Positively Mine (19 page)

“Definitely.”

As I scan the room and all the stuff that is required to maintain an infant, I feel the color draining from my face. This is what a new baby should come home to. Not an eleven and a half by twelve-foot dorm room.

“Are you all right?” Audrey asks. “You’re white as a ghost.”

“Can I sit down for a second?” I slide into the rocking chair.

Audrey pulls herself up off the floor, holding the slats of the crib to find her center of gravity. She touches my forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. It’s just…”

“What?”

“I’m running out of time.”

I hear Bill fumbling around in the kitchen before dawn, but I’m too tired to unglue my eyelids, so I roll over on the pull-out couch in their living room and drift back to sleep. A few hours later, the smell of coffee fills the apartment, as does the shimmer of a sunny Monday.

“Good morning.” Audrey smiles and hands me a mug of fresh brew.

“What time is it?” I rub my eyes.

“8:30.”

“When did Bill leave?”

“At five. He didn’t want to take any chances with traffic. What do you feel like doing today?”

“I don’t know.”

“I have an idea.” She has a smile on her face from ear to ear, and soon we are sitting across from a woman at the registry of a baby gear superstore in suburban Rochester, and she is showing me how to work a scanner gun so I can zap the bar codes of anything in the store I like.

“This is silly,” I say to Audrey when we are set free on the floor. “Who is going to buy me any of this stuff? No one knows I’m pregnant.”

“Yet.” She smiles. “Come on. It will be fun. Don’t hold back. Zap whatever your heart desires.”

We spend the rest of the morning roaming through the various departments, starting out in furniture, where I choose a crib, mattress, dresser/changing table plus a rose-themed crib set and a rocking chair to match. Then we move to the clothing department, and Audrey helps me choose an entire layette. Soon, I’m picking out a stroller and a car seat with the highest safety rating (and a high price tag to match). Next I scan bottles, plates, spoons, teething rings, pacifiers per Audrey’s guidance and any other contraption that seems like it will keep a baby entertained.

When we are done, I have seventy-five items on my list. If I ended up with five, I’d be happy.

All the shopping has us two pregnant girls starving, so we head to a nearby diner. When we’re chowing down on grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches, I admit, “That was kind of fun.”

“See,” Audrey says. “Retail therapy. Works like a charm.”

“It’d be nice if I could count on receiving some of that stuff. And had a place to put it, too.”

Audrey dips a French fry into ketchup. “Where are you planning to live once the baby is here? Are you going to move back into the city?”

The thought of living in the same building with my father, Sheryl, and their new baby while I struggle with trying to be a parent in a small studio is unappealing. Knowing Sheryl, she’d be signing us up for Mommy and Me classes together and trying to convince me to run in the park with her with tandem jogging strollers. Besides, I’d like to try and continue at Colman.

“I don’t want to raise a baby in the city. I was thinking about looking into off-campus housing in Milton. I guess the other option is my grandparents’ house although it’s for sale, so I can’t count on that for very long. Plus, it is out in the middle of nowhere.”

“Tell me about this place. Bill said it is beautiful. It’s a winery?”

“It’s a run-down old farm, really, but it is special. To me, at least.” Realizing we have four days to fill and no real plans, I ask, “Do you want to go see it?”

Tuesday morning arrives with the same sunny sparkle as the day before. We’ve now had three days of sun in a row – it’s a miracle! Audrey and I take turns showering, and then I pack a cooler with sandwiches, snacks and drinks.

Once we are out of the city, we rocket along the New York State Thruway, making great time, and arrive at the winery in just over an hour. There is a lot of activity in the fields today. This is the first time I’ve been here to see workers on the premises. There are about twelve men raking up hay and removing the plastic sleeves covering the vines – getting ready for spring.

Audrey pulls into the driveway and parks in front of the house.

“This is amazing,” she says, looking out onto glistening Seneca Lake.

“It used to be. It’s been neglected.”

“Doesn’t seem so bad to me. Show me around.”

I start with the outside tour first. The guys working in the fields watch us as we waddle our way down the dirt path – which is more like a mud path thanks to the late winter thaw. We edge along the dock.

