AUTHOR'S NOTE: I struggle to get this updated in a timely fashion, so if you don't want to wait for the next chapter, please read this series on AO3. I'm in Part III already, approaching the cylon apocalypse soon. There are also other stories under my profile SDHuskerfan.
Squish. Giggle. Sigh.
The technician uses the sonogram wand to carefully spread the warm gel over Laura's belly. It's a sensation she still hasn't gotten used to, first the sound, then the goo as it hits her skin and tickles slightly. Bill holds her hand as they both gaze at the monitor waiting for the image of their baby to appear.
"There he is," the technician states, snapping a few stills on the monitor.
"HE?!" both Laura and Bill say in unison.
"No, sorry. 'He' in the generic sense. You don't want to know sex, right?" she asks.
Laura pries her eyes off the monitor to look at Bill. "I've been thinking about that," she begins. "If we know sex, then it makes it easier to shop for clothes and decorate the baby room. What do you think?"
"I'd kind of like to know, but I can wait, too. I'm okay with whatever you decide." His index finger traces down her cheek as he watches her contemplate her decision. He loves watching her think, observing the expression on her face as her brain works through different scenarios before making a decision. After several seconds, she looks up at him with a huge smile.
"I want to know," she announces.
"Me, too," he agrees.
"Do you want to know right now, or do you want me to put it in an envelope for a gender reveal party at a later date?"
"Now that I've made up my mind, I don't think I can wait. What do you think, Bill?"
"Now. Definitely now. Do you know already?" he asks the technician.
"I do. There is still a small margin of error with these things. Sometimes the quality of the image isn't as clear as it should be and that can lead to a misinterpretation, but 98 to 99 percent of the time we are correct."
"Is the image clear?" Laura asks.
"One of the clearest I've ever seen," the sonographer smiles.
Laura's hand grips Bill's as they wait to hear if it's a boy or a girl.
"AND?" they both ask together.
Piles of photographs are scattered along the top of Sandra's desk. Some have dropped to the floor while several more lay on her bed. One of the big assignments in her intermediate drawing class next semester is to draw a portrait of a family member. It's still winter break, but she knows this decision will be a difficult one for her and she doesn't want to spend precious time during the semester trying to make up her mind which photo to base the portrait from. While she considered drawing her father, she likes the idea of sketching her mother again. She feels she can improve upon what she had done for Cheryl's fourth birthday, and it also gives her the opportunity to reminisce about her mother and remember details of her face as she puts her pencils to paper. Sketching people feels intimate to her, because to really capture someone's face, she must delve into the psyche of the person and translate their three-dimensional personality onto a two-dimensional piece of paper. It's not an easy thing to do, but if she is successful, it provides a creative high and a feeling of immense satisfaction.
The assignment has the requirement that the sketch must display emotion. Whether that's happiness, sorrow, anger, excitement, or something else is up to the artist. Happiness tends to be the most popular choice of students since most photos are posed and, therefore, show someone smiling. But why go with the status quo? If she wants to make her mark as an artist, she must expand herself and explore beyond what's expected.
There are plenty of pictures of her mother smiling, laughing, making funny faces for the camera, hamming it up. There are a few more serious ones, taken while she was preparing lesson plans or grading homework or leading a PTA meeting. The one where she's angry was taken by a reporter for a local newspaper when her mother had a confrontation with a government official about poor teacher pay and the possibility of a teacher's strike. Then there are the sad ones – taken the final year of her life as the light in her eyes grew dimmer with each passing day. A slow death, a shell of the person she once was. Her mother had put a brave smile on her face in those photos, but her eyes give it away. Those windows to her soul were almost closed and staring at these pictures now is depressing. That's not how she wants to remember her. Her mother had accepted her fate and was waiting for death to come to her. There was no fight left in her body nor her soul. No, those photos are not her mother.
A picture laying on the floor draws Sandra's attention. It's one she snapped herself, so she has a special connection to it. Her mother wasn't even aware that she took it. It was supposed to be a night of celebration and that is how her mother played it, but she was hiding a dark secret, not wanting to upset her family. They were out to eat at their favorite restaurant, and everyone was cheerful, laughing, even singing along to the jukebox playing old music that reminded her parents of their college years. Sandra had snapped the photo as her mother watched Laura pick Cheryl up and dance around the table with her. There's a loving smile on her face, but a deep sorrow in her eyes, a dichotomy nobody noticed that night as they danced and laughed in innocence. Her mother sat and observed everyone like she was trying to commit the emotions and dynamics of the evening to memory. It was the last night of pure happiness they all had together before the universe decided to be cruel. Sandra lived one life up through that night, then another life starting the next day. Even now it's hard for her to reconcile the before with the after.
