A/N: So, this chapter is almost obscenely long, and I say obscenely because I worry it is too extensive, especially for its plotline and the fact that I worry it will not promote as much interest. There's not near as much Marshall, it is a 'tale of two sisters' if you will. It's length comes from the fact that I needed some time progression for it to be realistic, so take that with a grain of salt and hope you enjoy it.
XXX
Fifteen Months, January:
"Don't you hate how gloomy it gets after Christmas?" Brandi voiced randomly from her spot perched on Mary's couch.
"I don't know…" Mary was appropriately snide as she worked on her laptop in the chair opposite. "Weather's weather. It's always all drab and dowdy and dreary in January."
Brandi laughed at the combination of words, "Say that three times fast."
Mary made no effort and mostly ignored her sister, hoping to keep things quiet for another hour or so while Sam took his nap. Brandi had been enlisted to watch her little man for the afternoon when Mary headed to work, but she'd shown up early, Mary suspected out of boredom.
"Mare?" the younger posed through the silence.
"Hmm?"
"When did Sam start kicking?"
Although Brandi was just over five months pregnant, she wore the title like a badge of honor, constantly referring to Mary for advice as though Mary had paid any attention to her own condition when she'd 'been there.' As it was, she looked up with predicable irritation at being asked.
"I'm supposed to remember?" she snarked.
"Well, I just wondered," Brandi sighed dramatically. "I think it's moving around, but I don't know if it's actually kicking and shouldn't he – she whatever – be doing that already?"
"I don't know," Mary shrugged, repeating herself from earlier and trying to get back to her work. "Ask your OB."
"I did," Brandi insisted, becoming more interested the longer she nagged. "She said everything's fine, but…"
"Well, then why are you worried?" Mary interrupted in hopes of shutting her up. "Honestly Squish; I'm trying to get this shit done," she gestured emphatically at the computer, her eyes wide.
Brandi rolled her own eyes and huffed, drumming her fingers absently on her barely rounded belly. Mary thought it was disgusting how little weight she'd gained. She'd already been close to hippopotamus status at twenty weeks, and here Brandi was hardly protruding at all. Sickening.
Brandi was able to remain silent for about two minutes before she started jabbering again.
"Do you have anything to eat?"
Mary sighed loudly, thinking this might get the message across.
"Besides Popsicles and applesauce?" the elder sister wanted to know.
Sam was cutting some of his last few teeth, and had been sensitive to anything he had to chew as of late. It was nowhere near as bad as those few months when he'd gotten most of them at once, but he'd turned whiny and fussy now that a few of those old symptoms had cropped up again.
"I'm hungry!" Brandi protested. "God! You'd think when I come to your house and offer to watch your kid you might offer a few more…!"
"Fine!" Mary snapped before she could finish, shutting the lid of her laptop. "If it'll shut you up, then fine! I need to get this done before I go in; Stan needs it for this afternoon."
She slid the computer onto the coffee table while Brandi sat there waiting to be pampered, taking full advantage of her current state. Mary went to the kitchen and stuck her head in the fridge; she didn't expect to find much, but it appeared Marshall had made a trip to the store. There were two mini trays of fruit, like the kind you'd buy for some sort of party.
Not wanting to waste her energy looking for something else and deciding she'd replace it later, Mary snatched one and ripped the plastic off.
"I have fruit," she made it sound like it was the only option as she strode back to the living room. "Eat this…" she thrust the bin at Brandi. "The fiber's supposed to be good for you or some such shit like that…"
It was the second time she'd cursed in about five minutes. She internally tried to remind herself not to do as such when Sam arose from his nap; she'd been trying in hopes that he'd talk more with little success.
"Aren't I lucky to have you looking out for me?" Brandi teased, examining her options which included sliced cantaloupe, kiwi, watermelon, and what looked like honeydew.
Mary dropped back into her chair and grabbed some paperwork from the floor to finish, rather than use the computer. Her eyes were getting tired from having stared at the screen so long.
"What's the fuzzy stuff?" Brandi asked, perusing a piece with her long nails.
"It's kiwi," Mary offered condescendingly, pencil scratching.
"Hmm…" Brandi mused, popping a slice in her mouth. "It's good…"
"Fabulous," Mary muttered with her usual sarcasm.
Blissfully, her sister opted for silence after that while she devoured the rest of the kiwi, as well as most of the other fruits on the tray. Mary really couldn't fault her; she remembered the way she ate when she'd been pregnant with Sam. Hell, the way she ate these days could give Brandi a run for her money.
After about fifteen minutes, Mary's phone rang and although she wasn't entirely done with her work, she was going to have to leave soon and Brandi had polished off the fruit tray, her cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk's.
Mary tossed her paperwork onto her laptop and answered her Blackberry.
"This is Mary."
"Hey, babe…"
No mistaking – definitely Marshall.
"Hey," she replied, tucking her falling hair behind her ears and standing to go back to the kitchen. "What's up?"
"You're coming in-in an hour, aren't you?" he asked while Mary perused the cabinets for a snack to take to the office if she didn't get a chance to grab dinner later.
"Forty-five minutes, give or take," his wife reported. "Why?"
"I've gotta drive out and check on a witness," he stated. "Nothing earth-shattering, but I wanted to make sure you'd be in-in case anything else comes up. Stan had to go down to ABQ PD and confer on something…"
"Delia there?" Mary asked as she clamped the phone to her shoulder and pulled down a couple bags of Goldfish crackers that would have to do.
