Maternal Harbor
Maternal Harbor
by
Marie F. Martin
This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to any actual person, living or dead, place or thing is purely coincidental.
© Copyright 2012, Marie F. Martin – Cover Art © 2012, Karri Klawiter
ISBN# 978-1479270132
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am grateful to my critique group: Debbie Burk, Cindy Dyson, Angela Townsend, Dixon Rice and Jake How for their encouragement and hours of reading with a red pencil in hand. From them, I learned how to put words on paper.
My gratitude also goes to Ron Glick for his technical support of uploading to Create Space and Kindle.
Also, I wish to thank my husband, Elmer, for the hours of listening to me yak about characters, settings, etc. He really was a good sport and his keen sense of humor supplied many lines of dialogue.
Table of Contents
The dash clock bullied. Teagan O’Riley accelerated from Fishermen’s Terminal, sped through an intersection on yellow and merged onto a street which shot straight to a busy Seattle OB/GYN clinic. She pushed the speed limit, cutting through the light mid-morning traffic, trying to convince herself she wasn’t a know-it-all feminist. Sure, she was persistent and a little inflexible, but nothing like the harbor master’s accusation made her sound. Okay, she wore dungarees, work boots and a sloppy hat. What did that prove? And yes, she owned a fish market with a stack of bills and fewer customers. So what? Hard times hit families hard. He should grasp how the absurd new regulations upped the price of sea food. She should just stop wasting time explaining, and simply haul a group of moms to the wharf, and let them stare at him for awhile. See how he liked it.
A threatening shower let loose and splattered the pickup’s windshield until she flipped on the wipers. Their rhythmic rocking distracted her annoyed thoughts and sounded like the snatches of a childhood ditty that eluded her the past few days, something about fishes and the sea. The words almost surfaced but fled when she slowed, searching for a place to park. Nothing.
There, an opening in the next block. She sighed and loosened her shoulders.
Suddenly, a black SUV ran a stop sign, hung a right, narrowly missed Teagan’s front fender and zipped into the space.
Teagan drove by, glaring at the tinted windows, holding a few choice words in check. When she realized it, amusement almost lightened her mood. Maybe the harbor master was right. And maybe she needed to calm down and not allow small things like time, money and forgotten rhymes rob the precious moments when she was alone.
The next block dropped quickly downhill toward a splash of lush grass guarded by drenched leaf trees and dripping cedars. Behind the small city park, Puget Sound couldn’t look more gray and cold; the surf rippled with it, like it had forgotten how to gleam and sparkle. No one in their right mind would picnic or exercise on such a dreary day, yet the parking lot was filled. Teagan made a second pass through it and spotted a narrow space between two vans. She cranked the steering wheel hard, squeezed through without scraping anything, jumped the curb, and pulled onto the grassy boulevard until the rear end of the pickup cleared the road. Good enough. She set the emergency brake and grabbed her umbrella.
A sharp pain hit near her lower ribs. She slowly released her breath and wrapped an arm around her swollen abdomen, holding the son nestled in her womb. A leg or arm moved against her hand as though he approved from deep inside her. She patted the spot. “Love you, too, but you need to be born.” A yearning to reclaim her body, to bend and move naturally, to see her feet, grew deeper every day. She was tired, pressured, and miserable. And she wanted to hold her son. Surely, once her strength returned, life would be easier or at least more even-keeled.
Teagan left her rusty Ford parked illegally and hustled back up the sidewalk, boot heels striking the cement, muted, soppy sounds, much like her mood. How could life be this complicated? She was always behind, trying to catch up. Some days, walking away seemed real. Instead, she would traipse to the Sound and watch the ripples play on the water or wander the pier to visit with fishermen while they tied up their boats. They were a part of her, the best part, the part her mother never understood, or cared to.
Teagan strode past the SUV. The faint outline of the rude driver showed behind the smoked glass. She had a good notion to rap her fist on the fender; but settled for a disgusted look and hoped the idiot felt a modicum of guilt.
For some reason at the street corner, she glanced back. The SUV was still there, its dark windows hiding the driver. Suddenly it dawned that she was alone, standing in the rain, staring at a car like a dumb duck. She hurried across the street into the next block and swiftly hiked toward the clinic, an imposing brick building with a concrete foundation thick enough to cast an impression of solid rock. Out of breath by the time she reached the security of the pregnancy center, she used the wrought-iron handrail to pull herself up the seven steps.
The plate glass door proudly stated the names of eight obstetricians and four certified nurse midwives. With each etched name, the block letters dwindled in size, until the last midwife appeared insignificant. Teagan had scolded herself for thinking that names on glass meant anything about a person’s ability. But just to be sure, she had selected one of the doctors in mid-sized print. She always picked the middle of things. Middle met her needs.
