Part 20 (1/2)
In the hospital, being treated like the father of this baby, Elliott feels like an imposter. Few of his colleagues, and certainly not the staff of different departments, know he is separated from his wife. Why would they think he is not the father?
As for who the baby looks like? Well, the baby is fair, and long and thin a so unlike the dark, chubby girls when they were born. But the baby looks like ... a baby. Elliott has never been able to see familial likenesses in newborns. When both Olivia and Alanna were born everyone said they looked exactly like Elliott, but he could never see it. Now, when he looks at Olivia, he sees only Gabby. Alanna looks like her maternal grandmother. Clearly Gabby's genes are stronger than his.
The baby is four weeks early, but six pounds, and healthy. Back in the room he is placed in a crib next to Gabby's bed, and the girls, who had been waiting there on their own, are now crowing over their new brother.
*Look how tiny his fingers are!' Olivia grins as she places her finger against his and he wraps his minuscule fist around it, squeezing tight. *Oh, Mom! He loves me!'
*Look at his teeny nose!' Alanna, not to be outdone by her sister, reaches down to brush his other hand, for him to wrap her finger too. *He's perfect!' she whispers in awe. *Can we hold him?'
Elliott is about to say they can hold him later, but it is not his place to say that. This has nothing to do with him. It is time for him to leave.
*Congratulations,' he says, and he walks to the side of the bed, leaning down to kiss Gabby's cheek. She tears her eyes away from the baby to look up at him.
*What am I supposed to do with a boy?' she says. *I have no idea what boys are like.'
Elliott smiles. *You'll have to fill the house with Tonka trucks and Lego. It will be a disaster area.'
*Oh G.o.d,' she groans. *I hadn't thought of that. No more pink tutus and fairy castles.' They share a smile of remembrance.
*I have to go,' he says gently.
*Thank you for staying with me. For being here. It means the world to me.'
*You're welcome,' Elliott says automatically. *Have you thought of a name for him?'
*Henry. Henry William Cartwright.'
Elliott starts. Hearing the baby with his last name is strange. He hadn't thought about what the baby would be called, but realizes now that he had subconsciously a.s.sumed the baby would have his father's surname. Not Elliott's.
*Isn't his last name something else?'
Gabby shakes her head. *It's the same as mine.'
Elliott can't find the words for an argument. He suspects he is being petty, or would be accused of being churlish if he voiced his discomfort. It is true; Cartwright is Gabby's last name, but not by birth. He isn't sure she has the right to convey it to another, but doesn't know how to voice that, doesn't know if he wants to be the kind of man who is so ungracious, so ungenerous.
He kisses his daughters, then leaves the room and takes the elevator downstairs. His mobile phone starts buzzing as soon as he switches it on. Texts and texts and missed calls from Trish. He should call her, but he doesn't know how to explain that he was present at the birth of his soon-to-be-ex-wife's baby.
As understanding as Trish has been, as encouraging as she has been for him to be present in his daughters' lives, as willing as she is to accept that with the daughters comes his soon-to-be-ex, this is not something he can easily explain.
Nor can he easily explain that Gabby is still his soon-to-be-ex-wife, that he hasn't yet summoned the courage to speak to a divorce lawyer. In an email Trish sent him last week, she'd attached an article she had *stumbled upon' online, recommending the ten best divorce lawyers in Connecticut.
He thanked her, and, when pushed, agreed to start making calls, but he hasn't. He is filled with dread at the thought of the whole process, of the expense of it, of having to paint Gabby as the wicked witch a because he knows the lawyers will encourage him to think of her that way and that it behoves them to stir up the acrimony and bad feeling.
He knows he can't put it off for ever, but he hasn't been able to stomach the stress of making it official.
He sits in his car, in his reserved spot in the car park of the hospital, and wonders what to do. Finally he calls Trish to let her know what has happened. He doesn't add that he was present at the birth, but explains that he will be taking the girls back to his house with him for the night because he doesn't want to leave them on their own.
The following morning Elliott knows he can't procrastinate any longer. He scrolls through his emails and finds the one with Trish's attachment, rereading the article carefully. He picks the lawyer referred to as *The Divorce Lawyers' Lawyer: the lawyer the others choose to steer them safely through their own divorces.' He likes that they refer to him as clean, quick, thorough. They say he is *no-nonsense' and gets the job done *painlessly'.
On the phone with the receptionist he is asked for his children's names and dates of birth, then left on hold while the receptionist checks a computer. She comes back saying they are fine to set up an appointment, and he realizes only afterwards that she had gone to check if Gabby has already been to see them.
