Practicing Parenthood

She wiped her mouth with a tissue and sighed. Nobody ever mentioned that morning sickness could actually be morning, noon and night sickness. One more thing about pregnancy she never knew. Just like the bone-tired fatigue that would creep up on her at all hours of the day and the pregnancy hormones rushing around her body, inducing her to cry at the drop of a dime. She’d even gotten teary at a car rental commercial last night. Madison shook her head. The pregnancy was already making her soft.

If only her friends from high school knew. They’d voted her least likely to have a family and most likely to own a business by twenty-five. Madison had always focused on her career and made her personal life secondary. But Madison wasn’t about to apologize for her ambition. She wasn’t going to be like her mother: a stay-at-home mom who’d been completely unprepared for the workforce when her husband had suddenly died. They’d had several hard years, with her mother cleaning homes and working odd jobs, before her uncle helped her mom get paralegal training and then hired her in his own firm. Madison had watched her mother struggle and vowed never to be so unprepared. Family and kids weren’t her priority—financial security was.

The shore of North Captiva came closer as the small ferry approached the dock. Madison recognized the North Captiva Island Club, home to swimming pools, boat rentals and the island’s best restaurant. She saw the golf carts lined up in the small dirt parking lot near the office, the bright Florida sunshine bathing everything in a warm glow. She remembered the island from when she was a kid and her parents had taken her there on vacation, using her uncle’s house. Now, as an adult, she welcomed the getaway. Here, she could think. Figure out what she planned to do. Alone.

“Hope you feel better, dear,” the woman in the flamingo pink hat said as she moved past her to climb off the boat. Madison followed, and once her sneakered feet hit the wooden dock, she instantly felt better. Either it had been the boat making her morning sickness worse, or she was just relieved to be back in the place that held so many prized childhood memories. Uncle Rashad had been very generous to her mother and her, hosting them every summer, even after her father died. The clubhouse had received a new coat of paint since she’d last been to the island, a few years back, but otherwise, everything seemed the same.

Madison glanced at the line of golf carts parked near the tennis courts and didn’t see her uncle’s telltale silver four-seater, the one that looked less like a golf cart and more like a dune buggy. Usually the North Captiva club staff had everything waiting for guests, including transportation from the dock. Burly workers flexed their muscles as they took cargo from the ferry to the shore—crates of food, luggage, coolers. The island might be remote, but it was hardly rustic. As the crew unloaded her luggage and her plastic bin of groceries, Madison headed into the main office.

She saw Yvana Davis, the resort’s manager she adored and had known most of her life, standing behind the counter. The woman wore a uniform of a golf shirt and khakis, accessorized with sparkling dangle earrings and a colorful scarf around her head. There was no way Yvana was going to let the club dress code cramp her style. Now, however, a frown replaced her usual smile. She was trying to deal with what seemed to be an unruly tourist.

“But there are spiders,” cried the forty-something brunette, who wore a floor-length wrap dress and sparkly slip-on flats and held a quivering lapdog in her arms.

“Inside your house?” Yvana asked, raising a dark eyebrow and putting one hand on a generous hip. Yvana made eye contact with Madison and gave her a nod of recognition.

“No, outside,” whined the woman with the Boston accent. Madison, meanwhile, felt the nausea return. She didn’t know if it was because of the woman’s nasal voice or the fact that it was a little hot inside the office, but she was definitely feeling sick again.

Yvana pursed her lips. “Honey, this is Florida. We got bugs bigger than your dog. Hell, our bugs will eat that adorable little thing.”

Madison hid a smile. That much was true.

“Well, I’m just asking someone to spray,” the indignant woman said. “And...the garbage just... It just stinks. It’s thoroughly disgusting. The dumpster’s full of rotten fish and goodness knows what else, and it was full before we arrived...”

At the idea of fish rotting in the hot Florida sun, Madison’s stomach lurched. Please stop talking about trash. Or I’m going to hurl. Again.

