, white, pink and black. I felt something warm squeeze my hand. The form swam into focus. It was Blake.

"Hhm." I stirred. My hips felt like a rusty gate.

"Don’t move if you don’t have to." Blake’s head blocked out the light from the window. Her lips caressed my cheek, the point of my mouth. "I love you, Honey."

I’ll take those any way I can get them, but this had to have been the hardest of all. I smiled weakly. "I love you too, Blake. Water now. Dry."

Blake brought me a plastic cup with ice. I sipped cool water through the straw. Water had never tasted so good. "You feel like company?"

"In a little. Where’s Bess?"

"In the nursery. She’s darling."

"There’s nothing wrong with her, is there?"

"No, Sweetheart, she’s perfect. You both needed to rest. They’ll bring her in in a little while." Blake stroked my cheek. She was so tender. I was so sore. I lifted my hand to hers. It felt nice, reassuring, her hand nestled in mine. I turned to her, gingerly.

"Was I alright? Delivering her?"

"Dr. Laney said it went fine. You were out of it and I wasn’t allowed in. I’m sure you were the perfect patient."

"I, I can have more, can’t I?"

"No indication you can’t. We’ll have a houseful before we’re through."

"And I’ll be as big as a house. You’ll still love me, won’t you?"

"Forever and ever."

"Amen."

She kissed me on the lips, tenderly, lovingly. My hand stole to her nape, fingers caressing her wide, flat chignon.

"Be good. We can’t have you pulling out a staple."

"Can’t a wife let her dama know she loves her? Without bouncing her off the ceiling?"

"If I could trust your self-control more."

"You can trust that any sudden moves on my part would ruin the mood in a hurry."

Blake drew back the covers, suddenly worried. "Do you hurt down there?"

"Not actively. They weren’t kidding when they said I would have some discomfort after delivery. But if you would help me up and bring me a brush, I could make myself presentable for company."

Blake made sure my hips were on the crack before raising the head of the bed. It was nice not to have to search for the buttons. She adjusted the blinds so the light in the room was not too bright. I had my braid undone by the time she brought me a brush and mirror. I sat there in one of those horrid hospital gowns, the slit in front, brushing my plaits back into strands. Or at least trying.

"Here, let me help you with that."

Blake was so sweet, brushing my hair, lifting the strands to spread them over my breast. My breasts, my wonderful milk jugs, soon to fulfill their wonderful function. She handed me the mirror but I took her hand.

"Thank you, my beloved, for making me your wife, for giving me a child, for being my loving support."

Blake bent down, her eye level with mine. "Thank you, my beloved, for being my wife, for becoming the mother of my child, for your willing support, for loving me." She kissed me, tenderly but with feeling.

How could I not love that woman, even if she had given me the silhouette of a blimp? Our foreheads touched, hands clasped. "Shouldn’t I wear something prettier to conduct an audience?"

"We brought your new pink peignoir if you want to change."

"Yes, please."

"Let’s get you out of this first." Blake put her hand behind my back and guided me forward.

I gasped. "On second thought, why should we insult the hospital?"

"Alright. Maybe later." Blake laid me back to the mattress.

I looked around the room, getting my bearings. It was a standard single, maybe a bit larger to accommodate the expected visitor load. A bath by the door, a closet and nightstand, a floral picture on the wall opposite, a large window, and on the ledge a foiled pot plant.

"How nice. You brought me violets, Blake."

"Not me. My arrangement will be at home. That way we don’t have to lug it."

"Then who?"

Blake bent over the foiled container, searching for a card. "Well, I’ll be. Mr. Davidson."

I smiled. He would remember. "How thoughtful."

I raised the mirror. "I look horrid. At least I can put on some makeup." So I’m vain. Shoot me.

Lipstick and a dab of powder to cover the blotches was all I could manage. At least my lashes are naturally thick and long even if they aren’t dark. And my green eyes shone.

"Ready for my close-up, Miz Jones."

"You look mahvelous, simply mahvelous, Mrs. Jones."

"I haven’t lost my inner glow, have I?"

"You always glow. But I’m prejudiced."

"You better be, you scamp."

Blake left me alone. My fingers fluttered with the top and short sleeves. At least the gown was a dusty pink rather than that nauseating green hospitals seem to love. I found the control buttons and raised my knees slightly, folded my hands, awaited my fans.

The door opened, a large basket of flowers pushing through the door. An enormous pink balloon slipped under the header, then floated up to bounce gently on the ceiling. My fans, my support, trooped through the doorway, Mom in the lead carrying the flowers.

"Hi there, little mother. How are you feeling? A little sore, I’d bet."

"Hi, Mom. You’d win that one. Hello, Mrs. Jones."

"Isn’t it about time you called me ‘Mother,’ Dear?"