"For now," Marshall told her. "She may have to head out too."
"So, basically it doesn't matter if I can come in or not," his wife jeered, opening her tote which was sitting on the counter and shoving the crackers inside. "You're giving me an order?"
"Well, I am not acting chief," Marshall mused. "I was merely calling to stress the urgency of the situation in hopes that you would find it convenient to come in not exactly at your leisure."
Mary rolled her eyes at the way he was showing off. He was the only person she had trouble saying 'no' to – although not a ton of trouble, because he usually just took her antagonism for teasing.
"Why didn't Stan send you to the police department?" Mary wanted to know, since he was acting chief and could delegate.
"I don't know…" Marshall sighed, and Mary could tell even through the phone that he'd become evasive.
"You don't?"
"Well…" her husband hedged a little bit and then went on. "I think he had to finagle a few things with…"
Mary was becoming impatient, and fortunately Marshall knew her well enough to realize.
"With Abigail."
Abigail. There was a name Mary hadn't heard in awhile. She'd pretty much become taboo after Seth had died. Mary had never asked, but she was pretty sure Marshall had used his father's passing as an excuse to break things off. He hadn't wanted to blame Mary for their parting ways, but that had absolutely been it. Even though it had been about a year and a half, Mary didn't know how Abigail had taken it.
"Anyway," Marshall offered to fill the silence. "I think he thought it would be awkward for me."
"It's been forever…" Mary tried to sound casual, although she thought Stan was probably right. "You're adults; you can handle it."
"Well, it's water under the bridge at this point," Marshall slid in swiftly to get off the topic of discussion. "Stan's there and I'm here, and soon you'll be here so I can be…" Mary imagined him spreading his arms wide. "Out there."
"You're so poetic, doofus," she quipped.
Marshall chuckled appreciatively as Mary pulled her head out of the fridge a second time digging for a can of soda.
"By the way…" she remembered to ask after seeing the contents. "What are these fruit trays in the fridge for?"
"Delia's birthday's coming up; I thought we could do a little something," he told her.
Mary decided she might as well fess up while she had the chance; she wasn't sure when she'd see him again over the next evening.
"Well, Brandi was whining about being hungry so I gave her one," she admitted in an undertone. "I'll pick up another on my way home if you want."
Marshall just laughed again, and Mary had the suspicion he believed she was the fruit thief, but he could think what he wanted. Her eye had just caught the clock on the microwave, and she knew it was time to rouse Sam if she wanted him to sleep well for Brandi on the off-chance her or Marshall arrived home late.
"I gotta go," she told him. "Be in soon."
"All right," Marshall agreed. "Bye."
Mary hung up and rushed to get her tote shut so the bags of crackers wouldn't slip out, and shoved in the soda at the last minute when she realized why her hand was getting cold. She dumped her phone on top and was just jogging through the living room to grab Sam when she noticed Brandi.
She wasn't sure how long she'd been talking to Marshall, but in the span of time Brandi was looking a little worse for wear. She brushed her bangs out of her eyes and sighed, shaking her head as though to ward off whatever she was feeling.
"Mare, how long have you had that fruit?" she asked, placing blame at once.
"Brandi, I didn't give you rotten fruit," Mary was exasperated, and stopped being concerned. "You can't eat like you're some kind of vacuum cleaner," she fabricated wildly. "Slow down next time. That fruit's all acidic; it's probably just messing with your intestines."
"That paints a nice picture," Brandi groused, still shoving her bangs out of the way. "But you're right; I probably shouldn't have eaten so much," she decided. "It's making me feel funny."
"You'll be fine," Mary decided vaguely, which really meant she would have to be fine because Mary needed her to baby-sit. "I'm gonna get Sam up and then I need to go."
Brandi nodded in a would-be-convincing way, "Okay."
Mary didn't stick around for more approval and immediately continued her journey to Sam's bedroom, lights out; dark and cozy, even more so with the grayness outdoors that Brandi had pointed out. Mary tiptoed to his crib and found him sprawled on his back inside a single blanket, clutching his favorite brown horse. He was already awake, but very bleary-eyed and fed his mother the tiniest of smiles when he saw her approach.
"Hey Smush…" she whispered, reaching into the confines to pull his covers aside. "How you doing, bud?" she rubbed his belly to stimulate him a little, but he shifted away and started chewing on his fingers, confirming Mary's beliefs about his last few teeth.
"Come on sheriff…" she forced him around and lifted him up with her big hands, her long fingers.
She loved the way he felt after a good nap; so soft and so-so warm, like a little furnace. His hair was a sight; matted and tousled all over his head, and she'd put him in just a T-shirt and his diaper when he'd gone down. Despite the gloominess of the outdoors, it was very mild and she hadn't wanted him too warm under the blankets.
"You and Brandi the Blimp are gonna hang out for awhile," she told him while he nudged his head into hers, maybe trying to capture another second or two of sleep.
Before she could go on, thinking she'd have to come up with a better nickname for pregnant Brandi if she stayed at such a minuscule stature, Sam murmured from beside her.
"Wandi."
"Brandi," Mary corrected gently, rubbing his back and then laying him flat onto the changing table. "I guess we'll do this job for her since she's all maxed out on excess produce or something…" she mused disdainfully, pulling his diaper off while she teased.
Sam just sat there and watched with that ornery grin of his, eyes still blurry from sleep.
"Wandi," he gurgled.
"Yes," Mary sighed. "Brandi."
