Five on a Match

Copyright 2025 by David Lafleche, all rights reserved.

No part of this book may be copied without express permission from the author.

This is a work of fiction.  Any similarity between the events and characters depicted in this story, and any actual events, and/or actual persons alive or dead, is purely councidetal.

 

1

 

    “Yes!  Breathe and push, Naomi!” Peter said.  “Remember those la-maze classes!”

    “Oh, come on, Peter!  HHHHHHHhhhhhhh!  That’s ‘la-mahz.’  Please don’t try to make me laugh at a time like this!”

    “Ah, ‘potato, po-tah-to.’  Breathe and push!”  Peter was a nervous wreck and could hardly keep the video camera steady. 

    Naomi was in too much pain to be nervous.  “HHHHHHHhhhhhhh, HHHHHHHhhhhhhh!”

    “Okay, here he comes!  I see his head!  Breathe and push!”

    “Nurse!” Dr. Rovey said.  “Get half a cc of morphine!”

    “No!” Naomi pleaded.  “I said no drugs!  HHHHHHHhhhhhhh, HHHHHHHhhhhhhh!  The cord is still attached, and no son of ours is going to get high!  HHHHHHHhhhhhhh!”

    “He wouldn’t even get a buzz.”

    “I’m not taking any chances!  HHHHHHHhhhhhhh, HHHHHHHhhhhhhh!  I haven’t had so much as an aspirin for the last nine months, and I’m not going to start now.  It’s all natural or nothing!”

    “Yes, one more time!” Peter said.  “One more, Naomi!  One more and you’ve done it!”

    “HHHHHHHhhhhhhh!  HHHHHHHhhhhhhh!  AAAAARGHHH!  Ohhhhh, uhhhh.”

    “WAAAAH!”

    Naomi collapsed in exhaustion on the bed and couldn’t muster the energy to sit up.  “Nurse,” she gasped.  “Look on the floor.  Are my guts down there?”

    “No,” the nurse answered.  “You’re completely intact.”

    “Could have fooled me.  Could you please hold the baby over my head where I can see him?”

    The nurse cut the cord and held him directly overhead.

    “Now, gently, put him down.”  The pain momentarily stifled as she hugged her firstborn, though she couldn’t help but cry.  “Oh, Dad, Mom, if only you had lived to see this!  We’ve done it!  We finally have a boy in the family!  A woman when she is in travail hath sorrow, because her hour is come: but as soon as she is delivered of the child, she remembereth no more the anguish, for joy that a man is born into the world.”

    Dr. Rovey had delivered dozens of babies.  But he seemed to be surprised by the appearance of this one.  “Well, congratulations, Mrs. Laval!  You have a bouncing baby linebacker.”

    “Says you,” Peter replied.  “Our son is not playing football.  I want his brains to be intact when he’s forty, and I don’t want him eating pills for breakfast.”

    “Yeah, I can’t argue with that.”

    Naomi herself was dumbfounded.  “How did I make something so big!”

    “How did you do that without a C-section!” the nurse gasped.

    “What, is he fat?” Caroline asked.

    “No, not really,” Peter said.  “No more so than you’d expect from a newborn.  But, yeah, he’s quite a chunk of both of us!”  He took out his own baby picture and was justifiably proud of the resemblance.  “He looks a lot like me!  I weighed eight and a half pounds, and I’ll bet he does, too.  But he has red hair like his mother!  Wow, you did a great job, Naomi!”

    The nurse still had her duties, however.  “Just for the record, I’ll need his name to write down for his birth certificate, Social Security and so on.  The Government is very meticulous about these things.”

    “Ask my husband.  We made a deal: He names the boys, and I name the girls.”

    “Very well, Mr. Laval.  What is his name?”

    Peter was so excited he had almost forgotten the name he had picked.  “Oh, uh…his full name is Joshua Corey Laval.  You can write that down, but we’ll just call him ‘J.C.’ for short.”

    “Hmmm…‘J.C. Laval.’  I like the sound of that!” Naomi said.  “It sounds like a good kind of name for a baseball uniform or a scorecard!  Where did you get that?”

    “I named him after my nephews, ‘Joshua’ and ‘Corey.’”

    “May I hold him?”  Caroline asked.

    “Careful.”

    Caroline was blind, but she was an experienced and trusted babysitter, in spite of her disability.  Using a life-sized doll, she had been practicing the maneuver for months.  Naomi placed the baby gently in her sister’s arm.  A shock wave like a bolt of electricity shot up her spine.  “So, this is what a newborn baby feels like!  Wow, is he ever big!”

    “I’ll have to take him to his examination,” the nurse said.  “It won’t take long.  We’ll wash him up. Give him his vaccinations then run a few routine tests.”

    “Go ahead, but hurry back!” Naomi said eagerly.  “I can’t wait to feed him!  We have some serious bonding to do!”

 

-------------------------

 

    Dr. Rovey rushed gleefully to his office.  “Oh, yeah!  This one will put me over the top for the month!  Uh, nurse, get Mrs. Laval’s billing ready for Medicare.  She had twenty ccs of Bogusene, twenty-five ccs of Pilferzine, thirty ccs of Griftomycine and thirty-five ccs of Whatchamacallitine.  Now, let’s see…that adds up to, uh…$180,666.89.”

    The nurse couldn’t understand that one bit.  “What do you mean ‘Medicare’?  Naomi Laval is only nineteen years old!  She isn’t eligible for Medicare!  Anybody on Medicare would likely be too old to deliver a baby!  Besides, she specifically requested ‘no drugs.’  She never got one molecule of that stuff!  You can’t just pad an invoice like that!”

    “Ah, so what?  Bureaucrats never read those things anyway.  Well, that’s it for today!  I’m off to the Mercedes dealership!” 

    Before leaving he made a long-distance call to Europe.  “Hello, uh, this is Dr. Wade Rovey.  I’d like to speak to Dr. Ulysses Nelson, please.  Yes, I’ll hold.”

    The answering service beat him to it.  “Hello.  You have reached the office of Dr. Ulysses Nelson, Global Health Obstetrician Service Technologies.  I am away from my desk right now, but if you le…”  The recording cut off as Dr. Nelson reached his phone.

    “Always when I’m heading for the links,” he muttered.  “Hello?”

    “Hey, Nel, long time, no see.”

    “Dr. Rovey?” he replied.  “Hey, what’s up?”

    “I’m calling to tell you that Naomi Laval has delivered her baby.  Am I ever glad that’s over with!”

    “Kind of squeamish for a doctor, aren’t you?”

    “I must admit, that was the roughest delivery I’d ever seen.  It looked touch-and-go for a moment.”

    “That bad, huh?”

    “Yeah, that bad.  But the baby turned out to be a fine specimen.  He’s one of the most evolved babies I’ve ever seen!  It’s a shame that I’m not likely to get another one like that from her.”

    “Why would you say that?”

    “I’ve been reviewing Naomi’s family history, and I think you’ll find this interesting.”  He shuffled through a few papers until he brough up her mother’s autopsy report.  “It seems the Pedersen family has an odd habit.  I’ve gone back as far as I could, and it appears as though no woman in her family ever had more than two children; but any one of them who tried to deliver a third baby died, along with the baby.”

    “That’s strange,” Dr. Nelson admitted.  “I’ve heard of maternal mortality, but never anything like that!  It’s probably hereditary, but what exactly is the cause?”

    “I have no idea.”  He put that file away and began to write his own report of Naomi’s harrowing experience.  “I’ll tell you what, though.  After a delivery like that one, I seriously doubt that Naomi could even conceive again.  Even if she does, she might survive a second child; but, like her mother and their ancestors…well, let’s just say, ‘Three strikes.’”

    “Then in your opinion, nothing more needs to be done?”

    “No, certainly not.”

 

2

 

    “Peter, the baby is awake,” Naomi groaned.  “At least he can sleep.  All those bookshelves muffle the noise.”

    The next few months weren’t much easier for Naomi.  Fortunately, baseball season was over, and Peter managed to scrape together enough savings to stay home and help.  Caroline had moved in to help after her father’s funeral, so that put the young family over the top.

    “Where is my big boy?” Peter asked, not expecting much more than a happy giggle for an answer.  He got it.

    “Hehehehehe!”

    “Is my big boy ready for his breakfast?” he asked with a big smile, getting one in return.

    “Hehehehehe!”

    “Okay, what is on the breakfast menu this morning?  Let’s see the chart…”  Peter checked his painstakingly prepared rotation chart.

    “What chart?” Caroline asked.

    “I wrote up a chart that delegates the chores,” he explained.  “Naomi and I rigidly take turns doing everything.  Right now, it’s my turn to feed him.”

    Naomi had to drag herself out of bed.  As usual, she needed no alarm.  The noise of traffic competed with the dog next door.  It was a standoff.  She didn’t look rested at all.  But she remembered her husband’s advice: “Always put your best face forward.  Reassure the kid that he’s not a burden, but a joy.”

    She brightened up and gave him a big smile.  “Hey, J.C.!  Is my big boy ready for mama’s restaurant?”

    “Hehehehehe!”

    “Button it up, Naomi, the diner is closed,” Peter insisted.  “It’s my turn.”

    She turned to face him, and her smile fell into a droop.  “Thank you, Peter,” she sighed, and collapsed into his shoulder.

    “Take a seat, sis,” Caroline said.  “Time for your chow: oatmeal with blueberries, wheat toast, grapefruit.”

    Naomi slowly dug in and perked up a little as Peter got J.C.’s breakfast.  “Let’s see what’s on the menu.  Ooooh!  Strained Turnips!”  He opened the jar and began shoveling it in, much to the baby’s delight.  “Open wide!  There, now!  Isn’t that disgusting?  Isn’t that gross?  Isn’t that just icky-poo?”

    “Hehehehehe!”

    “You know, the amazing thing is that, when I feed you this stuff, then change your diaper, it looks exactly the same on both ends!”

    J.C. laughed as loud as a baby could: not only at his Dad’s big smiles, but also when Naomi and Caroline simultaneously blew milk out their noses.

    “HA, HA, HA, HA…!  Ow, oh, that hurt,” Caroline gasped.

    “Phhhht!”  Naomi quickly composed herself and mopped up the milk.  “Oh, you crack me up!  I couldn’t have gotten through pregnancy or these last few months without a comedy routine!  A merry heart doeth good like a medicine.  But how can you say something so revolting and still smile like a clown?”

    “It’s easy.  You see, Naomi, a baby his age doesn’t understand words; but he does understand sounds and emotions.  I have to do that.”  He turned to her and made a nasty face.  “Whether they’re solid or mushy, I HATE turnips!” he whispered.  “And I know you do, too.  But, as long as we show enthusiasm, he will have enthusiasm!”

    Naomi finished her oatmeal only seconds before J.C. finished his mushy turnips.  “Okay, you’ve had your fun.  It’s my turn to burp him.”

    “Here you go.”

    “Come to mama, J.C.!  Did my big boy like his breakfast?”

    “Hehehehehe!”

    “Okay, now, let’s have a nice, big air bubble!”

    “Bhhhluuurp!”

    “Eeew, that one was a gusher.  Peter, grab the cloth, will you?  Now, to the playroom!”

    The ‘playroom’ was actually the living room, but it was the only place wide enough to keep an eye on the baby.  Peter placed him gently on the carpet and he crawled like lightning.  He crawled around, playing with Tonka trucks for half an hour.

    “I can’t believe your Dad kept these toys in such pristine condition!” he said. 

    “He wanted his grandson to have the same manly upbringing he had,” Naomi replied.  “It’s just a pity he didn’t live to see it.”

    “Playtime is over, big guy!  Okay, break out the DVDs!”   

    “And now…stadiums, on Modern Marvels.”

    He immediately stopped and sat upright, fascinated by the images.  He was especially interested in a brief shot of a pitcher.  “Hehehehehe!  Da!”

    That got Naomi’s attention, and she immediately perked up.  “Did he say, ‘Da’?”

    “That’s what I heard!” Caroline replied.

    “Let’s test it,” Peter suggested.  He replayed the scene with the pitcher, then paused.  “What is that, J.C.?”

    “Da!” he shouted.  “Da!”  He crawled up to the screen and pointed.  “Da!”

    “No, son, that’s not Da,” Peter said.  Regardless, J.C. was sharply focused on the rest of the action: ground crews, technicians, food deliveries, all preparing the ballpark for that day’s game.

    “You have the baby watch documentaries?” Caroline wondered.

    “You bet I do,” Peter answered.  “But more importantly, on DVD, with no commercials.”

    “Why?”

    “Because he can sit there and watch it for an hour, maybe more.  It stretches his mind, strengthens his attention span.  I never let him watch regular network shows.  Those stupid writers keep cramming two or three plot threads into one story!  The shows cut away to two or three scenes, a few minutes each, then a bunch of commercials about thirty seconds each.  Kids who sit there and watch all those quick changes, they’re soon conditioned to think that way.”           

    “I never thought of that!”  

    “Eventually, I’ll work him up to watch two-hour documentaries about Pompeii, Captain Cook, Plymouth Colony, and so on.”

    “Naomi, what…?”

    It was no use.  Naomi hadn’t slept well the night before but learned to take it where she could get it.

    “Poor girl,” Caroline sighed.  “She’s just like our Dad: sleeps like a hibernating bear.”

    “You wouldn’t know it if you saw her,” Peter replied.  “She looks like she could go all year.  Regardless of how heavily she sleeps, it’s not doing her any good.  Speaking of which…”  He whispered into her ear, telling her to step into the next room.  Neither the baby nor his tired mom noticed.

    “She is wiped out,” Peter said.  “She needs a break.”

    “Got any plans?”

    “You bet I do!  Warren told me he owns a cabin in the woods he can lend me, free of charge!  I’m going to take her there, if you’re up to watching the kid.”

    “You’d better believe I can handle it!  Which ‘woods’ are you talking about?”

    “Maine.  I’ve been going through your family photo albums.  It looks like the kind of place your parents always went camping.”

    Caroline did have dim memories of campgrounds in northern Minnesota, seeing some of them…barely…before Retinitis Pigmentosa finished off her vision.  But the peace and quiet of nature she felt even more.  “How long will you be there?”

    “It’ll be at the end of the year, during your school vacation.  Naomi will have ten whole days to recharge.”

    “Don’t worry about a thing, Peter.  You and Naomi are entitled to it.  I can hold the fort here.”

    “You’re not going to be here.”  Peter connected on the internet for a Skype call.  “Hey, Warren!”

    “What’s up?” he answered.

    “Is everything go?”

    “Almost.  Right now, I’m restoring an old SUV I’m selling to Biff.  You’ll need it to get to the campsite.  You just bring Caroline and the baby down here.  I’ve got an extra room ready.”

    “How’s Naomi doing?”

    “See for yourself.”  Peter stepped aside and let the desktop camera tell the story.

    “Hey, Biff, check this out.”

    “Oh, wow.  Man, does she look like ten miles of bad road or what!  Is that familiar?”

    “Yeah,” Biff agreed.  “The first kid will do that every time.”

    “Naomi has bent over backwards for him,” Peter sighed.  “Right now, she’s running on fumes.”

    “Just get Caroline and J.C. here during her school vacation and we’ll handle the rest.”  

   

3

 

    “It’ll be good to get away from all the noise,” Naomi moaned as she got in the car.  Ironically, the neighbor’s dog still barked at everyone.  It didn’t want them there, but didn’t want them to leave, either.  “Aren’t we going to make a pot of coffee before we go?”

    “No,” Peter answered.  “I figured I’d treat you to something better: Burger Tory.”

    “Oh, definitely!” Caroline agreed.  “I haven’t been there for a while!”

    Peter went to the drive-thru and paused to read an ad.  “Look, everyone!  If you buy the Dead Meat Meal, they’re offering $1.00 off on your next open-heart surgery!”

    “I feel half dead already,” Naomi sighed.

    “I’ll pass,” Caroline said with a sneer.  “Their coffee is outstanding, but their burgers are hazardous waste!  I want to live a little longer.”

    “Okay, so what’ll it be?  I’ll just have regular coffee, cream and sugar.”

    “Me, too,” Caroline said.

    “Naomi?”  Getting no answer, he turned and found her fast asleep, despite having slept through the night.  Peter had put a cot in the baby’s room and slept there, giving her the night off.  It wasn’t enough.  “Naomi?” he said again with a nudge.

    “Oh!” she replied, startled.  “Oh, man, am I out of it!  Well, I guess I’ll have a Zombie Espresso.”

    “That must be a new one,” Caroline said.  “I’ve never heard of it.”

    “The TV ad says it’s ‘Strong enough to almost wake the dead!’  Yeah, I could go for that.”

    Peter pulled up to the speaker and tried to order, to no avail.  “I’ll have a…”

    “Sir, you’ll have to download the Burger Tory coffee app.”

    “Oh, come on, I’m in a hurry!  Why do I need an app when I’ve got the cash right here?”

    “I’m sorry, sir, that’s company policy.”

    “They’re just doing that because Burger Tory is competing with McDonald’s, Starbucks, Dunkin’ and Honeydew.  They need statistical proof that they’re selling more,” Caroline explained.

    Peter was in too much of a hurry to debate it, but neither was he happy about it.  He grudgingly downloaded the app on his phone, which then blasted its approval.  “CONGRATULATIONS!  YOU ARE NOW EMPOWERED TO USE THE BURGER TORY COFFEE APP!”

    “Look, just give me the coffee and spare me the drama,” he sighed.  “If I had a penny for every time some stupid app is thrown in my face…”

    It was a cold but dry morning.  Naomi chugged the hot espresso without care.  It didn’t seem to do her any good.  Peter and Caroline sipped theirs cautiously.

    “Where are we going?” Naomi said with a loud yawn.

    “Warren’s house,” Peter answered.  “He invited us to breakfast, plus a little fun.”

    “Right now, my idea of fun would be a sensory deprivation chamber with a firm mattress.  Why did you get coffee first?”

    “He makes his coffee too weak.  You know me!  I like my coffee strong enough for the spoon to stand up in it!”

    “Right now, rocket fuel wouldn’t cut it.”

    They pulled into Warren’s spacious driveway alongside an odd-looking truck.  That actually got Naomi’s attention.  “Is that what I think it is?!” she asked.  “Wow!  An International Harvester Scout!  Man, I haven’t seen one of those in ten years!”

    “Really?” Warren asked.

    “You see, my parents used to take us camping every summer to upper Michigan.  The campground parking lot was full of four-by-fours: Broncos, Blazers, Jeeps…and, yes, a few International Harvesters.  Where did you get that one?”

    “It was rolled in a police chase.  This model had a decent engine, but it couldn’t possibly outrun a Ford Crown Victoria.  The hardest part was straightening out the frame.  It has a new engine and transmission, new paint job, new everything.  But don’t be shy!  Go ahead, check it out!”

    Peter and Naomi were impressed by its showroom-new look.  It even had that new car smell.  “Warren, you are an engineering genius!” Naomi said.

    “I’m glad you like it.  I’m lending it to Peter.”

    “You are?  Thanks, Warren!  I don’t know what to say!”

    “How about, ‘Yes’?”

    “What brought this on?”

    Warren leaned up against the truck and sighed deeply.  “If you don’t mind my saying so, you’ve been looking rather run down lately.  Peter said you needed a break.”

    Naomi’s temporary euphoria over the rare truck gave way to her fatigue.  She slumped against the truck to hold herself up.  “Well, the baby is almost two years old, but I feel thirty years older.”

    “You’re a new mother,” Warren assured her.  “Now that you have some experience, you’ll do better with your next baby.”

    “If there’s a next one.  I want a big family.  But Dr. Rovey seemed doubtful that I could have another.”

    “You never know.”

    Warren picked up his phone and called the customer who planned to buy the truck.  “Oh, that reminds me…Biff?  Yeah, it’s me.  The Harvester is almost ready.  You asked me if the new engine and transmission were good?  Well, you’ll have your proof.  I’m going to let Peter borrow it to drive to my vacation spot in Maine.  That should break it in nicely.  He’ll be back in two weeks.  Okay, bye!”

    Naomi perked up a little at this unexpected surprise.  “We’re going camping?  Isn’t the snow going to be deep out there?”

    “It’s been a fairly dry winter,” Peter explained.  “I’ve checked all the weather reports.  We won’t have any trouble getting there.”

    “What about the baby?”

    “I’ll stay here with him,” Caroline answered.  “Warren has a spare room.  The timing couldn’t be better!  School is out until the first week of January.  That should give you a little time to unwind.”

    “Oh, thank you, Warren!”  She was about to hug him, but he refused.  “Save it for him.”

    “Oh,” she said with a sheepish blush.  “Thank you, Peter!”

    “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

    They finished breakfast quickly.  Everyone was anxious for Peter and Naomi to get going.  “That’s the one upside to grinding away at a mediocre Minor League career: I get a few months off.”

    Naomi’s fatigue got worse, weighed down by a few too many waffles.  “I hope I can catch a few z’s on the way.”

    “And you will,” Warren said.  “Watch this!”  He folded down the front passenger seat and the rear bench seat.  They were perfectly level.  “You can lie down all the way.  I’ll get some blankets and a pillow.”

    Naomi stretched out, fastened the seatbelt and was out like a light.

    Peter unpacked his laptop for one more goodbye.  “Before I go, I need to talk to J.C.”  He logged on to Skype and J.C. was thrilled to see him.

    “Da!” he shouted.

    “Hey, big boy!  Ma and I are taking a vacation!  Are you going to be a good boy for Auntie Caroline?”

    “YA!” he answered, nodding.

    “We’ll call you again when we get to Maine.  Love ya!”

    “Da!”

  

-------------------------

 

    “Breakfast is served,” Peter said, giving Naomi a gentle nudge.

