Funeral with a View (23 page)

September found us, once
more, in Dr. Ann’s office for a routine appointment. Catherine was into her
second trimester. The first was a period of exposed nerves, given our past
history with pregnancy. The ‘other shoe’ hovered the entire time and we
expected it to drop and squash our hopes, thus completing the hat trick of
defeat. Fortunately, that never happened.

“So, how are you feeling,
Catherine?” Dr. Ann asked, the ever present lollipop dangling from her lips.

“Great. Tired, but great.”
This office held so many bad memories and it was beyond belief to finally be
having a pleasant conversation.

“Spotting, cramping?”

“Some cramping,” I said. “Usually
when I swim right after I eat. Is that normal?”

Dr. Ann roller her eyes. “How
do you put up with this character, Cat?”

“He’s a cross to bear,
but somebody’s gotta do it.” Catherine gave me a shove. “No cramping, no
spotting. The morning sickness is going away, too.”

“I can’t tell you how
glad I am to hear it.” The small, energetic doctor twirled the lollipop, then
pointed it at us with a wide smile. “If anybody deserves good news it’s you
two.”

Call me biased, but I
couldn’t agree more. Cat had been poked, prodded, examined, weighed, and
watched over like a hawk. Everything pointed to a healthy child. Talk about
relieved.

“So, can we call everyone
now and give them the good news?” I said as we drove home, happy that the rest
of the appointment went off without a hitch.

Nobody knew Cat was
pregnant. Much like the last pregnancy, we wanted to wait until the first trimester
was behind us and issue-free before sharing. This time I was true to my word. I
didn’t puke, wretch, or otherwise break my promise to anybody. Not Mom, not
Bill, not Sandy. Nobody.

I noticed Catherine
playing with her silver bracelet.

“Penny for your
thoughts?” I said.

“I must’ve spaced out.”
She grinned; the most beautiful thing in the world next to the sound of the
baby’s healthy heartbeat. “Lost in my own world, basking in the relief of good
news. And I know we have a long way to go yet, but we’re looking good here,
Ricky. We’re looking really good.” Her hand found mine and I interlaced my
fingers in hers.

“You know Bill and Angela
are back together again.”

She looked out the
window. “She told me at work the other day.”

“Think it’ll stick this
time?”

“Who knows? They’re
taking things slow. Angela said she got spooked. This is her first serious
relationship with someone who isn’t a complete asshole.”

“We’re still talking
about Bill here, aren’t we?”

Cat chuckled. “None
other. She looked to run as soon as things started getting a little too
serious. She called it a ‘defense mechanism against an unhappy ending’.”

“Sounds like there’s some
kind of story there.”

“Trust issues. Her dad
ran out on her mother when she was a teenager. I don’t know all the details,
but she took it pretty hard. Who wouldn’t? Angela hasn’t had many boyfriends,
so she’s still inexperienced.”

“We should have them over
for dinner. Celebrate.”

“Sure. Why not?”

I made a left into our
development. “Family’s important after all.”

Catherine let go of my
hand and gave me an odd look. “Family?”

“Yeah, family. Bill’s the
closest thing to a brother I’ve ever had, you know that.”

The look went away. “Of
course I do.”

I parked in the driveway
and opened the car door for her.

“Wow, so gallant,” she
said, taking my hand.

“Chivalry is not dead, Milady.”
I kissed her knuckles.

Inside, Catherine sat on
the couch and set her feet on the coffee table. I parked myself next to her,
took off her shoes and socks, and massaged her feet. She leaned back, eyes
closed.

“Mmmm, that feels
amazing.”

“Kinda reminds me of our
wedding night. You remember?”

“Of course I do, silly.
I’m only twenty-seven. My memory’s completely intact.”

“How about the part where
I didn’t get laid?”

She playfully jabbed my
face with her big toe. “Better zip it, or you won’t get laid tonight either.”

“Who’s talking? I’m not
talking. You’re the one doing all the talking.”

She smiled. “You’re a
dick.”

“I’m your dick, till
death do us part.”

“Then I beg for the sweet
release of death.”

“Oh, you will once I’m
done doing this.” I grabbed her foot by the ankle and dug in with The Infamous
Tickle Torture.

“Ricky! Stop it!” she
giggled, writhing on the couch and trying to swat me with a pillow. Her resistance
only made me ravage both feet at the same time.

“Stop!” she laughed,
almost wheezing.

