Shelter Mountain
She had left the Hummer for Doc’s use, in the event he had to get someone to a hospital. The back of Jack’s truck was loaded with gifts, many of which they bought when they stopped over in Redding to spend the night and finish shopping. And to enjoy the comforts of a hotel room, which did not have paper-thin walls or one of the Marines across the hall.
Though they didn’t consider the money wasted by any means, it was not a night of wild passion as it might have been a few months earlier. Mel was now seven months pregnant, a little baby girl literally romping inside of her. Sex was lovely, but way more tame than it had been at the time they conceived this little genius. Instead of crying out Jack’s name with passion in the aftermath of her orgasm she said, “Ugh.”
“You know, if I weren’t an incredibly secure man, that might really bother me,” Jack said.
“I’m sorry, darling. My back hurts, my boobs hurt, and I think I’m carrying a marching band, not your baby girl.”
“I guess that kind of eliminates the potential for lots more sex tonight.”
“It’s starting to eliminate the potential for lots more sex before spring,” she informed him.
She lay on her back, her belly sticking up like a mountain on top of her little frame, and Jack couldn’t keep his hands off of it. While there was a time he couldn’t keep his hands off the rest of her—and she had no doubt they would be there again before long—right now it was the antics of his baby within her that occupied him thoroughly. He would let go a loud bellow when her entire abdomen shifted, caving in on one side and protruding enormously on the other. And he especially liked when it appeared a foot was sliding in a large lump up one side. She could actually doze while he occupied himself with her pregnancy. It brought to her mind what he was going to look like rolling a ball on the floor with their baby girl, bouncing her on his knee, twirling her around over his head.
“We should think about naming your new playmate,” she said.
“I have a suggestion,” he said. “Emma.”
“I like Emma,” she said. “Old girlfriend?”
“Mother. My mother,” he said.
“Aw, that’s sweet. I think your mother would be happy you’re finally serious.”
“Mel? Are you nervous about—you know—giving birth?”
“Not at all. You know why, big fella? Because I’m meeting John Stone at Valley Hospital, and if everything goes to hell, I’m having a big fat epidural. Afterward, I’m having a rare steak and a tall beer.”
“Mel,” he said, running a hand down her hair onto her shoulder. “I want you to have the epidural.”
“Jack—are you nervous?”
“Oh, baby, nervous doesn’t touch it. You’re my whole world. I don’t think watching you hurt is something I can do. But I gotta be there, you know?”
She smiled and shook her head. “You know how you always said I should trust you? Well, now it’s time for you to trust me. I know what I’m doing, Jack.”
“Yeah. Well, that makes one of us.”
When they were getting ready to leave the next morning to complete the trip to Sacramento, Mel was drying her hair in the hotel bathroom, which was large and had plenty of mirrors. In their little cabin in the woods there was just that one mirror at eye level. Jack was mesmerized by the sight of her, naked in front of those mirrors. He hadn’t really seen her like that. He’d seen her naked, of course, but lying down or standing almost a foot shorter than he as they showered. Now he bent, looked at her profile and said, “My God, Melinda. You’re huge.”
She threw him a look that suggested a different choice of words.
“I mean, you look awesome, Mel. Look at that!”
“Shut up, Jack,” she said.
When they got to Sam Sheridan’s house, Mel preceded Jack up the walk toward the front door while Jack began toting luggage and gifts. “Mel,” he called, causing her to turn around to see him smiling brightly. “You’re starting to waddle,” he said proudly.
“Uh!” she exclaimed, tossing her hair as she turned abruptly away from him.
Although Christmas Eve wasn’t until the following day, all of Jack’s sisters and at most of the husbands if not all the kids were there to meet them. Mel’s sister and family had arrived ahead of them, so it was, as usual, a teeming throng. When they got inside, the women rushed to her, embracing, examining her growth, exclaiming, “Oh, my God, you’re huge!” To which Mel giggled happily, proudly letting everyone rub their hands over her belly. Joey screeched, “You’re waddling like a duck!” and they all crumbled into hysterical laughter, including Mel.
Jack was frowning darkly. A couple of the brothers-in-law, Dan and Ryan, came forward and said, “Need a hand unloading, Jack?”
“Yeah,” he said, his brows drawn together.
“What’s the problem?” Ryan asked.
“I said exactly those two words to her—huge and waddle— and she was very pissed about it.”
The men laughed. Bob clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Come, my brother. Let’s get you unloaded, get you a beer and teach you the facts of life. Out back, where men will be men and the women won’t hear us.”
Outside on the patio, now too cold for picnicking, there were a couple of large space heaters thoughtfully provided by Sam, who knew the men of the family would want their beer and cigars without interference. And where Sam also wanted to be, while his daughters overran his house and bossed people around. With Mel and Joey, there were six, not to mention granddaughters—a formidable and intimidating group of women.
