Elm Creek Quilts [12] The Winding Ways Quilt (8 page)

“That’s normal,” said Sarah, remembering to add deferentially, “right?”

“We’ll want to keep an eye on it.” The nurse unfastened the pressure cuff and offered Sarah a brisk nod that was probably meant to be reassuring. “As I said, it’s only slightly elevated. Running in from the parking lot or hurrying up the stairs could have been enough to raise your numbers. We’ll take your blood pressure again at the end of your appointment just to be sure.”

“You don’t think I have preeclampsia, do you?”

“Ah.” The nurse made a few notes on Sarah’s chart. “I see we’ve been reading the Internet.”

“I can’t afford to go on bed rest,” Sarah explained. “I’m going to work until my due date.”

The nurse rested one freckled hand on her hip. “It’s much too early for preeclampsia, but I’m sure that in the unlikely event you come down with it, you’ll follow the doctor’s instructions and do whatever is necessary for your health and the health of your baby.”

“Of course,” said Sarah, and Matt nodded as if he would see to it personally. If bed rest was the worst-case scenario, she could still make it work. She could invest in a laptop computer and work from bed, and keep the phone within reach. But it would not come to that, she told herself firmly. There was no reason to fear that she couldn’t get an additional six months of work in before the baby came, just as she had planned.

As if she had spoken aloud, the nurse said, “You should also keep in mind that babies rarely arrive precisely on their due dates.”

“This baby has explicit instructions,” said Matt solemnly. From the look the nurse gave him as she left them alone in the examination room, Sarah knew she didn’t understand his sense of humor.

Waiting for the doctor, Sarah lay back and rested her hands on her abdomen while Matt perused the brochures about prenatal classes. “We should take this one, Childbirth Preparation 101,” he said. “This one sounds good, too: Yoga for the Expectant Mother.”

“I don’t think you’re qualified for that one, honey.”

“I meant for you—” Matt broke off as the door opened and the doctor entered. Sarah sat up and tugged the hospital gown over her knees, sizing up Dr. Jamison as they exchanged greetings. She was of medium height, with a solid build and very short gray hair, although Sarah guessed she was only in her mid-fifties. While she didn’t seem particularly maternal, she possessed an aura of reassuring competence that only years of experience could give.

Dr. Jamison read over the nurse’s notes, asked a few questions about Sarah’s general health, and proceeded through the checkup with brisk efficiency. Matt stayed in the room the entire time, offering Sarah reassuring glances whenever she looked his way.

Dr. Jamison pressed down on her abdomen, feeling for the height of her uterus. “When did you say you last had your period?”

“June.”

“Not May? Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.” Summer months were so packed full of camp activities that she sometimes forgot to mark her calendar.

“The height of your uterus suggests that you’re closer to fourteen weeks into your pregnancy. The level of hormones in your urine specimen will help confirm that, but I’ll schedule an ultrasound just to be sure.”

“I’m sure I just entered my second trimester,” said Sarah, although she was feeling less sure with each passing moment. She lay on the table with her feet in the stirrups, running through the dates in her mind. The date of conception should have been…but on the other hand, there was that one night…They had been trying for a baby for so long that she couldn’t remember the dates properly, especially not while lying there in that awkward position, being poked and prodded in places she preferred to keep to herself.

Just as Sarah thought the examination was nearing its end, Dr. Jamison said, “Why don’t we see if we can detect the heartbeat on the fetal Doppler?”

“Oh, yes, please,” said Sarah eagerly.

“Doppler,” mused Matt. “I thought that was for the weather forecast.”

“Same principle, different device.” Dr. Jamison squirted a cool gel on Sarah’s bare abdomen and pressed a handheld monitor against her skin. A low, steady thudding sounded over the speaker. “That’s your heartbeat,” she said, sliding the monitor lower, listening, moving the monitor again. Suddenly the speaker emitted a soft, rapid pulsing noise, and the doctor smiled. “And that’s your baby.”

Tears sprang into Sarah’s eyes. “Is it all right? Is it supposed to sound like that?”

“I hear a good, strong, steady heartbeat,” the doctor assured her. “At one hundred fifty beats per minute, it’s just right for fourteen weeks.”