There isn’t one boat to be found today on the expansive lake. It’s so calm and blue it’s hard to tell where the sky ends and the water begins. We take in the view for a while, and though it’s still quite chilly, the crisp, freshwater air makes it hard to want to be anywhere else.

“Bill and I meant to come over to do the wine trail, but we haven’t gotten around to it. Wow, Laurel. This is spectacular. Why is your dad selling it?”

“He doesn’t care about a run-down winery in upstate New York. It’s too far away, first of all. Plus, it’s probably too much of a reminder of my mom. I just found out a couple months ago that after she died, my grandparents put it in my name.”

“So this is yours?” Audrey motions with her hands to the lake and the land behind us.

“Well, it belongs to my grandparents’ estate.”

“But they aren’t alive anymore.”

“Right.”

“So it’s yours.”

Even after my conversations with Uncle Jake and my father last fall, I’ve never thought of it that way. Still, Audrey has a point.

“Come on. I’ll show you the house.”

I unlock the front door and push it open with a flourish.

Audrey prances through the rooms. “This is adorable.”

When we reach my old bedroom, she smiles. “Here’s your nursery. How cute would that crib set look in here?”

“You have a vivid imagination.” I laugh. “I can’t move here. It’s being sold.”

“Take it off the market. This is perfect for you. It would save you a lot of trouble trying to find an apartment. And money. Besides, why would you want to live in Milton when you could have this view?”

“It’s pretty quiet at night.”

“It won’t be with a baby.” She quips.

I sigh. “Come on. Let’s eat some lunch.”

While we are sitting at the kitchen table, unwrapping our turkey sandwiches, someone knocks at the back door. I open it to see a beefy, middle-aged man in farmer’s clothes. He’s taking off his muddy work gloves.

“Can I help you?”

He looks through the screen door, past me, at Audrey eating her sandwich and scratches his stubbly face. “I saw you pull up earlier. I’m Tobin Hodge, the owner of Riesling Hill up the road. I lease the land here. Are you two realtors?” There is doubt in is voice as he studies how young we are, not to mention how pregnant.

“No. I’m Mae Ramsey’s granddaughter, and this is my friend Audrey. We came over for the afternoon.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother. I just…um…I know the place is still on the market, and I’ve enjoyed cultivating the land here. I’d hate to lose it.”

I don’t know what to say so I just nod.

“Well, enjoy your lunch.” He puts his muddy gloves back on and walks away.

“What was that about?” Audrey asks when I close the door.

“I don’t know.”

Bill returns home on Friday, and much to his relief, his wife has not gone into labor without him. I feel like a third wheel when we’re eating dinner and he’s filling Audrey in on his week.

He’s an engineering major and hoping to secure a job before graduation. He thinks the one in Syracuse looks promising, he tells Audrey. The one in White Plains wouldn’t pay enough considering how expensive it is to live in Westchester. “Wish I hadn’t spent two days interviewing there before they told me the salary range,” he gripes.

I’m impressed with his spirit. Most seniors are partying on the beach in Daytona right now. I guess knowing you have a baby on the way puts some fire under your butt. No taking a year off and traveling around Europe for Bill.

Early on Sunday morning, they drive me back to Colman. I’m not allowed to go into Miller until after two o’clock, but I can tell they have things they want to get done, and I’m ready to be back on campus anyway. I have them drop me off at the Moose, figuring I can sit and read, or surf on my laptop or something.

Other than a few professors, the place is quiet. I order tea and some oatmeal and find a seat in a corner near the window. Since receiving that email when I had the ultrasound, I haven’t been good at checking my personal account. But with all the time I have today, I reluctantly log on; not knowing what awaits me in cyberspace and not too excited to find out.

As I scroll through hundreds of unopened emails, much of it junk, I find one buried from my father. In the subject field is: PARIS TRIP.

Hmm.

I click it.

Laurel,

I meant to get in touch sooner to let you know that Sheryl and I are going to Paris. It was a last-minute trip that she wanted to take before the baby arrives. It just dawned on me that you have spring break coming up, and I never asked what your plans are. Please send me a note with your arrangements. We’re staying at the Hotel Lutetia on the left bank. They have a website if you need the number.

