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Chapter 159

Two days later, Nick and Laureen sat side by side in a pair of first class seats, thirty thousand feet above… well, somewhere between Des Moines, Iowa and Tampa, Florida. Illinois, maybe? Looking out the small, ovular window, Nick could not tell. All he could see was clouds. That was just as well for him, as seeing the ground loom below him during takeoffs and landings tended to freak him out.

Turning away from the window, he looked at Laureen instead. “How’s your magazine?” he asked, glancing down at the Cosmo she’d bought at the airport. “‘Ten Tips to Keep Him Coming Back for More?’”

Laureen blushed bright red and hurriedly turned the magazine over in her lap. “It’s fine,” she replied curtly.

Nick smirked. “Learning any tips?” he teased.

She shot him a nasty look, her cheeks scarlet. He chuckled.

“Wanna put ‘em to good use in the lavatory?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows and eyeing the tiny airplane bathrooms.

“Nick!” Laureen looked mortified.

“Kidding! Kidding. I’m just playin’ with ya,” replied Nick, smiling good-naturedly. “Somehow, I don’t think that would work anyway.”

She just giggled, embarrassed.

“So,” said Nick, turning serious, “I was gonna ask you. How did Claire seem to you?”

“How did Claire seem?” Laureen took her time before answering. “Well… I dunno… she seemed happy enough, but at the same time… not.” She paused, looking contemplative, and then screwed up her face. “That made no sense, did it?”

“No, it made perfect sense,” insisted Nick, leaning forward in his seat. He had been hoping Laureen would say something like that. “That’s exactly what I was gonna say. I’m glad you see it too. She’s not happy. She’s puttin’ on a front; that’s what she’s doing. She acts like everything is fine until she can’t take it anymore, and then she calls me.”

Laureen pursed her lips, an expression of concern on her face. “Yeah, she wasn’t exactly her old self. Do you think it’s Jamie?”

“I know it’s him. He’s bringing her down.”

“Well, she missed him this weekend…”

Nick shook his head. “No, she didn’t. She was fine when we were there; she barely talked about him. I think she just misses people. She misses companionship – you know what I mean? He’s got her so isolated up there… she misses her friends and her family. She misses us. All she’s got is him, and he’s not even there for her half the time. No wonder she’s not happy.”

“That makes sense,” Laureen said, nodding sadly. “It is hard to move and meet people. I wouldn’t have met anyone in Tampa at first if it hadn’t been for my job. I mean, that’s how I met Claire in the first place. And you.” She smiled faintly.

“I bet she misses that too. Her job,” added Nick. “She loved that job. She was totally attached to it when I was with her; I think it’s part of the reason we broke up. I had my career, and she had hers, and they weren’t compatible, you know? Neither of us was willing to bend enough.”

Laureen nodded. “But she was happier when she was with you.”

Nick pressed his lips together, watching her closely. “You’re not supposed to say that,” he said playfully, winking at her, trying desperately to cover up the way his heart had wrenched with the memory of how happy he had been with Claire too. “You’re supposed to say that Claire and I were wrong for each other from the start, or something like that.”

Laureen smiled faintly, blushing. “Probably. But coming from a friend, it’s true. She did seem a lot happier.”

Well, I was happier too, thought Nick sadly. He wasn’t unhappy now, not by any means. And his life had certainly been no picnic when he was with Claire. And yet, nothing quite compared to the happiness you felt when you were deeply in love with someone who deeply loved you back, as Claire had loved him. She had to have, or she would not have been by his side through all of the physical battles and emotional demons he’d faced over the years. He had not been very loveable then, but she had found a way to love him anyway. He’d never doubted her feelings then. But had she been happy? He’d thought so, until the day she left him, but that was not something he could really judge.

“If she was really happy, though, she wouldn’t have left me,” he murmured, his jaw tightening as he glanced out the window again.

“Maybe she made a mistake. I mean, you think she made a mistake when she married Jamie, right?”

Nick snorted. “Do you really have to ask?”

Laureen smiled awkwardly. “Well… maybe she’s just full of mistakes then.”

Nick nodded vaguely, staring out the window. He wasn’t quite sure what to say to the woman who had made it clear she had a thing for him, spent all this time with him, made out with him on quite a few occasions, and was now telling him his ex-fiancée had made a mistake in leaving him. What did Laureen want?? Women were confusing.