“But I’m only twelve weeks pregnant,” Sarah reminded her, but stopped short at the doctor’s sudden, thoughtful frown. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Matt reached over and took Sarah’s hand as the doctor slid the monitor around to the other side of her abdomen, pursing her lips slightly, frown lines deepening. Sarah shivered, but not from the cold. She knew something was wrong, but she dared not speak, not while the doctor was listening so intently. She wanted to know, and she didn’t want to know. She wanted to prolong the moment before the doctor announced that something was dreadfully wrong with her child, because the moment she heard those words, her world would come crashing down.

Then a different sound filled the room, the same quick wooshing of the baby’s heartbeat, overlying a faint echo of the same pulse.

“Holy crap,” said Matt. The doctor glanced up and nodded, with a faint, knowing smile.

“What? What is it?” said Sarah with rising panic.

“I’m detecting two heartbeats.”

“Right,” said Sarah, puzzling it out. “Mine and the baby’s.”

“No, yours is that slow, deep one, remember?” Dr. Jamison repositioned the monitor. “Do you hear them now?”

Sarah felt dizzy. “You mean…twins? You can’t mean twins.”

“I do indeed mean twins.”

Matt let out a whoop of delight. “Twins! That’s awesome! Can you tell if they’re girls or boys? Or one of each? That would be so cool.”

“I can’t determine that from the heartbeat, contrary to folk wisdom. I’ll definitely want to schedule an ultrasound under these circumstances, and if the babies cooperate, we might be able to get an answer for you then.” Dr. Jamison set the monitor aside, wiped most of the gooey gel from Sarah’s abdomen, and handed her a towel so she could finish. “You can sit up now. I’ll step out for a moment so you can dress.”

Distantly, it occurred to Sarah that it was rather silly to be concerned for her modesty now, after all the doctor had just seen of her. She nodded, unable to speak.

“Twins,” Matt kept repeating, shaking his head in disbelieving joy. “Twins!”

“Let’s hope it’s only twins,” said Sarah shakily, buttoning her blouse. She was fourteen weeks pregnant, apparently, not twelve, and with two babies, not one.

“Hey. It’s okay.” Matt embraced her gently. “I know this isn’t what we expected, but it’s going to be fine. Better than fine. It’s going to be wonderful.”

“Matt—” She desperately did not want to disappoint him. “I was worried enough about taking care of one baby, but two?”

He kissed her. “You’re not going to be alone. I’ll be there right beside you every step of the way, and so will a manor full of surrogate grandmas. Everything’s going to work out. Have a little faith.”

She buried her face in his chest. She did have faith—in everyone but herself. None of her plans included two babies, two cradles, two of everything, and everything divided in two.

She had not expected to trip over Gwen’s unsmoothable wrinkle so soon.

As they left the medical center, Matt beamed proudly as he escorted her across the parking lot. “Twins run in my family, you know.”

“Now you tell me,” she muttered. The August heat rippled in waves off the blacktop, and she felt her morning sickness threatening. It would be hotter in the truck, even with the windows rolled down. For the hundredth time, she wished Matt would arrange for a mechanic to fix the air conditioner. He kept insisting he could do it himself for a fraction of the price, but he never found the time.

“Come on, you remember,” said Matt, lacing his fingers through hers. “My dad has a twin brother and my mom had a twin sister.”

Matt had adopted the past tense whenever speaking of his mother, although she was probably still very much alive, somewhere. She had abandoned her husband and son when Matt was only five years old, and as the years passed, she had stopped keeping in touch with Matt’s father. Sarah could never be sure how much Matt truly remembered of her and how much his imagination had been reconstructed from photographs.

“Uncle Carl is your dad’s twin?” asked Sarah, as if he had not mentioned his mother. She wondered how Matt could still speak of her so fondly. “They don’t look anything alike.”

“Fraternal. My mom and her sister, though, they were identical twins.”

“You never told me any of this. I would have remembered.” They approached the red pickup and, as Matt reached for the car keys, Sarah stopped short. “Oh, this won’t work. This is no good at all.”

“What?”

“This.” Sarah gestured at the truck, suddenly tearful. “How are we going to fit an infant car seat—two car seats—in a pickup? What are we supposed to do, strap them in back with the cargo?”

Matt shot her a look of utter bewilderment. “It’s no big deal. When we take the babies out, we’ll use the Elm Creek Quilts minivan.”

“What if one of the Elm Creek Quilters needs it for camp business?” cried Sarah, bursting into sobs. “What if Sylvia and Andrew are traveling? They always take the minivan in winter.”

