“I want to see her now.” The girl’s lower lip quivered. “I miss Aunt Lissa.”
“How well do you remember her?” Dawn had been only four when they divorced. Edmond’s sister Barbara had mentioned that Melissa had sent a birthday present for her daughter the following year, but Barb’s life was chaotic, with many changes of both physical and email addresses. To the best of his knowledge, the two women hadn’t stayed in touch.
“She used to read to me. Why did she leave?” Dawn glared up at him accusingly, as if it was his fault she’d lost one of her small circle of loved ones. Well, perhaps it was, in part.
“We divorced, but I’m sure she’s missed you, too. I suppose we could take a peek.” Melissa had emphasized the informality of the occasion.
“Yay!” Dawn gave a little hop, brown curls bouncing. Her Grandma Isabel, Edmond’s stepmother, had done a fine job of styling the child’s hair—not only for the wedding but also for an earlier, less pleasant outing this morning.
They were saved the need to intrude past the wedding bower when Melissa, blond hair shining above a pink dress, emerged into the dining room. Her gaze met his, then fixed on the little girl beside him.
“Dawn?” Her expression warming, Melissa descended the two steps from the elevated level. “My goodness, you’ve grown.”
“Aunt Lissa!” The child flung herself forward. As her arms stretched to embrace her aunt, she halted in confusion. “You’ve grown, too.”
Melissa laughed and hugged the child around her enlarged midsection. “I’m pregnant.”
“You are?” Dawn patted the extended tummy. “He’s a big baby.”
“That’s because...” She broke off suddenly.
“Is something wrong?” Edmond touched her elbow to steady her.
“No.” She cleared her throat. “It’s just that...”
“He’s a she and she’s coming in triplicate.” A fortyish man with a short beard and black top hat joined the conversation from the side.
“You’re having three babies?” Dawn asked.
“That’s right,” her aunt said. “All girls.”
Triplets. Melissa didn’t do things by half measures, Edmond thought. “Congratulations.”
Dawn patted her aunt’s tummy again. “What are their names?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“Can I pick?”
Melissa brushed a curl off the little girl’s forehead. “I’m not ready to name them yet.”
What else was one supposed to say under the circumstances? Edmond wondered.“When are you due?” he asked.
“December,” she said. “If I can hold out that long.”
That exhausted his very short repertoire of small talk on the subject. Besides, in Edmond’s opinion, this was far from a light topic, since multiple pregnancies carried extra risks. “I hope this won’t endanger your health.”
“She’s being closely monitored.” The bearded man extended his hand. “I’m the groom’s uncle, Rod Vintner.”
“We’ve met before.” He shook hands with the man, who then solemnly did the same with Dawn. She giggled. “At the hospital.”
“Ah, that’s right.” The man nodded.
“Rod’s an anesthesiologist,” Melissa said to Dawn. “He puts patients to sleep while they’re in surgery.”
“And I’ll soon be sleeping myself, here at Casa Wiggins,” Rod announced. “I’m trading residences with the bride. She’s moving into the apartment Jack and I shared, and I’m taking her old room.”
“Ah.”
Don’t get ideas now that you’re living with my wife. Where had that notion come from? Edmond had no claim on Melissa. Besides, a positive aspect occurred to him. “I’m glad she’ll have an M.D. on hand.”
“I don’t deliver babies.” Rod waggled his eyebrows. “Come to think of it, I don’t make house calls, either.”
“But you’ll live here,” Dawn pointed out.
“You’re right,” Melissa said. “He can serve as the house physician.”
“Living together means we’ll all be one big happy family, and doctors don’t provide medical care to family members,” the man deadpanned.
“You wouldn’t help her?” Dawn demanded.
“Of course he would,” Melissa assured the child. “Rod’s joking.”
“It’s lucky his patients are asleep,” Dawn replied tartly. “’Cause his jokes aren’t funny.”
Edmond laughed at the unexpected jab. The man in the top hat clutched his side. “Ow! A direct hit.”
“I’m impressed,” Melissa said. “You have a wicked wit, Dawn.”
She took her aunt’s hand. “Will you sit with us?”
“Of course.”
“On that note, I have best man duties to attend to.” Rod patted his pocket, which presumably held the ring, and went to join an older man in a suit waiting beneath the arch.
“That must be the minister,” Edmond observed.
“He’s from Karen’s church.” Melissa glanced toward the kitchen door. “I’m supposed to be helping her with the food.”
“Isn’t the ceremony about to start?” The invitation said 2 p.m., and it was almost that now. The seats had been filling as they spoke. “If we wait any longer, we’ll be sitting on the window ledge.”
“You’re right.” Melissa led the way down the narrow aisle to three empty seats. The folding chairs, fitted with white covers, weren’t exactly comfortable, but Edmond found room to stretch his legs beneath the seat in front of him.
Being near Melissa was a treat. Just the musical sound of her voice calmed him. During their marriage, her nearness had filled the dark spaces in Edmond’s soul. With her, he hadn’t had to throw up protective walls. She’d understood him intuitively, which was why he’d expected her to understand that his vasectomy was a declaration of how strongly he felt about preserving their union.
She had a gift for nurturing, and he’d needed that. He still did. But she’d chosen motherhood over him.
Dawn, too, seemed to retain a bond with her. In the seat between them, the little girl hung on to her aunt as if she might disappear at any moment. In Dawn’s world, people vanished too often. The therapist Edmond had hired for her said she suffered from separation anxiety.
“You look like a princess,” Dawn told Melissa.
“So do you.” She fingered the little girl’s curls. “Who fixed your hair?”
“Grandma Isabel.” Nodding at Melissa’s bulge, she asked, “Who’s the daddy?”
That brought a flush to his ex-wife’s cheeks. “It’s a long story.”
“Can you make it shorter?”
“Sorry. Not now,” Melissa said gently. “Another time.”
Reluctantly, the little girl subsided. “Okay.”
Edmond hoped his niece wouldn’t demand that he explain. While he believed she was acquainted with the facts of procreation, artificial insemination seemed too intimate a subject