This is the photo, she decides.
"Laurie, Bill, what brings you by? I thought you two would be out shopping for baby things today," Dave cheerfully greets them as he stands aside so they can enter the house.
"We got a little sidetracked," Laura says, both her and Bill beaming from ear to ear. "Are Cheryl and Sandra here? We have something we'd like to share with everyone."
Cheryl hears her name mentioned while she's in the kitchen making herself a large peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She hops down from the island and runs toward Bill who catches her as she jumps into his arms. "Did you bring presents?" she asks, staring at the shopping bag in her sister's hand.
"Kind of," she replies as Sandra emerges from her room. "Good, we're all here. We have baby pictures to share." Reaching into the bag she pulls out three identical ultrasound photos of their baby. They are inside of magnetized frames that can easily be hung on a refrigerator or set on a desk if the kickstand in the back is pulled into place.
"You can actually see the hands and little fingers," Sandra coos, looking misty-eyed.
"It's kind of weird looking but I guess it does look like a baby," Cheryl observes, her mind working on analyzing the various parts of the image.
"One other thing," Laura says looking at Bill.
"We're having a girl!" they both exclaim.
Laura notices her father staring at the ultrasound with a proud smile on his face. "Your granddaughter, daddy. Another girl in the family! You were probably hoping for a boy, weren't you?"
"A healthy baby is what I'm hoping for. I'm assuming you had a good report from the doctor? Both you and baby are fine?"
"Yes, we are both doing great! Her heart is strong, no complications."
"Glad to hear it," he says giving her a big hug. "You both look really happy."
"We're going to see Bill's parents to give them the news, so we need to get going. But enjoy the photos."
"Would you happen to have a spare?" Dave asks.
"Of course! We had two dozen of these made and placed in the frames at the photo store. Is one enough?" Bill asks.
"Yes. I thought I'd give one to JJ, unless you were already planning to stop by the restaurant."
"If you want to give her the news, we'd be happy to let you," Laura says giving Sandra a subtle glance.
"Please give her our love and let her know we'll be making a reservation soon," Bill says noticing the nonverbal exchange between his wife and Sandra.
"Bye, bye, baby," Cheryl says when Bill sets her down. She gives Laura's belly a quick kiss. "I think Cheryl is a good name for her, don't you?"
"Cheryl is a beautiful name, but I think our family can only handle having one Cheryl," Laura replies mussing up her littlest sister's hair.
"I suppose," she sighs disappointedly.
"Lieutenant Cheryl, I have an idea," Bill says. "Your niece is going to need a call sign. I would like for you to think of at least a dozen possibilities and report back to me in a week."
After snapping off a salute and replying, "Yes, sir!", she returns to her sandwich in the kitchen.
"See you in a few days for family dinner?" Laura asks before they head out the door.
"Looking forward to it. You look beautiful, Laurie," Dave says giving her another quick hug.
"Bye, daddy. Bye, Sandra. See you in a few days, Cher," Laura calls out before they leave.
After locking the door behind them, Dave turns to see Sandra staring at him with a wistful gaze. "Can I have a hug?"
"Sure sweetheart, you never have to ask me that," he replies, quickly pulling her into his arms. "Is something wrong?"
With her face resting on his shoulder, she takes a few deep breaths. "No, I was going through some pictures of momma for an art project before Laurie and Bill got here. And now I have this photo of this beautiful baby that they're having, and I know what it's like to feel really happy and really sad at the same time. Do you still get sad when you think of her?"
"Everyday."
"Me, too," Cheryl says hugging Sandra's waist. "Can I see the pictures of mommy you were looking at?"
"Did you finish that sandwich already?" she asks, surprised her sister can eat that fast.
"I was hungry."
Sandra can tell her father is smiling without even looking at him. "Tell you what. Let me organize the pictures, and then I'll come and get you when I'm ready." She turns her mouth to her father's ear and whispers, "Some of them are from mom's last year."
Dave releases Sandra, then picks Cheryl up in his arms. "How about some ice cream while your sister does that? You have peanut butter all over your face," he says setting her down and playfully swatting her butt.
She stands in front of both her father and sister with her tongue hanging out, trying to lick the peanut butter from her face. A roll of Dave's eyes causes Sandra to smirk.