Matt stared at her. “I hope this is hormonal, and I hope it passes. Sarah, honey, we’ll figure it out. We’ll buy another car if we have to.”

Sarah nodded and climbed into the truck, wiping away tears. Part of her wanted to snap at him for tossing the word
hormonal
around, while another part hoped he was right. Six more months of weeping at the sight of an unsuitable car would be unbearable.

Five and a half more months, she reminded herself. Not six. In her mind’s eye she ripped up her calendar, spreadsheet, and plans and scattered the pieces on the medical center sidewalk behind them.

The other Elm Creek Quilters were busy with their classes when Sarah and Matt returned to the manor, so Sarah stopped by the kitchen for a glass of water before heading upstairs to the library. Anna stood at the counter chopping vegetables and directing Diane’s eldest son as he stirred something on the stovetop. It smelled wonderful, rich and fragrant, and all thoughts of morning sickness melted away. She suddenly realized she was starving.

“How did your appointment go?” asked Anna as Sarah dug into the refrigerator.

Sarah snatched up cheese, sliced turkey breast wrapped in deli paper, whole-grain organic bread, and spicy mustard. “Twins.”

A knife clattered on the counter. “Did you say twins?”

“Yep.”

Sarah barely had time to set down her sandwich fixings before Anna cried out in joy and embraced her. “How wonderful! Congratulations times two. Twice the cuteness, twice the joy.”

“Twice the diapers,” said Michael.

Anna waved that off as a minor detail. “Just think how nice it will be for your kids to always have a playmate near while they’re growing up. They’ll never be lonely.”

Sarah felt tears welling up again, but this time they were infused with happiness. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. I guess you’re right.”

“You’re assuming they’ll get along,” said Michael. “Sometimes siblings hate each other.”

“These two won’t,” said Anna so decisively that Sarah never thought to question how she could possibly know that. As Sarah reached into the cupboard for a plate, Anna added, “Here, let me make that for you. You should get off your feet.”

Sarah had to laugh. “Thanks, but I’m not an invalid. I’m going to keep my usual routine until I can’t anymore. Then you’re welcome to wait on me hand and foot.”

Anna insisted on making her a glass of decaf ginger iced tea, an offer Sarah gratefully accepted. It was so refreshing that Sarah almost wished she had let Anna make the sandwich as well. Their new chef had a gift for bringing out the flavor of the most ordinary ingredients, much like a master quilter transformed the most humble scraps of cotton fabric into a work of art.

Later, up in the office, Sarah dived into her work with a new vigor, knowing that next week’s ultrasound was likely to prove Dr. Jamison right and move up her due date by two weeks. She fervently hoped it would be no more than that.

She shuffled papers and balanced accounts for most of the afternoon, enjoying the muffled, familiar sounds of quilt camp—voices and footsteps in the halls, laughter and birdsong through the open window, a delivery truck pulling into the parking lot, a lawn mower, the back door swinging open and banging shut. It was a happy, industrious sound, the background music of Sarah’s days. She appreciated it most in those last weeks of summer as the end of the camp season approached. Next year would be so different with a baby—two babies—around. The melody of camp life would change key, taking on the sweet notes of babies’ coos and music boxes, rattles and cries. By the end of summer, the twins would be crawling, and what a job of baby-proofing she and Matt would face before then! That oak staircase was an accident waiting to happen, and all the outlets would need covers—

A quick rap on the library door startled Sarah from her reverie. “Come in,” she called, tapping keys to save the open document on her computer.

One of the double doors opened, and a slight, gray-haired woman in a floral skirt, lavender blouse, and sensible shoes entered. “Hello, Sarah,” she said. “Anna said I might find you here. Joe and I just arrived. I’m sure you heard the truck out back. I hope the racket didn’t disturb you.”

“Gretchen,” exclaimed Sarah, rising. In all the excitement, she had completely forgotten that their newest faculty member was moving in that afternoon—and she had done nothing to prepare the second-floor suite Gretchen and her husband would share. “How was the drive from Ambridge?”

“Oh, treacherous, just as I expected,” said Gretchen with a laugh. “Neither of us has ever driven a panel truck before. Fortunately we sold most of our large pieces of furniture ahead of time, so we were able to rent a smaller truck than if we hadn’t downsized first.”