    “Wha…huh…Breakfast?” she replied.  “Didn’t we just eat breakfast?”

    “Yeah: yesterday.”

    Stunned, Naomi suddenly came to with a jolt, not recognizing the strange bed she was in.  “What is this?  How did I get here?”

    “I carried you across the threshold, kind of like a second honeymoon.”

    That really got her attention.  Her eyes darted about the unfamiliar room.  “This is Warren’s summer cabin?  I don’t even remember coming in here!  How long have I been out?”

    “Quite a while.”

    She looked at her watch.  “Kind of early for breakfast.”  She ignored the clock when she heard a nasty growl.  “But I could go for some chow.”

    She smelled something familiar and pleasant, then saw what it was.  “Fried trout!”

    “I went fishing after I brought you in and put you to bed.  I left a note on the nightstand explaining where I was, but I guess I won’t need it now.”

    Naomi dug in eagerly.  “Oh!  I am in Heaven!  This is good!  Just like my father used to make!  Flapjacks, biscuits!  He taught you well!  Peter, you really know how to hit the right buttons!”

    They ate together but didn’t talk much, since Naomi was too occupied “yumming” with her mouth full.

    “Look at that sunrise!” she gasped.

    They went outside and sat on lawn chairs, watching the sun slowly illuminate a crystal-clear lake and a mountain surrounded by pine trees.  There was no sound other than birds.

    “I feel so much better!  But what do we do now?”

    “What say we go hike up that mountain?”

    “Why not!”

   They did so, taking four hours to the top and back.  But it seemed like only a few minutes for the love they had for each other.

    They returned to the cabin and Peter set a fire. 

    Naomi felt like a new woman.  She put her arms around Peter like she hadn’t done in a long time.  “I love you, Peter!” she sighed.

    “Feel better?”

    “I feel tired.  But it’s not that ‘running-on-fumes’ kind of tired, it’s more of an ‘unwinding’ kind of tired.  I feel so much better!

    “I’ve never felt so rested.”

  

4

 

“KEEP ME AS THE APPLE OF THE EYE.”

 

    One advantage of having a blind sister is that Naomi could do a little playful flirting without having to hide it.  The baby was there but was more interested in eating than watching.  She wrote the message with lipstick on a napkin and gave him a fetching look.  Peter took the suggestion and responded likewise.

 

“ISN’T THAT FROM THE MAKEUP KIT YOU GOT AS A WEDDING PRESENT? 

THAT’S AN INTERESTING APPLICATION FOR LIPSTICK.”

 

“WHAT ELSE CAN I DO WITH IT?  YOU THINK I’D WEAR THIS GLOP?”

 

“MAYBELLINE CANNOT IMPROVE UPON PERFECTION.”

 

“FLATTERY WILL GET YOU EVERYWHERE, MISTER.”

 

    Peter kept staring into her eyes, and she into his.  But he was sitting too close to the lights, and the glare annoyed her.

 

“LOSE THE GLASSES FOR A MOMENT.”

 

    He did so.  She looked longingly and couldn’t resist leaning out over the table to kiss him.

    Unable to see what was going on, Caroline innocently asked, “Would somebody please pass the butter?”

    “Oh, uh, sorry.  Here…uh, oh.”  Naomi turned blood-red in the face when she looked down and saw the butter mushed into the sleeve of her blouse.

    “‘Uh, oh,’ what?”

    “Uh, the butter tray is empty,” Peter said.  “I’ll get another one.”  He quietly went to wash out the butter tray and get a new stick.

    “If you have to get it out of the fridge, it’s going to be ice-cold.  On second thought, how about some strawberry jam?”

    “Coming up,” Peter replied as Naomi rushed to rinse off her blouse and get a clean one. 

    “Did my big boy like his breakfast?”

    “YA!” he shouted.

    “It’s play time!” she said, putting J.C. on the floor.  He ran toward his Tonka trucks doing a so-so impression of a diesel engine that wasn’t too bad for a toddler. 

    Peter was anxious to get in on this one while he had the time.  “My big boy likes his trucks, doesn’t he?”

    “YA!” he shouted.

    “Maybe one day, you’ll drive a truck like that, so you can bring home some of this.”  He opened his wallet and took out a dollar bill, which was the only cash he had left.

    J.C. stared at the dollar with bug-eyed fascination.  He took it from his Dad and tried to put it in his mouth.

    “No, son, that’s not food.  That’s money.”  That gave Peter an idea.  He ran to get some Lego houses that J.C. and his Mom had made the day before.

    J.C. stared, fascinated and attentive at the demonstration.

    “See, you go to work [pushing the Tonka truck], to earn money [placing the dollar in front of it], to go to the store [placing the Lego building in front of it], to buy food [placing an empty baby food jar in front of it], to bring it home and eat it!”

    J.C. giggled with delight at the simple economics lesson.

    “He seems to get it!” Peter said.

    “Isn’t he kind of young for that?” Caroline asked.

    “Hey, money doesn’t grow on trees.  It’s never too early to learn!  If any would not work, neither should he eat.  The sooner he learns that the better!”

    Unfortunately, Peter’s carpool arrived to bring him to the bus station and begin the long trip to spring training.  

    “Well, I’m off to Florida.  See you in two months.”  Peter stared into her eyes for what seemed like an eternity, then rushed off to the sound of an impatient car horn.  Naomi had to run into her bedroom.  She didn’t want the baby to see her like that.

    Caroline couldn’t see her, but she could hear her sister fighting to contain her emotions.  She knocked on the door.  Naomi didn’t wait for her to ask.  “Yes, come in!  I need you.”

    She sat down next to her and tried to console her.  “The next two months are going to be rough.  You’re going to miss him, aren’t you?”

    Naomi was almost too emotional to answer but she finally did.  “More importantly, Peter is going to miss me.” 

    “I didn’t hear that.”

    “I saw it, Caroline.  I saw it in his eyes.  Dad had that exact same look when we buried Mom and Connor.  I never forgot that.”

    “But you’re not dead and neither is J.C.”

    “As far as Peter was concerned, we might as well be.  I could tell just by looking at him.  Going away from me, from the baby, it was like death itself!  It was ripping his guts out.”

    “And what about you?”

    Naomi got up and paced around, trying to find the right words.  Peter was always better at those things.  “It hurts me, too.  My beloved had withdrawn himself and was gone.  But there is one silver lining: Actions speak louder than words.  I’ve never heard anyone say, ‘I love you’ more loudly than using actual words.”

    Yet there he went, going to spring training.  Caroline knew that Peter couldn’t possibly love baseball more than his family.  “Be honest with me: You think he has any chance of moving up?”

    “No,” she admitted.  “Not a chance.  He’s a good pitcher, but not a great one.  He’s not of those flame-throwing studs.  Nobody wants a left-handed junkball pitcher, and he knows it as well as I do.”

    “Then why is he going to spring training?”

    “Because that’s what pays the bills.  Baseball isn’t even a pipe dream anymore.  To him, it’s a job.  The upside is that, at least he has four months in the off-season, free and clear.  As long as he keeps a tight ship, he can afford to stay home.”

    “How does he do it?”

    “He works part-time at the concession stand and brings home leftovers.  It’s not gourmet, but it stretches the food budget.”

    “All that, so you don’t have to go to work.”

    “Hold that thought.”  She checked on the baby.  He was still playing with his Tonka trucks, blissfully ignorant of any emotional turmoil.

    “Peter is providing for all of us.  J.C. is all the better for it.”  Naomi laid down and stretched out on the bed.  “And so am I.”  She noticed the clock and said, “It’s time for school, Caroline.  You’d better go out and wait for the bus.”

    What Naomi didn’t know was that Caroline had her phone line open to Peter’s, so he heard the entire conversation.  She waited until she went outside to respond.  “Peter, did you get all that?”

    “Loud and clear, in every possible way,” he answered.  “She’s right and we both know it.  I’ll never get higher than Double-A.”

    “What are you going to do?”

    “Whatever it is, I’ll make at least as much.  I’ll think of something.  There has to be a better way to make a living.”        

 

5

 

    “Yup, three-thirty.”  Naomi was alerted by the noise of after-work traffic, the neighbor’s annoying dog barking at the mailman and the school bus dropping off Caroline.  At least the last sound was good.  The first two meant bills were coming, and an animal was asserting territoriality against dozens of people who were there long before it was.

    “So, how did your counseling session go?”

    “I’m in!  I went to the main campus at Ocean State University.  They were impressed by that document I’ve been translating.”

    “Really?”

    “Yes, although that thing is starting to creep me out a bit.  We’ll talk about that later.  Anyway, my class schedule is all set, and they’ve contacted the NFB to get Braille copies of my textbooks!”

    “Great!  You’re well on your way to becoming a teacher!”

    “Oooh, something smells gooood.”  Caroline dropped her backpack and went to the source, taking a deep whiff.  “Is that beef stew?” she wondered with a confused expression.

    “Not quite,” Naomi answered.  “It’s Irish stew.  Peter found the recipe on the internet.  He thought it sounded good.”

    “Aren’t there a bunch of different ways to make that?”

    “Yes.  But Peter was convinced that lamb made it authentic.  He had a little extra cash in the budget this week, so he sprung for it.”

    “It’s not our ancestry, so this should be interesting.  After all, there’s no such thing as Norwegian stew.”

    “There probably is.  All stews are basically the same: some kind of meat, vegetables, herbs, broth.  Speaking of which…” 

    Naomi plucked a piece of carrot from the steaming pot, rinsed it under cold water, mashed it up and gave it to J.C.  He stared at it in fascination.  “Well, go ahead!”

    The fast-growing baby eagerly grabbed the goop and shoved it in.  It looked a little like the mush from the jars, but more firm.  He loved it.

    “Is that goooood?”

    “YA!” he shouted, pounding his hands on the miniature table.  Naomi quickly got another carrot, some blueberries and pieces of potato and onion.  He finished them off quickly and demanded more.  “YA!”

    “He likes vegetables, huh?” Caroline guessed.

    “That was a great idea Peter had, teething him on raw vegetables!”

    “Aren’t you afraid he might choke on them?”

    “No, because we only do that when we’re watching him.  Besides, the pieces are too big for him to swallow.  But the idea worked!  He is not fussy!  He will eat anything.”  As proof, Naomi opened a can of spinach, gave him some, then ate the rest herself.  J.C. gobbled it like Popeye, although he obviously didn’t get a cartoonish reaction.

    “Next week, I’m going to get some organic hamburger and see what he does with that.  I think he’s ready to be weaned.”

    “Be thankful it happens so quickly these days,” Caroline said.  “Thousands of years ago, there was no such thing as baby food.  I learned in a health class that mothers breast-fed their babies, sometimes up to four years before they were ready for solid food, like Isaac.  And the child grew, and was weaned: and Abraham made a great feast the same day that Isaac was weaned.”

    “Well, his mother must have been running on empty by then!  No wonder they celebrated!  And my big boy likes his vegetables, doesn’t he?” she added, kissing him on the forehead.

    “YA!” he shouted.

    Naomi gave him more, then sat down.  “Now, it’s my turn.”  She tried a spoonful and loved it.  “Perfect!”

    “Oooh, this is good!” Caroline agreed.

  Both of them were too hungry to say much.  The dinner was uneventful until Naomi felt something was off.

    “Uh, oh.”

    She got up in a panic, raced to the bathroom and barely lifted the seat in time.

    “BLECCCH!”

    “Naomi!” Caroline shouted.  “Are you okay?!”

    “No!  I’m…BLECCCH!  Are you okay?”

    “I feel fine, but you sound terrible!”

    “You don’t feel nauseous, do you?”

    “No.”  Unable to see the baby, Caroline suggested a better-qualified inspector.  “What about J.C.?”

    He looked contented at his pint-sized table, still chowing down on his food.  Naomi looked up long enough to confirm it.  “BLECCCH!”

    The unexpected eruption seemed to be over.  Naomi looked down and noticed something else wasn’t right.  “That couldn’t be fat.”  She then noticed that her skirt seemed a little tighter than usual.  “Oh, wow.”  She hastily mixed up some Alka Seltzer then threw her coat on.

    “Stay here with the baby, Caroline!  I’ll be right back!”

    Naomi ran to the car and raced off.  Within minutes, she returned with a box.  She ripped it open and began the procedure.

    “What’s that?” Caroline wondered, hearing the rip.  J.C. was curious as well, forgetting the food to check on his mother.

    “Caroline, keep him away.  I can’t mess this up!”

    “What have you got there?”

    “Something I haven’t done in almost two years.”  Naomi was familiar with this kind of chemistry.  Cautiously and nervously, she followed the instructions.  The color on the paper changed.

    A wild mix of emotions, ranging from shock to euphoria, overcame her.

    “The rabbit died.”

    “WHAT?!” Caroline said.  “You’re EXPECTING?!”

    Naomi ran the test again and got the same result.  “Yup.  It croaked.  Elmer Fudd has bwasted the wascawwy wabbit.”

    Caroline was somewhat relieved.  J.C. had no adverse reaction.  “It wasn’t the stew, so I guess we’re in the clear.”  She was a bit confused.  “What time is it?”

    “Quarter past four,” Naomi answered.  “I know what you’re implying.  No, it’s not ‘morning sickness.’  It’s ‘morning-noon-and-night’ sickness!  At least this time, I’ll know how to deal with it.”

    “How?”

    “Every woman is different.  Me?  I’ll just nibble here and there all day and give my mushed-up guts a chance to process it.  I figured that out the last time.”

    “Are you sure?  Read the disclaimer on the package.” 

    She did so, reciting it word-for-word.  “CAUTION: THIS TEST IS NOT GUARANTEED TO BE 100% ACCURATE, NOR DOES A POSITIVE TEST DETERMINE GENDER.”

    They sat down.  Caroline put J.C. in her lap, letting Naomi get settled.  “For that matter, what does that mean, ‘The rabbit died’?  I know it means ‘positive test,’ but why?”

    Naomi didn’t know whether to puke again or laugh uproariously.  “Oh, that.  It was based on an old-style pregnancy test.

    “When a woman suspected she expected, she had the test.  Her urine was injected into a rabbit.  If she wasn’t pregnant, the rabbit showed no changes.  But, if she was pregnant, a hormone spike in the urine would cause a chemical reaction in the rabbit.”

    “‘In’?  You mean…?”

    “Yes, ‘in.’ They actually killed the rabbit and did an autopsy to confirm it.”

    “Eeew!  That’s gross!”

    “Well, thankfully, modern science has invented some neat and efficient ways to do that.  But a simple home test is only the beginning.”

    Naomi picked up the phone and called her obstetrician but only got a recording.  “Hello.  You have reached the offices of Global Health Obstetrician Service Technologies.  Our offices are now closed.  If you know the name and extension of the person you’re trying to reach, dial it now and leave a message at the tone.”

    “Crud!  They’re closed!”

    Beeeeep!

    “Hello, Dr. Rovey?  This is Naomi Laval.  I need an appointment right away.  Thank you.  Goodbye.”

    Caroline prodded further.  “If you’re so sure, why did you call Dr. Rovey?”

    “Oh, I’m sure.  That is a mere formality.  Besides, if it is true, I’ll need to arrange regular checkups right away.”

    “Are you sure you want to go through with this?  Remember what happened to Mom and Connor.”

    A feeling of relief came over Naomi as she gave Caroline a reassuring hug.  “Yes, I remember.  No, I’m not worried.  After all, you were her second and she had no problem with that.  She could handle two, and so can I.”

    “When are you going to tell Peter?”

    “Not yet.  Not until he gets back from Spring Training.  He’s got enough stress of his own, trying to make the team and pay the bills.  I’ll let him get past that before I give him anything more to think about.  Knowing him, he’s going to be thrilled.”

    Naomi sat down on the recliner, extending her arms to silently invite J.C. for a hug.  He ran to her to get it.  “Hey, big boy!  In September, you’re going to have a baby brother or sister!”

    “‘September’?” Caroline gasped.  “You know…?”

    “Yes!  I’m pregnant!” she shouted, pumping her fist in the air.

 

6

 

    “Ahh, 7:00 P.M.  Highlight of the day.”  Peter shut down his research files and switched to video call.  “Hey, everyone!”

    Naomi, Caroline and J.C. were waiting, as usual.  “Hey, J.C., who’s that?” his mother asked.

    “Da!” he answered, waving enthusiastically.  “Da!”

    “Have you been a good boy for Ma and for Auntie Caroline?”

    “Da!” he answered.  Naomi and Caroline nodded in confirmation.

    “Remember: ‘Honour thy father and thy mother!’”

    “Da!”

    “I can’t wait till he expands his vocabulary,” Caroline said.

    “Well, maybe he has.  Just think of that as the German word for ‘yes.’  Hey, kiddo.  How’s school going?”

    “Is it ever!  I’m shooting for early graduation.  I’ve won a scholarship to Ocean State University!”

    “Great!  What’s your major?”

    “Education and music, with a minor in computers.”  Caroline had more to say about the third subject but held off on that.  “Where’s Warren?”

    “Oh, he went to the arena.  They’re having a Classic Car show.  He’s into that stuff.”

    “So, Peter, what have you been doing lately?”  Naomi asked.  “Making the cut?”

    “I’m not worried about that,” he admitted casually.  “The Quahogs are kind of thin in the pitching department and I’m the only lefty on the team, so I suppose I’ve got that much going for me.  By the way, Warren arranged for our home games to be carried on local access cable.”  He didn’t sound too enthusiastic about that, but much more about the next subject.

    “How about the off-hours?”

    If there was one silver lining to spring training, it was that most workouts and games were in the daytime.  The heat was brutal, but at least it left Peter’s evenings wide open.  “Check it out.”  He picked up his chemistry books, physiology books and notepad in front of the camera, showing just what he was doing.

    “What is it?” Caroline asked.

    “He’s still doing that R.P. research!” Naomi answered.  “How’s that going?”

    “I’ll be honest with you: It’s not.  I think I’ve taken this as far as I can.  Everything just might fall into place, if only we had the right test subject.”

    “Oh, well,” Caroline said.  “Don’t be too disappointed.  Research for smallpox vaccine started in 1796, but smallpox itself wasn’t eradicated for almost 200 years.”

    Peter agreed but didn’t hold out much hope for his own work.  “Dr. Salk and Dr. Sabin finished that job.  But who cares about my research?  I’m just a mediocre Minor League pitcher, not a licensed physician.”

    “Maybe so,” Naomi said.  “But you’re my mediocre Minor League pitcher and science researcher.  I don’t need anyone else’s confirmation.”

    “Thanks, Naomi.  I needed that.”  His smile was quickly replaced by a look of frustration.

    “Peter, what’s wrong?”

    “Fort Lauderdale is wrong!  If you think our neighborhood is noisy, try this!”  He directed the laptop toward the window, which then picked up the sound of heavy traffic.

    “Shut the window.”

    “It is shut.  The team is putting us up in a cheap motel, with no air conditioning!  My only choices are to have my ears blasted by that racket, or keep the windows closed and get by with a bunch of fans.”  He then held up a magazine from the previous year that said it all:

 

SURFSIDE UNIVERSITY, FORT LAUDERDALE, VOTED AMERICA’S NUMBER ONE PARTY SCHOOL

 

    “I thought Ocean State won that dubious award.”

    “That’s last year’s issue, but the students don’t care.”

    “Isn’t it rather early for spring break?”

    “Nah, those students don’t care about any particular season.  As soon as the professor says, ‘Class dismissed,’ they’re at it.  I can only hope that Ocean State is better than that.  How can anyone accomplish anything useful with all that noise?  The words of wise men are heard in quiet more than the cry of him that ruleth among fools.”

    “I’m not worried about that,” Caroline said.  “Rhode Island is too cold to have all that much fun until May, at the very least!  Besides, the beach is miles away from the college, so it won’t be that bad.”

    The floor rattled as if struck by a low magnitude tremor.  Even Naomi and Caroline could hear it.

    “What in the world is that?” Caroline asked.  “Did a bomb go off?”

    Peter looked out the window and saw the source of the vibration.  “No, that’s not a bomb, it’s what they call a ‘boom car.’”

    “What’s that?”

    “In this case, it’s a Trans Am with the trunk packed out with speakers.”

    “Why doesn’t he roll up his windows?”

    “In this heat, they are rolled up!”

    “That’s crazy!  Even I can hear that from across the room!”

    “Oh, well.  In a few years, that guy won’t hear it.”  Peter slumped into his chair, exhausted.

    “Man, you looked wiped out,” Naomi said.  “You need to hit the sack.”

    Peter looked longingly at the bed, wishing it weren’t so empty.  But at least it would serve its primary purpose.  “Tell me about it.  But, not without saying goodbye to my son!  Where is my big boy?”

    Naomi held up the baby.  “Come on, J.C., say good night to Da!”

    J.C. stared wide-eyed at the screen, not understanding how his Dad could fit in there.  “Ni, Da!”

    Caroline was floored.  “Did he just say ‘night’?”

    “That’s what I heard!” Naomi agreed.  “Say it again, big boy!”

    “Ni, Da!” J.C. repeated, waving goodbye.

    “Good night, son!” Peter replied. 

    He shut down the internet, too tired to do any more studying.  The TV didn’t offer anything restful.

    Click.

    “Broadcasting lame BBC sitcoms around the clock, you’re watching The English Channel!”

    “Yecch.”

    Click.

    “The security guards are determined to find the punks who have been drinking pickle juice straight from the jars.  Next on CSI: Wal-Mart Security!”

    “Blah.”

    Click.

    “A Pentagon official is murdered after exposing pork barrel spending and incompetence, tonight on NCIS: Switzerland!”

    “Eew.”

    Click.

