Practicing Parenthood

Yvana’s head swiveled, and she glanced at Madison’s profile.

“Is it because he’s the running type or the marrying type?”

Madison let out a long, tired breath. “I don’t know. Which one is the me-first type? Hell, me-first and me-only?”

Yvana chuckled. “Oh, then, well, that ain’t going to work at all. He’d get a rude awakening when he found out the baby always comes first.” The breeze ruffled her colorful head scarf. “But don’t you worry, honey. You’ll figure it out.”

Madison hoped so.

Yvana took a hard right onto a road nearly covered by brush, and a yellow daffodil hit her knee as they turned into her uncle’s long driveway. It almost felt as if they were ducking into some deserted rain forest, but then the path widened and she saw the sandy yard, the big blue two-story house on stilts, making it as tall as your average three-story building. Yvana swung the cart into the little circular sand drive, letting Madison off at the steps.

“Looks like the guys already brought your luggage,” Yvana said. Madison saw her suitcase and grocery tote sitting on the front porch near the front door.

“Thanks for the lift, Yvana.”

“No worries. And if you need anything, you call me, you hear? Anything at all. Pickles and ice cream, even.”

Madison turned and leaned into the golf cart and gave Yvana a big hug, tears pushing out from behind her closed eyelids. Damn these pregnancy hormones.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Yvana returned the hug. “You bet,” she said. “Take care of yourself. And I’ll be by later with that remedy I told you about. It’ll settle your stomach in no time.”

“Thank you,” Madison said once more, brimming with gratitude. Looking at Yvana’s smiling face, she couldn’t help thinking that everything would somehow be okay.

“See you later!” Yvana called. Madison nodded as Yvana took off around the circle. She walked up the front porch steps, a whole story’s worth, to accommodate the stilts. Most homes on the island included two livable stories, but stood three stories high. Flooding was common on the island, especially during hurricane season. She marched up to the front door, framed by full-length glass windows, her first objective being to put away the groceries she’d brought in a cooler from Fort Myers. Meantime, her stomach rumbled. If it wasn’t nauseated, it was hungry. Decide already, she thought. She didn’t know how much more of this yo-yo effect she could take. This was going to be a long nine months.

CHAPTER TWO (#ud00a440a-1043-50bb-b65d-bf9de3e14c2d)

COLLIN SAT ON the ferry beneath the blistering afternoon sun and just wanted to be there already. He’d driven to the ferry station, parked and then taken an old passenger van down to the shore, where he’d boarded a small pontoon-style boat with about ten other tourists headed to North Captiva. He was currently sitting between a little boy kneeling on the seat and facing the water, hands on the edge of the boat as if he might fly off any second, and a teenager whose eyes had never left her phone. It was the only seat left, and he was lucky to have it, but now he simply wished the ferry ride to be over. He needed to see Madison.

Collin knew the baby was his. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew it. The second Matt had said Madison was pregnant, he’d felt that it was true. Sure, he could be wrong. Hell, Madison might not even be pregnant, but he trusted his instincts. Collin’s mother had been extremely superstitious; she’d claimed ESP—or what she called really good hunches—ran in their family. Collin had never put much stock in it. He didn’t believe in hocus-pocus, but he did believe in good instincts. That was exactly how he could tell a witness on the stand was lying—or about to lie. He’d become notorious for trapping shaky witnesses, dominating the cross-examination. Maybe that was the family hunch at work.

All he knew was that Madison was doggedly refusing to answer his calls. He’d left her a dozen messages, had texted, emailed—basically, he’d done everything but try to send her a telegraph. She was avoiding him, and he was going to find out why.

Collin glanced at a couple on the other end of the boat beneath the shade of the awning. The woman had a baby strapped to her in a sling, and her husband was making faces at the little one. He wondered how old the infant was—he or she was so tiny. He realized, with a start, that he’d only ever held his niece, but that was long after she was six months old and big enough to hold her head up—not like this fragile newborn across the way. He had no idea how to hold a baby that small. His niece, Sari, was six, loved knock-knock jokes and was easy to entertain. He’d missed the first half year of her life because his sister and her husband had been in the Philippines for work when she was born. Now, they were stateside again, and he’d spent the last four Thanksgivings at their house.

He reached into his pocket and felt for the small black velvet box there. He had a brand new one-carat princess-cut solitaire set in platinum inside. It probably wouldn’t fit Madison’s finger, but the salesclerk had assured him it could be sized. Collin knew the power of a big gesture, and he had one planned—although, the roses he’d bought at the grocery store stop-off before he’d reached the ferry were looking a little wilted in the heat. Not unlike me, he thought. He wore shorts and a polo, but he wished he had his swim trunks on so he could just jump into the bay and swim for it. The Florida sun was brutal today. It had beaten down on him mercilessly since he’d gotten one of the only seats in the sun. He swiped at his brow.