“Lemme ask you this then,” he said after a long pause, turning to face her again. “If she is full of mistakes, would you like to see her try to fix them? I mean, say she left Jamie… what then? Are you saying you want her to work it out with me?”

Laureen flushed red, and her eyes dropped. She took a moment to respond. “I… I don’t think I could answer that,” she stammered finally. Still looking down, she added, “I don’t think I know what I want any more than she does.”

***

“I want to go home for Thanksgiving.” Looking across the kitchen island at Jamie, Claire’s eyes were firm and set. She was determined to get her way on this one. “I haven’t seen my family since we moved here, and I’ve never spent a Thanksgiving without them. I want to go to Tampa.”

She didn’t think it was too much to ask. In her mind, she wasn’t being unreasonable or selfish. She hadn’t been home to Florida since she and Jamie had moved back to his hometown, and her family missed her as much as she missed them.

“I know you do, honey, but how do you expect us to be able to afford a flight to Florida and back? We just bought a house, and we’ve got twins on the way; we’ve got to save up for the babies.” That was Jamie’s argument, and it was a good one. But Claire had her own defenses.

“If we’re so strapped for cash, how were you able to afford going to Mississippi three days early to party? Maybe you should have thought of us and our babies before you did that,” she fired back.

She was still annoyed at him for it, even if the long weekend had turned out alright. Nick and Laureen had made it fun for her. But Jamie didn’t know that, and as far as she was concerned, he didn’t have to and never would. She had no idea what exactly he’d done in Biloxi for a week, so why should she tell him that Nick had been in Des Moines? It would only piss him off.

“Listen, the thing is, if we go back for Thanksgiving, you’re just going to want to go back again for Christmas. Am I right?” asked Jamie, arching his dark eyebrows at her. Before she could even answer, he added, “That’s what we can’t afford. Flying to Florida twice in two months. I thought if we stayed here for Thanksgiving with Mom, we could go to Florida for Christmas with your family.”

“And your brother,” pointed out Claire. “He still lives in Florida too, don’t forget. It would make more sense for your mom to just come to Florida with us; then we could all do the holidays together, like one big family.”

It was a stretch, and to actually suggest the idea of traveling with Jamie’s mother meant that Claire was desperate. But she was. All her hopes were set on going to Florida, and she wasn’t taking Jamie’s logic very easily. She felt like a little girl who was homesick. And it was all true, except for the fact that she wasn’t a little girl. She was a grown woman, and reason argued that she should act like one. Suck it up, be an adult, and face the fact that she had moved far away from home and realistically couldn’t just fly home any old time she wanted.

But the thing was, she hadn’t chosen to move so far away. She had only chosen to support her husband, to go with him. Staring hard at him now, she wondered, why couldn’t he grant her this one request? Adult or not, she had every right to want to go home for Thanksgiving.

But Jamie wasn’t budging. And when he ran out of defenses or got sick of arguing about it, he just plain shut off and stopped responding to her, which annoyed her even more.

“We’ve been fighting all night about whether or not to come home for Thanksgiving,” Claire ranted to her father on the phone that night. “Jamie absolutely refuses; he keeps saying we don’t have the money, that we shouldn’t be spending it on plane tickets. But it’s Thanksgiving!”

“And he’s absolutely right,” said her father, stunning Claire into silence. “You just got married, went on a nice honeymoon, bought a house, and are expecting two babies. You shouldn’t be spending money on plane tickets right now. You need to be saving up for things for the babies and a nice Christmas for each other.”

Listening indignantly, Claire slumped over the kitchen table in frustration. “But-”

“Now your mother and I… we’re set,” her father went on, not giving her the chance to argue. “The house is paid off, we haven’t taken a trip in years, and the only things we’re saving for are our grandchildren, which we plan to spoil rotten. I think we can afford to spare a few hundred on plane tickets.”

Claire blinked. “Wait, you mean-?”

“We’ll fly you down, honey.”

“Oh, but Dad, you don’t have to-”

“Nonsense,” interrupted her father, and she could hear his smile in his voice. “I don’t have to; I want to, and so does your mom. Anything to get our girl home for the holidays. We’ve been dying to see you.”

