Free Babyland by Holly Chamberlin

pregnant.”
    â€œHuh.” Paul poured two small glasses of juice and handed me one. “Congratulations. I thought you and Ross decided to pass on the kid thing.”
    â€œWe did decide to pass on the kid thing. But things happen, you know.”
    â€œI do know. So, how’s Ross handling it?”
    Better than I am, I thought.
    â€œGreat. He’s thrilled. He’s acting like a kid on Christmas morning.”
    â€œThat must be a big relief.”
    â€œIt’s a lot better than his leaving me,” I replied.
    Paul looked at me closely. “Have you told Mom and Dad yet?” he asked.
    I shrugged. “No. I’m going to, though. Soon. I want to see my doctor first and all.”
    â€œWhy are you putting it off? Mom’s going to be thrilled. And even though Dad’s not overly fond of Ross—”
    â€œHe isn’t?”
    Paul grimaced and put the plate of gourmet sandwiches I’d brought on the scarred, wood table. He’d gotten it at a yard sale after he’d moved out of the beautifully decorated house he’d shared with Bess.
    â€œOh,” he said. “Sorry. I thought you knew that.”
    Well, the truth was I did sort of know that. I mean, my father isn’t exactly subtle, or a good social liar. And he and Ross are so different in so many ways. It dawned on me then that for all I knew Ross might not like my father all that much.
    â€œIt’s okay,” I said.
    â€œWell, what I was going to say is that Dad will be thrilled he’s getting another grandchild. I’m sure of it.”
    I wasn’t so sure, but I didn’t argue. Neither Dad nor Mom is much in the grandparent department. They prefer golf vacations in North Carolina with other comfortably situated couples to family trips to Disney World and Sunday dinner en famille.
    â€œWill you tell Bess?” I asked.
    â€œSure, if you want me to. Or you could call her yourself.”
    â€œI’m kind of uncomfortable doing that,” I admitted. “Since the divorce, things have been a little awkward between us. I’m sorry.”
    Paul shrugged. My delicate feelings were the least of his worries.
    â€œShe’s a good mother,” he said, blandly. “She might be of some help along the way.”
    â€œOkay,” I said, a bit ashamed. “Thanks.”
    Paul and I ate lunch in relative silence, and at two o’clock I helped him herd Matthew and Emma into the family’s requisite truck-like car. Paul drove me to the train station; he kept the motor running while I said goodbye.
    I leaned over the back of the seat and blew the children kisses. Neither seemed particularly sorry to see me go. Matthew was staring out the side window; Emma was playing with a lavender-haired doll. I climbed out of the monster truck.
    â€œGood luck, Anna,” Paul said, as he pulled away.
    I waved half-heartedly.
    What my brother didn’t say but what I know he was thinking: You’re going to need it.

14
    Do No Harm
    â€œI made an appointment to see my gynecologist this Thursday,” I said. Ross and I were at the condo; we’d met there after work to discuss color choices for the master bathroom. “Her office is in Chestnut Hill.”
    Ross looked up from the paint samples he was studying. “Good. I’ll send my car service to take you there and back. I don’t want you dealing with the T. There are too many deranged people in this city, and God knows how many germs are floating around those filthy cars.”
    I didn’t want to take the T, either. A car service was a better option, but ...
    â€œI was kind of hoping you would come with me,” I said.
    â€œAnna, I can’t.” Ross handed me the stack of paint samples. “Take a look at these. I’m leaning toward Seashell for the master bath. We’ll need an accent color, of course.”
    â€œWhy can’t you?” I asked. I put the stack of paint samples on