The appointment is made and he ends the call, but feels none of the relief Trish said he would feel once he had taken the first step towards the second part of his life.
How does he feel?
Guilty.
Chapter Thirty-One.
The girls have been in a buzz of excitement for days. First, the baby has come home, and it is like having their very own breathing, crying, living doll. They fight over who gets to change him, who gets to hold him, who gets to dress him.
Gabby knows this won't continue, that they will be bored of doing everything for their brother once this becomes routine, and has wondered whether, while it lasts, she might be able to let them take over the night duty so she can catch up on sleep, but as tempting as it is in theory, she would never let the girls have that much responsibility. Apart from anything else the girls also need to have a full night's sleep now that they are back at school.
Secondly, her mother is flying in. This afternoon. Gabby has arranged a car service to pick her up from JFK, and the girls are both thrilled that Grasha will be here by the time they get home.
This may not be a good idea, but it's too late to do anything about it now. Gabby has always got into trouble when she has expected more from her parents than they have been able to give. Each time it happens she berates herself for behaving like a child, but still the disappointment comes.
Even now, knowing what she knows, she harbours a hope that her mother will actually be of help with the baby. It's not that she has to do much, but it would be wonderful if her mother helped drive Alanna to her practices, or took the baby for a couple of hours during the day so that Gabby could shower or nap.
She has been exhausted these past two weeks since the baby was born. A tiredness unlike any she experienced with the girls. A tiredness doubtless born of age, and lack of partner.
I had no idea, she thinks. But this wasn't something she wanted. Or planned. A baby on her own, at her age. Yet, clutching tiny Henry to her breast as he suckles on her nipple, she loves him. Despite the circ.u.mstances in which he came to be, she feels a fierce, binding love quite unlike the love she remembers feeling for her daughters. The girls were always shared between herself and Elliott, but this little boy is hers alone, and there is something different about having a son. She had always dismissed the old wives' tale that every father needs a daughter, every mother needs a son, but the love she feels for him is so all-consuming, she wonders if they are right.
Gabby places Henry in the ba.s.sinet at the end of her bed and tiptoes out of the room. He is fed, full, happy. Perhaps, if she is lucky, she will get a couple of hours to herself before he wakes up, shrieking in fury that he is on his own.
She dumps a pile of baby clothes and burp cloths in the was.h.i.+ng machine before heading downstairs to make some tea, just as a town car pulls into the driveway.
Gabby watches through the window as the driver opens the rear door, and there is her mother, draped in asymmetrical oatmeal fabrics, her neck swathed in cashmere, her feet clad in beige suede slippers that will, Gabby is certain, have cost a small fortune. She is dressed as haute hippy by way of north-west London. Her hair, currently a dark shade of auburn, is clasped back in a clip. She looks chic. Comfortable. She has always seemed to Gabby to be beautiful, but now, ageing, she has an elegance that eluded her when young. The lines on her face only add to her grace, and Gabby smiles as she watches her mother extend her arms to give the driver a warm hug, knowing she will have extracted his life story during the drive here from the airport.
In the driveway, Natasha's face lights up when she sees Gabby, her arms extending yet again to hug her, before she holds her out at arm's length, inspecting her delightedly from head to toe.
*You don't look like you just had a baby. You look fabulous! How did you get your figure back so quickly?'
*Oh, Mum,' Gabby tuts, *I'm still a stone overweight. But separating from your husband while you're pregnant does wonders for keeping the weight gain down. I highly recommend it.' She shoots her mother an ironic grin as she reaches for her suitcase. *The girls are at school and the baby's asleep. I just put the kettle on. Do you want some tea?'
*I'll do it,' her mother says, taking the suitcase out of Gabby's hand and going inside. *You go upstairs and have a rest. I'm here to take the strain off you, not have you running after me making me cups of tea. I'll make the tea. Milk, one sweetener, yes?'
A wave of relief washes over Gabby. *Perfect,' she says as she goes upstairs.
*A boy!' her mother keeps whispering, looking from the ba.s.sinet to Gabby, who is lying in bed with a oh the bliss! a a stack of trashy magazines by her side. *Look how different he is! How lean! And, my goodness, so long! Is his father tall?'
Leading up to the birth, Gabby had deliberately pushed aside all thoughts of Matt. She used to shudder with disdain when she pictured him, remembering how he had caused her life to fall apart. But he has unknowingly redeemed himself by giving her this beautiful child, so now she finds herself softening, looking at Henry's face and seeing Matt's features.
Wondering if she ought to let him know.
*His father is tall, yes,' Gabby says, hesitating for a second before reaching for her MacBook. *Do you want to see a picture?'