Knock me off the bed with a feather. The woman was actually being civil! And not sarcastic. "If you wish, Mother Jones."

"I know I haven’t been the nicest mother-in-law, Jaimie," That is one of the world’s great understatements. "but you’ll have to forgive me for feeling that somehow you were a bad dream, a stunt that would come to a sad ending, a temporary fascination that would vanish in the mist." Mother Jones is nothing if not blunt. "But as my Jim says, a baby isn’t going to disappear in a puff of magic smoke. You two are really serious about this. So thank you for loving my Blake and having my granddaughter.

"Now Bet, don’t be upset. I know we agreed to pool our gifts and not compete over Mary Elizabeth, but I feel I owe this to Jaimie. Kind of a belated wedding gift."

Mother Jones produced a black velvet box, opened the lid and handed it to me. Inside was the most beautiful pin, a double circle of pearls with an amethyst pendant hanging from the top join. I picked the card out of the top.

"‘When two hearts beat as one.’ Oh thank you, Mother Jones." I gave her a hug. "Thank you for Blake."

"Take good care of her and Mary Elizabeth."

"I will."

"So what are we? Chopped liver?"

"Hello, Jen, Bren."

One good thing about Chrysalis, a scheduled delivery means lots of support on hand. Jen was in a white dress with a pleated skirt, chestnut hair drawn back smoothly except for wisps coiling off her nape. She had Bren firmly by the hand. He was in black pants and a plain white blouse, open at the throat. You had to really pay attention to notice the right hand overlap and the lack of a pocket.. His brown hair was controlled in a short braid, nothing unusual about that. Then he turned and you saw it started as a French Braid about half way up the back. When he took my hand and kissed my cheek, his nails had carefully rounded points and there was a faint glimmer from clear polish.

"Congratulations, sister-in-law. You do good work, We’ve seen her."

"Thank you, sister-in-law. You’ve always been supportive." Ever since he had been one of my bridesmaids, sister-in-law had been our customary greeting.

Jen was talking to Blake who nodded her head. Whenever those two were in agreement, the rest of us could watch out.

"So where is our girls’ playmate?" Jan stood at the foot of the bed, her daughter neatly wrapped in her arms. "My Valerie wants to see her."

"My Ann too," Thelma laughed, standing next to Jan, with her little bundle.

"Oh, goodness, they’re getting so big! They were just little bunches of wrinkles yesterday."

"Careful. You’re talking about a future Miss Coed here." Thelma wrinkled her nose, smiling at her baby.

"Just you wait, Mrs. Jones. You’ll think your little bundle of wrinkles is the most beautiful, most precious thing too. But we know better, don’t we Hon?" Jan lifted her baby, shaking her face at it. "Yes we do. We know who is just the most precious thing, don’t we?"

"Blake? Honey? Can they bring Bess to me?"

"In a few minutes. They bring them around at four."

"Then let me practice by holding my god-children." Jan and Thelma moved up the bed, bending to deposit their precious bundles, one in each arm. Ann, a month older, was easily ahead of Val who stirred and moved her little fist to her mouth. Ann’s eyes opened. She yawned. Her little head and eyes moved, taking it all in. She was a brave baby, not at all frightened by the presence of strangers.

"Come to Aunt Jaimie. Aren’t you two just the sweetest things? And you and my Bess are going to be the best of friends, just like your mommies. And you’ll be smart, and brave, and strong, just like your papa and dama. And beautiful to boot. Your Auntie Thelma will show you how to present yourself, and your Auntie Jan will show you how to cook and give parties, and your Auntie Jaimie will show you how to run and play, and we’ll all just love you to death."

I held them to my breasts and rocked gently. To my distress, Ann woke up and began to cry.

"Lunch time, I’ll bet. She eats early so I have time to fix supper for Drew." Jan bent over, picking Val up and checking her bottom. "Not damp, so it must be hungry. Excuse me, Mrs. Blair."

Mom took my hand. "Are you feeling alright, Dear? I understand the incision can be painful."

"I’m fine. I’m not going to be moving very fast for a few days, and I’m glad they fixed me so I don’t have to get up to pee, but I’m fine. How’s Dad taking this?"

Mom laughed. "Totally split personality. I’ve never seen my cool, collected, lawyer so beside himself. On the one hand, he’s already bought Mary Elizabeth her own little fishing rod, not that she’ll be able to use it for at least three years. On the other, he’s out on the River with a buddy and some Uncle Jack. He was researching malpractice law up until I made him get out of the house."

"So he’s getting used to the idea?"

Mom smiled. "In his own way. You, Jaimie Blair Jones, have been one son for the books."

"Mom?"

"Yes, Jaimie?"

"Am I, am I going . . . Will I be a good mother?"

She took my hand in both of hers. "Oh, I think you’ll do fine. We all go a little crazy with our first one, but you have your friends. And if you get stuck, you can always call me. Or Margaret."