"Try using a napkin, young lady. You look like a zoo animal," her father states as he fights to keep a straight face.
After she runs back to the kitchen, Sandra lets out a loud snicker, unable to contain her laughter at seeing her little sister try to lick her face clean. "Laurie's right. We can only handle one Cheryl."
When the most recent photos of her mother are stashed safely away and the rest hastily sorted into piles on her desk, Sandra finds her sister sitting on the kitchen island finishing up a bowl of ice cream with her father. Cheryl is giggling at him as he demonstrates what she looked like earlier trying to lick the food from her face.
"That's how silly you looked!" he teases, repeating the process of sticking his tongue out as far as it will go and licking his face.
"Stop it, daddy," she giggles. "I'm going to get the hiccups!"
"Then I'll just have to scare them out of you!" he exclaims, suddenly grabbing her into a big bear hug and tickling her.
Cheryl squeals at him and tries to tickle him back, but he's just too big and strong for her. She finally goes almost limp, giggling so hard she can barely speak.
Hiccup.
This makes her laugh even harder.
Sandra captures the entire scene with her cell phone, a recording that will be great to show at Cheryl's high school graduation party or future wedding reception.
"Sandra!" Hiccup. "Save me!" Her arms reach toward her sister as her father continues his relentless tickle torture.
"Think you've had enough?" he finally asks as Sandra mouths 'no' and grins at her sister.
"Yes, please stop," she pleads. Hiccup.
"I'll stop if you give me a big hug."
"Okay," she agrees, trying to catch her breath between intermittent giggles and hiccups. "I love you, daddy."
"Love you, too, Meatball. Ready to look at some pictures?"
"Yeah," she eagerly nods her head. "But I need to pee first."
"Alright, down you go," he says setting her gently to the floor. As soon as her feet hit the hardwood, she scurries off to the bathroom.
"Would you be okay watching her while I run the baby photo to JJ's?" he asks Sandra. "I'd like to get there before the evening crowd."
"Yeah, I'm sure Cheryl and I will spend a lot of time looking at mom's pictures, so go ahead and take the baby photo, and spend some time with JJ, talking and stuff." A little smile is parked on the corners of her mouth like she is aware of some secret he's not privy to.
"Alright, I will. Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what?" she asks innocently, her eyes wide as she shrugs her shoulders.
"Like you think you know something."
"I don't know anything. Nothing at all."
"Hmpf." He sizes her up, but she just stands there staring at him with that same mysterious almost-grin on her lips. "I should probably change before I go."
"That's a really good idea. Maybe you should wear that shirt you had on for your book cover," she suggests.
"Oh, okay. I'll need a jacket, though. Kind of cold out."
"Try that navy blue blazer in your closet. And those tan slacks you got last week. Don't forget to take the price tags off."
"I don't think I need to be that dressed up, do I? I haven't even shaved yet today."
"But you might run into someone…important. Might as well have on nice clothes. And it's vacation right now, so you don't need to shave. But splash a little aftershave on anyway. That way you'll smell nice, too."
"What are you up to?"
"Nothing. I'm just making sure you're presentable to the public. Call it my public service duty for the day."
"Uh-huh. I don't believe you."
"Make sure you brush your teeth. Then stop by my room before you leave."
"You sound like my mom."
"I always thought Grandma Roslin was a very smart woman. You should get ready, you wanna get there before the evening crowd, remember?"
He finally makes it out of the house twenty minutes later, almost forgetting the baby photo after all the commotion of changing clothes, brushing teeth, using aftershave, and another solid two minutes of Sandra messing with his hair and telling him to change his shoes.
When he arrives at the restaurant, there are only a few cars in the parking lot and just two small tables of customers. One of the wait staff recognizes him from his short stint as a busboy and informs him JJ is out back, somehow knowing he is there looking for her before he's even able to speak.
He takes the sidewalk around from the front door to find her placing some items in the back seat of her pickup, waiting patiently for her to finish so he doesn't scare her.
"Well, if it isn't my number one busboy," she smiles when her eyes land on him. "Did you bring your girls?"
"No, just me. And a gift for you."
"Another gift? This is starting to be a habit, but I like it," she says taking the photo from him and turning it over to look at the image. "Oh," she gasps when she sees the image of the baby, her eyes softening as she stares at it.
"It's a girl."
"Oh, my goodness," she gasps, fighting back tears but failing. Her hand clutches her chest as the tears begin to stream from her eyes. "Oh, no, here I go," she squeaks as she surrenders to her emotions and throws her arms around Dave. "I'm so happy right now."