    “And in our science segment tonight, a trillion-dollar Federal research study has conclusively proven why it’s everybody else’s fault that you’re a dweeb.”

    “Ugh.”

    Click.

    Peter shut off the TV in disgust.  Not that watching it would have been helpful anyway, since the racket outside almost drowned out the volume.  He crashed onto the mattress and jammed the pillow around his head, to no avail.

    Then, it hit him.

    Wait a minute, he thought.  Science segment?  Research study?

    Suddenly inspired, he rushed back to his laptop and logged on, typing in a single word.

   

“ACOUSTICS.”

 

7

 

    “Hey, Naomi!” Peter said excitedly.

    “Hey, Peter!” Naomi replied.  “J.C.!  Come here!  Da is on Skype!”

    J.C. looked up from his Tonka trucks and yelled, “Da!”

    “I’m coming home, big boy!  The Quahogs are breaking camp and heading north!”

    “Yes, that’s what we’re watching on the news, but there’s more to it.”

    “Yeah, I know,” he sighed.  “I don’t have much time.  In a few minutes we’ll be going to the bus station.  Bye, J.C.!”

    “Bye, Da!”

    “Love ya, Naomi!”

    “Love ya, Peter!”

    Naomi shut off her smartphone connection and turned up the volume for the news.

    “As the Quahogs head north, there have been a lot of questions about their pitching depth.  But team owner Dan Kreankey insists there’s no problem.”

    “Whaddya you mean, ‘pitching depth’?  We’ve got twelve pitchers, just like any other professional baseball team.  How many do you think we need?”

    “Meanwhile, there’s been a lot of saber-rattling regarding the Quahogs’ stadium situation.  Kreanky’s lease terms demand that the Chowder Bowl must be ranked as the best stadium in the world.  However, a recent fan poll ranked it as ‘the pits.’  Kreanky is currently in negotiations with the state house to provide taxpayer funding for what he describes as ‘desperately needed upgrades.’  State Senator Gerry Mandering has been working on that legislation.

    “For WCPR-TV, this is Warren Rostenkowski reporting live from Fort Lauderdale.”

    Kreanky ducked into a utility closet to make a quick phone call.  “Hello.  You have reached the offices of the Jockstrap Journal, the world’s leading sports magazine!  If you know the exten…”

    “Oh, shut up.”  Beep, beep, beep, beep.

    “Hello.  You have reached the desk of Keith Blabberman.  I am out ri…”

    “Will you just PICK UP THE STUPID PHONE?!”

    As if he heard the scream from a thousand miles away, he answered.  “Hello?”

    “Keith?  This is Dan.  I just called to confirm something.”  He looked up the app on his smartphone and saw the article.  “So, you did publish that ‘fan poll’ article?”

    “Yes, sir, the moment your check cleared.”

    “Now, you didn’t go and do anything stupid, such as asking an actual fan for his opinion?”

    “Of course not!  I know all about politics!”

    “Good boy!  If this deal works out for me, you just might get a bonus.” 

    Meanwhile, Warren was packing up the news truck to begin the long ride back to Rhode Island.  “Not so fast, Rostenkowski.  Keep those cameras rolling.”

    “But the live feed is over.”

    “That’s okay, just make sure this gets on the news at six.”

    The entire clubhouse buzzed with speculation.  Everyone’s guess was soon confirmed.  “Quiet, please!” the team owner said, waving his arms.  “Well, spring training is over.  I’m sure you’re just as anxious as I am to get back to Rhode Island.

    “Now, I know you’re all worried about these talks I’m having at the State House in Providence.  Don’t even think about it.  I’ve been meeting with Senator Gerry Mandering.  The negotiations are going well.  The Chowder Bowl is in dire need of upgrades and it’s going to happen.”

    “Good!  How about ripping out that rotten Astroturf and planting real grass?” Peter asked.

    “Kid, you are smoking grass,” Mr. Kreanky complained.  You know how much that stuff costs?  The water bill would be sky high, and I’d have to buy lawn mowers and kerosene fuel!  Astroturf is a lot easier!  All we needed to do is put it in and forget about it!”  

    “What about those rumors of moving the team to Scranton, Pennsylvania?” Peter asked again.

    “Those rumors are totally false.  Come on, Laval, you can’t believe everything you see on TV.  I promise you all, I am bending over backwards to keep the Quahogs in Narragansett.”

    Yeah, and Senator Mandering will spare no expense of my tax dollars to make you happy!  ‘Thank you, sir!  May I have another?’ Everyone knew that to be the unvarnished truth, but even Peter wouldn’t dare admit it out loud.

    Cryin’ out loud, doesn’t this guy ever shut up? Sam thought.  Questions, questions, questions!  Fortunately for him, the bus pulled up right then to take the team to the Greyhound station.  “Okay, that’s it, everyone!  Let’s go north!  Welcome to another season of Narragansett Quahogs baseball!”  

    Warren noticed Peter’s skeptical expression.  “You seem a bit disturbed about something.”

    “I’ve got a wife, a kid and a sister-in-law to feed on a very tight budget,” he replied.  “I’m disturbed about a lot of things.”

    Warren seemed to think he had the inside scoop.  “From what I’m hearing, they’re on the fast track for those stadium upgrades.”

    Peter knew better and set him straight.  “Why would a three-year-old stadium need upgrades, anyway?  I can tell you right now, Kreanky is lying through his false teeth, and he knows it.”  

    “Kreanky seems rather young for false teeth.”

    “He didn’t need them, he wanted them.  The really dumb part is that they have gold fillings!  It’s in keeping with his nature: everything about him is as fake as a bitcoin.” 

    Peter sat down to tie his sneakers, noting that the soles were starting to split.  He used his emergency repair kit, a tube of Krazy Glue, to fix it.  “Come on!  Hold together for a few more weeks!” he muttered.  “At least until I can buy new shoes for Naomi!”

    “What, you have some inside dirt?”

    “Yeah, from outside!  When Kreanky negotiates, he screams like a mental patient!  He’s almost as bad as Blabberman on Sport Spitter.”

    “Do tell!”

    “I was walking down the hall near the executive office,” he recalled.  “When Kreanky negotiates, the first thing he says is, ‘Empty your pockets!’  And he doesn’t say, ‘Please.’”

    “That bad, huh?”

    “You should try it on my end.  When I pitch, all I get is garbage time and I get paid accordingly.  You think I’m a junkballer?   Kreanky tosses pennies slower than boulders!  I’m surprised he doesn’t charge me admission.”

    Despite being an investigative journalist, Warren couldn’t understand that attitude at all.  “I don’t get it.  Kreanky is a billionaire.  Didn’t you ever read his best-selling book, How to Get Rich and Keep it?”

    “Don’t waste your time or money,” Peter warned. “I can sum up Kreanky’s strategy in four words: Mooch much, spend sparsely.  The general idea is to spend as little as possible for lead, then try to pass it off and sell it as gold.  Kind of like that guy who bought a tenement building near downtown, on 100 percent credit with an adjustable rate, threw a quick coat of paint on it, then tried to sell the apartments as ‘condos.’”

    “What’s wrong with that?  If he thought that would work, why not?”

    “That’s what he thought!  But my idea of a ‘condo’ is a bunch of nice, brick-faced row houses with neatly cut lawns, tennis courts and pools, like Kirkbrae.  Only a dreamy-eyed fool would invest in a triple-decker, try to advertise it as a ‘condo’ and hope for a quick turnaround.  He got bad advice from that dumb book.”

    “Then how did Kreanky get so rich?”

    “The same way anybody gets rich in publishing: All you have to do is write a book full of stupid, million-to-one-shot advice about how to get rich quick in real estate, then hope enough chumps buy it.”

    “That easy, huh?”

    “Well, he did have to hire a bunch of starving would-be actors for those infomercials; but, hey, it worked out for him.”

    Warren got dizzy just thinking about it, so he steered back to the stadium negotiations.  “What about the Chowder Bowl?”

    “It’s actually a pretty good Minor League stadium,” Peter admitted.  “Except for the Astroturf, there’s nothing wrong with it.  But believe me, Kreanky will find a way to squeeze money from a stone, then break the lease anyway.  He would move the team to the South Pole if penguins put up the cash.”

 

-------------------------

 

    Dan’s fifth wife, Bea Zindebonnet, offered her opinion, which was surprisingly truthful for her.  “‘Upgrades’?  Yea, right!  Why should a Minor League baseball stadium need solid gold toilet seats in the executive restroom?”

    Dan seemed to think it was necessary.  “It’s like Roy Hofheinz once said: ‘Because you gotta impress those northerners who expect Texans to act like Texans.’”

    “But you’re not from Texas and the Quahogs are based in Rhode Island.”

    “Yeah, so what?  Sports fans don’t care about geography.  That’s why the NFL put Dallas in the east division.”

 

8

 

    “So, Senator Mandering, how’s the stadium upgrade legislation going?” Dan asked.

    “Get back to me over the weekend,” the Senator answered.  “I still have a lot of work to do for the Free College and Automatic Diplomas Committee, the Preservation of Rats Committee, the Foreign Aid to OPEC Nations Committee, the Fifty-Percent Raise for Congress Committee and the Billionaire Tax Committee.”

    “Bite your tongue!  What about the Stadium Upgrade Committee?!” he demanded.

    “Don’t get me wrong, that’s going well, too,” he assured him.  “I’ll show you.”  He led Dan to a large office with dozens of cubicles, all of which were occupied and most were busy with chatter.

    Dan approached one cubicle, where one girl was doing her nails.  “So, uh, young lady, how’s the stadium legislation going?”

    She interrupted her polishing long enough to answer.  “Ain’t my job.”

    He went to the next one, where the occupant was playing video poker.  “So, how’s the stadium legislation going?”

    “Get back to me when you start paying me a living wage!” he complained.  “Fifty bucks an hour doesn’t even begin to cover my tab at the casino!”

    He arrived at another cubicle and tried again.  “So, how’s the stadium legislation going?”

    The sixteen-year-old intern raised her head from the pillow just long enough to answer.  “I’m too tired to think about it,” she moaned.  “Do you know how many officials I would have to entertain before they say a word about anything relevant?  I’ve had enough of that to last me a lifetime!”

    “Never mind.” 

    Dan gestured for the two of them to leave the room.  He closed the door and expressed his dissatisfaction with the whole thing.  “You’re not instilling me with a lot of confidence, Gerry.”

    “Oh, come on,” he pleaded.  “You know how hard it is to navigate the legislative process!  And, may I add, where is my gratuity?”

    “We’ll discuss that when the bill passes.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to the Chowder Bowl to prepare for Opening Day.”

    Dan returned to his limousine and rushed to Narragansett, which was not an easy thing to do from Providence at that time of day.  A policeman was about to pull him over for speeding, until he noticed the bumper sticker that warned, “DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!”  That was a rare but remarkable example of efficiency.

    He got to the stadium, where a young concession stand worker was hauling carts full of beer kegs.

    “Mr. Kreanky, we have a problem with this beer,” he said.

    “What’s wrong with it?”

    “It’s past the expiration date.”

    “Well, I bought that beer at a discount from a Brazilian soccer team.  I’m not going to let that investment go to waste.  What’s the expiration date?”

    “‘May, 1971.’”

    “Even better!  I’ll just advertise it as ‘Vintage Beer’ and charge more!  Ah, Dan Kreanky, you are a financial genius!”

    “Sir, I don’t think it works that way.”

    “Why not?  They do it with wine and whiskey!  Now hurry up and get those kegs hooked up to the dispensers!  We’re expecting a big crowd for today’s game!”  He turned the corner and angrily called his employment office.  “Miss Jones, fire that new guy in concessions!  Dumb High Schooler doesn’t know the first thing about marketing!”

    Regardless of Mr. Kreanky’s optimism, the younger employee was understandably apprehensive about it.  Peter was nearby, earning extra money working in concessions when he wasn’t pitching.  He was stocking up on bottled water.  The kid waited until the boss was out of earshot.

    “What am I supposed to do?” he asked desperately.

    Peter figured he didn’t need to worry.  He was a conscientious objector to serving beer.  Strong drink is raging, but even more so when it was older than some of the fans.  “Hook it up,” he answered.  “I suppose people could have that beer with a Pepto Bismol chaser.  On the other hand, if we do have a sellout crowd, the water pressure will drop to the point where the beer dispensers wouldn’t work anyway.  Kreanky always shuts off the tap water so he can make up the difference by selling bottled water at ten bucks each.”

    “What if the water pressure stays up?”

    “Kreanky will sell one or the other.  As far as he’s concerned, it’s a win-win situation.  Besides, people who drink beer eventually puke it up for one reason or another.  The upside is that maybe people will quit drinking it.”

    Peter was so busy working that he didn’t notice the storm clouds rolling in.  The roar of thunder and the pounding of rain got his attention just as he was finishing.  Rather than risk driving his barely functioning car home in that downpour, he went to his locker and got his study material.  He picked up right where he left off and frantically wrote notes.  One co-worker, Mamadou, took exception to this.

    “What are you doing?” he asked.

    “I’m studying acoustics,” Peter answered.  “If this idea works, it just might provide a better living for me and my family.”

    Momodou sneered at that idea.  “Nah,” he complained.  “I want a raise.  We’re not paid enough.”

    As far as Peter was concerned, getting a raise would be a mixed bag.  The extra money might be useful, but it would still leave him feeling hollow and unaccomplished.  In spite of that, he was never short of scientific ideas. 

    “If you want more money, try this: study hydrology, electricity, physics and engineering, then invent a process that purifies seawater and generates electricity at the same time,” he suggested.  If you do that, you’d be worth a billion dollars.”

    Another co-worker overheard that and agreed.  “You know, actually, that would be worth a billion dollars!”

    “Of course,” Peter added cautiously, “you’d have to do a lot of reading and studying to pull that off.  I would do it myself, if I had the time and the resources.”

    “Nah, I don’t wanna read, I wanna have fun, mon!  I’m gonna win the lottery and you’re gonna be my bodyguard!”

    Peter didn’t know whether to laugh or retch.  “Dude, if you won the lottery, you’d have more ‘friends’ than you’d know what to do with.  Either they’ll kill you and steal the money, or you’ll party yourself to death.  If you buy a lottery ticket at all, you’d be your own worst enemy.  I can’t protect you from yourself.”

    Mamadou didn’t want to hear that, so he went off to buy his lottery tickets.

    “The love of money is the root of all evil,” Peter sighed.  “But a fool and his money are soon parted.”

    After an hour or so, Peter was satisfied that he’d done enough studying and packed up the books to go home.  The rain had eased up but was still coming down.  He couldn’t wait to get home to be with the family.  But several teammates had other plans.

    “Yeeha!” said one.  “The game is rained out!  I’m headed to the nightclub, Peter!  How about you?”

    “I’m going home,” he answered.

    “What, spending more time with your wench?”

    “Yeah, it’s in my toowbox, wight next to the skwoodwiver.”

    “What’s with the stupid voice?”

    “Don’t look at me, you’re the one who started doing Elmer Fudd.  I can’t waste time at a club.  I’ve got a family that needs me.”

    “Suit yourself, loser.”

    “We’ll see who’s the ‘loser’ when you’re too old and decrepit to hang out with women but go home to an empty apartment night after night,” he muttered.

 

-------------------------

 

    Before he pulled away, he got a phone call from Caroline.  “Peter, Naomi needs a ride to the clinic.”

    “I know, she already told me.”

    Caroline wasn’t sure if that meant she told him everything, so she changed the subject.  “I have some good news, though!  I got a letter from the U.S. Patent Office!  The clerk said she might be able to fast-track my application!  And I can’t thank you and Naomi enough for contributing your inheritance from my Dad!”

    “As long as you’re in contact with the Patent Office, tell them they may have another customer.”

    “Really?!  You actually have an idea?!”

    “Yes, I do.  It’s not as sophisticated as your computer program, but it’s something to shoot for.”

    “Well, it’s like Wayne Gretzky once said: ‘You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.’  But, assuming this idea of yours works, how are you going to pay for the patent?”   

    “Lots of peanut butter sandwiches, lots of overtime at the concession stand and its leftovers.  But it’s worth it.”

    “Go for it, Peter!”

 

9

 

    “Peter, I have something to tell you,” Naomi said.  She paused nervously.

    “We’ve got all day, so we might as well say it now,” he replied.  “Let me guess: You’re pregnant.”

    “That’s right!  How did you know?”

    “How could I not know?  That vacation was the best I ever had!  Besides, you had that same look in your eyes the last time.  I can read you like a book.  And thanks for holding off the announcement.  I had enough to think about in Spring Training.”

    “That’s what I figured.”

    “Can two walk together, except they be agreed?” 

    They pulled in at the clinic and went in.  Peter looked at his firstborn in the baby seat and smiled, hoping for a similar reaction.  “Where’s my boy?  Hey, ya big rugrat!”

    “Da!”

    “In a few months, you’re going to have a baby brother or sister!  I hope it’s a girl, by the way.  Who can find a virtuous woman?  For her price is far above rubies.  True, raising a baby is expensive, but a virtuous woman first has to start out as a virtuous girl.  Gotta start somewhere, I suppose.”

    “You don’t mind?”

    “Oh, come on, Naomi!  You know better than to ask that!  The only men who do mind are the ones who daydream about red Corvettes.  They’d rather waste money on that than buy diapers or baby food.”

    He handed J.C. off to his mother.  “You give your Mama a hug!  She’s about to begin the hardest and most rewarding job in the world!  Say, ‘I love you, Mama!’”

    “Lvymmgh!”

    “Close enough,” Naomi said, hugging him.

    Dozens of other people, in various languages, lined up in the waiting room and complained when they cut.  “Lu tax nga wara njëkka dugg?” one yelled.

    “What?!”

    “Why should you go in first?!”

    “Because I have a pre-arranged appointment and my husband is paying for the insurance, that’s why,” Naomi answered.

    They went into the inner office, where the nurse handed Naomi a bunch of forms to fill out.  “This may take a while.  Are you sure you want to wait?”

    “Don’t worry.  I have plenty of two-year-old magazines and a TV to keep me occupied, and there are toys for the baby.”

    Naomi filled out the forms and was ready to go in a few minutes.  Dr. Rovey was ready to go in an hour.  “Mrs. Laval?” the nurse called out.  “Dr. Rovey can see you now.”

    Naomi went in, closed the door and sat down.  Dr. Rovey had a surprised expression on his face.  “Well, Mrs. Laval, I must admit that I never expected to see you in this building again.  After that delivery, I never thought you’d want to go through that a second time.”

    “Well, here I am, just the same,” she replied.  “Judge not according to the appearance.  Maybe I’m tougher than I look.”

    Dr. Rovey began with the usual tests.  “Hmmm…blood pressure normal.  I see you’re Type O-negative.  You should think about stocking some in reserve.”  He drew blood and other samples and handed them to a nurse.  “Take these to the lab for a standard analysis.”

    “Yes, doctor.”

    “Now, we’ll try an ultrasound.  How far along are you?”

    “Three months, on the dot.”

    “Well, you’re a meticulous timekeeper!”  Dr. Rovey glanced casually at the ultrasound image but did a shocked double-take when he saw what was on the screen.  “Wow,” he gasped.  “I didn’t think that was possible.”

    “What?”

    “You’re carrying twins.”

    Naomi was even more surprised than he was.  “What?!”  She stared wide-eyed at the screen and confirmed it for herself.  “Two!  And I’ll bet they’re fraternal, because one does seem larger than the other!  The question is, are they boys, girls, or one of each?  I can’t tell from the picture.”

    “I think you’ve got more important things to consider.  Excuse me.  I’ll be back in a minute.”  Dr. Rovey went to his office to retrieve a particular file, one containing a very strange history.

    Naomi already knew what was in it and trembled at the thought.  The blood drained from her face when she suddenly realized the implications of having a second…then a third child.

    “Mom!  Connor!” she whispered.

    Dr. Rovey returned with the file and looked almost as worried as Naomi, but not nearly as sincere.  “I have here an autopsy report from seven years ago.  It says that your mother, Eleanor, died in childbirth along with the baby, whom your parents named ‘Connor,’ is that correct?”

    Naomi braced herself, not wanting to appear weak.  “Yes, that’s true.  What about it?”

    The doctor sat at his desk and went into full self-righteous lecture mode.  “Mrs. Laval, you’ll have to forgive me, but I must be frank with you.  What happened to your mother and brother was no ordinary case of maternal mortality.  It’s not all that uncommon.  But in their case, the exact cause is.”

    “Is that so?” she replied, pretending not to know.

    “Mrs. Laval, you have a very unique and tragic family history.  I have medical and genealogical records going back almost 150 years.  In summary, they say that no woman in your family ever had more than two children.  However, any woman who tried to have a third child died, along with the baby.”

    “And why is that?” she asked, again feigning ignorance.  “Besides, how did you know?”

    “Madame, I am a doctor.  As such, I practice medicine.  I must constantly study medicine and all its related sciences.  It is my business to know such things.  And I must say your family’s case file is an intriguing mystery.”

    He got up and paced around.  “Exactly how and why did that happen?  Was it a hereditary anomaly?  Was it some kind of bizarre coincidence?”

    “No one knows,” she admitted.  But her Dad was a doctor as well.  After having done all the research he could on the subject, even he never understood why it happened.

    “You seem awfully blasé about this.  Furthermore, your sister was born with Retinitis Pigmentosa.  Don’t you realize the implications of these things?”

    “Implications are not guarantees.”

    “If you try to go full-term with these fetuses, all of you may die.  I suggest you go to the Planned Parenthood clinic for a consultation.”[i]

    At that moment, the nurse returned from the lab with the results.  “The tests are complete, Dr. Rovey: glucose, cholesterol, triglycerides and iron are all normal.  Also, chromosome and hormone tests have determined that both fetuses are girls.”