The bundle stirred in the crook of my arm. Ann waved a tiny hand at my face. I kissed the palm, still so small but so much bigger in just two months. I rolled my head, spied Jan in a chair, blouse open, little Valerie holding her teat, her mouth firmly latched. A look of pure contentment covered Jan’s face.

"Here, Thelma. Thank you for letting me hold her, but she must be about ready too."

"Come to Mama, Annie. That’s my good girl." Thelma held Ann across her body, rocking slowly as she looked at her daughter.

 

"Sing a song of six-pence, a pocket full of rye

"Four and twenty blackbirds, baked in a pie;

"When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing.

"Wasn’t that a dainty dish to set before the Queen?"

 

It was lovely, surrounded by family and friends, my cohorts with their daughters, filling the room with love. My mother-in-law talked softly with my mother, having decided to accept me since I was not going to go away. And my sister was very possessively holding my brother-in-law’s hand. I doubted Bess would be old enough to be a flower girl. Then came a gentle rap at the door. An LVN’s head appeared in the crack.

"Mrs. Jones? I have someone who wants to see you."

I looked up, wondering who could be left? Reverend Thistlewaite?

"Show ‘em in, if there’s room."

"Oh she doesn’t take up much space." The nurse carried in a little pink bundle which she gently laid in my arms. "Mrs. Jones, may I present your daughter, Mary Elizabeth Amelia Jones?"

I bent over the tiny bundle in the crook of my arm. "My baby?"

"Sure is. I’ll be back for her in half an hour."

Blake stood by my head as I peeled back the corner of the pink blanket. A tiny face yawned at me, her little clinched fist waving lazily before her little red face. "She’s so tiny." My voice was barely a whisper. "But she’s so precious." I placed a finger at her fist. Slowly her hand wrapped around it. Little tiny fingers, little tiny nails, but they were all there.

I looked up at Blake. "We did this?" She nodded.

A wave of joy washed over me, followed by a lesser one of fear. I, me, us, we were responsible for this little bundle, to feed her, and clothe her. To keep her from harm, and nurture her, and raise her so eventually we could let her go. To love her so that when she went, when her heart made room for another, there would always be a place in her heart for us.

A tear trickled down my cheek.

"Honey? Are you alright?"

"Oh yes, Blake, yes. Everything’s perfect."

Bess yawned and waved her little fist, reaching out.

"She must be hungry, Jaimie. Try nursing her." Mother was in full coach mode.

I untied my gown, letting it drop away to expose my teat. I cradled Mary Elizabeth’s head, lifting her mouth gently to my nipple. Bess pushed away, her tiny fist firm on my breast.

"Maybe not yet. Isn’t she the most beautiful thing you have ever seen?" Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone, blood of my blood, I will protect thee unto death.

"Yes she is, Dear. If you would help her along. Put the knuckle of your finger in her mouth."

I stroked her chin with my knuckle. So tiny, so fragile, so precious. I carried you under my heart for nine months, and now you’re here. When the knuckle found her mouth, her little hand closed on mine. I felt a gentle suck go stronger.

"Now guide her head to your breast. That’s it."

Bess held on as I gently repositioned her, putting my knuckle by my nipple. Bess’s hand stroked my softness, felt my warmth. I turned her head, rasing my knuckle to the end of my teat. Bess grasped me, her head turned, her mouth found my nipple. I felt the first gentle suck of my babe on my breast.

"Oh. Oh-h. Oh-h-h-h."

"Is anything the matter, Sweetheart?"

"Oh, no, Blake. It’s wonderful!" My voice was a whisper, but I felt like shouting.

And then it happened. She shifted, sucked, and put her little hand on my breast. I felt my nipple distend, soften. My milk let down, the ooze and flow I knew from my lactate test. But this was real, real mother’s milk flowing from me into my baby. It was better, more fulfilling, than sex. I was a real mommie to my baby, no "Abracadabra," no smoke and mirrors, no fake anything.

"Ah-h-h." I relaxed against the mattress. Bess suckled milk through me. My breast swoll, my glands responded to my babe. I saw Jan and Thelma holding their babes to their breasts, their faces relaxed and content. I felt the same look steal over me as I looked up at Blake. Mom and Mother Jones beamed.

"Sweetheart, are you Okay?"

I nodded, reached up. Her head bent down, our eyes closed, her mouth found mine and we kissed softly, lovingly, as Bess sucked gently at my teat.

"Happy, Darling?"

"Beyond Bliss. Thank you, Blake, for loving me. Thank you for making me a real coman, a real wife, a real mother. Thank you, my beloved, for our child, for my life." Tears of joy trickled down my cheek: my dama and now my baby had made my life real, complete.

 

The End

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Sydney Michelle. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.