"You're trembling," he notes as he holds her a little tighter.
"I'm so excited for them, and you. You're going to have a little granddaughter!" she exclaims, pulling back from him and smiling. She brushes at her tears with the back of her hand. "I must look terrible."
"Let me." He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping away the mascara that has stained her cheeks.
She rests her hand on his as he dabs at her tears. "You're very gentle."
"Well, you know. Married over twenty years and I have two older daughters. I've cleaned up a few mascara tears in my life," he says quietly as he wipes away the last of them. "That's better."
She inadvertently nuzzles her face against his hand that is still resting on her cheek. "Um…," she stammers when she realizes what she's done.
"Have you…," he begins, but stops when their eyes meet.
"Have I….what?"
"Have you had a chance to read any of my book?" he asks, removing his hand from her face and brushing a wisp of hair behind her ear.
"I'm sorry, I haven't. If I get out of here early enough tonight, I promise I'll start."
He nods his head and silently wonders if she doesn't have any interest in reading it. He doesn't want to appear pushy by asking her about it again, so he decides he won't bring it up anymore.
"I'm curious - why are you so interested in having me read it? I plan to, but I've been busy here and when I get home late, I just want to go to bed."
"I understand. It's because I know you'll give me your honest opinion, and that's important to me. It'll help me when I write the next book in the series. But if you don't have time or you're not interested, that's okay, too."
She can sense that he's questioning whether she'll actually read it, so she reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone, unlocking the screen and adding a new contact. "Put your number in here, and I'll send you a photo of me reading your book when I get to it, hopefully tonight."
Dave takes it from her, enters his number, then types in 'Busboy' as the contact name before handing it back to her.
"Nice," she replies with a chuckle. "Alright then, Busboy, give me your phone and I'll enter mine."
"Just send me a text, it's easier."
"C'mon. I showed you mine. You show me yours," she says in a flirty tone.
JJ has a charming way with innuendo that he's becoming more at ease with, so he presents to her his unlocked phone. She quickly adds her number into the contacts along with the name "Trust Issues".
"That's good," he laughs. "Bill and Laurie send their love. They plan on making reservations soon. I guess I should let you get back to work."
"That's right, I have a restaurant to run, don't I? We don't have many reservations tonight so hopefully I can get out of here early, let one of the senior wait staff close the place down. Then it'll just be me in my jammies with a glass of wine and your book to keep me company. And this precious little baby picture, too," she says giving it one last look before placing it in the passenger seat of her pickup. "Dave, it was very sweet of you to drive all the way over here to bring this by. Are you sure I can't get you something before you leave?"
"No. It was worth it to see your face light up when you saw the baby. I'll look for your text later."
Shortly after returning home, he receives a text from Trust Issues. It's a photo of his book next to the baby picture in her pickup and reads "First step is making sure I take the book home". He responds with a thumbs up emoji.
He turns in at 11 pm, reading a grant proposal that a faculty member plans to submit when winter break is over. His phone lights up with another message from Trust Issues. This time his book is on her nightstand beside her bed, next to it a glass of wine. "Starting chapter 1 soon!"
Perhaps she needs a little encouragement to send that photo of her actually reading the book. He snaps a selfie of him propped up in his bed with the grant proposal. He hits send before he changes his mind.
Damn, why do you have to be such a straight up nice guy, she asks herself while staring at the image. The grey tank top shows off his physique, a few of his chest hairs stick out from the top. The reading glasses are a new look for him, a sexy look, and she catches herself fantasizing about him teaching her the sexier side of history in person. I wouldn't mind learning a few lessons from you.
Ten minutes pass without a response and he's beginning to get blurry eyed from the proposal, so he tosses it onto a chair near the bed, places his glasses on the nightstand, turns off his lamp, and settles under the covers.
Ding. His phone lights up his bedroom.
"Sorry this took so long. Had to scrub the makeup off and comb through my hair. I'm on page five already!"
He's never seen her with her hair down before. Long brown wavy strands spill across her shoulders, and some very studious looking reading glasses are perched on her nose. She looks incredibly young for her 45 years. A white v-neck t-shirt covers her petite frame, and she sits with his book resting on her thighs, which are bare since her t-shirt is just long enough to cover her bottom.
She's not interested in a serious relationship. It's not worth ruining their friendship. He's not ready. There are at least a half dozen other reasons he goes through to convince himself to temper his attraction to her.
"Let me know what you think. Have a good night."
"Sweet dreams, Busboy."