“Okay, you two,” Chase demanded. “What’s up?”
Kim took the sundae he offered her and sank onto the couch with a relieved sigh. “I’m half-deaf from that sound system Kurt insisted was everything we’d ever need and more, I’m exhausted from running after a three-year-old with boundless energy and limited common sense and I’m smart enough to know that Uncle Chase and Aunt Whitney can make me sane again. Do you have any cherries for this sundae?”
This is the woman who wants another child? If the baby is anything like Wes, there isn’t enough ice cream in the world to keep any of us sane—and the biggest nut may turn out to be Kim herself.
Chapter Four
“What stage is he in now?” I inquired sweetly. “Heat-seeking missile, search-and-destroy mission or kamikaze LEGO airplane pilot?” I could hear Chase and Wesley roaring with laughter about something hysterical in the kitchen. My recent attempt at a chocolate layer cake, probably.
“Maybe Kurt is right,” Kim said glumly as she plunged her spoon into the melting mound of vanilla bean ice cream. “Maybe it is a bad idea. Not for the reasons he brings up, of course, but there are some grounds for calling it quits.”
Perhaps Wesley really has driven Kim off the deep end. “What are you talking about?”
“Having another baby, of course.” She stared at me accusingly. “Didn’t you hear a word I said?”
“Surely you won’t let a three-year-old determine whether or not you have more children.”
“That’s not it. Like I told you before, we both want more children, but Kurt is being difficult—no, impossible—about my getting pregnant again. Today he announced that the pregnancy shouldn’t happen because he’s been reading up on my condition on the Internet and he’s not willing to put me through anymore stress. Whatever happened to deciding this together?”
Kim crossed her arms over her chest. “You’d think he’d consult me before putting his foot down. That’s what we agreed to do. I’m the one taking all the risks. I deserve a vote in this.”
“It seems only right. Why didn’t he?”
“Because he says I’m letting my emotions overrule my common sense and that I’m not being rational.”
“And are you irrational?” At the moment, she appeared suspiciously so.
“Of course not! Well, maybe…just a little…No!” She waved her spoon in the air. “Whitney, you have to help me convince Kurt that having another baby is a great idea. You’re practically my sister. He listens to you.”
I rolled my eyes and sank deeper into my recliner. I may believe I am my brother’s—or sister’s—keeper, but this is ridiculous.
After Kim left, I discussed the twists and turns of Kim and Kurt’s lives and logic with Chase. As always, he is cautious not to make judgments without having the full picture. With Kurt and Kim taking opposite sides on the issue, the last place either of us wants to be is in the middle.
He leaned back in his chair and laced his hands behind his head. I love it when he does that, because I get a great view of those pectorals he works on at the gym and a peek at his washboard abs when his shirt pulls tightly across his torso. I love watching Chase, feeling his chest rise and fall as we sit together on the couch watching football or hearing him humming to himself in the other room while he reads the paper. I delight in him just because he exists. Miraculously, that’s just the merest hint of the pleasure that God gets from being in a relationship with me.
I’d almost forgotten I’d asked Chase a question—too occupied with my happy little visual feast—when he finally spoke. “This may be a matter of ethics.”
“‘Ethics?’ People have babies all the time and don’t think about the moral principles behind it.”
“Maybe they should. It’s not a frivolous thing to bring a child into the world. In Kim and Kurt’s case, there’s more to consider than for some.”
His expression was intense. “If Kim’s cancer were to recur—and I don’t believe it will—there’s always the risk that she won’t be around to raise either Wesley or the new baby.”
“You can’t think…” But the thought had crossed my mind, as well.
“No. I don’t think it will happen. I know Kim’s case. I believe she’s fine, but I’m a doctor, not a visionary. I respect Kurt for not only being concerned for Kim’s safety, but also for Wesley’s well-being. Granted, he’s gone a little overboard….”
“Kim’s very frustrated right now.”
Chase looked at me oddly. “Is she depressed?”
“No. Not that I’ve noticed.” A dim lightbulb finally flickered faintly in my brain. “You mean because of the hormones?”
“Kim is depression-prone. Kurt’s not only worried about Kim’s physical state but her mental state, as well.”
We’d all walked with Kim through a very bad time that none of us—least of all Kim—wanted to repeat. “Do you think that a pregnancy will affect her in that way?”
“I can’t blame Kurt for being wary.”
For all the heedlessness and lack of consideration with which some babies are conceived, one thing is still true. Every time parents bring a new child into the world, it is here for eternity. Another soul who exists not only in the present but in infinity. Now and forever.
No wonder Kurt is thinking this through so carefully. The enormity of the responsibility, once one begins to think of it, is mind-boggling.
Friday, March 5
The next morning, Bryan, showing more energy and enthusiasm than he has in months, collared me as I entered the Innova office. His eyes were narrow and his pupils, angry pinpoints. “Are you the one who took my pierogis out of the refrigerator last night?”
Pierogis? I’ve never tasted one, and from the look of them, they are definitely not something anyone would want to steal. In fact, they’d probably be pretty hard to give away. Bryan, whose Polish grandmother has made them for every holiday since he was a child, has an unnatural attachment to these lumps of dough filled with mashed potatoes or sauerkraut. More peculiar yet, she makes dozens of them and gives them to him as a Christmas present. Bryan freezes them and metes them out slowly between Christmas and Easter so he doesn’t run out until his grandmother refills his stash on his birthday. He guards them like gold nuggets and brings them to work boiled or fried in butter. At noon, he heats them, slathers them with sour cream and eats them at his desk
“Bryan, you know I’d never steal anything, especially your Christmas present.”
He sagged and looked woeful. “I suppose it’s my own fault, leaving them there overnight. They were just too tempting, and someone just couldn’t resist.”
“Tempting?” I put a knuckle between my teeth to keep from laughing. Bryan took it as a signal of my upset and sympathy.
“Who could pass