She glanced around for a bathroom...a trashcan...but found nothing. I can hold it, she thought. I can will myself not to throw up... And the woman will stop talking about trash. Any minute now.

“Trash pickup isn’t till tomorrow,” Yvana said, tapping her pink nails on the counter and clearly starting to lose her patience.

“Well, something needs to be done. There’s rotten eggs in there, something that smells like spoiled meatloaf and probably some awful shrimp salad and...”

Madison lost it. Her reaction came hard and fast with no time to react. Even as she tried to cover her mouth, she threw up what little was left in her stomach—she was surprised there was anything—all over the tourist’s sparkly shoes.

“Oh...my Gawd!” shrieked the woman. “What on earth...” Her face twisted in revulsion.

“I am so very sorry. I...” Madison wanted to say she was pregnant, but she couldn’t get the words out, not with the angry woman glaring at her. “Let me see if I can help...” Madison moved forward but the woman batted her away with one hand.

“Get away from me!” she cried, backing off while clutching her dog.

Yvana obviously couldn’t resist, as she instantly emitted a cackle. “Well, goodness me. That is something. Want a tissue?” Yvana held out a tissue box to the tourist, who frowned at the offering as if it had spider legs. Yvana gave one to Madison instead.

“Maddie, here, child.” Her expression softened instantly. “You okay? You look like death warmed over!”

“I’m not contagious... I’m just...” She clutched at her mouth once more.

Yvana jumped into action, tugging a trash can from behind the counter up to her. “Here, honey.”

Madison grabbed the metal wastebasket. Luckily, nothing more came up.

“These were designer shoes. They’re ruined and...they cost $200 retail, and now...” The tourist stomped her feet.

“I’m happy to pay for them,” Madison said, wondering where she was going to find an extra $200. Her budget was tight, and even with the money she’d tucked away, she was about to take unpaid leave from work and she needed every dime she had.

The woman wasn’t placated. “I ought to sue,” she threatened. The tiny white dog in the crook of her arm barked as if he agreed.

“Careful,” Yvana warned. “This lady is one of the best lawyers in town. If you sue, you’re going to lose, sister.”

The tourist’s face grew more pinched. She opened and closed her mouth, seemingly at a loss for what to say. Her cheeks grew redder than a ripe tomato.

“Well, I’ve never had such poor service in all my life. Do I have to call your supervisor?” The annoyed woman hugged her little dog to her chest and delicately lifted one foot to shake off some of Madison’s vomit.

Madison just shook her head. Yvana didn’t have a supervisor. She damn near ran this place and nobody was foolish enough to go toe-to-toe with the woman who owned a fourth of the island and knew everyone. An older resident on the island had left his entire share to her when he passed away five years ago—she was the one who’d cared for him and he’d had no living children.

Yvana had a heart bigger than the Gulf of Mexico but also a temper that was legendary. You got on her good side, and Yvana would do anything for you, but get on her bad side, and you might not have your power turned on for days.

Yvana narrowed her eyes at the indignant tourist.

“Mm, hm.” Yvana gave her a once-over. “My supervisor is out,” she lied, since she was her own supervisor. “But I’ll write a note and make sure she gets it.”

“Well,” the tourist muttered. “I...”

Yvana glared at her and then turned back to Madison.

“Maddie, honey. Sit down before you fall down.” Yvana put her back to the other woman who, with nothing more to do, stepped out of her shoes and bent down to pick them up, careful to keep her fingers clean. She headed out of the office in a huff. Yvana ignored her and moved Madison over to a chair, then scurried over with the tissues she’d held out to her earlier.

Madison reached out as if to start trying to mop up the spill.

“No, no. Sit. I’ll call someone from the janitorial staff to handle that,” Yvana said.

“I am so sorry. God, how embarrassing. I normally don’t do this. I never get sick.” Madison sat down in the chair still feeling a little woozy as Yvana fetched an unopened water bottle from her desk and handed it to her.

