Michael made his mouth busy by shoving another piece of bread in it, but I could tell he wanted to yell at her.
Hell, so did I.
I didn’t, of course.
Surprisingly, it was Dean who said it.
“How about we talk about this when it comes closer to time? It’s only April,” Dean offered.
“Alright, well since everyone’s done, I’ll clean the dishes. Nikki, Joslin, how about you two help me?” Elizabeth asked nicely.
I refrained from grimacing.
Cleaning the kitchen was my least favorite thing to do in the world.
Give me a mop or a toilet brush all day long, but the thought of touching food and smelling it really made me want to gag.
Michael looked at me, gauging my willingness to do it, and started to say something, but I stayed his hand.
“Okay,” I said brightly, standing up and reaching for Michael’s and my plate.
When I started to pull Michael’s plate away, he held onto it until I looked into his eyes.
What I saw there was concern.
For me.
Smiling at him, I leaned down and kissed him softly on the lips, whispering, “I’m okay.”
He looked into my eyes, studying me for long moments, then nodded. “Bring me some pie on the way back out.”
I winked. “Yes, sir.”
“See, that’s what I like to hear! Lizzie, when are you gonna learn how to obey like that?” Manuelo asked loudly.
Laughing, I followed a grumbling Elizabeth, and an even more unhappy Joslin, into the kitchen.
“Makin’ us look bad, my dear,” Elizabeth said once the door swung shut behind us.
They had one of those swinging doors that I’d only seen in movies, and their kitchen was state of the art.
“Man, I could knock out some tamales in here!” I said in awe.
“You’re welcome to make them anytime you wish, as long as you share,” Elizabeth offered graciously.
“Deal,” I said, stopping by the trash to dump what remained on the two plates in my hand into the trash before walking them to the sink where Elizabeth was rinsing the dishes.
Joslin took a seat at the table and started leafing through a magazine, leaving Elizabeth and I to fill the silence, which was surprisingly easy, considering.
“So, what made you want to be a midwife?” Elizabeth asked, offering me a rinsed off dish to load into the dishwasher.
“I’m a paramedic. The first call I ever took when I was on my own was a forty week pregnant woman having her baby in a closet in her bedroom. It was during one of those storms that threatened to hail and damage everything in the affected area with its high winds. They’d just rung the tornado siren when we showed up,” I told her. “So we get there, and she’d already moved to the closet with her freaking out husband at her side. That’s where we delivered her. And I’ve been hooked ever since.”
“Those are the types of stories I love to hear. As you know, I work on the ped’s floor. It can be depressing at times to hear some stories,” Elizabeth said, handing me a handful of forks.
“Dean and I have decided to try invitro fertilization,” Joslin announced from her spot at the table.
I froze, as did Elizabeth.
“Y’all haven’t really given it that long,” Elizabeth hesitated.
“We’ve been trying for over a year, so Dean went to get tested and they discovered he had a very low sperm count. They suggested invitro, but even then they’re not sure that he’ll be able to fertilize my eggs. We’re going to ask Michael if he’d be willing to donate sperm…”
I dropped the plate I was holding and stormed out of the room.
I was so mad that I could spit nails, and when I found Dean and Michael in a tense huddle in the corner of the living room.
“Michael!” I yelled, storming to him.
He turned around to look at me in concern, then his eyes narrowed when he saw Joslin’s smiling face at my back.
“What?” he asked worriedly.
“We need to talk. Outside … now,” I told him quickly.
“I told her that we’re going to ask Michael to donate sperm,” Joslin announced to the room as a whole.