He loved Brandi. He adored Brandi actually, and her name was one of the few he actually spoke aloud. He'd said mama – on more than one occasion, she constantly reminded herself – but da-da and Wandi and of course the fated Jing-Jing often took precedence.
"Let me get you some pants, Sam…" she advised herself as she tossed the old diaper now that the new one was on and fumbled in the dresser for a pair.
She slipped him into navy sweats to go with his ridiculous, 'I Scream' shirt. It had a picture of a cone with a scoop underneath it. Mary had specifically put it on him because he was napping, but now she couldn't be bothered to take it off, too anxious about getting to work.
"Up we go…" she swung Sam into a standing position and then into her arms, carting him to the door. "Be a little heathen while I'm gone," she said seriously as she slipped through the crack.
Once they were in the hall and Sam caught sight of his aunt, he completely perked up and pointed delightedly at her figure.
"Wandi!"
But for probably the first time in her life, Brandi did not return her nephew's enthusiastic call. Mary noticed at once that things had shifted. She couldn't have been in the bedroom more than five minutes, but Brandi had broken out in a cold sweat and her cheeks were flushed. She was mopping her brow and visibly trying to stay cool, but Mary was bewildered. What had happened, and in such a short space of time?
"Ugh…" her sister articulated bluntly, shutting her eyes and keeping a distressed hand to her forehead. "Mary…"
She looked up, and the older Shannon immediately recognized the fear in her huge blue eyes. She put Sam down, tossing him his horse, and walked over.
"I really think something's wrong…" Brandi managed, obviously trying not to cry.
"What do you mean?" Mary was almost pompously disbelieving in an attempt to stay cool. "You ate a basket of fruit…"
"Mary, I'm serious," Brandi definitely was, closing her eyes again and breathing slowly through her nose. "My stomach hurts and I'm all…"
But at that moment, in a last-ditch hope to prove Brandi wrong, Mary slapped a hand to her sister's forehead in the presence of the sweat and flushed skin. Her heart gave a nasty throb as she realized she was burning up. Mary turned her palm back to front as though this would make any difference, even as dumb as it was.
"Jesus…" she said predictably. "Squish, what the hell?"
As if this would help.
"Do I have a fever?" she was getting anxious.
"Do you?" Mary was chill. "You could fry an egg on that thing."
Time to stop the jokes. Most definitely, because Brandi exploded.
"Mary, this isn't funny!" she burst, and the tears flooded like someone had turned a switch.
"Okay-okay…"
"I can't have a fever!" she rambled on. "I can't! What about the baby? Something could happen to him!"
"All right, all right…" Mary was fully intending to spring into action, but she was totally bewildered and wanted to get Brandi calmed down. "Brandi, this is insane. How could you spike a fever in fifteen minutes from a bin of fresh fruit?"
Mary picked up the plastic container off the table and gave it a sniff, just to confirm it hadn't been expired or gone bad but it seemed fine. How could it not be? Unfortunately, there were no slices left to investigate because Brandi had eaten them all. That made no sense either. If she'd been hurtling toward getting sick, why would she have wanted to devour the whole lot?
Unfortunately, she was making it impossible for Mary to think because she was bawling. Sam had toddled up to the couch to see what was going on, peering over the edge at his crying aunt.
"Wandi…" he bleated. "Wandi-Wandi…"
Beneath her confusion, Brandi managed to lean down and pick him up to sit beside her. She kissed his hair, dampening it with her tears, obviously in the hopes that it would make her feel better.
"This does not make any sense…" Mary said, more to herself than to Brandi.
Meanwhile, Sam was showing off his horse for about the billionth time, wanting Brandi to take an interest.
"He's a nice horsie…" she managed even though she was a little preoccupied.
Sam nodded, but said nothing.
"He's so fuzzy…" she continued.
Fuzzy. Fuzzy.
Click.
"Brandi…" Mary turned and the younger glanced up at her with watery orbs, looking more ill by the second. "Have you ever eaten kiwi before?"
Brandi swallowed, and it looked like it cost her an effort, alarming Mary a little further. More so when she shook her head.
"I don't think so…"
Mary was getting an idea, but she couldn't be sure.
"I wonder if you had an allergic reaction," she suggested. "I don't know what else it could be."
This, most unfortunately, did nothing to ease Brandi's mind. If anything, it made her worse.
"What?" she shouted hoarsely, knocking her hand into Sam when she gestured; he batted his eyes and crawled up, trying to yank her arm. "What's an allergic reaction going to do? I could've just killed my child!"
"Brandi!" Mary snapped, not going to let this escalate into her sister's usual theatrics. "You're not that hot," she insisted. "It's probably low-grade; they'll give you a shot of something and you'll be fine…"
"I'm not fine at all!" the younger completely ignored Mary's rationality and continued to fly into a tizzy. "I don't know what to do! How will I know what to do?"
"Squish, let's go…" Mary motored into action, snatching Sam from the couch. "I'll take you in."
She didn't know what made her offer, what made her decide she needed to be along for the ride. But as far as she knew, Peter was at work and so was everyone else. She'd have to call Marshall and tell him to hold down the fort at the office. Brandi was in no condition to drive all worked up.
Her sister calmed just slightly as she stood up, grateful to be taken care of but not entirely reassured.
"Where are you going to take me?" she gulped, like she was heading to the gallows.
Mary fought not to huff at this while she worked Sam into a jacket; he was squirming all over in the excitement. She debated for a moment on how casual to be, knowing her answer wasn't going to be something Brandi wanted to hear.