Cradling the phone to her ear, Claire smiled. “Thanks, Dad,” she murmured. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetie. Now you better get off the phone and go tell Jamie so that the two of you can stop fighting about this. It’s not worth it, alright? Everything’s settled now.”

Claire nodded. “Okay. Thanks, Dad,” she said again, knowing she could never thank him enough. He would do anything for her.

“Goodbye, hon. We’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“I can’t wait. Bye, Dad,” echoed Claire, and left the kitchen with a smile on her face.

***

Three weeks later, Claire entered a very different kitchen, the toasty, tasty-smelling kitchen of her mother, Carrie, who was currently bent in front of the oven in a not-so-flattering position, checking on the green bean casserole.

“I do believe it’s done,” commented Carrie to no one in particular, expertly sliding the casserole off the rack and setting it down on an empty burner. Slamming the oven shut, she slipped off her heavy oven mitts and pushed her graying blonde hair out of her face.

“The table’s set,” Claire announced. “What can I do?”

Her mother looked around the kitchen, which had been bustling with people all morning. Her father stood at one end of the counter, carving the turkey, which was also fresh out of the oven. Jamie’s mother was vigorously mashing the potatoes at the other. In between them was Claire’s grandmother, artfully arranging dinner rolls in the bread basket, while Kyle’s wife Amber spooned cranberry sauce into a china dish.

“You can take these rolls in, dear,” Grandma Ryan piped up, passing the basket to Claire.

Claire nodded, carrying the basket into the dining room, which looked too small for the long table that dominated it. Her parents had had to slide the extra leaf into the table to make it big enough for all their Thanksgiving guests. “We’ll never fit all these people,” her mother had fretted, but somehow, they had made it work. Her mother and father, Kyle, Amber, and Kamden, Grandma and Grandpa Ryan, Mrs. Turner, Jamie’s brother Brad, Jamie, and she all had a place at the table, and though it would be crowded, Claire had no complaints.

She was happy to be home, home and surrounded by family on both sides. Though Jamie’s mother occasionally drove her nuts, she was glad that Jamie’s family could join hers for the holiday. She was even more glad to be with her own family, rather than just Jamie and his mother in Iowa. She could never thank her parents enough for buying the plane tickets for all three of them.

Everyone sat down around the table as Claire’s father came in carrying a big platter of turkey, her mother, Amber, Grandma Ryan, and Mrs. Turner trailing behind with the steaming side dishes, which they arranged in the center of the table.

“Would you like to say grace, Dad?” Claire’s dad asked her grandfather, the oldest at the table.

“Of course,” replied Grandpa Ryan, and they all looked away from the feast in front of them, bowing their heads and folding their hands. Claire closed her eyes, listening to her grandpa’s words. “Lord, we thank You for all the blessings You have given us this year. We thank You for this wonderful meal we’re about to enjoy, and for all of the people present at this table today. We’ve got two families and four generations here together today, and for that, we are grateful. Thank You for being with us in our travels to get here, and thank You for Your blessings of good health that made it possible for us all to be here together. We’ve had some scares in the past few years, but thanks to Your healing hand and the amazing medical technology that exists today, we’re all still here, and next year, there should be two more members of the family here at our Thanksgiving table, because of Your blessings. We thank You for all that You have given our families. Amen.”

“Amen,” echoed Claire, accompanied by a chorus of voices.

Unclasping her hands, she rested them on her belly, swollen with two of the blessings her grandfather had mentioned in his prayer, and looked up. She offered her grandpa a smile, as her grandmother leaned over and commented, “That was lovely, Arthur.”

“What was that?”

“I said, that was lovely. The grace,” Grandma Ryan spoke louder.

“Oh! Why, thank you.”

Stifling a giggle, Claire exchanged a smile with Jamie. “Time to get this feast going,” she whispered over to him. “The twins are starving for some turkey.”

“Well, you better feed them then. I don’t want my babies going hungry,” Jamie smiled back and picked up the nearest dish to pass.

***

“Ugh,” groaned Claire hours later. “Too much food.”

“It was good though, huh? Your mom’s an awesome cook,” said Jamie, patting his belly.