    “That settles it.”  Naomi got up and went to the ultrasound screen.  “Look here, Dr. Rovey.”  She stood side-by-side with the screen, insisting on a long look.  “I said, ‘Look here.’”

    He looked but was unnerved by her forceful tone.

    “What you see before you are three distinct life forms: myself and my two daughters.  I’m prepared to take the risk.”

    “Oh, ‘My body, my choice,’ is that it?” he scoffed.

    “No, it’s their bodies, no choice.  Who am I to tell my daughters to sacrifice their bodies?”

    “And what does your husband think of all this?”

    “When I tell him we’re having two girls, he’s going to be thrilled!  He’s going to say, ‘We have to make up the difference from China.’”

    That hit Dr. Rovey like a ton of bricks.  He had done his Doctorate Thesis on China’s one-baby policy enforcement, which was one of the main reasons he became an obstetrician in the first place.

    “You really should be counselled more thoroughly on this matter.  I have four degrees, after all.”

    She looked into his eyes with a cold, piercing stare.  “Yes, and when I was two years old, I was toilet trained.  What’s your point?”

    It was becoming clear to him that he wasn’t going to convince her.  He had no desire to waste any more time debating the issue.

    “Now, Dr. Rovey, if there is nothing more to do, I’ll be on my way.  I have to go home and cook supper for my son and introduce him to his sisters.  Sayonara.”  She turned and walked back to the waiting room in disgust.

 

-------------------------

 

    Only after Naomi had left the building did Dr. Rovey calm down enough to make a phone call.  For once, an actual person answered.  “Hello, Global Health Obstetrician Service Technologies, to whom may I direct your call?” 

    “This is Dr. Wade Rovey.  I must speak to Dr. Ulysses Nelson.”  He was sweating bullets.  He had never met any woman, much less an expectant mother, who had such steel nerve.  He was relieved when Dr. Nelson answered immediately.

    “What’s up?” he asked.

    “I didn’t think it was possible, but Naomi Laval is pregnant.”

    “That’s no big deal.”

    “She’s carrying fraternal twins.  I advised her to get an abortion, but she flatly refused.”

    “Okay, that’s a big deal.”  Dr. Nelson hurriedly retrieved his file on Eleanor Pedersen and reminded Dr. Rovey of the implications.  “If her family history remains consistent, then Naomi and those fetuses are all at risk.”

    That possibility relieved a little of the tension.  “Oh, well.  Every cloud has a silver lining,” he sighed.

    “Maybe more so than you realize.  The odds are long, but what if all of them survive?”

    “What about it?”

    “Think about it, Dr. Rovey!  If all three of them survive, and if you can get live blood samples from all of them, we may be able to isolate the genetic anomaly that caused her mother and brother to die.”

    “That’s assuming it was genetic.”

    “True, but we’ll never know if we don’t try.”

    Dr. Rovey cheered up considerably at the idea.  “I’m sold!  But what can we do?”

    “Not much more than wait, I’m afraid,” Dr. Nelson admitted.  “As long as Naomi keeps regular appointments, and as long as you keep tabs on her health, we just might have three sources for DNA specimens.  But it is imperative for our sakes that all of them pull through, at least long enough to get live blood samples.  At least they would have better quality.”

    “I’m on it.”

 

10

 

    “Peter maybe I should drive,” Naomi suggested as they walked out to the car.  She strapped the baby seat in and headed for the left side.  “You look beat.”

    “You got that right,” Peter agreed.  “Those bus rides are a pain.  Next time, I’ll take the plane, if I can afford it. 

    “But, no, thank you, anyway.  I’ll drive.  For the next few months, Caroline and I will have to bend over backwards to relieve you of stress.”

    As usual, Peter struggled to get the tired engine started.  “Come on, you old heap.”  Finally, it turned over.  “Activate manual air conditioning.”  Naomi cranked down the windows.

    “So, how did it go?”

    “I have good news and maybe bad news.”

    “Good news first.”

    “No, it’s both at the same time: I’m having twins.  And you know what that means.”

    That shook him up, but he hid it well.  Peter knew what it was like to lose a sibling.  He often thought about his own mother; but she was in such poor health that her passing, while tragic, wasn’t too surprising.  But for Naomi and Caroline to lose their mother and brother in childbirth must have been unimaginably hard.  He couldn’t even begin to imagine.

    For the moment, he and Naomi had their own crisis.  As she was, he had to be quick and decisive about it.

    “I’ll support whatever decision you make.”

    While Naomi was somewhat relieved by his straight answer, she knew he still had to deal with any potential consequences.  But she also knew how much he wanted a girl.  How much better were two!  Just as quickly, she made up her mind.

    “I’ll take my chances.”

    “Go for it.”

    And that was that.  There was no need to elaborate, since both of them were well aware of what that meant.  Still, he tried to focus on the good part.  “Do we know what they are?”

    “They’re fraternal twins, but both are girls.”

    “Yes!” Peter shouted, pumping his fist.  That settled it.  There were no ifs, ands or buts about it.

    “That’s what I was hoping you would say.  I just wish I had your confidence.”  Naomi trembled when she brought up the next point.  “Dr. Rovey insisted I should get an abortion to save my own life.”

    “Out of the question!  That’s not only murder but totally unnecessary.”  He recalled seeing home videos and old photos of his would-be mother-in-law darting about her house and her job.  Even when she took vacations, she kept busy, cleaning fish she caught and carving up deer she shot.

    “Don’t panic.  Let’s figure this out logically.  The first thing we know about your mother is that she was a Type-A workaholic, just like your sister.  Her inability to relax was undoubtedly a factor.” 

    “But we don’t know for sure.  My Dad spent every spare minute studying and expanding on the autopsy report.  For all that research, all he got was about three pages of data.”

    “Then it’s fifty-fifty.”

    “On top of that, Dr. Rovey bragged about his degrees and insisted I was making the wrong decision.”

    Peter gave Naomi a reassuring hug.  “Naomi, we can beat this thing.  I wouldn’t care if Dr. Rovey had more degrees than a thermometer.  Whatever this disorder…this thing…is, we still know more about it than he does.  A lot more.”      

    They arrived home and Naomi instinctively went for the baby seat.  Peter would have none of it.  “I’ll take him.  You’ll need all the rest you can get.”

    Naomi had been all pumped up about the prospect of having girls, as well as her anger at Dr. Rovey.  But merely getting out of the car seemed to drain her.  “It seems rather warm today, doesn’t it?”

    Peter paused momentarily and noticed that himself.  “Yes, it is,” he agreed.  “I saw the weather report while I was in the waiting room.  The same tropical depression that caused the rainout in Narragansett is also cranking up the heat and humidity around here.”  He looked up and noticed ominous clouds.  “We’d better get inside.”

    The clouds opened wide just as they got to the apartment.  Naomi staggered to the couch to lie down.  The pounding rain was a welcome relief from that annoying dog, which couldn’t bark loud enough to compete with it.  Naomi was out like a light.

    “It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows: for so he giveth his beloved sleep.”

    Peter went to the refrigerator and removed the rotation chart.  “You’re on vacation until September, maybe longer.”  It was his turn to cook, so he whipped up a quick tuna casserole. 

    Caroline was relieved to hear Naomi snoring like a buzzsaw.  “I remember what she went through the first time.  At least the experience is helpful.”

    “Not this time,” Peter warned.  “Step aside for a moment.”

    With Naomi and the baby asleep, Peter broke the news with a whisper.  “She’s expecting twins.  And you know what that implies.”

    Nobody had to remind Caroline of that.  She was there when her mother tried to deliver her third baby.  An agonizing scream was the last sound she heard from her.  Connor didn’t last long enough to make any sound at all.

    “How is she going to get through this?” she asked, already knowing that was the only acceptable alternative.

    “Naomi will need all the rest she can get.  You’ve been doing a great job babysitting.  I’ll have to work more hours at the concession stand to pay for this.”

    “What about that thing you said you were working on?”

    “I’m actually making some progress.  If I can get the materials together, I’ll need you and Warren to test it.”

    As if on cue, the phone rang.  “Hello?”

    “Oh, good, Peter, you’re home,” Warren said.

    “About Naomi…”

    “What happened?”

    “She’s pregnant, with twins.”

    “Do you know what they are?”

    “Fraternal: both girls.”

    Warren trembled as the color drained from his face.  He knew the implications as well as they did.  He also knew Peter and Naomi would want both girls.  Fortunately, nobody saw his reaction, so he could put up a brave front.

    “Peter, I’ll do anything to help her.  I want you, Naomi and Caroline to gather all your research data and come to my house next weekend.”

    “Actually, it wasn’t our data,” Peter admitted.  “Naomi’s Dad did all the research himself and all he managed to put together was a few pages of inconclusive results.”

    “What about that old document Caroline’s been translating?”

    “That did add a little more information.  It’s historically fascinating but not all that helpful in finding a solution.”

    “Then we’ll have to fill in the blanks ourselves.  Remember what you told me about research: ‘Ask about Who, What, Where, Why, When and How.’  We’ll figure out what to do.”

    Peter slumped into a chair.  He was frightened out of his mind and couldn’t hide it.  At least he could fake it vocally.

    “Whatever it takes.  If that’s the best we can do, so be it.” 

 

11

 

    “I’m Naomi Laval, I’m here for my 10:00 A.M. appointment.”  Naomi barely had the energy to say it and flopped into the nearest chair.

    The nurse checked her itinerary and confirmed it.  “Ah, yes, here you are, right on time!  And you are, uh…carrying twins!”

    “Yes, I am!” she replied, with considerably more enthusiasm.

    The nurse handed her a pencil and a clipboard full of forms.  “Well, I’ll say this much for you: You had the good sense to get here early enough to fill out all this paperwork.”

    “Hopefully, I’ll get it done in time.  I’ve only got half an hour before the examination begins.”

    Naomi carefully checked and rechecked all her responses until she came to the most important part.

 

CHECK OFF ALL PERSONAL TREATMENT PREFERENCES

 

    She did so, especially the line that said, “NO DRUGS.” 

    The nurse went over the forms as carefully as Naomi had done.  “I notice you’ve checked that ‘NO DRUGS’ part.  I take it you’re one of those ‘natural childbirth’ philosophers?”

    “Well, sort of,” she admitted.  “But it’s not for philosophical reasons, it’s for scientific and historical reasons.”

    The nurse was intrigued, having never heard those reasons before.  “Really?”

    “My husband and I are into scientific and historical research.  Our reasoning is strictly objective, not philosophical.”

    “How so?”

    “Think about all the medicines and prescriptions that are on the market today!  What are they and what do they accomplish?  My husband and I have been studying chemistry a lot lately.  We figured these drugs do things that women managed without for thousands of years.

    “For example, aspirin first hit the market in 1897; but what did women do before that?  If we had a bad period, we had to put up with it.  If we had a headache, the best we could do was a cold compress.

    “Therefore, I figured that women have endured pregnancies, especially multiple births, for thousands of years without pills.  If they could do it, then I could do it.”

    The nurse had a frightened look on her face but hid it before Naomi saw it.  “Oh, I hope you’re not one of those ‘faith healer’ people who think that using medicine or doctors is a sin or whatever.  I’ve seen a lot of children suffer and die needlessly from cancer or diabetes that way.”

    “My husband and I are self-trained researchers.  We are firm believers in autodidacticism.  We made that decision based on confirmed facts.  We’re not stupid!  If we think a particular treatment is necessary, we won’t hesitate to use it!  Don’t you remember when we brought our first baby here when he had a fever?”

    The nurse thought deeply about it, then recalled.  “Oh, yes, I remember that.  That’s ‘J.C.,’ right?  He was only seven months old.  To be honest with you, I thought you were going to lose him, but he pulled through.”

    “And today, my son is in perfect health!  Now, just because I want a drug-free delivery…which, by the way, I had when he was born…that doesn’t mean I would reject modern medicine altogether!  If I didn’t trust it, I wouldn’t be here.”

    “Very well, then.  You are the parents, and you call the shots.”

    The intercom buzzed.  “Nurse?”

    “Yes, doctor?”

    “I’m ready for the next appointment.”

    “Dr. Rovey will see you now.”

    “Thank you.”

    Naomi struggled to get up from the chair, although that difficulty was caused by the heat as much as the pregnancy.  “Oomph!  Okay, I’m ready.”

    Dr. Rovey closed the door, then looked over the forms.  “Hmmmm…,” he began, drifting in thought.  “Okay, Mrs. Laval, please step behind that partition and disrobe.”  He then noticed her choice of attire.  “You’re wearing a sweatsuit?  Today?”

    “Doctor, it is a hundred degrees outside,” Naomi sighed as she wrung a half cup of salt water from her clothes.  “Everything is a sweatsuit today.”

    He then noticed massive stains on his own shirt, despite the air conditioning.  “Tell me about it!”  The doctor went to a cabinet and got two pills.  “Here, take these.”

    “Didn’t you read my preferences?  I said, ‘no drugs.’”

    “These are not drugs, they’re salt tablets.  From the look of you, I’d say you’re bordering on dehydration.  For that matter, I think I’ll have some, too!”

    Naomi sat down and sighed deeply.  “Ah, the air conditioner is at my back.  You’ve thought of everything.”

    “First, we’ll check your blood pressure.”  Dr. Rovey pumped up the armband and was surprised by the results.  “That is amazing!”

    “What is?”

    “I honestly wasn’t expecting this!  I figured your blood pressure would be through the roof, but it’s actually normal!”

    “Why wouldn’t it be?”

    “Well, you’re carrying twins, this heat wave, your husband on the road for weeks at a time.  On top of that, your car obviously doesn’t have air conditioning.”

    “You’re right, it doesn’t,” Naomi admitted.  “Except that Peter has the car today.  I walked here.”

    “In this inferno?”

    “Well, I couldn’t expect Peter to walk all the way to Narragansett, then pitch in a ballgame.”

    “You are one tough woman.”

    “Doctor, I may be a woman, and I may be pregnant with twins, but I am not some sissy tenderfoot.  When I was a kid, my parents took me camping in New Mexico.  Mom was pregnant with Caroline at the time.  Compared to New Mexico, Rhode Island is downright Arctic.  She put up with it and so can I.”

    The doctor got a large syringe and prepared for what he thought was the worst part.  “Now, Mrs. Laval, I’ll just draw some blood and run a few tests.”  Naomi maintained a look of total indifference.

    “What, that doesn’t scare you?”

    “Blood?  Ha!  Don’t you remember delivering my first baby?  Now, that was a gusher!  The life of the flesh is in the blood.  The mere fact that I can afford to give a sample means that I’m still alive, so why should I be scared?” 

    “Nurse, take this to the lab for a standard analysis.”

    “Yes, Doctor.”

    Dr. Rovey set up the ultrasound.  That was Naomi’s favorite part of an exam.  “Now we’ll have a look at those fetuses.”

    “That’s ‘babies,’ Naomi corrected him.  “‘Fetus’ sounds far too impersonal.”

    “Whatever.  At any rate, here they are.”

    The image fascinated her.  One was clearly larger than the other, but something else stood out.  While the larger one sucked her right thumb, the smaller one sucked both thumbs.  Naomi almost laughed at that.  “That’s odd!  The little one is sucking both thumbs!”

    Dr. Rovey never noticed anything like that before.  It surprised him how much some mothers were obsessed with petty details.  He tried to change the subject to his own concerns.

    “Mrs. Laval, you do realize you are taking an enormous risk by trying to take this pregnancy to full-term, not to mention the fact that multiple births rarely go full-term anyway.”

    If scaring her was his intention, it didn’t work.  “Well, if your mother and my mother had chickened out, neither of us would be here today.  Fear not, nor be dismayed.  My husband dearly wants these girls and I’m not about to disappoint him.”  

 

-------------------------

 

    The examination was soon over, and Naomi began to walk home.  Dr. Rovey called Dr. Nelson to provide an update.

    “So far, so good,” he said.  “No sign of complications yet.”

    “What about her temperament?” Dr. Nelson wondered.

    “I’ll have to say, I’ve never met a woman like Naomi.  She has guts.  I even suggested an abortion, but she adamantly refused.”

    “Lucky for you she did!” Dr. Nelson replied angrily.  “It is imperative to our cause that all of them pull through!  We must get live DNA samples from all of them!”

    “Sorry, force of habit.”

 

12

 

    “This is going to work out!” Peter thought as he called Naomi.  The game was rained out again, which gave him enough time to do more studying, balance the checkbook and get home early.  Even better, for once, they would have something fresh and substantive for dinner.

    “Hhhhheeeelo?” Naomi answered.

    “Oh, I’m sorry!  Did I wake you?”

    “No problem.  I was due to get up anyway.  What’s up?”

    “I’ve got a surprise for you and Caroline!  I’ve worked out the budget this week, and I can afford to get a nice pot roast for dinner tonight!”

    “Great!” Naomi said, perking up.  “At least we’ll have something fresh.  That’ll take some time to cook, though.”

    “No problem!  The game was rained out, so I’ll be home early.”

    “Yeah, we noticed that.  We’ve been watching another game on TV.  It’s not raining up here.”

    “I’ll be home by two o’clock.  That should give you enough time to do it.”

    “Can you get those big russet potatoes?”

    “I suppose you want sour cream, chives, bacon, the whole bit?”

    “Oh, yeah!”

    “I can do that!”

    Even over the phone, Peter could overhear the nerve-wracking bark of the neighbor’s dog.  “Doesn’t that mutt ever shut up?” he asked rhetorically.  “How can you sleep through that?”

    “I do somehow, but it’s not very restful.  Oh, while you’re at the store, could you also stock up on bread and milk?  We’re running low.”

    “No problem!  I’ve accounted for that!  Well, see you at two.  Love ya!”

    “Love ya!” Naomi hung up.  Her initial excitement of fresh meat for dinner wasn’t enough to keep her awake. 

    Meanwhile, J.C. kept himself occupied within the closed room and didn’t seem to be in harm’s way.  He stared in fascination at the ballgame on TV.  He didn’t know one team from another but simply assumed that the pitcher on the screen was the only one whom he did know.

    “Crenshaw winds and delivers…slider, low and outside for ball one.”

    “Da!” he said excitedly as he picked up a tennis ball.  He could barely hold it, but that didn’t bother him.  He watched the pitcher with intense focus and tried his best to imitate him.  J.C. threw the ball, and it went about five feet.

    “YA!”, he shouted, though not nearly loud enough to wake his exhausted mother.  He wound up and tried again, with the same result.  “YA!”

    “The count is one and two on Burrows…strike three!  Got him on a high fastball!”

    J.C. thought he could do that.  He wound up with what little might he had and…

    KSSSH!

    That was more than enough to rouse Naomi out of her sleep.  “What?!”  Startled, she shot up from the couch and saw her son’s handiwork: a window shattered to pieces.

    “Oh, no!” she gasped.

    “Ma?” J.C. asked, not sure at first if that was good, bad or indifferent.  But it didn’t take him long to figure it out.

    Despite the mess, Naomi actually noticed that J.C. said “Ma” for the very first time.  It was small consolation. 

    “Now he calls me ‘Ma.’”  She picked him up before he managed to get near the shattered glass.  “Oh, J.C., why did you have to do that?”

    He pointed at the TV.  “Da!”

    “No, son, that’s not Da.”  She called him back to give him the bad news.  “Peter, how much will that pot roast be?”

    “Seventeen and change,” he replied.

    “Well, I’m afraid that’s off the table,” she sighed.  “J.C. just broke a window in the living room.”

    “What?!  Is he okay?”

    “He’s all right.  He was imitating another pitcher that he thought was you.”

    “And he threw your tennis ball through the window,” he guessed correctly.  Peter had mixed emotions.  He didn’t know whether to be disappointed at the sudden expense or thrilled that his son had such a good left arm for a toddler.  “So much for that pot roast.  I did bring some leftover nachos and salsa from the concession stand.”

    “Oh, well.”

    Peter could sense the stress and depression in Naomi’s voice and tried to alleviate it.  “Don’t worry, Naomi.  It’s a learning experience.  Nobody ever said that raising kids would be cheap or easy.  I’ll be home in a few minutes.  Love ya.”

    “Love ya.”

    J.C. looked up hopefully into his mother’s eyes with his arms high, hoping for a hug.  “Loh ya,” he said with his own hug, not waiting for her to do it.

    “Love ya,” she said, fighting back tears.

    The old car sputtered to a wheezing halt.  Peter ran up the stairs to the apartment to see the damage and his wife’s running-on-fumes look.

    “I’m sorry, Peter,” she said.  “I should have been watching him.”

    “No, this one’s on me,” he replied.

    “How do you figure?”

    “I should have seen this coming.  You know how excited he gets when he watches baseball on TV.  He always thinks it’s me.”

    “How is this your fault?”

    “Did I ever tell him not to throw a ball in the house?”

    “No.”

    “Where there is no law, there is no transgression.”

    “What are we going to do?”

    Peter went to get a broom and dustpan.  “The first thing you’re going to do is lie down and keep resting.  The first thing I’m going to do is clean up this mess.”

    “Well, I mean about J.C.”

    Peter quickly gathered the broken glass.  He thought carefully about his son.  “Fathers, provoke not your children to wrath, but bring them up in nurture and admonition.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “I’ll show you.”  He picked up J.C. but was careful not to show any emotion.  “If I get angry at him for doing that, then he’ll cry outwardly; but inwardly he would be angry, too.  I have no right to be angry at him because I never told him he couldn’t throw a ball in the house.  Now watch this.”

    He held J.C. in one arm and the dustpan full of broken glass in the other.  “Son, look at this.”  He stared at it with no expression.