It was there that Jack learned from the experience of four brothers-in-law and the occasional comment from Sam, that if having children was a partners’ project, pregnancy was definitely a team sport. The women were the ones who knew the rules. What a man said and what girlfriends or sisters said were viewed from entirely different perspectives. If your sister said you were huge, it was a badge of honor. If your husband said that, he thought you were fat. If your best friend said you waddled, it was adorable. If your husband said that, he thought you walked funny and he no longer found you attractive.
“And look out,” said Joey’s husband, Bill, father of three, “if you try to make love to her, she thinks you’re a pervert, and if you don’t, she’ll accuse you of no longer finding her desirable as she sacrifices herself to bear your child.”
“The last time we had sex, instead of crying out ‘Oh, God, Oh, God,’ she said ‘Ugh.’”
Ryan spewed out a mouthful of beer and fell into a fit laughter. “Been there, brother,” he finally choked out.
“You wanna know what’s coming, or you wanna be surprised?” Bob asked.
“Oh, please, I can’t take any more surprises,” Jack said.
“Okay, you’re coming up on where you love the baby more than her. Everything is about the baby—you consider her your brood mare.”
“What do you do about that?”
“Well, for starters, never talk about breeding.”
“Grovel,” said someone else. “Beg for forgiveness.”
“But don’t trip yourself up and claim she’s way more important than the baby, which brings you a whole new set of problems.”
“Aw, Jesus.”
“And since you don’t have the big belly and the backache, it would be advisable not to mention that this is all completely natural. She might deck you.”
“You’d think a frickin’ midwife could rise above these ridiculous notions.”
“Oh, it’s not her fault. There was an estrogen explosion in there—it’s beyond her control.”
“You want to be especially careful about admiring her breasts,” Jeannie’s husband, Dan, said. He took a pull on his cigar. “Especially since they’re, you know, only temporary.”
“God, that’s gonna be so hard. Because—”
“I know.” Someone else laughed. “Aren’t they great?”
“Pretty soon there’s going to be labor and delivery,” Bill said. “And the love of your life, whose back you’re trying to rub and whom you’re doing everything in your power to encourage, to keep comfortable, is going to tell you to shut up and get your fucking hands off her.”
Everyone laughed so hard at that, even Sam, that it appeared to be a universal fact.
“Dad,” Jack said, stunned. “Did Mom ever say fuck?”
Sam drew leisurely on his cigar. “I think about five times,” he replied, throwing the men into a new fit of laughter.
“Why doesn’t anyone tell you these things before?” Jack asked.
“What difference would it have made, Jack? You didn’t know you were about to score a pregnancy, anyway. I know, I know—you thought you knew everything there was to know about women. Turns out you’re just as stupid as the rest of us.”
A few more jokes made the rounds before Jack said, “Someone’s missing.”
Everyone, even Joey’s husband, Bill, seemed to look down. Brie’s husband, almost an ex, was the only spouse not in attendance. Brie was the only sister no longer tethered; the only one without children. And she had so wanted a baby.
“Anyone seen him?” Jack asked.
“Nope,” someone said, the group shaking heads as one.
“How’s she doing?” he asked.
“She says she’s fine, but she is not so fine.”
“According to her sisters.”
“And he’s at the new house with the new woman, who was the old woman in Brie’s life. Having a family Christmas with her and her kids.”
“While my sister, who wanted a baby, is here with us,” Jack said.
“Yeah, the son of a bitch.”
“Can’t we have a few more and go over there?” Jack asked. “Just beat him up a little or something?”
“I wish. They’d all secretly love that, and we’d be grounded for life.”
“Can’t any of us stand up to those women?”
“Nope,” said at least three men in unison.
“I just don’t get it,” Jack said, for the millionth time.
“Jack, have you asked yourself, what if you’d been married to someone else when Mel came along? What would you do?”
“We’ve all asked ourselves that,” Ryan said dismally.
Jack had asked himself, though it was an unfathomable idea. There had been lots of women, yet no one before Mel. He’d been really fond of a few, yet somehow managed to not marry anyone. “I’d like to think I’d do the right thing and just kill myself.” He looked at the boys. “She getting out of this okay? Like with the house and stuff?”
“Shit. Don’t ask that,” Dan said.
“Oh, don’t tell me…”
“She’s getting the house,” Bob said. “She’s buying him out. And paying him alimony.”
“No way!”
“You were told not to ask.”
“How does that happen?”
“She’s an attorney, he’s a cop. She’s making the most money.”
“See—we need to go over there, beat him up.”
Christmas Eve they had ham and potatoes au gratin while Christmas Day it would be stuffed turkey. The clan started to gather at about four and the house throbbed with noise and laughter. They ate, drank, gathered in the family room, stuffed themselves into the family room, and sang carols. The men sang too loudly and off key and the women, to the last one, had to drive home. Mel and Joey steered their husbands to their beds, where they flopped down and would surely live to regret having beer, drinks and then brandies and cigars. The only thing that annoyed Mel more than Jack drinking too much on Christmas Eve was that he couldn’t stand up long enough to shower off the smell of illegal Cubans.