And Yesterday Is Gone (36 page)

That prospect didn't thrill me. Hadn't I already sired a child? I was in the peak of good health. But I'd do anything to make it happen. Maybe there was some magic potion.

What Rica wanted so badly, I wanted her to have. Her happiness was my happiness.

Dr. Teddy sent me to a specialist who checked me thoroughly and efficiently, with test after test, until the bad news was apparent. Mumps had destroyed any hope of another child.

“You are producing no viable sperm,” the doctor announced, “and it would take a miracle for you to impregnate your wife. You know, adoption is an option.”

The diagnosis was disheartening and unbelievable.

Compassionate as ever, Dr. Teddy said, “Steve, I think you will have to accept this doctor's opinion. Perhaps you should consider adopting.”

Rica was heartbroken. She had been painting over Billy's artistic attempts with Crayolas on the nursery wall. Now she abandoned the partially painted wall and put the paint in the garage.

We sat in front of the fire one evening, Rica holding Billy who had gone fast asleep. He fit quite comfortably in her lap if you didn't notice that his feet touched the floor.

I teased her about her “mama's boy,” but she threw back an irrefutable truth: “There never was a bigger mama's boy than you, than you
still
are.”

“Steve, let's talk. I have an idea I want you to consider. When Juan needed your blood, you were happy to give it. Now you need something he has, and I know he'd be happy to give you anything.”

“Do you mean what I think you mean?”

“Yes.”

My mind whirled. I couldn't quite get a grasp on that idea. “Just my brief experience with those doctors' procedures convinced me that it sure isn't a picnic, and I would guess it would be very involved. It's such a new idea. I really don't know how I feel about it,” I answered, stalling for time.

“Well, will you at least think about it?”

My Rica, carrying another man's baby? My brain countered:
Not just any man, it's Juan.

A wicked thought almost made me laugh. Turnabout is fair play. Rica had carried my baby, but undeniably, he was Juan's boy. Sometimes I thought Billy was about to call me “Unkie Stevie.” Of course, I knew this was a stretch…I think. Now, if she carried Juan's, this one would be mine.

The next morning at breakfast, Rica wasted no time. “Well, have you decided?”

“Rica, we just talked last night.”

“So? It's either yes or yes. That shouldn't be so difficult.”

“Instant gratification, thy name is Rica,” was the best I could come up with.

“I've waited long enough.”

There was no doubt in my mind that she was sure it was going to happen.

“Why don't you discuss this with Sara and Dr. Teddy before you go off the deep end,” I suggested.

“Of course, if you insist.”

In spite of her words, I knew that Rica
was
going to make it happen, and now.

Rica asked Juan to dinner, and he innocently accepted the invitation. The last bite of a really good dessert was still on our tongues when Rica went right to the point.

“Juan, I'm sure you know how badly I want a baby and the difficulties we're having. Would you help? It would mean so much to us.”

“Of course, you know I'd do anything, but I don't understand what it is you want from me.”

“It's called ‘artificial insemination,' ” Rica explained.

He looked confused, then flushed red and turned to me. “Steve? You know that I am a confirmed bachelor.”

“No physical contact required, Juan, just a lot of procedures. Dr. Teddy can give you all the details.”

“It can be only you, Juan,” Rica pleaded.

“How much time do I have to think this over?”

“You've had it.” Tears filled her eyes.

“I'll talk to Dr. Teddy. Don't cry,” he said.

That night Rica was ecstatic. “I know he'll do it.”

I hadn't seen her so happy in months. The next day she had the pink paint and was finishing up the wall. “This time it will be a girl.”

And, of course, Juan didn't disappoint her.

The testing, both physiological and physical, he endured with patience.

The first two months produced nothing but Rica's tears. The third month she was almost hysterical, laughing and crying, and counting on her fingers.

Juan had taken the news very calmly. He gave Rica a hug and punched me in the arm, saying, “It's all yours, Daddy.”

I was so happy for Rica, and I knew it would be a beautiful baby—if it resembled either parent.