    “Now look at Ma.”

    He could see how tired she looked.  Somehow, he understood that what he did only made her feel worse.  He squirmed anxiously to get down and ran over to hug her.  “So’y, Ma.”

    “Oh, but there’s more.  Come here, son.  Now, repeat after me…

    “Don’t…”

    “Doh’n…”

    “…throw…”

    “…thow…”

    “…a…”

    “…a…”

    “…ball…”

    “…bawh…”

    “…in…”

    “…in…”

    “…the…”

    “…the…”

    “…house.”

    “…hos.” 

    “When I tell him for the first time, ‘Don’t throw a ball in the house,’ that’s nurture: now he knows.  But, if he violates the law, does it again and I tell him not to do that, then it becomes admonition.”

    He threw the broken glass in the trash can and grabbed the window frame.  “I’ll be back in a bit.  I know a place downtown that can fix this.”

    Peter ran to the car (which, again, struggled to start) and brought the broken window to the shop.  “How long will this take?” he asked.

    “About fifteen minutes,” the employee answered.  “You’re lucky to get here on time.”

    “I’ll be right back.”

    Peter went to the Harris Library, renewed some books he had taken out and added a few more.

    “‘Acoustics’?” the librarian asked.  “Aren’t you supposed to be a baseball player?”

    “Tell that to my team.”

    “Are you planning to produce a rock concert or something?”

    “Certainly not!” he scoffed.  “If anything, I’m trying to eliminate noise!”

    “But, if you make it to the Major Leagues, you’ll be surrounded by thousands of fans cheering and shouting!  Wouldn’t that be awesome?”

    He didn’t care to discuss it.  At this point, lady, the idea is getting less and less appealing, he thought as he hurried back to the shop to retrieve his window.

    “That’ll be $20.00.”

    “Hard come, easy go,” he sighed.  “At least there’s still enough for bread and milk.”      

 

-------------------------

 

    Meanwhile, Naomi got another phone call.  “Hhhhheeeeello?”

    “Hey, Naomi, it’s Warren.”

    “Oh, hi.  What’s up?”

    “Are you ready to come to my place tomorrow?”

    That helped her to perk up a little.  “Oh!  Oh, I forgot about that!  Oh, yes, definitely!  We’ll be ready!”

    “Get all your research material together and be there at 6:00 A.M. sharp!  I’ll have a nice steak breakfast ready for everyone.”

    “We’ll be there.” 

 

13

 

    “Okay, has everyone done their homework?” Peter asked.

    Peter, Naomi and Caroline all sat around the table and offered up their contributions to the research.  None of them knew exactly what killed Eleanor and Connor Pedersen, but they were determined not to let that happen to Naomi and her bundles-in-the-oven.

    “Peter, what is your observation?” Warren asked.

    “Naomi is stressed out when I’m gone, especially when I’m on the road.  I never met her mother, so I don’t know what her stress level was,” he answered.

    Warren thought about it carefully then suggested a solution.  “Peter, you and I have worked seven-day weeks.  We know how exhausting that can be, regardless of what kind of work it is, and how good it is to have a day off!  So the people rested on the seventh day.  The problem here is that Naomi has the hardest job of all.  She’s going to need every day off.”

    “Oh, yeah,” they nodded in agreement.

    “Okay, now, Naomi, what do think?”

    “Well, Warren, Mom was a workaholic,” she recalled.  “I don’t think she had the exact same issues I do, since she worked for the Twins and Dad worked for the Vikings in the same area.  But she was a workaholic.”

    “Now, we’re getting somewhere!  Caroline, has that translation project yielded any clues?”

    “Only that other families had the same problem,” she answered.  “But why is still a mystery.”

    “That mystery may yet be solved,” Warren assured her.  “You said it yourself, Naomi: your mother was a workaholic.  At least now we have established one possible factor.”

    “The odd thing is that she looked like me, but her personality was more like Caroline’s.  She was a Type-A go-getter!  The only time she ever relaxed is when she went on those camping trips.  Just like we did a few months ago.”

    Caroline knew that wasn’t good enough.  “But, even then, Mom still went hunting and fishing,” she added.  “She spent a lot of time and energy cutting up venison.  Even while on vacation she still worked.”

    “We don’t know if that contributed,” Peter said.  “Even if that didn’t kill her and Connor, it couldn’t have helped.”  

    That led to Warren’s ultimate idea.  “We must relieve your stress level, and I’ve got just the thing: Crash at my place.”

    “Really?”

    “Why not?  I have an in-law apartment in my house, fully furnished and unoccupied.  Best of all, it’s only two blocks from the Chowder Bowl.  Hasn’t he given you rest on every side?  Peter can’t do everything, and you’ll need all the help you can get.”

    “How much is the rent?”

    “Nothing!  I think you can swing that.  Peter, you’ll still have to pay the rent for your current apartment.”

    “No problem.  We’ll have to go back there anyway when Caroline starts her freshman year in college.”

    Naomi was so flustered she couldn’t think of an adequate way to appreciate it.  “Thanks, Warren!  I don’t know what else to say!”

    “How about ‘Yes’?  I’m just as anxious to see those babies as you are.”

    Caroline stayed behind with J.C. while Peter and Naomi rushed home to get their clothes.  Retrieving the food wasn’t a problem, since there wasn’t much in the pantry anyway.

    “We can get this all in one box,” Peter said.

    “What about the stuff in the fridge?” Naomi asked.

    Peter checked the freezer.  It was empty.  The refrigerator had nothing left but a little milk at the bottom of a jug.  “Finish it off?”

    “Why not?” She took the jug and chugged the remainder.

    “I never thought I’d see you drink straight from the carton.”

    “Hey, I’m open-minded about these things.  I don’t mind learning things from men.”

    They went to the car but had some difficulty getting it started.  “Oh, come on, you clunker,” Peter complained.  After several tries, they were on their way.

    “Shouldn’t we stop at the supermarket?” Naomi asked.

    “We can do that when we get there,” Peter answered.  “There’s one right down the street from Warren’s place.”

    Meanwhile, Caroline got settled in Warren’s unoccupied apartment and got busy on her translation project.  Warren decided to give her a break and take J.C. out in the stroller.

    It was an off day for him as well as Peter, so he took J.C. to the Chowder Bowl, which was a short walk away.  He went to the gate and showed his press credentials to get in.  The security guard recognized them both.

    “Hey, Warren,” he said.  “Day off, huh?”

    “Yeah,” he sighed.  “It’s good to get out of that hot booth now and then.”        

    “What, Mr. Kreanky still hasn’t put an air conditioner in there?”

    “Nah, you know how he is about spending money.  You’d think a guy with a mansion and central air conditioning would spring for a measly, 5,000 BTU cooler.”

    The security guard then turned his attention to the baby.  “Hey, big guy!  You here to see your Dad pitch?”

    “YA!” he shouted.

    They went out to the grandstand and noticed a groundskeeper tending the pitcher’s mound.

    “DA!” J.C. shouted.

    “No, that’s not Da,” Warren replied.  “Although, knowing your father, I wouldn’t be surprised if he worked with the ground crew to pay the bills.”

    He stopped in a shaded area in the grandstand and sat down.  The baby drifted off to sleep.  Warren noticed that they had company.  Team owner Dan Kreanky was sitting a few rows in front of them but wasn’t aware of their presence.  He was on the phone, having a heated argument with Senator Mandering.

    “I don’t want to hear any more excuses, Mandering!” he growled.  “The legislation for the stadium upgrades had better pass!”

    “Legislation is only half the problem,” the Senator pleaded.  “Solid gold toilet seats are pretty hard to come by!  We can’t just walk into a store and buy them.  How many do you want?”

    “Two: one for my washroom and one for my wife’s washroom.  How hard can that be?  I also want gold pens for my desk.”

    “I’ll have to check and see what the mining production is.”

    “Oh, really?” he warned.  “Well, maybe I should just move the Quahogs to Alaska to be closer to the gold mines and check on their progress myself!”

    “Don’t worry, it’ll get done.”

    “It better.  I’m due to have a conference call with the party bosses in Scranton.  We’ll see what they can do to speed things up!”

    “You’re still thinking of moving the team to Pennsylvania?  They don’t have any gold mines there.”

    “No, but they have oil.  Oil provides money and money buys a better stadium!  Get the picture?”

    “I get it.”

    Warren trembled when he heard that.  “‘Scranton’!” he gasped.  “Whatever this thing is that Peter’s working on, it had better come through.”

 

14

 

    “Okay, Caroline, let’s go,” Peter said.

    “Go where?”

    “To the clinic, remember?  We’re supposed to stock up on blood for Naomi.”

    “Oh, that’s right!  Well, lead the way.”

    They walked down to the clinic.  Fortunately, it was only one block away.  The stifling heat was beginning to affect Caroline.  “I hope this place is air-conditioned.”

    “It is,” Peter replied.  “I go there all the time.”

    Peter went to another room.  A nurse escorted Caroline to her area. 

    “Uh…Miss Pedersen, did you fill out…”

    The nurse noticed Caroline’s ever-present cane and sunglasses and did a double take.  “No, I guess not.”

    “Don’t sweat it,” Caroline assured her.  “I get that kind of reaction all the time.  I don’t take it personally.”  She then put on an odd facial expression as she soaked up all the sounds and smells she could get.

    “Are you all right?” the nurse asked.

    Caroline wasn’t really aware of how she appeared to others when she did that.  Now it was her turn to back-peddle.  “Oh, excuse me,” she answered.  “I rely entirely on sounds and smells.  It’s just that I haven’t been in any hospital in long time, so I was trying to get my bearings on this place.”

    “Why were you there?”

    “Tonsillectomy.  But that was in Bloomington, Minnesota.  It seems like a whole different planet when I think about that,” she sighed.

    “Well, as long as we’re on the subject of health, let’s keep it on present-day Earth, shall we?”  She also noticed Caroline’s Narragansett Quahogs jersey, with Peter’s name and number on it.  “Ah, Quahogs fan, huh?  Yeah, that Laval guy.  I think he makes more money donating blood than he does playing baseball.  For that matter, he throws more blood than baseballs!”

    Caroline didn’t even know it was possible to get paid to give blood.  “You actually pay him to do this?”

    “Yeah, ten bucks, every time.”

    Caroline was awed.  “Wow, the things that man does to pay the bills!  A real man provides for his own, especially for those of his own house!”

  The nurse picked up her clipboard and began the questionnaire.  “Okay, name?”

    “Caroline Pedersen.”

    “Gender?”

    “Female.” 

    “Age?”

    “Seventeen.”

    “No kidding!  I would have thought you were in your twenties!  Well, I guess you’ve been taking your vitamins!”

    “Well, that’s just me.  This is still okay, right?”

    “You’re past the age of consent.  Now…height?”

    “Five-foot-two.”

    “Weight?”

    “115 pounds.”

    The nurse paced around a little, knowing Caroline wasn’t aware of it.  “Okay, now do you have any particular illnesses?”

    “Retinitis Pigmentosa, which is why I’m blind.”

    “Well, yes, but that’s a genetic disorder.  I mean, do you have any communicable diseases, such as AIDS or hepatitis?”

    “No.”

    “Any other disorders that might complicate blood donation, such as diabetes, epilepsy or heart murmur?”

    “No.  Except for the eyes, I’m actually quite healthy.”

    “And your blood type is O-negative.  Excellent!  We can get started.  Just relax, now.  I’m going to crank up the gurney so that it’s kind of like a recliner, then pull up the sidebars.  You’re not claustrophobic, are you?”

    “Certainly not.  To me, the whole world is an infinite, grayish-black void.  Wide-open or enclosed, that doesn’t bother me.”

    The nurse tightened Caroline’s vein with a rubber hose and stuck a tube in her arm.  She was surprised to get no reaction.  “Well, you’re brave!” she commented.  “Most people hate getting jabbed like that.”

    “I barely noticed it.  I have bigger issues to deal with.  Incidentally, how much blood can I give and how often can I give it?”

    “We determine that based on the questions I just asked.  Don’t worry about it.  We know when to stop.  You can give once per week.”

    “Take as much as possible, short of killing me.  Push it right to the edge.  The life of the flesh is in the blood, and Naomi will need as much as she can get.”  Actually, Caroline didn’t really know what factors led to her mother’s death in childbirth, but hemorrhaging might have been one of them.  “For that matter, what’s the date?”

    “July 25^th.”

    “How long does donated blood keep?”

    “Depending on your health, about four or five weeks.  Oh, but don’t worry.  Being O-negative, this blood will undoubtedly fly off the shelves.”

    In no time at all, the procedure was over.  Caroline felt a bit woozy, and it showed.

    “Now, you just lie still, Miss Pedersen,” the nurse warned.  “This is the first time you’ve ever given blood, so your body is a little surprised.  Your glucose level dropped, so that’s why you’re groggy.  But, if you keep doing this, you’ll get used to it.”

    “Peter told me you give cookies after taking blood.”

    “Yes, that’s true.  You need to get your blood sugar back up.”

    “What kind?”

    “Oh, all kinds: chocolate chip, Oreo, Fig Newton, oatmeal raisin, ginger snap, you name it.”

    “All of the above.”

    “Sorry, you only get two.”

    “In that case, I’ll have two chocolate chips.  Any milk with that?”

    “Coming up!  Now, you just rest for a few minutes, and I’ll be right back.”

    Caroline sat up in the gurney.  She had a lot of natural stamina, so she quickly shook off the cobwebs.  She noticed sidebars on the gurney, but that didn’t deter her.  The nurse didn’t know that her Dad was a doctor, so she knew how these things worked.  She got up and groped around.

    “Oh, great,” she muttered.  “Where did she put my cane?  Oh, well.”

    The room seemed to be wide open, without much obstruction, until she bumped into something that felt familiar.

    “Ooh!  What is this?” she asked as her hands told her.  “Hmm…rubber tires, handlebars…ah, a wheelchair!”  Caroline used one once, after her tonsillectomy.  She didn’t understand why it was necessary for an intern to bring her to the door in that thing.  “I can still walk!” she recalled saying.

    “That’s regulation procedure,” the intern said.

    Now here she was, years later, in a different hospital, doing it again.  This time, she had a moment to think about the implications of needing one.  During an NFB convention, a question was raised: “Who has more independence?  A blind person or a paralytic?”

    The question intrigued her.  The hotel was hosting other conventions with other disabilities, all trying to iron out their own issues.  The paralytic guy who asked that question was undoubtedly angry about it.  Caroline didn’t want to lose her temper over anything but preferred to think it through.

    “Now, hold on a minute,” she said.  “Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil speaking, be put away from you, with all malice.”

    “One time I had an appointment on the fourth floor of an office building, but the elevator was out of order!” he complained.  “Besides, do you know what it’s like to have to push around in this thing all day?”

    “No, I don’t,” Caroline answered.  “And you don’t know what it’s like to try to fill out a form when you don’t have someone or something to do it for you.  Nor do I expect you to know.  Nor do I need to experience your issues to understand them.

    “But there’s no need to get all bent out of shape about it.  Don’t you have a cell phone?”

    “Of course I do.”

    “Okay, so call the person you’re supposed to meet and tell him to come down to the lobby.  No big deal.  Me?  I was trying to start a bank account.  I just sat there and waited for somebody to show up.  She said, ‘What do you need?’  I told her, ‘I can’t use a pen.  I need someone to fill this out for me.’  So she did.  There’s no shame in admitting that.”

    Caroline was only ten years old when she said that.  It was part of the motivation she had for studying computers and trying to write a screen reader program that she and other blind people needed.  Her maturity and patience in dealing with those issues impressed the audience and released a lot of tension.

    Meanwhile, she continued to buzz around the room in the wheelchair, unaware that the nurse had returned with her milk and cookies and was watching her the whole time.

    “Trying to see how the other half lives, huh?” she suggested.

    “Yeah,” Caroline answered.  “I guess you could say they’re kindred spirits.”

 

-------------------------

 

    They returned to Warren’s house and got to work on their individual projects: Caroline with her translation and Peter with his acoustic research.  He met Warren in his garage.

    “Okay, it’s ready for testing,” Peter said.

    Warren seemed surprised by the economic approach he took.  “The materials you picked out seem a lot simpler than professional-grade soundproofing.”

    “That’s the idea.  It has to be affordable and easy to use for the average homeowner.”

    “If it works.”

    “It will.  I’ll need you, Caroline and a very noisy area to test it.”

    “I know just the place: the Ocean State University campus.”

    Peter nodded in agreement.  “Perfect!  Not only is this registration week, but those students are always griping about something!  If this thing can work in that environment, then we’ll know how good it is!”

    Peter went back into the house, then Warren did his part.  “Hello, Mom?”

    “Yes, Warren, what’s the occasion?”

    “Remember Peter?”

    “Oh, yes, the ballplayer.”

    “I’ll have to make it short, but let’s just say he’s branching out.  You can expect a package in the mail soon.”

    “I read you loud and clear, Warren.  Make sure he has the proper paperwork and the check filled out.  I’ll see if I can fast-track it, like I did with Caroline’s computer program.”   

    

15

 

    “Well, here we are, Ocean State University in all its glory,” Caroline sighed sarcastically.

    “How do you know we’re here?” Peter asked.

    “It was easy.  There’s a lot of noise, and the stench of marijuana is in the air.  Let’s make this quick, shall we?”

    Peter parked the car and unloaded an armload of material.  Warren got the video camera.  “What can I do to help?”

    “You can stand inside this thing for the test.”  The thing was a temporary framework made of thick cardboard tubes covered with Peter’s invention.  “But first, set up the camera.”  He did so.

    “Roll ‘em!”  Warren hit the record button and Peter began the demonstration.

    “Good morning!  My name is Peter Laval, and these are my assistants, Miss Caroline Pedersen…”

    “Hello.”

    “…and Mr. Warren Rostenkowski.”

    “Hi, Mom!”

    “We are standing here on the campus of Ocean State University in Rhode Island.  Welcome to the very first official scientific experiment of Tioli Labs.”

    “‘Tioli Labs’?” Caroline asked.

    “I’ll explain that later.  Now, this experiment is intended to demonstrate a new kind of soundproofing device.  Of course, we all know there are other kinds of soundproofing materials, such as the stuff used in music recording studios.  Unfortunately, that is too expensive and impractical for home use.  This material is meant to do that.”

    The protest demonstration being carried out by the students would normally be a source of extreme aggravation for all of them.  For once, they saw it as an opportunity.

    “Please take note of this sound meter, which indicates that the crowd is now yelling at eighty decibels,” Peter began.  “For the sake of historical context, Miss Pedersen will now ask a student just what their issue is.”  He then turned to one of the protesters.  “Hey, you!”

    “Huh?”

    “Yeah, I’m talking to YOU!”

    “Oh, uh, hi.  Whassup?”

    “My assistant, Miss Pedersen, would like to ask you a few questions.”

    “Okay, shoot.”

    As the protesting student got closer, Caroline desperately pressed a handkerchief against her nose and mouth to try and filter out the marijuana smoke, lifting it slightly to be understood.  “What exactly are you protesting against?”

    “I dunno.”

    “Then why are you here?”

    “I dunno.  I was told to clock in here.”

    “There has to be a reason.”

    The student dumped half a bottle of water on his head, which seemed to clear it sufficiently to recall.  “Oh, yeah, that’s why.  The Toupee Party is full of Nazis!”

    “‘Toupee Party’?”

    “Yeah!  We’re demanding the impeachment of President Harrison!”

    “Oh, wait a minute.”  Caroline thought about it for a moment, then realized what he meant.  “Don’t you mean the ‘Whig Party’?”

    “Ah, ‘Whig,’ ‘Toupee,’ whatever.  Same thing.”

    “You can’t impeach President Harrison!  He died of pneumonia in 1841!”

    “That’s too bad.  If he had medical marijuana, he might still be alive today.  Oh, well.  Better late than never.  Speaking of which, I’d better go.  I’m going on a desert hike this afternoon.”

    “‘Desert hike’?  Don’t you even know where you are?!”

    “Uh…U.C. Berkeley?”

    “You’re a little off target, dude.”

    Peter took another close-up of the sound meter and noted it had increased to eighty-five decibels when the crowd wanted to know how many people in the current administration ordered an extra scoop of ice cream and demanded unredacted documentation.  “Again, please note the indicator!  Now, my other assistant, Mr. Rostenkowski, will accompany me into the test area.”

    They stepped into Peter’s makeshift booth.  “Notice that both of us are now in the test area and the door is open.  A lot of that noise is obviously coming in; but notice that, even with the door open, we are surrounded by a partial wall, three full walls and a full roof!  The sound meter now reads forty decibels.”

    Peter then closed the door, silently directing Warren to scan the entire thing.  “Now the door is closed.  The sound meter now reads fifteen decibels!  And that was achieved simply by using one layer of this material, duct-taped to a framework of cardboard tubing!  How much more effective it will be when hung on the wooden walls of a house!”

    Warren was amazed at the difference.  “That is incredible!  Whatever made you think of such a thing?!”

    “I hate noisy environments!” Peter explained.  “I’ve been surrounded by aggravating, unnecessary noise for most of my life!  But those days are over.  When he giveth quietness, who then can make trouble?”  He then concluded the experiment, and not a moment too soon.  “This is Peter Laval of Tioli Labs, signing off from the campus of Ocean State University.”  A slashing motion across the neck told Warren to “cut.”  Peter quickly dismantled the test booth.  “Let’s get out of here.”

    As they returned to the car, all of them noticed that the noise had almost completely died down.  Now it seemed more like casual conversation.

    “What happened?” Caroline asked.  “Where did everybody go?”

    Peter got his binoculars and looked.  “They’re all lined up at a lunch truck on the other end of parking lot.”