She shrugged, zipping Sam up, "To the hospital."
Another cascade of tears at this – just as Mary had anticipated. Her sister really was a drama queen sometimes, and she'd never quite grown out of her juvenility. She'd always seemed so much more than six years younger than Mary; it was still hard to believe she was going to be a mother.
"I'm so stupid…" she sobbed, fumbling her way to the door. "I always screw everything up…"
This was quite a dramatic take and Sam obviously thought so too; fortunately, he didn't seem bothered by the tears but merely curious. He was staring at Brandi with a large degree of interest as his mother finally decided a little bit of compassion was in order.
"Brandi…" she murmured calmly when her sister made it over to the threshold.
She stopped and looked up at Mary, wiping her eyes and sniffling. She was still warm, Mary could tell, and not feeling good either, even without all the emotion.
"Let me look at you…" Mary flexed her fingers against Brandi's throat, feeling to see if her glands were enlarged.
Her medical training was pretty minimal but she had vague recollections of knowing that in many allergic reactions – if that was indeed what this was – the throat or tongue swelled, which was the last thing they needed. Fortunately, Brandi's seemed to be of normal size.
"Okay Squish; you're not swollen which means your throat isn't closing up…" she hoped this would prompt relief. "That's a good thing," she added for good measure. "You said your stomach hurts; do you think you're gonna throw up?"
Mary opened the door as she said this, setting them out into the grey afternoon air, Sam's hair lifted by a light breeze. Mary was pleased to see Brandi shake her head.
"I don't think so…" she admitted. "But it's all cramped up…"
"Okay," Mary nodded, businesslike. "They'll figure you out at the hospital; we'll give Peter a call and I'll get Marshall to let him know I'm not coming in."
She opened the passenger door for her sister before she strapped Sam in the backseat, but apparently Brandi had more to voice.
"Mary, they make you wait forever at the hospital…" she moaned, one hand on the rearview mirror. "You'll never get to work if you wait with me…"
Strictly speaking, Mary hadn't said she would wait with Brandi but the younger one must've thought it was implied with the escort and the phone calls.
"Squish, I've got a badge," she waved this aside as of little importance. "And you're pregnant with a fever. If that doesn't expedite you, nothing will."
It was with this statement that the three of them finally loaded into the car and sped toward Mesa Regional, Mary shuffling with her hands-free device trying to call Peter and Marshall. Marshall was worried and wanted to meet them there but Mary talked him out of it; the presence of more people would only reinforce Brandi's idea that this was a disaster. Unfortunately, Peter wasn't answering his cell.
Once at the hospital, everything went smoothly, without a single hitch as Mary flashed her star at every turn and managed to get Brandi into a room with an actual door. The hurdle came in a form Mary had not been expecting.
"You can't take him in," a large woman in nurse's scrubs with a remarkably beefy neck informed Mary once they made it up to maternity, indicating Sam. "No minors allowed."
"What?" Mary wrinkled her nose in that expert way she did, one eye on Brandi through the sliver of glass in the door separating them. "He's a baby."
"He's a minor," fat-neck said again. "Are you about to tell me he's a very short eighteen?"
This woman really was a trip. Who did she think she was dealing with? Not the master-of-the-snark, that was for sure.
"What do you suggest I do with him?" Mary wanted to know, swinging Sam around on her hip; he was rotating a toy truck in hand.
"I suggest you stay in the waiting room with everyone else," she declared boldly.
Meaning she leave Brandi alone, which was out-of-the-question. Who knew what level on the Richter scale she would reach all cooped up by herself? Mary was the only one who could rationalize with her in situations like these, she told herself. With Peter out of the loop, it was an impossibility.
"Yeah, that's gonna happen," Mary scoffed with a great deal of sarcasm. "Look, I don't see what the conundrum is here," she said, using one of Marshall's words. "He doesn't do anything – he'll sit on my lap and chew his fingers…"
Blissfully, Sam chose the exact moment to do just that, handing the slobbery plastic truck to his mother.
"He might walk around the room a few times, or is stretching your legs against protocol too?" she snapped, anxious to get to Brandi who was in a gown and getting into bed.
"Do I need to call security?"
"I don't know if you got the memo…" Mary yanked the five-point-star from her belt and flashed it in chubby-neck's face. "But I kind of am security, in a matter of speaking. Still want to call or let me in to see my sister?"
The woman was visibly put-out and crossed her arms over her large middle, staring Mary down for a moment. But, Mary was well-trained in one-ups-manship and bored right back at her. After several moments, the nurse finally backed off, wordlessly throwing up her hands and retreating behind her desk. Mary took this to mean she was granted admittance and carted Sam off to the room, kissing his head as she did so.
"What kept you?" Brandi wanted to know when Mary entered with her nephew.
She was lying on her left side, one hand on her belly that lay beneath the billowy gown. The fabric was so large it concealed the bulge almost entirely. She was breathing a little harder than she would ordinarily, Mary suspected out of nerves, and there was still sweat beaded across her brow.
"Nurse Ratchet," Mary reported as she sat down at the bedside, settling Sam in her lap as promised.
As the words came out of her mouth, Mary noticed another nurse nearby at the sink. Although she definitely perked at hearing her colleague insulted, nary a phrase escaped and she turned from whatever she was doing with a dripping washcloth in hand.
She stepped to Brandi's front and it was apparent at once that she was kinder than her co-worker.
