Part Thirty-three
Sydney reaches for her husband when she wakes up the next morning, only to find herself reaching for empty space. "Michael," she groans, opening her eyes to find his side of the bed empty. She fumbles for her nightgown, which is tangled up with the sheets, and has just managed to pull it over her head when Michael appears with Grace.
"Angel girl," Sydney says with a grin, reaching out for her daughter. Michael hands the smiling baby to her, then joins them in bed. "How's Gracie this morning? How's Mommy's little girl?" Sydney coos, brushing her daughter's hair back from her face.
"Full and happy," Michael reports. "I just gave her her breakfast."
"Why didn't I hear her wake up?" Sydney asks with a frown.
"You were out cold," Michael tells her, kissing her forehead fondly. "Besides, I was already up."
"I can't believe you didn't sleep later after last night," Sydney murmurs. A glance at the clock by the bed tells her that it is seven a.m. "Seriously, Michael…"
He kisses her gently. "You were so--" she watches as he searches for the right word, finally settling for, "Incredible."
"Not as incredible as you," she responds silkily, planting a light kiss on his neck.
"Want to put the kid back to bed?" he asks, his voice low. "See if I can--"
"Morning!" Emily chirps, flying through the open door and landing on the bed. "Ooh, Gracie's up! Has she had her breakfast? Did she have a bottle or baby food? Can I feed her breakfast?"
"You can help feed her something later," Sydney promises. Usually, she finds it exhausting, how cheerful Emily is first thing in the morning, but today she's just happy that her daughter doesn't seem to be dwelling on what happened at Kerri's house.
"At Grammy's?" Emily asks, eyes lighting up. "We're going to see Grammy today, aren't we?"
"We sure are, sweetheart," Sydney tells her. "And you didn't have a bath last night, little miss, so Mommy's going to give you one now, okay?"
"And then can I put on my green dress with the froggies on it? Did we bring my green dress with the froggies?"
"We did," Sydney confirms. "And of course you can wear it." She hands Grace to Michael. "Take this one," she tells him. "Get her dressed. The lime green dress, okay?"
"With the watermelon on it?"
"No, that one's yellow. Never mind, I'll do it after Em's ready." Sydney swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands, throwing a robe on over her nightgown. "Don't worry about getting Jack up till Em's out of the tub, and then he'll need a bath, too."
"Oh, hey, my mom called." Michael and Grace follow Sydney and Emily to the bathroom, where Sydney begins running the water.
"Already?"
"Why do you think I woke up so early?"
"She always did have great timing." Sydney rolls her eyes as she tests the water.
"Grammy called?" Emily chirps.
"Yes, princess. Anyway, Syd, she--"
"Why didn't you let me talk?" Emily persists.
"Because you were asleep. So--"
"Michael, can you tell me later?" Sydney asks, dropping a kiss on his cheek. "Be a darling and go get Emily's dress with the frogs on it. It's in her pink suitcase, don't wake up Jack when you get it out of their room. And the dress might need ironed."
Sydney bathes Emily in record time, most of which Emily spends singing her ABC's at the top of her lungs; she wraps her in a towel and nearly bumps into Michael on her way out of the bathroom. He's holding a dress in one hand.
"In what universe are those frogs?" Sydney asks exasperatedly.
"It's green."
"The turtles are green, the dress is pink. Do you want to wear your turtle dress, Emily?"
"No."
"I didn't think so. Never mind, Michael. Get Jack up and run his bath."
"Okay, but before I forget," Michael says, following them to Jack and Emily's room, where Sydney begins rifling through Emily's suitcase.
"Rise and shine, Jackie!" Emily shrieks, pouncing on the bed. Of course her hair is still wet, and of course water flies everywhere.
"Emily," Sydney winces.
"He had to get up anyway," Michael points out with a smile. "Anyway, Mom called and she says she's making those veggie kabob things--"
"She actually said veggie kabob things?" Sydney asks with a smile. "See? Green. Frogs," she says, waving the dress in front of him.
"Got it," Michael rolls his eyes. "Anyway, so she's making those veggie kabob things you made two years ago for the fourth of July barbecue, and she wants us to stop and pick up a squash on our way over to her place. She said you'd know what kind."
"Em," Jack groans. "Let me go back to sleep."
"No, sweetheart, you need to get up and take a bath," Sydney tells him. "What about eggplant?"
"What?" Michael asks, perplexed.
"Did she remember to get eggplant for the kabobs?"
"I didn't ask about eggplant."
"Call her back and ask if she has eggplant. No, don't worry about it, we'll just pick one up anyway, I'm sure she'll be able to use it even if she already has one."
"Right," Michael says, looking at her as if she has suddenly sprouted another head. "Because we all know how often the average person cooks with eggplant."
Sydney cracks a smile. "Not as often as they should, probably," she jokes, giving him a quick kiss. "Start Jack's bath for him. Please. God, Emily, you're getting water everywhere."
A few hours later, they are at Marguerite's door, clean, dressed, and bearing a shopping bag containing yellow squash, eggplant, and a lemon meringue pie Sydney thought they could have for dessert. Marguerite is thrilled to see them, of course, and she greets the children enthusiastically, immediately taking "the little beautiful one" from Sydney's arms.
"And you brought the squash," she says happily, noting the shopping bag in Michael's arms.
"And dessert," Michael adds. "And eggplant."
"Oh, good, I forgot to buy one of those," Marguerite says, and Michael rolls his eyes. "Michael, darling, be a dear and take the groceries to the kitchen. And could you start the grill for me? I just bought the thing and haven't a clue how to work it. Sydney," she says, turning to smile at her daughter-in-law. "Oh, you look so pretty, darling. How's the new little one treating you?" she asks, placing a perfectly manicured hand on Sydney's stomach. Sydney would have felt weird if her father had done the same; when Marguerite does it, it feels strangely natural.
"So far, so good," Sydney tells her.
"His name is Sam, Grammy," Emily tells her, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.
"Well, look at you," Marguerite says, turning her attention to her oldest granddaughter. "Bouncing up and down like the froggies on your dress. Whose name is Sam, sweetheart?"
"The new baby!"
"We don't know yet if it's going to be a boy, of course," Sydney assures her.
"And if it's a girl," Michael adds, returning from the balcony of Marguerite's apartment, where the grill is located. "We thought we'd call her Maggie. For Marguerite."
Marguerite's mouth drops open. She closes it, and her eyes fill with tears.
"It was Sydney's idea," Michael tells her.
"Well, I'm-- I'm very touched," Marguerite says with a tearful smile. "Thank you, Sydney. Both of you."
Emily looks troubled. "I want it to be a boy, though."
Marguerite laughs. "Well, if it is, then that's just fine! You'll have a handsome little brother named Sam. Come with me, sweetheart, Grandma's got a little surprise for you. You too, Jack."
"Mom, you don't have to give them presents every time you see them," Michael chides.
"But I see them so seldom, since you moved them all the way across the country," Marguerite says innocently.
"Mom--"
The doorbell rings at the exact second the word comes out of his mouth.
"Get that, will you, darling?" Marguerite asks sweetly.
"Who are you expecting?" Michael asks with a frown.
"I ran into-- oh, just get the door. Don't leave the poor man standing out there all day," Marguerite says, waving her hand dismissively as she hurries off with the children.
"Who would she have invited?" Michael asks, bewildered.
"I don't know, darling," Sydney teases. "But don't let the poor man stand out there all day."
Michael rolls his eyes and moves to answer the door. Sydney is about to go to the kitchen to start chopping up the squash and eggplant when she hears Michael greet Marguerite's guest.
"Jack. This is a surprise."
