River, where it joined the Grand River, but he could travel seventy miles on the Flat alone if he wanted to. Of course his favorite little diner was right there on Main Street in Lowell.
Maybe he’d go to the gym and shoot some hoops instead. And then go to the Levee for lunch. If he went to the gym he’d have to shower again.
Turning off Main Street along the river, Joe considered the canoe again. A day alone, and the physical exertion of paddling sounded good. He could pack a lunch and spend the whole day on the water. The sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky. The July temperatures were perfect. And there would be a breeze on the river.
Sounded like heaven.
He passed her house. Continued on.
She’d taken off after making tacos for them all for lunch yesterday. She’d had her twelve-week doctor’s appointment.
Joe slowed. Turned around. He had to go back for his canoe anyway. And to exchange his sandals for running shoes and put sunscreen on skin left exposed by his denim shorts and loose tank top. He should probably grab a T-shirt instead. Right after he stopped by Elise’s. He’d hoped she’d call—not that she ever had before—but he had an investment in what was going on here. His livelihood was firmly tied to hers. If something happened to her…
Joe pulled into her drive.
SOMEONE WAS AT the front door. Staring at the bathroom ceiling, arms and hands lying beside her on the cool tile, Elise considered rolling over, getting up onto her hands and knees, crawling to the door. And couldn’t think of a single person who would be there who would be worth the effort. A blessing, at the moment, of being alone in the world.
Her eyes were closed when the second knock came.
She was throwing up again at the third.
And by the time the side doorbell rang, she was experiencing enough of a reprieve to stand. Shakily, but at least she was upright.
The way she planned to be for the entire pregnancy, though how on earth she was going to make it through the whale stage on her feet she didn’t know. She was only at the beginning of the fourth month and needed nothing as badly as she did to lie down.
After rinsing her mouth and gargling only the tiny bit of mouthwash she dared put in her mouth lest it incite another bout of retching, she shuffled her way to the door facing the river. She hadn’t showered yet. Hadn’t even run her fingers through her hair. And was still wearing the sweatpants and sleeveless top she’d slept in.
Samantha and Darin were entrenched firmly beneath her bed. They’d hated her retching, too.
Maybe the crib sheets had arrived. The mattresses had been bare for almost a week. Or it could be the…
“Joe?” Elise squinted up at her business partner, feeling as though she’d stepped onto another planet. Joe played on Saturday mornings. She’d never once heard from him then. Not even in college.
“I thought you were a changing table,” she said, leaning against the door, half blinded by sunlight. “I was hoping to get it put together this weekend,” she added irrelevantly.
He’d never seen her without makeup. She felt too wretched to care.
“I got you out of bed.”
“No.” She started to shake her head and stopped. Too much movement, too quickly. “I’ve been up over an hour.”
Making love to the toilet.
“What’s wrong?” Something had to be or he wouldn’t be there. And whatever it was, she’d deal with it. She’d promised him.
“That’s what I’m about to ask you.”
“Oh. I’m fine.” She leaned her head against the door. “Just trying to convince my children that eating is a necessary part of my life.”
She’d started laughing at herself half an hour before. Right after sobbing had caused another bout of vomiting.
He frowned, staring at her.
“Morning sickness,” she explained and bit back a smile at the embarrassed dawning of understanding that crossed his features.
“Should I call a doctor?”
“Nope. It’s happened before. It’ll pass. I could be as good as new in a matter of minutes.”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “It looks to me like you should spend the day in bed. If it’s anything like the flu, you need rest to regain your energy.”
“Nope. Eating takes care of that—once I’m allowed to do so.”
“Is it always this bad?”
She really wasn’t in the mood to chat.
“For me, or in general?”
“Either.”
“For me, yes. In general, I have no idea. But I’d guess not. I can’t imagine women electing to go through this a second time.”
He had to have a reason for being there other than the state of her stomach. It would be good if he’d just tell her and be on his way before she gave in to the urge to slide down to lie on the floor. The entryway was tile, too, and tile was her friend. It was cool. And didn’t move at all.
He didn’t say anything. Didn’t seem to be leaving.
“My theory is that if one kid objects to nutrition, all the rest will decide to give it a try.”
She’d come up with this theory in the middle of the night a week or so ago, picturing her four offspring with minds and motivations of their own—it made them seem more endurable somehow.
Joe’s bark of laughter surprised her. She wasn’t usually able to amuse him.
“They’re considerate brats, though,” she continued babbling, closing her eyes as she felt the breeze coming up from the river across the street. “They refrain from midday or evening interruptions, keeping all food rejections to the night and first thing in the morning.”
Would he never leave? The living room sofa was through the foyer door and six yards away. The light green cushions were silky, soft. They’d be cool.
And they didn’t smell.
She could let go of the door. Take enough steps to make it there.
The world would stop spinning as soon as she lay down. In another fifteen minutes, assuming her babies were done protesting, she’d be good to go.
Cool cushions against her cheek. Six yards away. Fifteen minutes.
Pushing off from the open door, Elise stumbled toward her destination.
JOE CRACKED HIS ARM against the doorjamb in his haste, but he got to her before she hit the floor. With fear in his heart, he picked up his partner, holding her gingerly as he carried her to the closest piece of furniture in the house—the living room sofa.