“Do you yield?”

She laughed harder.

“Do you yield, woman?”

“Yes!” she gasped,
tapping on the arm of the couch. “I yield, you dick!”

“What’s that?” I cupped a
hand against my ear. “Can’t hear ya over all the insults and name calling.”

“I yield, dammit! You’ll
make me pee!”

Pregnant women and their
sensitive bladders are no laughing matter. I stopped, and sat next to her.

“I didn’t do any
permanent damage,” I said as she rested her head on my chest, “did I?”

She curled her feet
underneath herself. “No. You stopped just in time.”

“Can I ask you a
question?”

“Just did.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, why?”

I shrugged. “You seemed a
little weired out by the whole family thing.”

“Why do you think that?”
she said, playing with her C&R bracelet.

“Seemed like I caught you
off guard.”

“Maybe a little.”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

“I want to ask Bill to be
the godfather.”

The fingers she’d been
running over the silver charms paused.

“What do you think?” I
said. “We haven’t really discussed that yet. You’re going to ask Jude to be the
godmother, right?”

“Of course. Who else
would I ask?”

“Exactly. Same for Bill.
I’ve known him forever. We’re all close. And like I said, he’s the closest
thing to family I have outside of my mom and a few distant relatives. I didn’t
want to ask him without talking to you first.”

She ran her fingers along
my cheek. “Is that what you want?”

I nodded. “It’s what I
want.”

“Then ask him.”

“Really?”

Cat smiled and kissed me.
“Really really.”

“Good. We’ll get together
for dinner soon.”

“That’ll work.”

Kissing her forehead, I
got up off the couch and grabbed the phone. “How about this weekend? I’ll ask
him then.”

