First Comes Baby

Her stomach quivered. “A piece of dry toast?”

“In other words, don’t bother taking you to Le Gourmand?”

She groped through her purse for the soda crackers she’d taken to carrying. “Really, really no.”

“Ah, well, let me get some takeout and we’ll go to your place.”

Even the smell of his Korean takeout upset her stomach. She had to crack her window, which would have helped more if the air outside hadn’t been diesel-laden. But she made it home and curled up on her couch a safe distance from Caleb while he ate. Her stomach had settled enough to accept a piece of toast, which he made for her, and some strawberries.

He didn’t stay long, promising to be back by four tomorrow with the groceries he needed to make dinner. “You don’t have to do a thing” were his last words.

The next afternoon, Caleb returned so vibrantly full of life and energy Laurel felt washed out in comparison. She’d been so tired all day that she’d already taken a nap. She only hoped today was an anomaly. How would she get through a day at work if all she wanted to do was crawl under her desk and snooze?

She left him to cook while she showered and then fortified herself with a couple of crackers. She wouldn’t even have to make an announcement if she had to dash off and puke the minute Dad and Meg walked through the door.

They arrived separately. Megan, four years younger than Laurel, was a hotshot software designer for a small firm that existed in Microsoft’s shadow in Redmond, just across Lake Washington from Seattle. She was currently working on a team designing some kind of management software that she claimed would be a big seller thanks to flexibility from a rules-based interface.

Whatever that was. Laurel was embarrassed to have so little grasp of what her sister actually did.

Both sisters had had dishwater-blond hair when they were toddlers—the kind that the sun bleached to silver-blond every summer. Laurel’s had stayed somewhere between blond and light brown, while Megan’s had darkened to a rich shade of mahogany. Megan was, in Laurel’s admittedly biased opinion, a beauty. She had inherited their mother’s slim build instead of Grandma Woodall’s buxom one, which Laurel considered something of a curse.

In low-cut jeans, heels, a cropped lime-green blazer and big gold-hoop earrings, Megan strolled in, dropped a huge purse and hugged first Caleb and then Laurel.

“You didn’t say Caleb would be here.”

“He invited himself yesterday. And then offered to cook.”

“What a man,” her sister said admiringly.

Laurel laughed. “That’s what I told him.”

“You know, if you don’t want him…” Megan gave him a saucy look.

He grinned at her. “One Woodall sister is enough for me, thanks.”

Laurel suspected that he saw Megan as a little sister, and for all her teasing, Meg had never given the slightest sign of a crush on Caleb. She was currently dating another computer geek, a guy who would have been handsome if he’d ever comb his hair or thought about what he was putting on in the morning. Apparently his virtuosity in HTML and a dozen other computer languages offset his stylistic lack for a girl who’d cared deeply what she put on in the morning from about her second birthday on.

Dad arrived grumbling about traffic. “I had to go in to work today. Somebody screwed up.”

He was an engineer at Boeing, working on a new fuel-efficient plane that was to be built in Everett. In his mid-fifties, he had to be the catch of the Boeing plant, single, nice looking if not exactly handsome and still possessing all his hair. It was the color of Megan’s, and turning silver dramatically at the temples. As far as Laurel could tell, he had never considered remarrying. She knew he dated, but not once since her mom had died when she was eleven had he introduced a woman to his daughters.

“Smells good,” he said, shaking Caleb’s hand. “Thank God you took over the kitchen.”

Laurel threw a magazine at him. He laughed when it fell short.

“So what’s the news?” he asked. “Meggie told me last night that you have an announcement.”

Caleb clanged a pan lid. “Why don’t we wait until we sit down?”

“So you can listen? Or has she already told you?” Megan asked.

He smiled at her. “Not saying.”

“Pooh.”

“Anybody want some wine?” Laurel stood. “Caleb, how far away from sitting down are we?”

“Five minutes. In fact, you can take the salad to the table.”

Laurel’s father opened the wine and poured, and a few minutes later they were seated. The food did smell good. So good, she was having one of her brief and usually foolish moments of genuine hunger.

Meg leveled a look at her. “Out with it. We’re ready to toast. Assuming it’s good news?”

“It’s good news.” Laurel met Caleb’s gaze and drew strength from the encouragement she saw in his eyes. Then she bit her lip, looked at her dad and said, “I’m pregnant.”

There was an awful moment of silence. He stared at her, as if uncomprehending. “Pregnant?”

“I should have told you I was going to try. But I was afraid you’d want to talk me out of it.”

“I didn’t know you were even dating…” His dazed stare swung to the fourth person at the table. “Caleb?”

Laurel decided to be blunt. “No, we aren’t sleeping together. Yes, Caleb’s the father. I asked him to donate sperm.”

“You mean?” Megan looked stunned.

“Yes. I chose to be a single mother. Instead of going to a donor bank, I decided to ask a friend. Caleb wants to be involved in my baby’s life.”

He spoke up then. “As I told Laurel, there’s no one I’d rather have a child with.”

Her father half rose. “You got my daughter pregnant?”

“Daddy!” She grabbed his arm. “He didn’t ‘get’ me pregnant. Not the way you mean. At my request, he donated sperm.”

Her father sagged back into his seat. “Good God, Laurel! You’re twenty-eight. Have you given up on life?”

That hurt. It would have hurt worse if Caleb hadn’t said quietly, “Seems to me she’s embracing it.”

“But you’re writing off any possibility of falling in love and getting married.”

She wanted to say no, but that would be a lie.

“You didn’t believe me when I told you before. I just…I can’t imagine it, Dad.” Her voice was small, shaky. She might have fallen apart if Caleb hadn’t been there offering steady support by his mere presence. “But I want children. I want a family. And I can have that without getting married. Is that so awful?”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “No. No, of course not. You’ll be a hell of a mother, Laurel.”

Tears in her eyes, Megan stood and hugged Laurel. “I should have said this first. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.