“It's only fair,” I devilled him. “You've taken my only child; now you can give me one that will be all mine.”

His eyes that looked into mine gave credence to his words: “I love him more than life itself, and am thankful more than anyone could ever know that you have shared him so generously. I have something in my life to live for—the joy of being part of Billy's life. The fear of loneliness is almost as bad as the reality.” Juan's voice was hardly audible.

•  •  •

I was at the top of my profession, a journalist for
Bay City Chronicle,
doing what I loved best. J.W. accused me of casting covetous eyes at his chair, but I was happy with my own.

Time seemed to fly. I thought probably I had all life had to offer and now a new baby on the way.

The first two months of Rica's pregnancy were miserable, but borne with a smile.

“Happy to be miserable,” she said as I gathered her up in my arms and held her in our big chair as I had when she was pregnant with Billy.

The third month was better. Rica looked at herself and laughed. “I look like I swallowed an olive.” I couldn't see it, but she could.

Sara came often. They had a very close friendship—few secrets, laughing together like schoolgirls. Sometimes they walked over to Juan's “playhouse” as they teasingly referred to it. Billy always tagged along.

Juan's house, nearing completion, was everything he dreamed it would be. Rica had described the kitchen as a cook's heaven. The third story, which had been servants' quarters, was now the perfect studio. The long curving stairway, now divided at the first landing, led upward to the most elegant bedrooms and study. The original bannister, after cleaning and refinishing, seemed to point the way. The carriage house was now a delightful little cottage.

So much seemed to have happened in our lives these past years. Last month Sis had another baby, a girl this time. Ma was now the governor's wife, a far cry from the lady with the shovel in the potato patch with whom I'd had difficulty convincing I was not a dope fiend a century ago.

Juan had taken up his brush again. Rica and Billy sat for a painting in which Billy's former curls were restored by Juan's brush. The portrait, titled “Modern Madonna,” sold for a very large sum to a gentleman in England.

We seemed to have evolved into a tightly knit family group.

Sara was delighted with the prospect of another baby and planned with Rica for a girl.

Dr. Teddy said quite seriously, “I never thought I'd end up as a grandma. Yesterday there were just two of us. Where did all these damn kids come from?”

•  •  •

Dr. Teddy had come home early, eaten a light dinner and retired with Sara to the study. She kicked off her shoes, stretched out on the overstuffed sofa with Sara at the opposite end. Sara spoke softly, “You look so tired tonight, love. Let me rub your feet. You must slow down—we're not that young anymore. There are those who would say we were past our prime—way past.”

“You're rubbing the wrong foot, my dear,” Teddy interrupted. “It's the other one that hurts. Anyway, I can't retire now—I've got to see Rica through this pregnancy. I'm curious as to how this will all turn out. I hope Rica has a boy since Steve shared his first-born son so completely. There is such a bond, such a great love between these two men. Reminds me of David and Jonathan,” she remarked. “You know, Saul's son in the Old Testament—Samuel, I think, where it says that ‘Jonathan loved him as his own soul.' I don't doubt the baby will be beautiful; how could it not? It is wonderful to see Rica so happy again. She has an appointment with me tomorrow.”

Rica was pleased when I offered to drive her to Dr. Teddy's office the next morning. Her enthusiasm was contagious. She seemed to sense something that was, as yet, a mystery to me.

The atmosphere was much more pleasant, I'd even say peaceful, at our house since her pregnancy.

Billy was nearing his fourth birthday, had long ago begun dressing himself after a fashion—his, and had long since tired of his tricycle. “For goodness' sake, don't mention it to Juan,” I advised, “or he'll replace it with a motorcycle.”

Juan had arrived early, poured himself a cup of coffee, pleased to entertain Billy until we got back. They were busy with building blocks as I waited in the car.

I had been involved in this pregnancy from the first. With Billy, I had been four months late. For some reason, this pregnancy seemed to touch something within me that the first one missed.

As Rica danced down the walkway laughing, I marveled again that this lovely woman had chosen to be mine—for better or for worse.