"Here sugar…" she said sweetly to Brandi. "Put this on your forehead; it might help your fever come down a little bit…"
Brandi was about to reach for the washcloth when Mary took it from the nurse and did it herself.
"I've got it," she said swiftly, adjusting it above Brandi's eyes with her free hand, the other gripping Sam. "Thanks."
The nurse smiled appreciatively and nodded.
"Someone will be in to get you sorted out soon," were her final words before she left the two sisters in peace.
And yet, once she was gone neither had much to say. Mary strongly suspected Sam would use the opportunity to fall asleep again, which meant it was going to be a long night for her and Marshall. He had already rested his head in the crook of his mother's arm while she stretched to mop Brandi's brow.
"Is it too cold?" Mary made mindless conversation.
"No," Brandi said blankly. "It's fine."
She'd chilled out a little bit and stopped crying, mostly since she hadn't had anyone to cry at with Mary in the hall. But the older sister could tell she was still a bundle of anxiety and although there was every reason to believe nothing had gone wrong in terms of the baby, Mary couldn't help thinking this would be of little assistance to Brandi.
"Mary, I'm scared," she whispered suddenly.
To be expected and not-at-all surprising when it came to Brandi – as was the admission right out loud with no shame, something Mary would never do.
"I know," was all she could think of to say as she pulled the washcloth away; all she was succeeding in doing was making Brandi's hair wet. "But we don't know anything yet, so there's no point jumping to conclusions."
Brandi sighed, looking uncomfortable now as well as unhealthy.
"Where is Peter?" she mused, not exactly to Mary; more to thin air.
"I couldn't reach him," she answered anyway.
"He's probably in a meeting," Brandi offered.
Mary didn't know what to say or what to do. She'd never been good with compassion, and it still made her uneasy. All she could do was nuzzle up with Sam and try to keep him awake as a form of entertainment. Nearby, she spotted a set of surgical gloves shoved haphazardly into a bin on the wall. Like the infantile person she could sometimes be, she snatched them.
"Check this out Smush…" she made sure he was secure on her knee before she tossed the spare glove onto the bed and set about inflating the other like a balloon.
"Mary…" Brandi sighed warningly, as though this was not the moment.
"You got something better to pass the time; be my guest," Mary told her shortly between breaths. "Look Sam; it's like a water wing…" she waggled it in front of his face, pinching the top so she wouldn't let the air out.
"If a water wing had spikes or something…" Brandi joked poorly, referring to the five-finger slots.
"Or a blimp, like you," Mary teased lightly. "A miniature Hindenburg."
Brandi tried to smile while Sam began to bat at the glove with his little fingers, trying to stick his nail through the latex and reach the other side. More air was being let out the longer he swatted, and Mary whipped the hair tie off her wrist to seal it up.
"Balloon," she told her son distinctly. "Say it – balloon."
He didn't – he never did when Mary asked. He merely giggled and smacked, which made Mary laugh too. Once, she let her guard down and loosened her grip. He sent the homemade inflatable flying into Brandi, who had elbowed up a little on her pillow.
"Whoa!" she played along briefly. "You might be a volleyball star, Sammy boy."
Sam gurgled appreciatively, not knowing what she meant but enjoying the attention.
"Volleyball's for sissies," Mary decided as Brandi tossed the glove back to Sam.
"You would say that," her sister sighed, but Mary was pleased to see she was grinning. "What sport isn't for sissies?"
"I don't know," Mary shrugged, keeping the glove away from Sam by keeping it afloat with her hands, batting it back and forth above his head so that his eyes scanned the air. "Prize-fighting?"
She let Sam get at it and together they bounced it back to Brandi. She concealed it beneath the blanket they'd thrown over her, hiding it from view.
"Where'd it go Sammy?" she asked mysteriously. "It's gone!"
Sam looked appropriately worried, unable to visualize what had happened to his toy, his big eyes sad and sorrowful. Mary hoped he might speak up if he wanted it badly enough, as she was so ridiculously concerned with his vocal skills.
However, all he did was look up at her as if she could explain it. She gave him a comical shrug in return.
With a flourish, Brandi made the glove reappear; her mouth in a gaping smile.
"I found it!"
Sam grinned, "Yay Wandi!"
Mary might've known he'd save the words for his aunt. It was not uncommon in their world. But instead of continuing to play with Sam, Mary was startled to see Brandi's eyes fill up with tears again – her lids squeezing shut, the presence of the flush in her cheeks more heightened. And yet Mary knew it wasn't pain or unwell that was causing the bout of emotion.
She took the inflated glove from the bed and handed it to Sam.
"Here…" she lifted him down off her lap. "Play with that."
Happy to have the balloon to himself, Sam did as told while Mary did what she could to tend to Brandi. They'd been doing so well; her distraction had worked wonders. What now?
"Squish, what?" she whispered evenly, leaning her chin in her hand on her knee to listen.
Brandi just shook her head, brushing the tears away from her feverish skin. She knew Mary hated dealing with episodes like this.
"Come on…" Mary sighed, trying to be casual. "Just tell me."
But she didn't really have to tell her. She knew what it was, at least in part. Brandi had never been very good at keeping herself in check when she was upset.
"I want one…"
Sam. But Mary played dumb.
"You'll have one," Mary assumed. "If you can stand to wait four more months."
"Mary…" she nudged herself up even further, so she was resting against the back of the bed only half-upright, but they could see one another better. "You don't know that…"
"There's not any reason to think otherwise," Mary decided swiftly.