He’d been running through everything he planned to tell Madison when she swung open that door: Do me the honor of being my wife or Let’s be a family or This means we’re meant to be together. Suddenly, more sweat rolled down his temples. Was it the sun or were nerves getting to him? He felt jittery.

He texted his elder sister, Sophia. They’d been thick as thieves growing up, relying on each other as their single mom worked long hours to care for them after their father went to jail. It had been a poor childhood, and in some ways hard, but not an unhappy one. Sophia had made sure of that, even though she babysat him when she was barely more than a child herself. She could easily have slipped into poor choices, but instead she’d taken her responsibilities seriously, and she’d managed to make straight As. She’d pushed him to do better as well, which was the reason he’d opted for law school.

On the ferry... I’m nervous.

Collin had already talked to her about Madison and the baby and his plan the night before.

You have no reason to be nervous. Any woman would be lucky to have you.

Collin wasn’t sure that was true.

Yes, but she wasn’t exactly happy with me, remember?

Whose fault was that?

That is NOT helping.

Collin was beating himself up about the way he’d handled the aftermath of their night together. He’d not exactly been sensitive. Or, even nice about it.

Listen, guy-who-got-asked-to-the-prom-by-FIVE-different-girls, I think you’ll do fine. Really, I do. And what’s the worst that can happen? You offer to do the right thing and she turns you down? Then, you avoid a shotgun wedding, and it’s probably for the best.

Collin felt a pit in his stomach open up. That was not what he wanted, actually. He wanted a family; he wanted this situation to work out. It might not be the way he’d planned it, but as far back as he could remember, he’d wanted kids, a traditional family, like he’d never had. Sophia texted again.

You sure you want to do this? Propose to a stranger?

They weren’t exactly strangers. He remembered flashes of their night together—a melding of bodies, heat, desire. He recalled being wowed by her, that her body was even more perfect than he’d guessed. The fact that he might see that same body tonight sent a shiver of anticipation through him.

Besides, he knew couples who’d dated for years before tying the knot, only to get divorced half a dozen years down the road. You could live with a person for a decade and he or she could still surprise you, so why not marry a stranger?

I don’t have any doubt that we can make this work. I want a family. I want my child to be raised right.

Sophia sent him a heart face.

That’s why I love you, little brother. You’ve got a big heart. Don’t worry. You’ll do fine. She’s lucky to have you.

The sun relentlessly bore down on his head and Collin wondered if he should’ve worn sunscreen. He wiped his brow again as he saw the island before him grow larger. Almost there. The baby at the other end of the boat let out a cry. The mother bounced the child in her little sling, but the cries just got louder. Collin glanced at the dad, who helped the mother untangle the baby and then took him in his arms, but he wailed even louder. He wore a blue onesie, so Collin assumed he was a boy. No matter what they did, the baby just kept fussing, growing ever more red-faced and angry. Collin wondered why they couldn’t make him stop crying.

Then the mother lifted up her shirt and Collin glanced away, hoping to give her some privacy. Did Madison want to breastfeed? Didn’t doctors say that was healthier? He didn’t really know. He glazed over when that kind of news came on. His interest in breasts had nothing to do with babies or milk.

The boat landed at the dock with a little thump, and the passengers started to file out—all but the mother, who sat with her baby a little longer. Collin moved past, careful to keep his eyes averted as he stepped out onto the dock. The father of the baby struggled with the gear, and Collin lent a helping hand, picking up the stroller and assisting the father in maneuvering it down to the dock.

“Thanks,” the man said, looking tired and sporting deep dark circles under his eyes. Collin wondered when the man had last slept through the night.

“No problem,” Collin said. “Beautiful baby you have there,” he added, even though the baby’s head was covered in a burp cloth as he finished his afternoon snack.

“Yeah, good thing, too.” The tired dad shook his head. “They’re a handful.”

Soon I’ll have a baby, too. I’ll be just like this dad.

He glanced at the man whose shirt was wrinkled, his socks mismatched. Collin noticed a white stain on his shirt. Baby drool? Baby spit-up? The momentary unease left him, and he felt like his old confident self again. Collin had never met a challenge he hadn’t happily faced head-on. Not that women had ever been a problem, at least not since his freshman year of high school—after he’d had the growth spurt that launched him from five-one to five-eleven in a single year. He’d spent most of his twenties and, so far, his thirties leaping from one casual encounter to another. He hadn’t ever pursued a serious relationship, in large part because his job was so demanding. He barely had time for anything more.

But now, he’d have to make time. Somehow. He’d do it.

There was no way he’d ever be like his own father.

Collin remembered daycare, when the other kids were making gifts for their dads for Father’s Day and he’d been one of the few who hadn’t. The teacher had told him to draw a picture for his mom instead, but Collin never forgot the slow burn of embarrassment, feeling the hole in his life where his father should have been.

No. He wouldn’t do that to his son.