“Not every day that you’re pregnant, either,” Yvana said, tilting her head to one side.

Madison stopped mid-drink, stunned. “How did you know that?”

“Oh, I just know.” Yvana looked so serious that for a second Madison worried that she’d somehow begun to show, although her stomach was still flat. Yvana threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, I’m kidding, honey. Rashad told me.”

“Uncle Rashad! He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone!” Madison grumbled, wishing she’d been more explicit with her uncle about this being a private matter.

“Oh, he swore me to secrecy, don’t you worry,” Yvana said. “He just wanted me to know because he asked me to keep an eye on you. And by the look of things—” she nodded at the mess on the floor “—you might need a little bit of TLC.”

“I’m fine.” Madison wiped her mouth with a tissue. “I just need some rest and—if this baby will ever let me keep anything down—some food.”

“Soda water, then, and I might have something that could help settle your stomach. Something I ate when I was pregnant with my twin boys.” Yvana rolled her eyes. “Thought I’d about die from that pregnancy. I threw up right till the end of the second trimester. I never let those boys forget it, either.”

Yvana grinned, and Madison had to laugh. She shook her head and glanced out the window to see the tourist throwing away her shoes in a nearby trash can. Then the woman hobbled in the hot sand over to a waiting golf cart that a man—her husband, Madison presumed—was sitting in and got into the passenger seat, fuming.

“I should apologize to her again,” Madison said.

“You’ll do no such thing. One apology was enough for her. She’s been in my office every day since they got here, complaining about everything under the sun. She once came in here and complained about there being too much sand. On a beach. Can you imagine?” Yvana slapped her side. “She’s worse than my ex-husband. He’d complain about the heat if the sun was shining and the damp if it was raining. Never could be satisfied, just like that woman. That, Maddie, was pure payback.”

Madison smiled. She hadn’t heard anyone call her Maddie for a long time. It was a name reserved for people who’d known her since she was little, the nickname her father gave her when she was a baby. She’d visited North Captiva all her life, but it had been her special refuge after her father died. She and her mother had lived in her uncle’s house for nearly a year. She’d known Yvana most of her life and was grateful to the big-hearted woman who’d always looked after her.

“I didn’t see Rashad’s golf cart...” Madison said, nodding her head toward the window.

“No?” Yvana peered out. “Huh. I told Gus to get it, but he must be backed up today. Don’t you worry. I can drive you. The front office can watch itself for five minutes. But first, let me call someone to deal with this mess.”

* * *

YVANA EXPERTLY MANEUVERED the small tan-and-green golf cart emblazoned with the North Captiva Club logo through the sand trails of the island. A simple white post marked most turnoffs and to a visitor’s eye, easy to miss. Ahead of them, tourists who were new to the island studied a map, then scratched their heads. Yvana pulled over to help them find their way. Phone GPS didn’t work well here, and one sand-lined trail looked pretty much like another. As she waited, Madison craned her neck back to catch the sun’s rays, feeling comfortably warm and much less sick to her stomach. It must be the island weather, she thought. She was already starting to feel better. More hopeful.

Yvana asked the tourists if they needed help, but they waved her off, determined to find their own way.

“Tourists,” Yvana said as she waved at them and hit the gas. “They might get to their place before the end of the week.” Pity laced her voice. She took a sharp left then by a big white house with a wraparound porch, and a moment later, they were speeding along a little lagoon spotted with ducks and a couple of white cranes. Above them, a canopy of palm trees provided shade as they sped by in the little cart.

“Not any of my business,” Yvana said, “but you know what you’re going to do? About the baby?”

“I’m going to keep it. I’m not sure how. Mom offered to babysit, but I think that’s a lot to ask of her.”

“You got time to sort it out,” Yvana said, keeping her eyes on the road. “What about the father? What’s he doing in all this?”

Madison sucked in a breath. “Haven’t told him.” She thought of Collin’s smug face, his always-right smile. Won’t ever, either.

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

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.