That was the sum total of our conversation with Carlos Rivera. Robin and I left as soon as we could.
“I’d like to punch Levon,” Robin said as he drove home.
“I would be glad for you to do that,” I said. “Please let me watch.” That might not be fair or right, but it was how I felt.
“At least I was there,” he said bitterly.
Oh, no. We weren’t going there again.
But as it turned out, we were.
“You got shot at, and I wasn’t there,” Robin said. “Another thing I wasn’t around for.”
As we pulled into the driveway and he turned off the engine I tried to think what to say to him. He started to open his door, but I put a hand out to stop him. “Robin, how can we ever know what will happen next? You’ll have your share of times, I’m sure, when I’m not around and something big hits the fan. I will never blame you for not being omniscient. Please don’t blame yourself. It doesn’t make any sense at all.”
He leaned over to kiss the top of my head. “You’re sounding wise. I’ll try to work my head around this. But I’m still mad at everyone, including myself.”
“I know,” I said, smiling. “I love you.”
Robin managed to give me one of his wonderful smiles in return, and he put his arm around me as we went to the front door.
Phillip was holding Sophie, and she was tuning up for a howl. He was glad to hand her over.
Again, Sophie stayed awake after her feeding, though I’d been sure she’d be exhausted after the crying jag. We put her on the floor under her play gym, and sat there watching her with endless fascination. We may have taken a few pictures.
Robin maintained that Sophie looked like his mother, Corinne. And Sophie did have the reddish fuzz that signaled “Crusoe.”
I really liked Robin’s mother, but I figured Sophie looked more like—well, like me, frankly. Since Corinne was nine inches taller than me, we’d certainly find out which one of us was the blueprint … sooner or later.
For a while, we had a pleasant respite from worrying about John, the dead woman, the missing Virginia, and the thief.
“Being a mother is making me selfish,” I told Robin. “I do get concerned about other people, and I get sorrowful when they suffer, but basically, as long as our family unit is okay…”
“I know what you mean. I don’t think it’s being selfish, exactly. If it is, I’m guilty, too. I think it’s just that our priorities have changed.”
I nodded, feeling obscurely better now that I knew that Robin shared my altered worldview.
“What do you think about having another one of these?” Robin said, laying a finger on Sophie’s head. He was smiling, but he was serious. We watched as Sophie, in a white and pink flowered sleeper, waved her little fists and made “eh” sounds in a wholly adorable way. Even more adorable now that her eyelids were fluttering shut. She kept opening her eyes again, but she wouldn’t be able to keep that up for long.
“I can’t believe we had her,” I said, trying to buy some time. Since a doctor had assured me I couldn’t get pregnant—a false diagnosis that had changed the course of my life significantly—as far as I was concerned, Sophie was a miracle. I could tell that Robin was waiting for my answer. “It might be too soon after my delivery to ask me that. Having Sophie was … an eye-opening experience.”
“I could tell.” Robin looked a little queasy at the memory. “And I know it’s awful soon to even think about it. But you’re thirty-seven and I’m forty. If we want another baby, we can’t wait long.”
“Are you really so anxious to have another child?” I had lost my peaceful mood, and I was beginning to tense up. “First you want a puppy. Now you want a baby. When will it end?”
I tried to sound like I was joking, but I don’t think I even came close.
Robin could tell I was unhappy, but he forged ahead. He must have had this bottled up for a while. “She’s just so great,” he said earnestly. “Maybe two would be even greater? So Sophie wouldn’t be an only child.”
“I was an only child. I think I turned out all right.” True, I had a half brother, but we had never shared a household.
“I guess since I have two sisters, I thought Sophie would maybe feel a lack?”
I gave him a narrow-eyed look to indicate I thought that was a crock.
“By the way,” Robin said, “a quick change of subject.”
“Okay.” And none too soon.
“Mom knows traveling with a little one is a huge pain, so she wondered if we could have Thanksgiving here. She enjoyed it so much last year, she said to tell you.”
“We being?”
He looked very anxious. “The whole family. My sisters, their husbands, the kids, Mom.”
Nine people, plus us, plus Phillip. I took a deep breath. “Sure, we can do that. Maybe I’ll get the meal catered, I’m not promising everything will be made from scratch. But I’ll be glad to be hostess. We’ll have to plan it like a campaign. A list of jobs for each day leading up to the holiday.”
“Great!” Robin looked so delighted that I felt guilty. His entire family had come to our wedding, but they couldn’t stay long since it was inconveniently (and hastily) scheduled to take place between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Corinne had returned a couple of months ago, after Sophie’s birth. She’d stayed three days, getting to know her new granddaughter, and she’d been a tremendous help.
Apparently, the “second child” discussion had been tabled. I was relieved. I had to admit Sophie was so spectacular the world could sure use another one like her; but the prospect of birthing and raising a second baby made me tired, just thinking about it.
Sophie conked out after three more minutes.
I sat on a stool at the breakfast bar/island considering our dinner options. I was going to have to cook. That meant a trip to the grocery. I pulled over a pad and pen and planned three days’ worth of meals, and the list grew and grew.
Robin volunteered to make the grocery run. “The least I can do is walk around the store,” he said.
“I like your attitude,” I said. All the cooking I did these days was easy. My hours in the kitchen had waned as my new job as Elsie, the milk provider, had waxed. (Incidentally, now I couldn’t eat onions or lima beans: Sophie got gassy if I did. I thought that was weird.)
Robin collected our cloth grocery bags for the store, and some clothes to take to the dry cleaner’s, and I armed him with my list.
After he’d left, I thought longingly of lying down for a while with a book. I didn’t have to clean, since tomorrow would be the maids’ day, another treat I’d given myself. (I was really into treating myself, post-Sophie.) I couldn’t cook until Robin returned. Yes, I could read!
My cell phone rang. I looked at the caller ID.
“Mother,” I said. “What news?”
“Roe, he’s better,” she said instantly. “He’s fully awake. The doctor seems very optimistic now.”
My shoulders sagged with relief. “I’m so glad,” I said. “Any idea how much longer he’ll be in the hospital?”