"There's every reason," Brandi moaned, shedding a few more tears. "I could've made him – her, whatever – sick. I could've caused something bad to happen…"
"Brandi, you didn't mean to eat the stupid kiwi," Mary rationalized, doing her best to keep up her old annoyance. "Well, you might've meant to but you didn't know what was going to happen…" she reminded her. "You're not the world's-leading expert on pregnancy and produce or anything."
"Not like I had a lot growing up," Brandi muttered unexpectedly, thinking of how Jinx had-had to tell her there was a difference between lemons and limes.
Mary forced herself to laugh at this comment, not knowing where it had come from but finding it difficult to disagree.
"I'm just saying, don't go and lose it…" Mary advised. "It's not going to help anything…"
Her words were cut short by a sharp knock on the door, but whoever it was could obviously see through the tiny window and came in without invitation. The visitor turned out to be a male physician, which puzzled Mary since she knew Brandi's OBGYN was a woman.
"Brandi Alpert?" he inquired from his clipboard, pulling a pen from the pocket of his lab coat.
Brandi nodded with a swallow, "Yes."
Seeing the unfamiliar face Sam started to whimper and, as Brandi was occupied and too high up, he toddled back to his mother, pulling on her legs and wanting to be picked up. The doctor shot her a look at his presence; clearly, he disapproved as did his desk nurse.
"Get up here Smush…" Mary reached and hoisted him up around the waist, putting him back on her lap.
Perhaps as a nervous habit, he began to chew his fingers again and continued to look fearful.
"Brandi Alpert…" the man referred back to his trusty clipboard without comment. "Age thirty-six, twenty-two weeks pregnant…" he was flipping now. "Suffered possible allergic reaction to…?" Mary didn't miss him raise a skeptical eyebrow at what came next. "Kiwi?"
"Well…" Brandi hedged and became suddenly shy. "I mean…it might've been the kiwi…" she fumbled. "I'm not really sure…"
Obviously, the presence of the stranger was throwing her off as much as it was Sam, who was becoming louder the more agitated he got. Mary patted him on the back in hopes that he would hush.
"When did you start experiencing symptoms?" the doctor cut across her, not noticing the plight.
"Sam, be quiet…"
"This afternoon…"
"You don't know what time?"
"Sam, put a lid on it…!" Mary hissed when he began to moan through his fingers.
"Well, not exactly…"
"I'm sorry…" the doctor finally interrupted, and it was clear he was annoyed when he turned straight to Mary and her noisy child. "Is there any possibility we could do this without the infant present?"
Mary balked and shot him her best glare.
"Do you have a better place to put 'the infant?'" she didn't care for that term. "Tell me you don't suggest Nurse Sunshine out there."
"Mary, please don't," Brandi muttered shortly, knowing exactly how her sister could be with people who had a chip on their shoulder.
Mary was startled, and more than just a little put-out that Brandi was not being grateful when she was here sitting with her, bumming off work and the rest of her afternoon to find out what was going on. The only way to counteract her feelings was to stick up for her sister when Brandi would not.
"Where is her OBGYN?" Mary wanted to know as she stood up, bouncing Sam to quiet him. "Isn't this a pregnancy-related issue?"
"I'm the on-call doctor," he informed her snidely. "I'll assess the fever and any other adjoining symptoms. She's lucky, her OBGYN just finished a delivery and will be down in due time to do an ultrasound."
"In 'due time,'" Mary scoffed, knowing this could be anywhere from three minutes to three hours. "What part of this do you consider lucky?" she reflected on his other words.
"Getting you to the hall would be first on my list," he offered with a pompous smirk.
Mary was ready to hit him, but quickly talked herself down with Sam in her arms, although he was really asking for it. Still, she knew she'd pushed it once already with her son in the exam room and figured it would probably be better to try and get a hold of Peter again, whether Brandi wanted her gone or not.
Hating herself for backing down, "I'll see if I can get Peter," she informed Brandi. "Sit tight. Don't freak out."
Not exactly words of wisdom, and the look on Brandi's face certainly indicated this, but she knew as well as Mary they weren't going to get anywhere else.
Once in the hall and seated on a particularly hard couch, Mary allowed Sam to suck on her fingers to soothe his aching back teeth, and dialed Peter's cell again. When she didn't get an answer, she phoned information to get the number for the Autoplex. One of his salesmen informed her that their boss was, indeed, in a meeting and would be back at four o'clock. It was 3:30 and a half hour seemed like an eternity right now.
Then, because she was bored and knew she would not be allowed in now that she'd been booted, she called Marshall back. She'd just seen Brandi's OBGYN enter to do the ultrasound.
"How's Brandi?" her husband asked as soon as he picked up. "They figure out what's up?"
"I don't know," Mary reported unhelpfully, her fingers growing numb and increasingly wet the longer Sam gnawed. "They kicked me out because of Sam."
"I thought that might happen," Marshall told her. "Kids and the infections they carry."
"Something like that," Mary grumbled. "But still, who knows what Brandi's doing in there without me; she could be getting totally manic…"
"Mare, she's a big girl," Marshall reminded her gently. "She'll be all right, regardless of what happens."
Mary wasn't sure this was true – she never was when it came to Brandi – but she didn't feel up to arguing and sighed, debating whether to fight Sam for her hand instead.
"If you think it's gonna be awhile," Marshall was saying. "I can come down there and get Sam – Stan will understand."
