“Nope.”
She was glad to hear that.
“It’s going to be hard carrying four babies at once.”
“Harder on some than others. You’re strong and in excellent health. Just keep taking all your vitamins.”
She paused, knowing what he’d say, but she had to voice her concerns anyway. If not, they’d continue to go around in her head driving her quietly insane.
“What if something happens to me, Thomas? What’ll happen to my children?” Darin jumped into her lap and she stroked his back.
“You trying to do God’s job again?”
Just as she’d expected.
“No.”
“Lots of things can happen. Each with its own solution based on where you are in life when it happens. No point trying to find solutions for circumstances that are not yet set.”
Also what she’d expected.
“Then can we deal with here and now?” she asked. “I’m afraid there are a million things I’m not thinking of.”
“I doubt that, my dear, but I’m happy to help, you know that. Tell me what you’ve done to provide for the kids in case something happens to you.”
“I took out another life insurance policy last week.” Her father had taught her well.
“Good. Anything else?”
“Set up a trust.”
“Excellent.”
“Will you and Elizabeth execute for me?”
“For now.”
In a routine established years before, he helped her organize her thoughts one by one. Breaking everything down into parts she could manage.
“I’ve got all this energy,” she told him half an hour later. “I’m supposed to be tired, aren’t I?”
“Wait another couple of weeks,” he replied. “In the meantime, why not shop? You’re going to need four of everything. Make your choices, have things delivered, get the house ready in case you’re too tired to walk from one room to another later on.”
Four cribs. Where was she going to put them? She moved through the house. The family room would need cradles. And a changing table. And swings. Nothing in the living room.
Four of everything. The cribs would all fit in the second bedroom.
Too tired to walk, he’d said. Oh, God. Could she do this?
“Do you recommend disposable diapers?” Thomas was still on the phone. She had to say something.
“For a single mother of four? Absolutely! Get on the Internet, Elise, and find one of those quad scooter things, too. They use them in place of strollers. I’ve seen them at conventions a time or two and I’m guessing you won’t find one at a local baby store.”
“Okay.” And if she found one, would she have the strength to push it?
“And start looking around for a nanny now. I’m assuming you’re set enough to be able to afford one?”
“During the day.” She was an accountant. She’d done the math every way there was to do it. Over and over these past weeks. “We just bought the suite of offices and I owe a chunk on this house and would take huge penalties to get out of either loan.”
“And knowing you, I’d guess most of your savings are tied up in long-term investments.”
“IRAs, mostly. I have enough cash to see me through several months in case of an emergency, but I’ll need that cushion now more than ever. I was expecting one baby. Paid maternity leave. And day care. I could do that on my salary.”
“Check out programs at the local college. I think Grand Valley State is there. See if there’s a child care class that will accept you as part the class curriculum. Students could get credit for assisting you with the babies while they’re still too young for day care. It won’t do much for your nighttime feedings, but it could sure help in the daytime at little or no cost to you. At least at the beginning. The college would screen and oversee applicants so you’d be safer than hiring someone on your own.”
Elise sat down on the queen-size bed in her second guest room, smiling and crying at the same time. “You are a godsend, my friend.”
“I’m an old man. Live long enough and you hear about everything.”
“I’ll call the college on Monday. Thanks for the idea.”
They chatted another twenty minutes or so, and when she hung up, Elise’s smile was genuine.
Thomas could always instill the sense that she wasn’t alone even when she was.
CHAPTER FOUR
SATURDAY MORNINGS were sacred. Free time to do whatever he wanted. The time reserved for no responsibility. The complete antithesis to the Saturdays of Joe’s youth that began before the sun rose with a house full of arguing and whining and the unending chores that the conglomeration of needs and wants of so many children living under one roof necessitated.
He was thinking about taking his canoe out to the river, seeing how far he could get before stopping at one of the restaurants on the shore for lunch. Some were right at the mouth of the Flat River, where it joined the Grand River, but he could travel seventy miles on the Flat alone if he wanted to. Of course his favorite little diner was right there on Main Street in Lowell.
Maybe he’d go to the gym and shoot some hoops instead. And then go to the Levee for lunch. If he went to the gym he’d have to shower again.
Turning off Main Street along the river, Joe considered the canoe again. A day alone, and the physical exertion of paddling sounded good. He could pack a lunch and spend the whole day on the water. The sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky. The July temperatures were perfect. And there would be a breeze on the river.
Sounded like heaven.
He passed her house. Continued on.
She’d taken off after making tacos for them all for lunch yesterday. She’d had her twelve-week doctor’s appointment.
Joe slowed. Turned around. He had to go back for his canoe anyway. And to exchange his sandals for running shoes and put sunscreen on skin left exposed by his denim shorts and loose tank top. He should probably grab a T-shirt instead. Right after he stopped by Elise’s. He’d hoped she’d call—not that she ever had before—but he had an investment in what was going on here. His livelihood was firmly tied to hers. If something happened to her…
Joe pulled into her drive.
SOMEONE WAS AT the front door. Staring at the bathroom ceiling, arms and hands lying beside her on the cool tile, Elise considered rolling over, getting up onto her hands and knees, crawling to the door. And couldn’t think of a single person who would be there who would be worth the effort. A blessing, at the moment, of being alone in the world.
Her eyes were closed when the second knock came.
She was throwing up again at the third.
And by the time the side doorbell rang, she was experiencing enough of a reprieve to stand. Shakily, but at least she was upright.
The way she planned to be for the entire pregnancy, though how on earth she was going to make it through the whale stage on her feet she didn’t know. She was only at the beginning of the fourth month and needed nothing as badly as she did to lie down.
After rinsing her mouth and gargling only the tiny bit of mouthwash she dared put in her mouth lest it incite another bout of retching, she shuffled her way to the door facing the river. She hadn’t showered