    “I’ll bet they’ve got a bad case of the munchies,” she replied.  “For that matter, I’m kind of hungry, too.  Let’s see what they’ve got.”

    “I wouldn’t try it,” Peter warned.  “We’re liable to get trampled.  Cryin’ out loud, they’ve wiped out the candy bars already!”

    They got in the car and Peter took off as quickly as the law and the cranky engine permitted.  “You guys want to stop off anywhere?”

    “No, thank you,” Warren replied.  “I had a big breakfast.  You can just drop me off at home.  Just being of service to your effort is reward enough for me.”

    “Thanks, Warren.  See you later.”

    As they headed out, Peter wondered why Caroline would want to go there.  “What’s so great about Ocean State University?”

    “Hey, I got a scholarship,” she reasoned.  “What more incentive do I need?  Besides, when I become a teacher, the school only wants to see my degrees.  They’re not going to care what I went through to get them.”

    She then recalled something Peter said earlier.  “Okay, now what’s this thing about ‘Tioli Labs’?”

    “Oh, that.”  Peter recalled that he was hoping to find a way to make a better living.  And if he could do it while staying home with Naomi and the children, that would be perfect. 

    “Well, it’s based on a rule of research I thought about: ‘Let the facts speak for themselves.’”

    “Meaning…?”

    “Well, you know how Naomi and I have been carrying on that research on Retinitis Pigmentosa?”

    “Yes.  You said you’ve done all you could.  You might have a theory, if only you had the right test subject.”

    “And what are the odds of that?  We’re not licensed physicians.  Anyway, we’ve done the best we could and that’s that.  There’s nothing more we can do.”

    “That doesn’t bother me.”

    “Okay, but that’s a fact that speaks for itself,” Peter explained.  “If I’m trying to discover something, but my research tells me ‘No,’ then I’ll just have to accept what I have found and/or try something else.  That’s why I’m calling it ‘Tioli Labs’—‘Take It Or Leave It.’”

    “You mean you’re branching out into other areas of science?”

    “Why not?  I’ve already accomplished something useful today!”

    “Go for it!”

 

-------------------------

 

    Meanwhile, Warren had his own usefulness when he dialed a certain number.  “Hi, Mom.”

    “Hello, Warren,” she replied.  “How’s things on your end?”

    “That’s just what I wanted to ask you.”

    “I must say I am impressed with Caroline’s computer expertise!  I haven’t got much time because my lunch break is almost over.  Suffice it to say she’ll be getting a surprise in the mail soon.”

    “So will you.  Peter’s work will be along in a few days.”

    “When I get it, I’ll let you know what I can do.”

 

16

 

    “You know what your problem is, Naomi?  You’re too tense.”  Bea Zindebonnet seemed overjoyed, despite the oppressive heat.

    “That’s a natural reaction to pregnancy,” Naomi explained.  “I thought last time was tough with J.C., but carrying two is a lot harder.”

    “Don’t worry about it.  A few drinks will loosen you up.”

    “But there’s more than that,” she added.  “Peter has been working himself half to death!  My man was driving back and forth from Thundermist to Narragansett.  Then he hits the road for two weeks at a stretch, and for what?  All he gets is mop-up relief, maybe garbage time in the middle innings in a blowout.  The Quahogs are paying him peanuts and he’s getting no appreciation.  If I go in there, that’s not going to do his stress any good.”

    “You gotta think of yourself, girl!  You worry too much!  Chill out, already.  Your sister is watching the kid, isn’t she?  It’s your time to enjoy yourself.  The Foul Pole Pub is one of my favorite watering holes.”

    Naomi noticed a thermometer on the door, indicating ninety-five degrees.  “Yeah, I could go for some water.”

    She saw a sign on the window that promised “20 DEGREES COOLER INSIDE.”  It was the only thing that seemed inviting about the place.  As they walked in, they were blasted by the noise of the jukebox and the TV, both of which seemed to be competing with each other.

    “Ow!” Naomi complained, vainly covering her aching ears.  “I’ve heard of men drinking themselves blind, but this kind of racket is deafening!”

    “Ah, you’re no fun.”

    “If this is your idea of ‘fun,’ I would hate to imagine your kind of torture.”  She winced at the noise and muttered, “What does Mr. Kreanky see in you, anyway?”  Her misery was alleviated somewhat by the pleasant surprise of seeing Peter pitching on TV.  “Is that Peter?!” she gasped.  “Yes!”

    Naomi’s hearing was usually as good as her eyesight, but she had to strain to hear the TV over the jukebox.  “The count is three and two on Sanchez.  Goldberg is changing up his signs…”  She knew exactly what they were thinking.  “Ooh, watch this!  On three and two, you’d expect a fastball.”

    “What ‘fastball’?” Bea said.  “Peter doesn’t have a fastball!  It tops out at seventy-five miles an hour.  Even his knuckleball is faster than that!”

    “Exactly!  That’s why Biff is changing up the signs.  Now Peter’s going to jam Sanchez with a slider, low and in.”  He did just that.  “Sanchez checks his swing, but the umpire rings him up!  Laval jammed him with a nasty slider, low and in!”

    “Yes!  Go get ‘em, Peter!”

    “See that?” Bea shouted.  “You’re feeling better already!  Drinks are on me!  Hey, Bob.”

    “Hey, Bea,” the bartender replied.  “Who’s your gorgeous friend, there?  Hey, babe!  Why is your hair so red?  You’re so hot, it’s on fire.”

    “You bet I’m hot,” she replied.  “It’s boiling out there!”

    “What’ll it be?”

    “I’ll have two scotch-on-the-rocks,” Bea answered.

    Naomi looked around and noticed a sign: NEED A RIDE HOME?  CALL CHESS CAB CO. “I’d better call that place.  That’s quite a chug, even for you.”

    “One’s yours.”

    “Nah, I’ll pass.  I’ll have some Royal Crown.”

    “We don’t have Royal Crown here,” the bartender said.

    “Okay, then, Pepsi.”

    He turned around, pretended to check the tap, and rejected her request again.  “Sorry, fresh out of Pepsi.”

    “Del’s lemonade.”

    “Try the ice cream truck.  It just went by a few minutes ago.”

    This was getting exasperating.  “All right, how about orange juice?  And don’t tell me you’re out of that.  Any fool knows you need orange juice in a bar.”

    “Oh, you want a screwdriver?”

    “No, I want straight, plain, pure orange juice, with no liquor.”  The bartender knew she had him dead to rights, so he caved in.  Naomi sipped it slowly, savoring every cold drop.  “Thanks.  I needed that.”

    Bea couldn’t believe Naomi would settle for mere orange juice.  “Oh, come on, woman!” she said.  “Let your hair down!”

    “It’s halfway down my back.”

    “That’s a figure of speech!  You know what I mean!”

    “Not exactly.  Be more specific.”

    “You need a real drink!”  Bea downed the first scotch in one gulp, then offered her the second one.

    “No!  I don’t drink that crud!  It’ll hurt my babies!”

    “Aw, c’mon!  It’ll make you feel good!”  She then forced the glass into Naomi’s mouth and managed to get some in.

    “ARRRRGHHH!  Phhhht!”

    “There, now!  Didn’t that taste good?”

    “No!  It tasted like tea made from cigarette ashes!”  She immediately fished in her purse for a stick of gum and a mint.  With nimble teeth, she managed to chew one and suck the other without skipping a beat.

    The glass remained mostly full, so Bea finished it off.  “Your loss.”

    “Lucky me.”

    “Maybe you need something a little smoother.  Gimme another!  How about rum and cherry!”

    “Here you go.”

    “Bottom’s up, Naomi!”

    She couldn’t decide whether the ear-blasting sounds or the sight of Bea getting herself plastered was more nauseating.  “If by that you think I’m ready to puke, you’re right!  None for me, I’m driving.”

    Actually, she wasn’t driving, but she figured a little white lie was preferable to a lot of red blood splattered on the dashboard.

    “Suit yourself!”  The drink was gone in a nanosecond.  “When shall I awake?  I will seek it yet again!”

    Naomi turned to the bartender and asked, “Doesn’t that kind of indulgence bother you?”

    “It pays the bills,” he answered indifferently.

    “Including her tab at the Betty Ford Clinic?  The love of money is the root of all evil!”

    Bea kept going, but Naomi was the one who was ready to pass out.  Heat, fatigue and frustration were beginning to take their toll.  Meanwhile the game finally ended, so at least she had Peter coming to the rescue.

    “Yup, there’s Bea’s car in its usual spot: parked right next to a police cruiser!” Peter sighed.  The driver of the cruiser was also interested in his arrival.  “Hey, Pete!” he said, hopefully.  “You here to get Bea?”

    “No, I’m her to get Naomi.  But I’ll get Bea, too, if that’s what it takes to get her off the street.”

    “Pardon me for asking, but why is Naomi hanging out with her?”

    “Naomi’s been stressed out lately, carrying twins and all that.  She wanted to go for a walk.  Caroline is babysitting.  But it was way too hot to go to the ballgame, so Naomi had to stay indoors.”

    “How’d the game go?”

    “Ah, Fernandez was lights-out for three innings, blew up in the fourth, gave up five runs.  I came in, cruised through one inning, Gonzales finished it off with three more earned runs.  We lost, eight to nothing.  Same ol’ same ol’.”

    “Better luck next time, Pete.”

    “I can only go up from here.  On the plus side, we’re playing two: gotta make up for all the rainouts earlier.  I’m starting the night game.  At least it’ll be a little cooler.”

    Peter could see Naomi through the window, and she could see him.  She could have screamed for joy…not that the bar’s regulars would have heard her.  Bea didn’t notice having drunk herself under the table.

    “Oh, Peter, am I glad to see you!” she sighed, hugging him as if her life depended on it.  “Where’s…?”  She turned around and saw Bea on the floor.  “Figures.  Well, we can’t leave her there.  The life we save may be somebody else’s!”

    Peter called out to the cop.  “Hey, want to give me a hand?”

    “Sure, Pete.”

    “Back seat.  Now, this time, we’ll put her face down.  That way, she won’t risk choking on her own puke.”

    The two of them struggled to get her off the floor and into the back of the car.

    “You’re saving me a lot of hassle, Pete.  Thanks for driving her home.”

    “Yes, with a car.  But I’m tempted to do it with a five-iron.”   

 

17

 

    “This is Keith Blabberman, reporting live from the Chowder Bowl in Narragansett, where Peter Laval has been named an emergency starter.  With all the rainouts earlier in the season, the twi-night doubleheaders are piling up, and the pitching staff has been stretched to the breaking point.

    “Well, Peter, this is the first start you’ve had in a while!  Are you up to it?”

    What a dumb question, Peter thought.  Like I’m gonna say, “Oh, no, Keith!  I’m dead tired, my head is spinning, I feel like I’m gonna throw up and I’m so jittery I could drill a hole straight through to China!  I expect to go out there and get bombed!”

    Of course, no athlete, no matter how honest, would dare tell the truth like that, so Peter went into public relations mode.  “Well, Keith, any professional athlete should be expected to be ready and step in when needed.  I’ll just do the best I can for the team.  I’ve got my emotional support with me today, so I should do all right.”  He glanced over at the grandstand, where Naomi, J.C. and Caroline were sitting.

    “Oh, yes,” Keith nodded.  “I see your little boy is taking in the game.”

    “Yeah, and he’s getting less and less little every day!  Which reminds me, I’ll have to do some grocery shopping after the game.  A real man provides for his own, and specially for those of his own house.  My wife and kids provide all the motivation I need to go out there and win.”

    “‘Kids’?  I see only one.”

    “Naomi is expecting twins.  Before long, we’ll bring home five.”

    “‘Five’?”

    “Myself, my wife and the kids.”  

    “Oh, okay.  Really!  Well, congratulations then, and good luck on your start!  This is Keith Blabberman at the Chowder Bowl in Narragansett.  Now, back to our studio.” 

    Peter stopped to take a look at Naomi.  For a moment, they stared into each other’s eyes.  It was not their usual romantic, puppy-love look, but a look of tension and fear.

    She is really on edge today, he thought.

    He is really on edge today, she thought.

    Peter had a ghastly, white-as-a-sheet look and sweating bullets as he took the mound.  Nevertheless, he tried to focus on the game.

    “Good afternoon, baseball fans!  This is Warren Rostenkowski, live at the Chowder Bowl where the Narragansett Quahogs are ready to take on the Hartford Clerks.  It was a scorcher today, with the field temperature at ninety-seven degrees, but the night game has a cooler temperature in the eighties.  The Quahogs are calling upon middle reliever Peter Laval as an emergency starter.  He is now taking his usual…or rather, unusual warm-up throws.  He’s just tossing lobs out there.  That’s all he usually needs to get ready, since his actual pitches aren’t much harder.

    “First up for Hartford is their leading hitter, Roy Parker.  He is hitting an even three hundred on the year with ten home runs.  Laval is ready to go.  Here’s the windup, the pitch…”

    WHOOSH!

    “Whoa!  Laval started him off with a fastball and Parker nearly screwed himself into the ground on that one!”

    He turned to the catcher and said, “Hey, Biff!  Who’s that stranger wearing Laval’s uniform?”

    Biff was too bewildered to answer and barely snapped out of it before another heater buzzed in.

    WHOOSH!

    “Strike two, called!  Laval isn’t waiting, he’s going straight for the next pitch without even breathing!  Swing and a miss!  Strike three!  With his first batter, Laval has already equaled his usual strikeouts-per-game average!”

    “Where did he get that fastball?”

    “Your guess is as good as mine!”

    “Jack Preston now up for Hartford.  He leads the league in strikeouts but also has thirty home runs on the season, aaaand STRIKE ONE!  Wow, that is not Laval’s usual style!”

    WHOOSH!

    “Strike two!  Boy, the way Preston is swinging, he could air-condition the entire ballpark!”

    SLAP!

    “Strike three, and Preston is out!  Man, I could hear that ball hit the catcher’s mitt from here!”    

    The next batter couldn’t believe what he was seeing.  “What, is Peter on greenies or something?”

    “He never touched the stuff!” Biff answered.  “I’m just as confused as you are!”

    “Swing and a miss!  Wow, that was a nasty curve!”

    Naomi knew Peter better than anyone, so she was the most confused.  “How is he doing that?!  All of a sudden, he’s gone from Wilbur Wood to Sandy Koufax!”

    Meanwhile, Caroline was listening on the radio.  “Strike three!  Now, I’ve seen everything!  Peter Laval has pitched an immaculate inning: three strikeouts on nine pitches!”

    He staggered back to the dugout looking more like he had one foot in the grave, not at all like a world-beating flamethrower.  “I’ve never seen you throw like that before!” Naomi said.  “Where did you get that fastball?”

    “It’s adrenalin, plain and simple.”

    “That might explain it.”

    “It makes sense,” Caroline agreed.  “This is his first start since High School.  I can’t blame him for being nervous.”  She was right, but for the wrong reason.

    Biff tried to get it out of him.  “What’s gotten into you, Peter?  You’ve never pitched like that in your life!”

    “Gotta be steroids,” said one benchwarmer.  “He’s gotta impress those scouts in the stands.”

    That relieved the tension slightly, replacing it with anger.  “‘Steroids’?!” he shouted.  “Look at this arm I’ve got!  It has less meat than a hummingbird wing!  I never touched the stuff!”

    “Prove it.  You gotta be on the juice.”

    “I’ll have all the proof I need twenty years from now.  I’ll still be healthy!  The guys who are on steroids will be dying of brain cancer, like Lyle Alzado!”  He looked around the dugout, to no avail.  “Speaking of juice…” He looked down the tunnel and yelled for the clubhouse attendant.  “Hey, Cookie!  Get me some orange juice!  You know, the kind of juice that comes from an OR-ange, not a SYR-inge!”

    “You got a whole cooler full of Rattlerade out there!” he yelled back.

    “Oh, come off it, Cookie!  You know I can’t stand drinks with synthetic ingredients!”

    “Too bad!  That’s all I’ve got!”

    Naomi heard the request and volunteered herself.  “I’ll get it, Peter.”

    Biff quietly hinted for Peter to step into the tunnel for a quieter conversation.  “What’s going on, Peter?  You’re really edgy today.”

    “It’s Naomi,” he admitted, hoping nobody else overheard.  “It’s going down!  The last time I saw that look in her eye, she went into labor for the first one!”

    “Nah, that’s your imagination.  Just try to relax.”

    But he couldn’t.  He knew Naomi better than that.  His suspicions were confirmed when he heard a scream coming from the grandstand.

    “AAAAAH!” Naomi shouted.  “Oh, oh…call an ambulance!” she pleaded to anyone who cared to listen as she dropped to the floor in pain.

    Caroline jumped from her seat and went as fast as she could under the circumstances.  “Naomi!” she shouted.  “Where are you?”

    “In the corridor!” she yelled back.  “Go through the exit and take a right!”  She did so.  “Yes, that’s it!  Straight ahead!”

    Caroline got there just as the paramedics came with the gurney.  She grabbed the rail and paced with them.

    Peter immediately jumped the fence and ran toward her.  There was no doubt in his mind.  “Biff!  She’s going into labor!”

    “But she’s not due yet!”

    “Multiple births rarely go full-term.”  He rushed to his locker to retrieve his video camera.

    “Peter!  Hurry!”

    He ran back with the camera and his street clothes, boarding the ambulance just in time.  “I’m here,” he assured her, holding her hand.  Naomi was utterly terrified. 

    Ready or not, here they come, he thought.

 

-------------------------

 

    Meanwhile, Dr. Rovey was having a leisurely conversation with Dr. Nelson.  But his calm demeanor suddenly turned to panic when his beeper went off.  “Uh, oh.”

    “What’s wrong?” Dr. Nelson asked.

    “I just got a beep from Laval.  That can mean only one thing!”  He texted Peter to confirm his hunch.

 

“NAOMI IS GOING INTO LABOR, ISN’T SHE?”

“YES! WE’RE HEADED TO A HOSPITAL RIGHT NOW!”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ‘A’ HOSPITAL?  DON’T YOU MEAN THUNDERMIST?”

“NO, WE’RE IN NARRAGANSETT!  SHE WAS AT THE CHOWDER BOWL TO WATCH A GAME!”

“DON’T WORRY.  I KNOW WHERE THEY’RE TAKING YOU.  I’LL GET THERE RIGHT AWAY!”

“PLEASE HURRY!”

 

    “What’s going on?”

    “Just as I thought: Naomi is going into labor!  The problem is, they’re miles away in Narragansett, not Thundermist.”

    “Now, don’t panic.”  Dr. Nelson quickly pulled Naomi’s file and was relieved to find a specific fact.  “Her last delivery came after a labor of several hours.  If this one is like that, you should have time to get there.”

    “That’s still quite a haul,” Dr. Rovey said as he grabbed his keys and rushed to the door.

    “Well, you still have that M.D. bumper sticker, don’t you?  When the police see that, they won’t bother you.”

    “They’d better not.  One or all three of them may die.”

    “You must get there before they do!  There might be a chemical change since the last delivery.  But we’ll never know unless you get live blood samples from all of them!  We may find new clues that might unravel the mystery of her mother’s death.  The proper evolution of mankind depends on it!”

    “Nurse, cancel my last appointment,” he said breathlessly as he ran to the car.

 

18

 

    “Hold on, Naomi, I’ll be right th…AAAH!”  Peter was startled to see Dr. Rovey there.  Both of them were gasping for breath from the mad rush.

    “Don’t come near me!” he warned.  “I’m sterile for the delivery!  And look at you in that filthy baseball uniform, sweating bullets.  You can’t come into the delivery room dressed like that!”

    On the plus side, at least Peter managed to switch his cleats for sneakers.  His eyes darted about in panic until a helpful nurse intervened.  “I know you!” she said.  “You’re Peter Laval, aren’t you?”

    “The one and only,” he sighed.  “Nobody else I know would pretend to be me.”

    “I was listening to the game during my break.  You were doing pretty good!”

    “Right now, I’ve got bigger problems.  I need to shower and change!”

    The nurse looked around and noted the corridor was empty.  “I shouldn’t do this, but I can help.  The last patient just vacated this room, and I was about to send an orderly in there to clean it up.  You can use the shower in there but make it quick.”

     Peter rushed in, locked the door and took the fastest shower he’d ever done, worthy of an Army camp.  He emerged squeaky-clean in street clothes, ready to record the births of his daughters for posterity…if any. 

    “Where…?”

    “There is only one delivery room, down the hall.  You can’t miss it.”

    “Thanks!”

    He rushed to the door but slammed on the brakes, knowing he couldn’t just rush in there like gangbusters.  He forced himself to catch his breath and went in with a calm demeanor.

    Inwardly, he was terrified.

    He set up the camera and turned it on just in time.  Dr.  Rovey hated that idea of turning childbirth into such a spectacle.  “Must you record this?”

    “Yes, I must,” Peter insisted.  “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.”

    “You really want to gross them out like that?” 

    “Aren’t you kind of squeamish for a doctor?  I want my children to know what they’ll be in for when it’s their turn.”

    Dr. Rovey was in no mood to debate, preferring to focus on the job at hand.  It was going to be a narrow opportunity.  Either of the girls or their mother could die.  If so, he would have only a matter of seconds to get live blood samples from them.

    “Okay, Naomi, just like last time: breathe and push!” Peter said.  “At least they’ll be smaller than J.C. was, so it should be a little easier.”

    “HHHHHHHhhhhhhh!  I wish I had your confidence!” she gasped.

    “She’s crowning,” Dr. Rovey said.  “This one’s coming fast.”

    “HHHHHHHhhhhhhh!  OW!”

    And out she came.  But that was the easy part.