Catherine rubbed her
belly. “Yes. That sounds good. Absolutely.”

~~~

“It’s not like I asked
you for your PIN number, Bill.” I grinned at Catherine, who smiled and put her
hand on my knee.

A barbequed chicken leg
hung from my best friend’s mouth, his eyes darting comically from me, to Cat,
to Angela, and back again. The sun was sinking closer to the horizon. We were
on the deck, each of us in spring jackets with the exception of Bill who was
too manly to wear anything but a polo shirt.

“Are you serious?” he
asked as if he were part of an elaborate practical joke.

“You believe this guy?” I
said to Cat. “Of course I’m serious.”

He sat back and wiped
sauce off his face. “Why me?”

“Bill,” Angela said,
shaking her head. Her short brown hair swung back and forth. “How about ‘thank
you, yes, I’m honored?’ I swear. Sometimes I think you’re from another planet.”

“Planet fitness, maybe,”
Catherine said.

I burst out laughing.
Bill didn’t find it as funny.

“Everyone’s a comedian,”
he moaned. “I mean, yes. Thank you. I’m flattered, but …”

“But what?” I leaned my
elbows on the table. “We’re having a kid, Bill. Cat and I would like for you to
be the godfather.”

He looked at Cat. “I’m
not sure I deserve it.”

“What?” I said. “Why
wouldn’t you deserve it? Maybe you are from another planet. Where’s the mother
ship? Because this isn’t the Bill Henly I know. The Bill Henly I know thinks he
deserves everything that ever came to him and then some.”

Angela squeezed his
cheeks and gave him a firm kiss on the lips that ended in a smacking sound. “Sometimes
you’re too cute for your own good. Just accept, will you?”

Bill crossed his thick
arms over his even thicker chest. “You on board with this, Cat? Ricky hasn’t
coerced you or blackmailed you into it? He can do that, you know. He’s
Italian.”

“He wants you to be
godfather, Bill. He asked me, I told him to ask you.”

“Okay then. Sure. Yes. Of
course I’ll be godfather. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

I rubbed my hands
together. “Excellent. I propose a toast.” I raised my beer. “To friends,
family, and baby Franchitti.”

Celeste Franchitti came
into the world the following April, eight pounds, fourteen ounces of screaming
pink fury with ten little fingers, ten little toes, a full head of hair, and
eyes as blue as the Caribbean. Turns out that most babies are born with blue
eyes. Fancy that.

The delivery wasn’t an
easy one. Catherine was in labor for nearly twelve hours. No drugs. She wanted
to experience the whole thing as nature intended. I’d lobbied for the drugs,
arguing better living through chemistry, and was repeatedly shot down. My wife
grunted, screamed, perspired, crushed my hand, and maybe, just
maybe
,
she looked at me with pain-filled eyes and growled “you did this to me” once or
twice. I’ll neither confirm nor deny.

Celeste’s birth was the
culmination of a tenuous nine months; the threat of loss followed our every
move. Our fear went unspoken, yet it was always there, in our eyes, in our
attitude. As the due date approached, anticipation smothered our uncertainties.
After all the trying, the letdowns, and the heartache, parenthood was on the
horizon. Excitement mixed with fright at the prospect of being responsible for
a living, breathing human being. We pulled through it and, as times of stress are
wont to do, became stronger because of it.

Family and friends
inundated our hospital room. Outside, a spring sun shower pattered the windows
with raindrops. Inside, cheer and congratulations bounced from surface to
surface. Mom was beside herself.

“Richard, she is so
adorable. Glen? Glen!” My mother held her granddaughter, but even that wouldn’t
stop her bossing Glen about. “Come hold my granddaughter.”

“Yes, dear.” Glen cradled
Celeste, his grin spread five miles wide as he rocked her back and forth.
“Nothing like the little ones to make a guy feel young.”

“I cook a pretty mean
bun, don’t I, Beth?” Cat said, exhausted, but so, so happy.

“You sure can, Catherine.”
Mom kissed her forehead. “All right, Glen. We’ve outstayed our welcome. Let’s
give someone else a chance to hold the little Pookie Bear.”

“Pookie Bear?” I said,
laughing.

“It’s what your father
used to call you when you were little, Richard.” Mom’s expression turned
distant “He’d be so proud of you right now.” She wrapped me in a tight hug.

“Thanks, Mom.”

They left, and the
Maddoxes joined us shortly thereafter.

“Oh my God, she is such a
sight,” Mary Jo said, her palms pressed to her cheeks.

“Congratulations, son.”
The Colonel gripped my hand in a sturdy shake. His mammoth moustache canted at
a steep angle, letting me know there was a proud smile behind it. “You two do
good work.”

The happy grandparents
took turns hugging their daughter and holding their granddaughter before
leaving to let Jude and Rob have their turn. Jude squealed as soon as she saw
her niece.

“She looks just like you,
Cat. Doesn’t she, Rob?”

“That she does,” he said
after taking a moment to adjust his glasses. “How does it feel to be a father,
Rick?”

“So far so good. Be sure
to ask me after we take her home and the sleep deprivation sets in.”

Jude held Celeste like a
pro. “Be thankful you only have one, buddy.”

Last but not least came
Bill and Angela.

“Holy shit, she’s so
small.” Bill’s word choice earned him a slap on the shoulder from his
girlfriend, along with a sour look. “Ouch. Well, she is. How you feeling, Cat?”

“I’m good. Tired, but
good. Glad it’s all over.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Want to hold her?” I
asked Bill.

He pointed to himself.
“Me?”

“No, the guy cleaning the
windows across the street. Yes, you. Who else? You are her godfather, after
all.”

“Yeah, I mean. I guess.”

Angela rolled her eyes.
“She’s not going to bite you, Bill. Spitting up though,” she shrugged, “that’s
another story.”

His eyes widened as he
took a step back. “She’s going to puke on me?”

“Can I?” I said to Cat.
She nodded. I picked up Celeste and approached Bill. “How can someone so big be
afraid of something so small? Here. You’ll be fine.”

With some unknown emotion
on his face, Bill took a tentative step and held out his hands. In his massive
paws, the baby resembled a swaddled mini burrito.

“Careful, Bill,” Angela
warned. “You have to support her head.” She rubbed a pink cheek with her finger
as Bill adjusted his hand under Celeste’s head. “She’s too precious for words,
guys. I’m so happy for you both.” Her eyes became misty.

Bill swayed back and
forth. “This isn’t so bad.”

“You’ll be an expert in
no time,” I said. “You should have one. Everyone’s doing it.”

His head shot up. “No
way.”

“Take a pill. It was just
a joke.” I got an idea and snapped my fingers. “You know what? Let’s get a
picture.”

I set up the camera on
the countertop and enabled the self-portrait timer. We gathered around
Catherine where she sat in the visitor’s chair, put on our most winning smiles,
and tried not to blink when the flash went off. All of our arms were
intertwined in a big hug, except for Bill who cradled Celeste while trying to
wipe fresh puke off his shirt.

I bought him a new one.

Eventually.