Claire offered him a wry smile. “Too bad I didn’t inherit that skill, huh?”

“Aww, your cooking’s alright, Clairie. At least you try, right?”

“‘A’ for effort,” Claire smiled tiredly. The tryptophan from the turkey hadn’t worn off yet; she still felt sleepy. Though it was only eight o’clock in the evening, going to bed seemed like a great idea. Her back ached, and try as she might, she couldn’t find a comfortable position on the couch.

Her stomach wasn’t much better. It burned with indigestion from the big meal, and every so often, she was racked with painful cramps. I definitely ate too much, she thought, grimacing as she massaged her distended belly.

“Are you alright?” asked Jamie, looking over at her in concern.

“Yeah… just the usual Thanksgiving indigestion,” replied Claire, unfazed.

He smiled. “Guess the twins got their fill then, huh?”

“They better have,” she laughed.

She was sure everyone had gotten their fill, from the turkey and stuffing of the main course, to the three kinds of pie that followed for dessert. Always a dessert lover, Claire had had a thin slice of each – pumpkin, chocolate, and cranapple – and now she was feeling the effects, though it had been over two hours since she and Jamie had left her parents’ house and followed Kyle, Amber, and Kamden back to their house in St. Petersburg. With Claire’s grandparents staying at her parents’ house, there had been no room for Jamie and her, so they were staying with her brother’s family. Jamie’s mother had ridden to Tampa with Jamie’s brother and would be sleeping at his place until they all flew back to Des Moines on Sunday.

The sound of heavy footsteps coming up the hall cut into Claire’s laughter, and she looked up as her brother appeared in the living room. “Well. Who wants to help me get the tree out of the garage?” asked Kyle, looking around the room.

Putting up the Christmas tree on Thanksgiving night had always been a tradition at Claire’s house growing up, and she was happy to see that Kyle was carrying it on for his own family.

“I’m coming,” volunteered Jamie, standing up at once. As the two men went out into the garage to wrestle down the large box for the artificial tree, Amber came into the living room with Kamden, who had just had his bath and gotten into his pajamas.

“Wead me a stowy, Aunt Claiow!” shouted Kamden, tearing into the room and launching himself onto the couch next to Claire. Bouncing a few times for good measure, the almost-three-year-old looked up at her hopefully.

The bouncing did not agree with Claire’s stomach, which was cramped in knots again. Shifting painfully, she swallowed back her discomfort and replied, “You want me to read you a story? Okay, I will, in just a little bit. I’m gonna use the bathroom first.”

As she got up, she locked eyes with Amber, who gave her a smile of understanding. “Come here, Kam,” she heard Amber say as she went down the hall to the bathroom, “Let’s hold the door for Daddy and Uncle Jamie. They’re going to bring in the Christmas tree!”

Their voices were muffled as Claire shut and locked the bathroom door behind her, grateful for a moment of privacy. She didn’t feel well; the stomach cramps were getting worse. Breathing in sharply, she sank down onto the toilet and leaned forward, doubled over in pain. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it out, willing it to go away.

It wasn’t the worst pain she’d ever felt, but it certainly wasn’t pleasant either. She was reminded of the crippling menstrual cramps that had plagued her as a teenager, a couple days a month, every month, without fail. She hadn’t experienced those kinds of cramps in a long time, yet the way she felt now was rather reminiscent. The thought alarmed her, causing her eyes to fly open in panic. What if these cramps were not indigestion at all, but a sign that something was wrong with the babies?

No, she thought, starting to relax, as the cramp eased away. It has to be indigestion, after that big meal. I just shouldn’t have eaten so much.

Feeling better, she decided she would be fine after she was finished in the bathroom. She let out a sigh, breathing in and out deeply, and then she happened to glance down.

Panic gripped her again, tighter than the cramps, and she gasped aloud at the sight. In the center of her ivory-colored panties, there was a big spot of pink.

No, she thought, reaching frantically for the toilet paper. It can’t be… She ripped off a large wad and lowered it between her legs, swiping gently. She was almost afraid to look, but she had to. Bringing the clump of toilet paper up, she lowered her eyes to it, and her heart flipped and sank. The white paper was tinged with streaks of bright crimson.

… blood.

***