    “WGGGHHHH!”

    “She’s choking!  Nurse, suction!”

    The nurse grabbed a hose and sucked out whatever was hindering the respiration.  It worked.

    “WAAAH!”

    “Okay, she’s breathing!  Nurse, get a blood sample.”  A second nurse did so.  “Get her in an incubator.”

    Naomi felt surprisingly better.  “That…hhhh…wasn’t as bad…hhhh…as I thought it would be.”

    “She was so small, you could have delivered her through a straw,” Peter replied.  “But keep breathing.  We’re not done yet.”

    Meanwhile, Caroline had to make a pit stop.  She finally made it to the door of the delivery room when she heard a blood-curdling scream.

    “AAAAARRRRGH!  Uhhh.”

    “She’s out!” Dr. Rovey said.  “Nurse, get a blood sample from the baby, then set up Naomi for a unit of O-negative!”  The blood sample was a lot easier to get from her, since so much of it spilled.  She passed out in agony.

    Peter immediately turned off the camera and tried to console her.  Dr. Rovey would have none of it.  “Okay, Steven Spielberg!  If you’ve finished your movie, would you please get that camera out of here?  I still have a lot more work to do!”

    Peter was able to look past the doctor’s rudeness and think of Naomi.  Both girls were quickly hauled away in their incubators and seemed to be okay.  Naomi looked deathly pale.  Peter had never seen so much blood, not even the last time.  He took one last look as the donated units replaced it.

    Maybe it’s half-and-half, or one-third-two thirds or whatever, he thought.  Her mother and brother both died immediately.  The girls survived.

    But who are they?

    Caroline was guided in by a nurse but brusquely driven away.  “Sorry, miss, but the show’s over,” Dr. Rovey said.  “You’ll have to go to the waiting room.  Nurse, get these blood samples to the lab for a full analysis.”

    Not wanting to debate the issue, Peter led Caroline out into the corridor.  “The worst is over,” he sighed.  “All we can do now is wait.”

    “The last time I heard a scream like that was…” but she stopped herself.

    “You need to clear your head.  Let’s go to the cafeteria and get something.”

    “I’m not hungry.”

    Peter was surprised to find the cafeteria empty.  That was the best thing he’d seen all day.  They were going to need a quiet place to think.  He looked around for something to eat or drink but didn’t have much of an appetite.  With all the heat and emotional tension, the last thing they needed was coffee.  They stood there silently for a few minutes, but it seemed like hours.  Finally, Caroline broke the ice.

    “More than anything else, I can’t help but think of Connor,” she said flatly.  “At least my mother had some life.  At least I knew her.  But I’ll never know what Connor could have been.  I shall return to him, but he shall not return to me.”

    Peter knew better than to stop her.  The only thing that could get her mind off her mother and brother was to go home with her sister and nieces…whoever they were.

    “I wonder what names she picked?”      

    That question hit Peter like a ton of bricks.  He recalled the agreement he had with Naomi, that he would name the boys and she would name the girls.  When their son was on the way, Peter couldn’t make up his mind which name he wanted for him.  He didn’t know for certain until the day before Joshua was born.  Naomi was constantly flipping through a book of baby names, jotting down anything that sounded good.

    One thing Naomi didn’t want was alliterate names: names with the same sound on the first initial.  Caroline suggested “Jane and June” and other such pairings, but Naomi rejected them.  She knew she was expecting fraternal twins.  She wanted both of them to enjoy their own individualities.  At least she knew one was larger than the other, so at least they would never be able to share each other’s clothes.  Peter appreciated such determination.  But that still left a nagging question in his mind.

    Who are these girls?

    He couldn’t help but pace around, wondering which names she had chosen.  He took a quick peek into the maternity ward to see the tiny blonde baby and the slightly larger, dark-haired one.  He couldn’t think of any name that would fit them.

    Who are they, Naomi?  Even if you don’t make it, at least your choice of names will still be known.  No, what am I saying?  She’s going to make it.  They’re all going to make it.

    Meanwhile, Naomi was moved to intensive care.  Peter walked briskly down the hall to peek through the door.  A nurse was setting up another transfusion, though he had no way of knowing whether it came from himself or from Caroline.

    The life of the flesh is in the blood.  At least they haven’t pulled the sheet over her head.

 

19

 

    “Did they make it?” Caroline asked hopefully.

    “It’s touch-and-go,” Peter answered.  He slumped into a chair, almost dropping the video camera.  If they don’t, I’ll never be able to watch this, he thought.  But he kept that to himself.  “Right now, the babies are in the incubators and Naomi is getting a blood transfusion.”

    He wanted to give her more encouragement but couldn’t think of anything.  Caroline was the bravest person he’d ever known.  Somehow, she could deal with blindness, ignore all of its pitfalls and go full speed ahead without fear.  But she had a look of sheer terror on her face.  What little color she had was drained.

    “I haven’t heard a scream like that since…”

    “Since when?”

    Caroline felt a rush of conflicting emotions.  She hated dredging up the past but letting it eat her up inside was even worse.  “Since the day my mother and brother died.”

    Peter knew about that, having gone through their family album many times.  The sight of their obituaries always jolted him.  Having come from a much larger family, he had seen his own share of funerals.

    “I never understood why,” she admitted.  “Everything seemed all right.  Mom had no trouble with Naomi and even less trouble with me!  I guess I was so anxious to be born that I didn’t even wait to get to the maternity ward!”  Caroline forced herself to smirk a little at the odd coincidence.  “Kind of like the way one of your sisters was born.”

    “Yeah,” Peter nodded.  “The hospital was right across the pond from my house.  During winter, if there were no leaves on the trees, we could see it from there.  It was only one mile away by road.  Labor lasted about five minutes, and…plop…there she was, hopelessly staining the back seat of our neighbors’ brand-new Cadillac.”

    “Wow, she was even quicker than I.  In my case, Naomi told me that Mom’s labor lasted about ten minutes.  I came out in the back seat of her Grand Wagoneer.”

    Caroline seemed to be leaning on her cane for support more than for navigation.  She quickly relieved the pressure by leaning on a chair but couldn’t bring herself to sit down.

    “But when Connor was on the way, something was wrong.  I could almost feel how scared Mom was.  Somehow, she knew something was off, but she didn’t know what or why.  And then came that scream.  It was downright blood-curdling.  She just flopped.  Connor never even had a chance to breathe.  Then that long beeeeeep.”

    “Flatline?”

    “Flatline.”

    Peter got up and walked toward Caroline but stopped short.  He had to think of something encouraging.  “This time will be different.  That was a long time ago, Caroline.  Since then, things have changed for the better.  Medical technology improves every year, every day, it seems.  Your Dad could barely keep up with all the new stuff in his practice.”

    “Even the latest technology can’t fix a broken heart,” she sighed.  “Dad was never the same after that.  He went into a tailspin and couldn’t pull out of it.”

    “I know the feeling,” Peter recalled.  “When my older sister died, it was the first time I’d ever seen my Dad cry.”

    “Hit-and-run.  What a horrible way to go.”

    “There is no good way.  If I dare to look for a silver lining in Mom’s case…and I’m desperately reaching here…at least it wasn’t too surprising.  She was in terrible health, bad case of heart disease.  Personally, I’m surprised she lasted as long as she did.  But Dad still took it hard.”

    “Yeah.  Our Dads could have traded a story or two.”

    Caroline paced around, trying to find a way to say something more, something that had been gnawing away at her ever since the day she met Peter in High School.  It seemed almost like a confession, even though neither of them was at fault for anything.

    “Th…there’s another…th…thing I n…need to tell you.”

    To Peter, that was really strange.  Caroline was captain of the debating team in High School.  Her oral exams came off like lectures that kept even the most seasoned teachers riveted.  It wasn’t like her at all to stammer and hesitate.  But it was now or never.

    “Remember that day when we first met?”

    “Do I ever!” Peter recalled.  “You stood out from the crowd like nobody I’d ever seen.  Any blind person would, but you were the most wonderful girl I’d ever met.  Your bearing, your maturity, you seemed way beyond your years.”

    “That’s has always worried me.”  She reached into her purse and fished out an old sheet of paper that used to be white but was now yellow with age.  “Remember this?”

    It was a secret note that Caroline asked Naomi to write out for her when she first entered Kindergarten at her School for the Blind in Minnesota.  It explained why she never wore earrings.

    Peter took the note and read it again with fond memories.  “You still have this?!  You’re still worried about bullies pinching your ears?”[1]

    “Oh, it goes much deeper than that,” Caroline admitted.  “You and Naomi keep saying how brave I am, dealing with blindness and all that.”

    “Yeah.”

    “I’m going to expand on that.  Is anyone else here?”

    Peter looked around and saw no one.  “Nobody here but us chickens.”

    Caroline almost laughed when she heard that but caught herself.  “That’s an interesting choice of words, Peter: ‘chickens.’  What I’m about to tell you is that I’m not exactly the super soldier you think I am.  I have built my house upon a rock, but there are three things that can rattle me.”

    Peter guessed the first two.  “Yeah, one thing is deafness, which is why you’re so cautious with your ears.”

    “Right.”

    “Another thing is sunburn.  You can get torched way too easily.  The damage is done before you’re even aware of it.”  That was common knowledge, since Caroline practically soaked herself in sunscreen during hot weather like this.

    “But there is a third thing that scares me to death that I’ve never told anyone.”

    “Then it can’t be Naomi’s situation.”

    “Well, yes and no.”

    Caroline paced around, desperately trying to think of a way to put it delicately, yet bare her soul at the same time.  The very thought of it drove her to tears.

    “You and Naomi always said how beautiful I am.  It’s like you were tripping all over yourselves to complement me.  But, if that’s true, does that mean you’re attracted to me?”

    Peter was stunned.  “Did you want me to be attracted?!”

    Caroline trembled with shock at her faux pas.  “Uh, no, no!  I should rephrase that.  What I mean is this.  The way you interact with Naomi is far beyond anything I’ve ever heard between a man and his wife.  Even my own parents never gushed over each other as intensely as you do with her.  You were like that even before you were married.  Then, the day after you graduated, boom.”

    “Yeah,” he recalled wistfully.

    “I remember in your senior year, when you popped the question.  My Dad was so defensive!  He demanded to know why you picked Naomi and not me.  He almost accused you of rejecting me because of my disability.”

    “Nah, I knew he was bluffing,” he assured her.  “I would never put a stumbling block before the blind and he knew that as well as you do.  He was testing me.”

    “I remember what you told him!  You said, ‘Because I LIKE Caroline, but I LOVE Naomi!  THAT’S why!’[2]  Boy, nobody ever stood up to my Dad like that!”

    “Then what’s bothering you?”

    She finally worked up the courage to admit it.  She looked where she thought his eyes were and said, “Peter, I need a hug!”

    “But why do you seem hesitant?”

    “Because I’m scared, Peter!  I am scared to death.  Like that first time you ever had dinner at my house?  Naomi often said that it felt like electricity in the air.  There was such a powerful vibe between you two!  That’s why I can’t hug you!  I’m afraid that, if I touch you, I might get the same feeling!  And I know that, if I ever got between you and Naomi, all of our lives would be ruined!”

    “Is that all?”

    “What do you mean, ‘Is that all’?”

    Peter actually smiled at the idea.  “Caroline, there is no such spark between us!  You said it yourself!  On my wedding day, you said that I was the brother you never had!  As for me, I never told you this, but I’ve always seen you as a replacement for my own sister.”

    Caroline looked much more hopeful.  “Really?  Honest?”                 

    “Honest.  You are my sister-in-law at least and a confidante at most, but you’ll never be more than that.  You couldn’t split me and Naomi with a jackhammer.”

    She immediately threw her arms around him and gripped with all her might, letting out a gut-wrenching sigh.  “Ohhhh!  Peter!  You don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that!”  She then soaked his shirt with the best cry she’d had in years.  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Peter!  I’m not usually like this!  Wouldn’t you know!  Of all the things my eyes could still do, that had to be the one!”

    He hugged back without reserve, rocking her gently.  “No, that’s okay.  Let it go, Caroline.  Release that pressure valve.  It’ll do you good.”

    Caroline composed herself just in time to be somewhat presentable to the nurse.  They had been there for hours, but it seemed like an eternity. 

    “Mr. Laval, she’s coming out of it.  You can see her now.”

    “And the girls?”

    “You can see them, too.”    

 

20

 

    “Peter?” she moaned.  Naomi barely had the energy to open her eyelids, but she was in too much pain to sleep.

    He wanted desperately to hug her, but all the IV tubes got in the way.  “Your left arm is occupied.”  He rushed to the other side and held her right hand.  She, in turn, gripped as hard as she could.

    “Where…?”

    “Incubators.  You all made it.”

    “Oh, I don’t know about that.  I feel awful.”

    “You’ll get better.  The worst is over, Naomi.”

    “Where’s Caroline?”

    She walked in just at that moment.  “Right here.  I just had to step out for a moment.”  It took a few minutes to pull herself together, with no evidence of the emotional gusher she had just displayed.  “Thank God you pulled through, all of you.”  Caroline was too tired to do anything but drop to her knees and plop her head on the mattress.

    “Where are my girls?” Naomi asked.

    “They’ve just had a physical exam and all their inoculations,” the nurse answered.  “They have a clean bill of health.  They’ll have to stay in the incubators for a bit, but that’s normal for multiple births.  All of you will go home soon.”

    “Good, good.”

    “But there is a small matter that needs to be confirmed right now.  What are their names?  The government is very…”

    “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Naomi agreed.  “‘The government is very meticulous about these things.’  Well, so am I.  I considered two different sets of names, but I’ve made up my mind.”

    “Okay, so what are their names?”

    “First, I want to see them.”

    The nurse seemed apprehensive but decided it could be done.  “Okay, I can bring them for a moment.  But the battery packs don’t last long, so it’ll have to be quick.”

    “Get the first one.”

    The nurse came back with the first incubator.  In it was a pitifully tiny girl.  She looked weak, but at least she was alive.

    “Wow,” Peter gasped, looking at Caroline’s baby picture.  “She looks just like you, Caroline!  Blonde hair, blue eyes: a little smaller, but that’s you.”

    “Not too much like me, I hope,” she replied, pointing at her useless eyes.  “I can deal with it, but I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.”

    “We’ll cross that bridge, if and when we get there.”  Naomi had no strength to sit up, so she cranked the bed to the upright position.

    “Look at you.  When you came out, you were struggling to breathe.  We thought we were going to lose you.  But our little girl is a fighter!  She would not go down!”

    “And what is her name?” the nurse asked.

    “Zoe.”

    “What a beautiful name!” Peter said.

    “That’s a Greek name,” Caroline added.  “It means ‘life.’”

    “Now, let me see the second one.”

    The nurse went back to the ward and returned with the other baby.  She weighed four pounds, only one pound more than her sister, yet she seemed much larger and healthier.  Naomi looked at her silky brown hair with some confusion.  “How could anything so pretty be so painful?” she asked.  “When your brother was born, I thought his delivery was rough.  But you!  It felt like somebody was pulling barbed wire through me.  I never felt such agony.  Then I saw those puffy, ruddy little cheeks.  Our little girl was worth it.”

    “And what is her name?”

    “Rhoda.”

    “Now there’s a name you don’t hear much anymore!” Peter said with admiration.

    “That’s another Greek name,” Caroline added.  “It means ‘rose.’”

    The nurses then began to return Zoe and Rhoda to the preemie ward.  Naomi objected with what little vehemence she could muster up.  “No,” she gasped.  “Don’t take them.  I want to feed my babies.”

    Dr. Rovey disagreed.  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Laval, but neither you nor they are in any condition for nursing.  It’ll be a while before you can do that.  All of you are taking your breakfasts through a tube right now.    Nurse, give her a vitamin shot, plus an extra half milligram of potassium.  I have to make a phone call.”

    “Well, it’s not a total loss.  You did bring J.C., didn’t you?”

    “I’ll go get him in the day care.”  Peter said as he rushed off.  He returned just in time for his son to see the new additions.  “Say hello to Zoe and Rhoda!  They’ll be coming home with us in a few days!”

    J.C.’s eyes bugged wide-open in fascination.  “Hi, Zo!  Hi, Ro!”  He waved, but they didn’t wave back.

    Peter took him to the right side of the bed.  “Ma sih…?”

    “Yes, Ma sick, but I’ll be okay.  Come here, big boy, give your mama a big hug!”

    “Hold still!  I’ll get a picture!”  Peter took out his phone and got the perfect picture.  “I suppose that, in spite of all this, you’re looking forward to the next one?”

    Naomi almost cried when she heard that.  “Under better circumstances, I would.  But there’s not going to be a next one.”

    “Why not?”

    “Didn’t Dr. Rovey tell you?”

    Peter and Caroline trembled.  He pulled up chairs and they sat down, anticipating bad news.

    “Peter, Caroline…this whole process has been rather injurious.  The innards are all messed up.  They told me I’ll make a complete recovery, except that I can’t conceive anymore.  I’m afraid that Rhoda is the end of the line.”

    Caroline tried to find a silver lining.  “Well, at least I know what I’ll be in for when it’s my turn.”

    “No, maybe not,” Naomi assured her.  “You take more after Dad’s side of the family, so maybe these issues that affected me won’t happen to you.  Besides, you’re a lot tougher than you look.”

    That gave Peter time to think of his own answer.  “You gambled your life and won.  We now have a big, strong boy and two beautiful little girls.  As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man; so are children of the youth.  Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them.  If three is ‘full,’ so be it.”

    Naomi carefully considered the tubes.  “Sit up with mama, my big boy!  I need a hug!  I love my big boy!”

    “Love ya, ma.”

    “Peter, did you take pictures of them?”

    “Yes, I did.”

    “Show him.”

    He took out his phone and retrieved the pictures: not perfect through the incubators’ plastic, but good enough.  “See that, J.C.?  In a few days, we’ll all be going home together.”

    “Hi, Zo!  Hi, Ro!”

    “Take good care of your sisters, J.C.  I can’t give you any more.”  Naomi began to feel woozy.  “Take him, Peter.”  She then drifted off to sleep.

    “Ma si…?”

    “She’ll be all right.  She just needs some rest.  Come on, big guy, let’s go home.”

 

21

 

    “Am I ever glad to get out of there,” Naomi said.  “You didn’t bring J.C. with you?”  

    “No, he’s at home with Caroline,” Peter answered.

    Naomi looked in vain, not spotting the old car.  “Where’s the car?”  She then noticed a big puddle of oil, which was the last remnant.  “Oh, I get it.”

    “Warren had to follow me here.  I barely made it to that spot when the block finally went.  He towed it away.”

    “Ugh.  What are we driving home?”

    “Right over there.”  Peter pointed to a brand-new Grand Wagoneer.  She still didn’t get it.  He handed her a small box with a ribbon.  “Happy Mother’s Day.”

    “That was three months ago.”

    “For you, every day is Mother’s Day.”

    “Now, what could this be?” She eagerly untied the ribbon, opened the box and found a car key.  “What is this?”

    “You’ll need it to start the new car!”

    “That?!” she gasped.  “Peter, it’s beautiful!  It’s the same kind my mother used to drive; more modern, but the same kind!  How did you pay for this?”

    “First, get the girls inside, out of this infernal heat!”  He opened the back door and quickly strapped in the baby seats.  “Are you up to driving home?”

    “I am now!”  Naomi started the car and cranked up the air conditioning.  She was about to throw out the box until Peter stopped her.  “You mean there’s more?”

    “Look inside.”

    Inside she found a credit card with Peter’s name on it.  “That’s yours,” he said.  “Whenever you need gas, maintenance or repairs, just put it on that and I’ll take care of the rest.”

    “How were you able to do this?”

    “Wait till we get home.”

    They pulled into the driveway.  Caroline heard a car, but not the rusty clunker Peter had been driving.  J.C. did notice two familiar faces and shouted, “Da!  Ma!”  They raced up the stairs to get the newborns out of the intense heat.

    Peter gently placed the car seats with the sleeping babies on the floor.  Naomi flopped into the couch.  “Not that I’m complaining, but would somebody please explain just what is going on here?”

    “This is,” Peter replied, showing her two packages that recently came in the mail.  “Open them.”

    “What could this be?”  Naomi opened the first and gawked at the contents.  “A patent?!”

    “The first one is mine,” Caroline said.  “Check this out!”

    Naomi was too overwhelmed to notice the new desktop computer on the once-empty desk.  “Caroline, you bought a desktop?”

    “No, that’s Peter’s.  But it does have something of mine.  B*R*U*C*E*!  Wake up!”

    A synthetic voice talked back.  “B*R*U*C*E*!  AWAKE AND AT YOUR SERVICE, MISS PEDERSEN!”

    “‘B*R*U*C*E*’ What’s that?”

    “Read the monitor.”

 

BLIND READERS’ UNIVERSALLY COMPUTERIZED ELUCIDATION

 

    “Remember that screen reader invention I’d been working on the last few years?  Well, this is it!”

    Naomi was still tired from her delivery ordeal and seemed bewildered by the idea.  “‘Screen reader’?”

    “I’ve been waiting all day for this!  Let’s test it, Peter.  Get a book!  Any book!”

    Peter got one and scanned a page into the computer, which then read it back for all to hear:

 

“MAKE HASTE, MY BELOVED, AND BE THOU LIKE TO A ROE

OR TO A YOUNG HART UPON THE MOUNTAINS OF SPICES.”

      

    “That is amazing!” Naomi said.  “And my favorite book, too!”  She turned and smiled slyly, whispering, “Whoever said ‘Flattery will get you nowhere’ doesn’t know us!”  She quickly shook off the aura and insisted on a straight answer.  “How did you get a patent so quickly?”