"No…" Mary shook her head even though Marshall could not see her. "They just went in to do the ultrasound a few minutes ago, so they should be wrapping up."
A silence fell between them – an uncomfortable one at that – which was pretty unusual when it came to Mary and Marshall. Silences were often a welcome change. Mary tried to pull her fingers loose to chew on one of her nails as she always did when she was nervous, but remembered Sam. He whined with the yank and she was forced to let him continue drooling all over her.
"She's gonna be fine, babe," Marshall finally said, knowing what she was thinking. "No matter what, she'll be okay."
Still, Mary did not relish another blow to Brandi's existence. She was finally getting things worked out and on-track – ever since she'd married Peter – but this could send her straight back into a spiral if something had gone wrong. Mary didn't have enough knowledge of babies in utero and allergic reactions, but she liked to think that if such a thing were nipped in the bud properly, no lasting damage would be done.
"I should go back in there," Mary completely ignored Marshall, standing and palming Sam to make her march; she had a feeling the OBGYN would be more tolerant.
She heard the tiniest of sighs escape Marshall before, "If you want. I should be home soon; bring Brandi back here if she needs some time to wind down."
"Sure," but Mary was already halfway to the door before she hung up without saying goodbye.
Her skin was on high alert as she pushed her way back inside, but the minute she hit the confines of the room, she felt relief wash over her in a giant cascading and cleansing wave. The place was filled with the sounds of what was unmistakably a steady, swift and strong beating heart. Mary recognized the telltale whom-whom-whom from her own pregnancy, and didn't realize until this moment how good it made you feel. To know that the little being that lived within was doing its part to make it out one day.
As if she needed confirmation, Brandi turned at the sound of the door and the tears of despair that had been in her eyes not long before had washed away to make room for tears of joy. Mary couldn't help it; she smiled too.
"Mary…!" she exclaimed throatily, her blissful theatrics almost as finely tuned as her melancholy ones. "Everything's okay! He…" Brandi swallowed. "Or she, whatever…" for the third time. "…Is fine! See?"
Mary did see. Seriously, how could she miss it? She stepped closer to the bed, watching Brandi's doctor direct the wand across her belly to get the reading. The tiny figure of the unborn baby swished back and forth on the screen, providing all the confirmation needed.
Slowly, the elder sister placed a hand on the younger's shoulder.
"I'm glad, Squish."
The doctor looked up at the sound of the second voice, which prompted Brandi to make introductions.
"Sorry…" she laughed a little drunkenly. "This is my sister, Mary."
"Doctor Kerwin," she greeted with a kind smile. "Everything's looking good in here. Sounds like you were the one who made the kiwi assessment," she joked, directed at Mary.
"A lucky guess," Mary offered modestly without taking her hand off Brandi's shoulder.
"Well, right-on-the-money, in any case," the doctor praised. "Our patient here still has a low-grade fever but we gave her an injection to wipe out the rest," she explained. "Within a couple hours she should be back to normal, and this little one is even better."
Brandi was clearly beside herself with joy, but couldn't stop crying and it was obvious the symptoms had not completely died. Mary could tell just from having the hand on her shoulder that she was still warm; she was going to crash out quick once they got in the car.
"I would like someone keeping a watch on her tonight…" Doctor Kerwin went on from her spot at the bottom of the bed. "Just as a precaution…"
Mary knew she was about to suggest that she do it, when Brandi spoke up.
"Oh, my husband will be home tonight," she voiced. "Mare, did you get a hold of him?" she asked, turning to stare up at her sister. "I don't want him to worry…"
"No," she shook her head. "He was in a meeting, but he'll be out soon," she told her. "Marshall sends his love, though."
Brandi's smile, if possible, only stretched wider. Mary knew it was not only for her brother-in-law's sweet words, but for the fact that Mary had thought to share them.
"You know Brandi…" Doctor Kerwin went on pleasantly. "While we're all set up here, I may be able to let you know the sex if you're interested."
Brandi cooled out a little in the presence of a question she'd obviously not anticipated. Mary remembered her own appointment when she'd found out Baby Shannon was a boy; she wasn't even supposed to have gone to the doctor, but Marshall had forced her after the first round of Braxton Hicks in Kansas. On a whim and wanting to please him, she'd asked and gotten her answer.
"You can tell already?" Brandi wanted to know, wiping up a little under her eyes while the doctor finished with the ultrasound and began to unhook.
"Sometimes it's still a little early," she admitted, Brandi elbowing herself up to listen. "But I got a good read. What do you say?"
As though he knew his mother was recalling his own time in the womb, Sam gurgled loudly behind his fingers and Mary decided to use the opportunity for what it was.
"Yeah Squish," she goaded. "Smush here says it's a go. Trash the whole 'him-her-whatever' bit and get it verified."
But Brandi, while not known for her patience, was known for the joy of silly, childish surprises, and she shook her head.
"I don't think so," she said with a grin. "Besides, even if I did want to – Peter's not here," she continued thoughtfully. "But, I don't. I'd rather it was a surprise."
"Fair enough," Doctor Kerwin nodded her approval, winding up her equipment while Mary opted to go on nagging Brandi now that they were out of the woods.
"Come on, Squish," she turned remarkably whiny, Brandi pulling her gown down now that the ultrasound was complete. "I gotta know if Smush's buddy is gonna be little miss or little mister."
Brandi was chuckling, but it was actually the doctor's chortling that got Mary's attention. She turned to see what this was about, and fortunately didn't have to wait.