We were early and the waiting room was almost empty. Rica was shown in without delay. I sat, it seemed for hours, thumbing through every baby magazine ever written. The room slowly filled and I felt like a scarecrow in a cornfield.

Dr. Teddy finally came to the door and motioned me in.

Rica was sitting up on a table, her gown pulled high to reveal the belly she was clasping with both hands. Dr. Teddy had a broad smile tugging at both corners of her lips. She slipped the stethoscope from around her neck to mine and positioned the end on Rica's belly, plugging the other end into my ears. I could hear the steady thump, thump, thump of something within. The puzzled look on my face brought a whisper from Rica who was so overcome she could hardly squeeze out the words.

“Steve, it's twins. Twins, Steve.”

Hopelessly, I tried to erase the words.

“Don't joke, Rica. Be serious. Is everything all right?”

The radiant look on her face told me the truth.

Twins? I hadn't gotten off on the right foot with the first child, and now two more? My mind fogged at the image.

Dr. Teddy pushed a chair behind me just as I collapsed.

Juan grinned when he heard the news. He said, above the clamor of the women, “Be careful what you wish for…”

For once I was utterly speechless. I called Ma, always my refuge of choice. She added her voice to that of the others. It was obvious who walked alone.

Confused, scared—yes, scared. My thoughts were troubled: Would I be up to it? I hadn't done such a great job with the first one.

Rica was happier than seemed possible. Now there was no weeping about the fat ankles or back pain, even though I knew she was uncomfortable as the months passed. She gained a lot of weight and it caused her usual graceful movements to be awkward and unsteady. Still, I heard her singing as she moved around.

Mrs. Mackey recommended a woman who lived in North Beach who could come four days a week to help out. This gave Rica some rest and free time, time she used to plan and prepare for babies not yet born. I teased her about everything being color-coordinated.

We decided against a sonogram and opted to be surprised. A boy for you, and a girl for me, and together we shopped accordingly.

At this point, all I wanted was an easy delivery and healthy babies.

Juan was thoughtful as always, but from a distance. I had the feeling we were on our own with these babies.

Earlier I had found the bearskin rug that now made itself comfortable in front of the warm fireplace. Originally, Rica was concerned that it would frighten Billy with its ferocious head and glaring eyes. Her fears were unfounded as he bravely decided it could double for a “horsie,” and rode it to complete submission. It now contemplated its world with one glass eye and a loose fang.

At present, it was of no interest to him since it didn't whinny and was slow on the “giddyup.”

Billy's tricycle limped along, one wheel considerably out of alignment. I warned Rica half-jokingly that motorcycle oil would make an awful mess on those Persian carpets.

Billy's fourth birthday had passed and I knew Juan was probably making a list for the next one. All Billy had to do was point a chubby finger. What he really needed now, since Rica had decided that his crib could easily accommodate two tiny babies, was a bed. We decided to shop for a youth bed and we laughed that he would grow into it. His size was already above average for his age.

Before any action could be taken, a small bed that would have sent any antique enthusiast into a frenzy was delivered to our door complete with bedding.

Sara confided that Dr. Teddy had searched the attic to find the bed that she had slept in as a child, handmade and elaborately carved by her father. The bed they had shared all these years was a replica.

Now Billy slept in a child's bed that was old and priceless. Priceless, too, because of the loving generosity in which it was given to us.

The time was growing closer. It seemed that we stood on the sidelines, holding our breath, waiting for the main event.

Rica was the exception. She seemed ready, calm and starry-eyed.

Now our house contained as much happiness and anticipation as it had tears and unhappiness only a short time ago. I must say I welcomed the change even as I stumbled down this scary, uncertain path. I prayed that when the time came, I would miraculously become the perfect father.

Now we were counting the days.

In the back of my mind lay the horrific memory of Billy's birth, but I smothered those thoughts with Dr. Teddy's assurances.

I rubbed fragrant oil—guaranteed to prevent stretch marks, then laid my ear against that sweet-smelling swollen belly.