    “Let’s just say we have friends in high places.”

    “Peter, how did you pay for that car?” 

    “I scraped my pennies together and subsisted on peanut butter sandwiches, leftovers from the concession stand, and so on,” he explained.  “But wait, there’s more!”

    Peter unwrapped another package, but with his own patent.

 

“DEAFS”

 

    “What do you mean, ‘deafs’?”

    “I’ll show you.”  He unwrapped another package, containing something that resembled wallpaper, but slightly thicker.  He attached it to the wall with duct tape and let it roll down.

    “Notice any difference?”

    Peter and Caroline certainly noticed, but they wanted Naomi to discover that for herself, which she did.  “Hey!  It’s less noisy!  The sound of traffic isn’t as bad!”

    “And that’s just one sheet.  It’ll be so much better with four.”

    “Why did you call it that?”

    “Well, you know how people put up blinds on windows to block excessive sunlight, glare and prying eyes?  ‘Deafs’ do the same thing to block unwanted sounds.”

    “And it’s a smash hit, too!” Caroline added.  “Half the students at Ocean State University bought it at local hardware stores!  The entire stock was sold out in nothing flat!”

    “Only half?” Naomi wondered.

    “They wanted to muffle the racket being made by the other half.  Ocean State University was recently voted as this year’s ‘Number One Party School.’  Then are they glad because they be quiet.”

    “That is wonderful!  Whatever made you think of that?!”

    Peter sat down, overwhelmed by the whirlwind of events.  “Oh, man.  It’s been hell.  But it started back during spring training in Fort Lauderdale.  The noise was driving me nuts!  You know the expression, ‘The city that never sleeps’?”

    “Yeah, that’s New York.”

    “Well, it’s Fort Lauderdale, too.  I couldn’t sleep!  But suddenly, it hit me: Why not study acoustics?”

    “‘Acoustics’?”

    “You said it yourself, Naomi: Our research in Retinitis Pigmentosa has hit a wall.  We’ve done as much as we could.  So, I figured, why limit research to one thing?  Why not do more than merely physiology and genetics?”

    “You want to give up?”

    “No, of course not.  But we can do so much more, Naomi!  We could study any kind of science and try to find something beneficial!  For example, I am convinced that I could find a cure for Type-1 Diabetes.”

    “Really?!”

    “Absolutely!  So, if the Government raids our house, steals our research files, then I turn up dead in a fake, staged suicide, you’ll know the reason why.”

    “I’ll keep that in mind.”

    “But it doesn’t stop there!  We could study chemistry, geology, climate…anything!  We could discover anything!  We could even fight oppositions of science falsely so called!”

    Naomi’s tired face lit up with excitement.  “Why not!  Does this mean our ship has come in?”

    “Well, no,” Peter admitted.  “I wouldn’t call it a ‘ship,’ but more of a lifeboat.  What I’m getting from this is certainly not enough to retire on, not even close.  But it is enough to get things going.  I would be willing to take my chances and quit baseball to take a crack at science research, if you’re willing to risk it.”

    Naomi didn’t need to think very long about it.  Both of them were tired of all the road trips required by playing baseball.  They were getting him nowhere.  She looked around the apartment, with all the chores that needed to be done, for which she never had enough time or energy.  One baby kept her busy enough, but three would be overwhelming.  She needed all the help she could get.

    “Go for it.”

   

22

 

    “We have breaking news in sports, with Narragansett Quahogs owner Dan Kreanky making his decision to move the Quahogs to Scranton, Pennsylvania.  We switch you now, live, to Warren Rostenkowski, covering the press conference at the Chowder Bowl.”

    Mr. Kreanky stood at the podium, trying to hide a look of utter contempt, but not doing a very good job of it.  “As most of you already know, the legislation for the taxpayer-funded stadium upgrades did not even go forward to a vote!  And I must say, the state of Rhode Island will never amount to anything economically, if the people refuse to invest their tax dollars into the economy!”

    Peter, of course, knew the truth about the matter.  The real issue was Mr. Kreanky’s ego, not the economy.  “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity,” he replied.  “How could solid gold toilet seats for your private washroom pump up Rhode Island’s economy?”

    Mr. Kreanky turned red as a boiled lobster when he heard that.  “Oh, shut up, Laval!” he shouted.  “What do you know?  That ‘toilet seat’ thing was just a rumor, a conspiracy theory, nothing more!  It’s people like you, with your unrealistic demands, that sent me and my ballclub packing!”

    “Planting real grass on the field is reasonable.  Unnecessary opulence is not.”

    Now it was Warren’s turn to get in a few shots.  “Mr. Kreanky, you realize that you are taking the Quahogs away from those children out there!  Don’t you feel bad about that?”

    “I don’t feel bad for the children at all,” he answered.  “They don’t spend any money here.”

    Warren pressed further.  “What happens to the Chowder Bowl?”

    “It’ll have to be torn down.  My demolition company will do the job, of course.  When I moved my ballclub here, I made it abundantly clear that the Chowder Bowl had to be voted by the fans as the best stadium in the world.  Well, your cheapskate legislators didn’t come through, so the fans voted ‘no.’”

    “Is that so?  I don’t seem to recall any such vote taking place!  When did that happen?”

    “It’s against the law for you to ask me that!”  Whereupon he stomped away in a huff.

    “Well, there you have it!  Dan Kreanky has officially said ‘Vaya con Satanás’ to Rhode Island’s baseball fans!  This is Warren Rostenkowski, signing off from the Chowder Bowl in Narragansett, Rhode Island.”

    “Hold it, Warren!” Peter said.  “One more thing!”  Peter rushed to the podium to say his own goodbye.  “I hereby officially announce my retirement from baseball.”

    “Nobody cares about you or what you’re doing!” Mr. Kreanky yelled.

    “On the contrary!  There are five people who do care!”  He waved toward them, gesturing them to come forward.  Naomi pushed a double baby carriage with Zoe and Rhoda while Caroline took J.C. in her hand, navigating with her usual skill.

    “A real man provides for his own, especially for those of his own house.  I finally have the means to provide for them and stay home at the same time.  I’m tired.  My family is tired.  But they shall enter into my rest.”

    Peter had one more thing to do before leaving.  He carried J.C. out to the pitcher’s mound and let him stand on it.

    “If this had been as much fun as High School, I might have stayed,” he sighed.  “But when baseball becomes a burden, that’s a red flag.”

    Naomi nodded in agreement.  “Okay, fair enough.  But does that mean you’re not going to let him play baseball?”

    That was a question Peter had always anticipated and thought constantly of the right answer.  “Whether he plays sports or not, that’s has to be his decision, not mine.  After all, he’s J.C. Laval, not Todd Marinovich.”

    Naomi recalled what Peter said the day J.C. was born.  “Didn’t you tell Dr. Rovey that you didn’t want him to play football?”

    “Well, yeah, for the same reason I don’t want him playing in traffic: It’s dangerous!”

    “What about baseball?”

    “I won’t force him play baseball.  If I do, he’s going to be miserable.  But I won’t forbid him to play baseball, either.  If I do, he’s going to want to play out of sheer rebellion.  J.C. may be a toddler, but he’s still an individual.  Whatever he does with baseball, he must make up his own mind from his own experience and wisdom.”

    Just like I’m doing now, he thought.  “You still want to do this?”

    With great enthusiasm the baby tried to imitate his Dad as best he could. 

    “YA!” he shouted.

    “That’s your decision, son.  I’ve already made up my mind.”

    “Does this mean you’re just going to dump baseball altogether?” Naomi asked.

    “No, not necessarily,” Peter answered.  “The game of baseball, I like.  It’s the people of baseball I can’t stand!  I’m sick and tired of people like Mr. Kreanky lying to me!”

    They walked out to the car.  Peter strapped the baby seats in, then noticed luggage in the back.  “What’s that?” he asked.

    “The luggage?  That’s mine,” Caroline answered.  “Naomi and I had a good talk about this.  You’re going to be a stay-at-home Dad and I’m about to start college, so she said it was okay with her if I live on the campus.”

    J.C. had a surprised look on his face.  His parents were even more surprised that he seemed to understand the situation.  “Auntie Ca’ine go way?”

    “Well, not too far,” she assured him.  “Let’s have a hug, big guy!”

    “What next?” Naomi asked.

    “Tired minds don’t think well,” Peter answered. “Rest first, plan later.  It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows: for so he giveth his beloved sleep.  Right now, I feel like the weight of the world has been taken off my shoulders.  I want to go home and sleep for a month.”

    “You and me both.”

    They drove to the women’s dormitory of Ocean State University, where Caroline had her own room on the fourth floor.  “All the way to the top?” Naomi asked.

    “It’s strategic,” Caroline explained.  “The marijuana smoke should dissipate before it gets up here.  Besides, this is as far away as I can get from all the noise.”

    “Ah, but you also have this,” Peter said, giving her a few rolls of his soundproofing material.

    “Thanks Peter.  I’m going to need it.”

    “Bye, Auntie Ca’ine!”

    “Bye, big guy!  Don’t forget, we still have the same schedule for video calls: seven, every night!”

    “YA!”

    “As soon as I get settled, I’ll get back to work on translating that old document.  I’ll keep you posted.  Bye!”

    “Bye.”

 

-------------------------

 

    “Hello.  You have reached the office of Global Health Obstetrician Service Technologies.  If you know the extension of the person you are trying to reach…”

    Dr. Nelson dialed the extension: 13666.  “What an extension,” he muttered.  “Some guys have all the luck.”

    Dr. Rovey picked up the phone.  He was in a surprisingly good mood.  “Hello?”

    “It’s me.  Our superiors would like an update on the Naomi Laval situation.”

    Dr. Rovey shuffled through some files, adding his own information thereto.  “Oh, yes, that.  I’m sure they must know by now that Naomi and her daughters all survived.  In fact, I’ve given them a clean bill of health.  They’re going home today.  Look in your e-mail for an attachment.  That’s my final report on the matter.”

    Dr. Nelson opened the attachment but was disappointed to find only a little more information than they already had.  “What, that’s it?  Only two paragraphs?  They expected more than that!”

    “Sorry, that’s it.”  Dr. Rovey got up and stared through a window at the maternity ward, wondering what the future held.  “But you must admit, this is a fascinating mystery!  Why did this malady, whatever it was, affect Naomi’s ancestors, but not her?  There is still no answer as to the source.  Is it genetic?  Is it environment?  Is it just plain bad luck and coincidence?  Who knows?”

    Dr. Nelson wasn’t satisfied with that answer.  “Our superiors want facts, not twenty questions!”

    “Yes, and I’ve given all the facts.  But there is a silver lining to all this: two, for that matter.”

    “And they are…?”

    “First of all, Naomi had complications, both from the pregnancy and the delivery, which, by the way, was even harder than her first one.  She will never conceive again, so at least we can skip that part.”

    “That’s what you said last time!”

    “Beats me how she did it.  But, when you see my report, you’ll understand.”

    Dr. Nelson printed up the attachment and read it, nodding in agreement.  “I’ve seen other cases like that.  Okay, fair enough.  And what is this other silver lining?”

    Dr. Rovey put the phone on speaker, then got up and paced around, trying to find the right words.  “It’s speculation, but the idea offers some promise.  Now, suppose this…thing…this malady…whatever it was that killed Eleanor Pedersen and her ancestors, what if it was caused by some kind of gene?”

    “What about it?”

    “Naomi now has three children.  I have abundant DNA samples from all of them.  If that was caused by a gene, and if we could isolate that gene and duplicate it, that would certainly be helpful!  Overpopulation will be a thing of the past.”

    Dr. Nelson perked up considerably when he heard that.

 

Epilogue

 

    “So, was that a great popcorn movie, or what?” J.C. asked his sisters rhetorically.

    Zoe gave an answer anyway.  “‘Popcorn’?  Try Alka-Seltzer!  I’ve never seen so much blood in my life!”

    “Sure, you have!” her Mom reminded her.  “Remember that You Tube video of the elephant being born?”

    “Oh, come on, Mom.  That was extreme.”

    “Too bad I never had a video of my cat delivering kittens,” her Dad said.

    “Dad, what your cat did is nothing compared to what Mom…or that elephant…went through.”

    “Au contraire!  Choo-Choo had six kittens!  And, unlike you three, she didn’t have the father around to coach her.”

    “Apples and oranges,” Rhoda said.  “Still, that was kind of interesting.”

    “I just wanted you to know what you’ll be in for when it’s your turn,” Naomi replied.  “You know, you and Zoe are always talking about babies like you’re competing with each other.  Are you sure you still want to get married and raise a family?”

    Zoe turned and looked Rhoda in the eye; or rather, in her dark sunglasses that covered her ruined eyes.  “How about it, Rhoda?”

    “Well, you can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs.”

    “Yeah!  That’s the spirit!”

    “Correction,” Peter said.  “That’s just for starters.  Now, you’re going to see your own birth video!”

    “And after that, you’re going to get ‘The Talk,’ just like I got when I turned fourteen,” J.C. added.  “And I’ll give you a little hint: It has nothing to do with ‘birds’ or ‘bees.’”

    “Yeah, that talk,” Rhoda said.  “Well, Dad, at least you’ll have your facts straight!  The girls at school talk about this stuff all the time, but their ignorance is off the charts!”

    “Here it is!” Naomi said.  “It’s in high-definition blu-ray!  You’re going to see everything in ultra-sharp detail!”

    “I’ll never forget that year,” Peter sighed.  “That was the hottest, most brutal summer I’ve ever had.”

    When Peter and Naomi went through the birth of twins, that day seemed to drag on torturously.  Although the video itself was shot in real time, it seemed to be over with more quickly upon review.  

    “Wow,” Zoe gasped in breathless fascination.

    “So, that’s what childbirth is like,” Rhoda added.

    “If only you could have seen it, Rhoda!”

    “Nah, don’t feel sorry for me, Hawkeye.  Of course I couldn’t see it.  But I’m getting straight-A’s in Biology, so I have a pretty good idea.  Besides, my hearing is still good.  I’ll admit, it is kind of strange to hear your own mother scream like that.”  She turned to where she thought her mother was standing and said, “I feel your pain, Mom.”

    “It was worth it,” she replied, hugging them both.

    “The screaming, I kind of figured,” Zoe said.  “But it was kind of spooky to actually see a video of myself being born!”

    Rhoda didn’t understand that assessment.  “What’s so ‘spooky’ about that?  It was only fourteen years ago.  It’s not as if you were looking into ancient Egypt or whatever.”

    Zoe admitted that her knowledge of history played into it.  “Well, that’s exactly why it was so riveting!  I mean, Mom, have you ever seen those videos on the internet: you know, stuff like San Francisco in 1906, or the Andrea Doria going down?”

    “Yes, but what about them?”

    Zoe collapsed back into the chair, as if the wind had been knocked out of her just thinking about it.  “To me, it doesn’t matter how recent or how long ago.  A video is a window to the past!  I’ve often wondered what we could find, if we had a color TV camera that could look into the past.  Imagine if we could actually see something in full color, like General Washington crossing the Delaware River, or maybe the Pilgrims landing at Plymouth Rock.”

    Naomi was pleasantly surprised that Zoe would suggest such an idea since it led perfectly into the next part of the lesson.  “I can’t do that, Zoe.  But I think I have the next best thing.  Come with me, girls.  I’ve got to show you something.  ‘A window to the past,’ you say?  You haven’t seen anything yet!”

    She led them to a wall on one side of the chemistry lab.  It had no door…or so it seemed.  Naomi pulled a certain book on a nearby shelf, causing the wall to open up into a short, narrow corridor with a door at the end.  “There’s enough room for only one person, Zoe, and you’re it.  Go in, turn on the light, but close the door behind you.”

    “What’s with all the cloak-and-dagger stuff?”

    “You’ll find out.”

    Zoe did as she was told, turned on the light, then closed the door.  “What is this, a twenty-five-watt bulb?  It’s hard to see in here, even for me!”

    “It wasn’t easy for me, either” her mother admitted.  “But it had to be set up this way.  You’ll see why.  You do see the steel cabinet in there, right?”

    Zoe’s sharp eyes soon adjusted to the dim light.  “Oh, okay, here it is.”

    “Open the top drawer and tell us what you see in there.”

    She opened the top drawer and understood why that kind of environment was necessary.  In the drawer was an old document in a strange language.  Zoe stared at it for about a minute before she realized what it was.

    “Vellum?”

    “‘Vellum’!” Rhoda said.  “You mean sheepskin?!”

    “Yes, that’s it!” Zoe said excitedly.  “There’s even a piece of it on top of the cabinet!  No writing on it, though.”

    “You can touch that, but not too long.  Try reading the document.  It’s a family heirloom.  It can’t be exposed to bright light or that would fade it.”

    “Okay, I’ve adjusted.  I can see it well enough.  But what language is this?”

    The answer came by way of a phone call.  “Hello, Caroline?” Naomi said.

    “Speaking,” Caroline replied.  “I take it you’ve shown Zoe and Rhoda that video?”

    “Yes, I have!  And now I’m showing Zoe that fossil!  Have you finished doing the translation?”

    Caroline slumped back into her easy chair, exhausted.  “Yes, I have, sis.  And I’ll tell you what, that was the hardest job I’ve ever had!  Put Zoe on.”

    “Speaking!” she said excitedly.

    “Zoe, the language you’re trying to read is some ancient, obscure, Norwegian dialect.  I had to do several years of detective work to interpret it correctly, but I think I’ve got it.”

    “Send it by e-mail attachment so I can print it up!”

    “Will do!”

    Naomi and Rhoda rushed off to the computer to print the complete English translation.  Meanwhile, Zoe spotted something she could make out.  “I think I see something familiar!”

    “Really?”

    “Yes!  You know how it is with etymology.  Sometimes it is possible to recognize a root word that carried over into English.”

    “What is it?”

    “It says, uh…‘November 18, 1521.’  Wow.  This writing is over 500 years old?!”

    “Wait till you read the rest of it!”

    As if on cue, Naomi shouted from the other room.  “Zoe, come here!  You’ve got to read this!”

    “On my way!” she shouted back.  “Thank you so much, Aunt Caroline!”

    “My pleasure, Zoe.”

    She closed the drawer and the room and ran to the computer, where Naomi and Rhoda were waiting.  “Hurry, Zoe!” Rhoda said.  “I can’t wait to hear this!”

    “What about Dad?  What about J.C.?” Zoe asked.

    “Oh, they’ve already seen this,” her mother assured her.  “But you and Rhoda can have your turn.  You recite it, Zoe.  You’re the history buff!”

    “Okay, here we go (ahem!)…

    “‘There is a heavy pall over our village tonight.  Hilda Svenborg, in the act of delivering her third child, has passed, with the child, into eternity.  They are not the first to have suffered that fate.  Within the last five years, seven of our women and newborn children have done so.

    “‘We have noticed one trend: each of the women have suffered whilst delivering their third time.  The first two waifs seemed right, and their mothers experienced nothing unusual therefrom.  It is only after the third one was born, and it seems to happen each and every time.

    “‘We are at a loss to explain it.  Nothing like it has ever been seen before.  It seems as though our little town has been cursed, ever since that wretched plague invaded.  Having killed a number of our people, it was not satisfied.  Even the survivors have a shadow lingering over them.

    “‘If we are to continue, we must abandon this darkened place!  As I write this, the sun is setting.  At dawn, we shall take ship and head west, perhaps to Vinland.  Hopefully, it is more hospitable to us than it had been to Leif Erikson.  Regardless of what we find, surely it must be better than here.

    “(Signed) ‘Olaf Skarbo, November 18, 1521.’”

    Zoe was deeply shaken by the ancient message.  After a minute or two she was able to comment on it.  “Who was this ‘Hilda Svenborg’?  Who was ‘Olaf Skarbo’?  Were they our ancestors?”

    “I don’t think so,” her mother replied.  “I’ve been checking my own genealogy, but they weren’t in it.”

    “What happened to that village?”

    “As the man said, the survivors abandoned it, packed up and sailed west.  But they picked a bad time to go.  Their ship ran into a gale and sank.  My ancestors were the only survivors, so here I am.  Apparently, that genetic mutation carried on.” 

    “Wow, Mom, Hilda Svenborg was just like your mother.  But, if that’s true, then how did you manage to survive?”

    “I don’t know.  But remember that your Dad came from a big family.  His mother had ten children!  After all, both of you share her genes, too.  It also helped that I had modern hospitalization.  Above all, the blood transfusions ultimately put me over the top.”

    “True,” Rhoda agreed.  “The life of the flesh is in the blood.  But what’s this stuff about a ‘curse’?  Nothing and nobody can just go around, arbitrarily putting hexes on people or places.”

    Zoe knew there had to be a reasonable explanation.  “Perhaps you should consider the time and place.  Back then, they knew nothing about genetics or microbiology.  Nobody understood how or why Bubonic Plague was spread or what effect it had.” 

    “For that matter, we don’t even know if it was Bubonic Plague,” Rhoda added.  “In Europe at that time, it wasn’t unusual for some weird disease to suddenly turn up, kill people, then disappear, like ‘English Sweats,’ or something.  That plague, whatever it was, may have been some kind of virus or bacteria that has never been seen before or since.  Or, it may not have been caused by any disease.  For all we know, maybe they were digging for coal and ran into a radium deposit or something.”

    “Those people suspected that an epidemic had something to do with it,” Naomi said.  “Maybe it did cause some kind of genetic mutation that caused all those deaths.”

    “It’s possible,” Rhoda agreed.  “You know, Zoe, if we could get enough data, that could be a good research project.  We just might find the answer.  We could save a lot of lives that way.”

    “Yes, that would be interesting.”

 

 

Abortion, Lies and Murders: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dYo5vJiTfkI