"I let this one go the first time…" she articulated with a very amused grin, glancing up at Mary. "Smush?" eying the little boy.
Mary wanted to be irritated, as she had been with another doctor and nurse already that afternoon, but she recognized the sincerity in this woman. Regardless, hearing 'Squish' and 'Smush' twice on top of one another would be a little confusing.
"His name is Sam," the older Shannon told the good doctor. "Smush is just a…"
"Very odd and completely unnecessary generational nickname of some kind…" Brandi interrupted, and Mary rolled her eyes.
"Well, not exactly my business," Doctor Kerwin admitted, halfway to the door. "But I was curious. How old is he?" she nodded at Sam.
"Fifteen months," Mary reported, trying not to sound too overly proud as she rumpled up Sam's hair. "Not much of a talker…" she tacked on as though to compensate, bouncing her boy as if to say she loved him anyway.
"Ah…" she waved a no-nonsense hand, the other on the knob. "Give him something to talk about, and you'll hear him."
Mary let out a reluctant smile as she digested that, and although Marshall often told her the exact same thing, it was a comfort to hear it from a professional. Brandi wasn't the only one getting her mind put at ease today.
"You can get dressed, Brandi," the professional herself instructed. "I'll get your discharge papers and get you out of here – just make sure you come back in if any of those symptoms stick around."
Brandi voiced her recognition and understanding of the directions and gathered her clothes from the end of the bed, shuffling off to the adjoining bathroom to put them back on. With her gone and Mary's arms becoming sore from hanging onto squirmy, drooly Sam, she used the absence of her sister to let her son occupy the bed and crawl around in the covers.
Brandi returned quickly, obviously ready to get on the road and be home with her husband, who had been blissfully unaware of the small scare the entire time. Mary could safely say she was about ready for the same – she was looking forward to seeing Marshall, although felt badly she'd bailed on he and Stan for the afternoon, even if it couldn't have been helped.
Brandi walked around to Mary's side of the bed and sat on the edge while Mary occupied the chair, fooling with her phone. Sam had nudged himself next to his aunt, watching her put her things in her purse.
"Brandi, Marshall said we should stop back by the house if you're feeling up to it," the older sister recalled vaguely, not looking at her. "We ever get a hold of Peter sometime in this century; Marshall can do dinner for four."
"Five," Brandi corrected deviously, eyeing her in the ornery way she sometimes did. "Don't forget Sammy boy," she patted his head.
But 'Sammy boy' was distracted; practically forcing himself into Brandi's lap, but it was his increased interest in her belly that Mary noticed. She furrowed her brow at the way his hands combed along the side, eyes just inches from the bulge.
"You turn into a dog, bud?" his mother mused; he was nearly sniffing his aunt, and Brandi was giggling.
But the giggles turned abruptly into a quick, startled gasp, issuing from Brandi's throat out of nowhere. One hand jumped to her stomach, unintentionally shoving Sam's aside.
"Oh my God…" she breathed, eyes distant and away from her sister's.
"What?" Mary sat up instantly, abandoning her phone. "What's wrong?" she just assumed.
It took Brandi a moment, Mary growing more impatient by the second, Sam waiting expectantly, until the answer came.
"Mary…"
And the laughs returned – booming and joyous and full of unrivaled delight.
"It's kicking!" she declared. "The baby's kicking!"
Mary might've known Brandi would take this ordinary event as some sort of phenomenon, marveling and basking in its wonder that would persist in excess for the remaining four months. It was really the timing that perplexed the more cynical of the sisters, not to mention Sam's – what was it? – intuition that such a thing was going to happen seconds before it did.
"No way…" Mary was disbelieving and wasn't about to stick a hand on Brandi's belly, and so left the job to Sam. "Get a second opinion on that for me sheriff…"
Leaning in her chair, she took Sam's chubby fingers – the ones he'd not been chewing on – and held them to the side of Brandi's stomach, right next to where his aunt's already resided.
There was no mistake with Sam on it as well. He cackled with laughter at the sensation and wiggled his hand free of his mother's, like it was too much all at once, like such a thing couldn't possibly be.
"Sammy, that's your cousin…" Brandi told him, and she was the one who guided him back to feel again without letting go of his wrist. "Feels like butterflies, doesn't it?" she pondered. "Teeny-tiny feet…"
"Guess that kiwi woke him up," Mary decided, putting an uncharacteristically positive spin on it.
"Or she…" Brandi teased, recalling how Mary had poked fun at her before, blue eyes meeting green. "Whatever."
Mary sat back then as she watched her son with the strangest sense of awe on his face at feeling the unborn toes of Brandi's child announcing their presence, his blue eyes bright and full of curiosity. She saw Brandi whispering softly to him, telling him what lay ahead, rejuvenated with all being right with the world once more.
And Mary realized, not for the first time, what a gift they really had kept protected that day.
"That's a baby…" Brandi murmured. "Baby…"
"Wandi, baby," Sam actually repeated, something he almost never did.
"You're so smart, my Sammy boy…" Brandi laid a smooch on his soft, flyaway molasses waves. "I hope your new cousin is just like you."
A/N: Blah, I don't know if this was any good or not LOL! I wish, for such a long chapter, that it had a little more meaning. It seems random. Later, when Sam reaches about five years old; all the chapters are long but I also think they're better. Anyway, probably no need to jabber like this but thank-you so much for reviewing and I hope you'll continue to do so even if this one was sub-par!