Love, Dad.

I guess he did make some effort.

I send out the necessary reply and then open my e-reader. Audrey made me download a novel about a pregnant teenager in the 1960s. “You think we have it tough. Read this,” she told me.

While I do, the time flies, and soon the Moose is filling with lunch-time traffic, students returning to campus, grabbing something to eat before the dorms re-open. I continue to zone out the buzz. Audrey is right; it’s a good book. And I don’t notice the shadow of someone standing over the table until he says, “Laurel.”

I glance up to see Mike and immediately feel the nerves fluttering in my stomach (so much so the baby must feel them too because she gives me a big kick).

He’s got a tan that’s mixed with some sunburn like he was trying too hard to get color in a short amount of time. But he looks good. “Um, hi,” is all I can think to say.

“Can I sit here?”

I scan the room to see if maybe there are no tables left, but there are still a few empty ones so he doesn’t HAVE to sit with me. “Sure.” He slides into the chair opposite me. I log off my reader.

“I saw you here when I was walking by the window. I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“I’ve been thinking about you.”

“You have?” Now I have to push the baby’s foot out of my ribcage. She is not enjoying my racing pulse.

“I – um – owe you an apology.”

“Why?”

“Because I should have been a better friend to you this year, you know, after you told me.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I never should have let anything happen between us.”

“But I could have handled it better. I was just…angry.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I mean…I was angry not so much because you hooked up with me when you were pregnant with some other guy’s kid – although that wasn’t cool…”

“I…”

He doesn’t let me interrupt. “I was angry because I liked you. And you being pregnant meant I couldn’t be with you.”

I swallow hard. “I liked you too Mike.”

He nods. “I guess I wanted you to know.”

“So you’re not totally repulsed by me?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Oh.”

He rests back in his chair. “How are you?”

“I’m getting there.” I smile. “Literally.” I grab my stomach in between both hands.

“You are.” He smirks.

“And I’m having a girl.”

“Wow. Congratulations.”

I can’t believe that he is sitting here, by choice, and we’re having a normal conversation. “You’re tan,” I say, hoping to keep things going smoothly.

“I went to Cabo with the Saratoga crew.”

“Cool! I hung out in Rochester.”

“That’s a good spring break destination.”

I laugh.

We talk until the dorms are open. Then he walks me up to Miller, carrying my bag with his.

When we get to my door, we linger in an awkward silence until I put my key in the flimsy lock. “Thanks…for what you said. It means a lot to me.”

He stares into me with those hazel eyes, the same way he did in the stairwell back in December, making me incredibly self-conscious.

“We should have lunch or something,” I stammer, and he nods, his gaze still intense.

“What?” I finally ask. This is too much for me to handle.

“I’m still attracted to you, so you know. Pregnant and all.”

“How?”

“I just am.”

My nerves tingle with his words, and the pregnancy hormones aren’t helping me out at all. “Well, get over it,” I breathe. I mean for this to come out a lot stronger than it does.

“I’ve been trying to all year.”

He pushes my door. “Come here.” And barges into my room.

I stand in the doorway, not knowing what to do.

“Come here.”

I still hesitate.

“I’m not going to make a move on you, Laurel, if that’s what you’re thinking. Just come.”

I enter and close the door. “What?”

Mike starts moving the pillows around on my bed. “You know I’m the oldest of seven kids?”

“Right.”

“Well, I’ve been around a pregnant woman more times than I care to comment on.”

“Okay…so what you’re saying is this is some kind of creepy oedipal pregnant woman issue you’re having?”

“Very funny.” He pats my bed. “Take a seat.”

I do as told, and he arranges the pillows so they support my lower back in just the right way. Then he sits down at the other end, grabs my feet, and pulls off my shoes.

“What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer, but he starts massaging my feet, and I have to close my eyes because it feels so good. “Maybe I can’t make out with you, but I do give a pretty mean foot rub. And pregnant women seem to like foot rubs, from my experience.”