Teagan reached for the clinic’s door and the baby thumped hard under her navel. “Ouch,” she whispered, rubbing her bulge. She rested against the railing for a moment and couldn’t resist checking out the SUV again. Someone leaned against its front fender, looking in her direction. At this distance, the person was neutral, neither male nor female. How could a parking spot trigger this much tension between strangers? Or had it? She had been annoyed by the harbor master and allowed the dash clock to add pressure. Aw Teagan, she thought, what are you doing to yourself?
Inside, the melodious sound of a trickling water wall and the aroma of fresh coffee soothed anxious moms with frazzled nerves. The peaceful atmosphere worked. Teagan shed her sense of pressure, signed in at the reception counter and received the good news of
behind
schedule
and
a twenty-minute wait
.
Without comment, she waddled by potted plants and intimately grouped chairs to the ones where she waited with her three new friends, all expectant mothers for the first time. They happened to meet in the lobby six months ago. Their appointments continued to be scheduled on the same days and at the same time. They compared their pregnancy and problems. At first Teagan hesitated to share with strangers, but gradually she looked forward to seeing them, especially Doretta Johnson.
Today Doretta slouched in a chair behind an aquarium. She leaned at an uncomfortable angle, her baby bump so large she couldn't bend, shapely dark legs stuck out, ankles spread apart, a magazine balanced on her belly. The colors in her flowing dress declared the beauty of anyone who wore them, rich in tone and wild in spirit.
Teagan grabbed the armrests of a chair beside Doretta and lowered her awkward self, trying to sit upright. Didn’t work and she slumped down, stretching out her feet. “Some jerk just stole my parking spot and then watched me walk up uphill to the clinic. People should show more respect for pregnant women.”
Doretta squirmed into a different position. “Remind me to never invest in a lingerie company again. Nobody knows how to make underpants fit a full-term belly. And you don’t even ask me how I am, but I’ll tell you anyway. I’m having pains, but then I've had pains since the night I conceived this boy child. He isn’t even a man yet and already giving me fits.” Her toothy smile spread wide and uncomplaining, the nut-brown eyes held peace. Cropped short, her mahogany hair kinked softly and her ebony skin gleamed. She was ripe with puffiness and pregnancy.
Teagan raised her brows. “Do I remember a happy Doretta when they did the ultrasounds? Weren’t you the ecstatic one about a male child? I’m sure it wasn’t Erica or Pai.”
Doretta stuck her tongue out at Teagan.
Satisfied, Teagan settled back. She was cranky and knew it. And knew her friend would endure it.
So did Doretta. “If you’re done disrespecting me, I have news. Mama checked the calendar and tonight the moon is full. She says more babies are born when the moon is round and floating high overhead. Says tonight I'm gonna pop like a watermelon and drop my black seed. Mama’s so damn devious, trying all the time to find out who the father is. I just keep saying the baby's mine.”
Doretta grew thoughtful, mulling a vast problem. One that Teagan was sure concerned the father and waited for her to unload.
Instead, Doretta twisted in her seat and assessed Teagan for a moment. “Girl,” she said, “you look serious and serious people make me nervous, especially ones with wild red hair. Wanna borrow my comb? You look like some kinda Irish witch fresh off a sea bluff.”
Teagan automatically smoothed her hair with chapped hands. The springy curls rebelled as soon as she let go. “Better?” she asked anyway.
“Uh-huh.” Doretta flipped the page in the magazine. A bronze hunk of a man, advertising beach wear, stared back at them. “Umm boy, look at what some gal’s going to buy. Wonder how much he costs.”
“
Doretta, you’re killing me.”
Doretta batted her long lashes and closed the magazine. “I hope Erica and Pai are in a better mood than you. According to my Mama, babies and friends need loving consideration. You might try practicing that.”
Teagan chuckled. “I’m feisty and stubborn according to the harbor master.”
“
Did you give him a hard time again?”
Before Teagan replied, the main door opened, and Pai Sanders propelled into the clinic. A man shoved through the door behind her and brushed by to the check-in counter.
Pai sidestepped, looking frightened and offended. The receptionist motioned her to go sit and began answering the man’s questions.
Holding her hands slightly askew, Pai hurried across the lobby toward Doretta and Teagan. The silk of her dress smoothed over her pregnancy; its golden rich hue accented the straight black hair and almond eyes. Her petite frame only allowed room for a baby by stretching outward, so her belly protruded like a shelf with a drooping bottom.
“
That man followed me all the way up the block.” Pai light singsong voice sounded tense. She shivered. “Scared the heck out of me and all he wanted was to be with his wife for her ultrasound. Am I hormonal again?”
“
And late,” Teagan answered.
“
Of course I am.” Pai laughed a nervous little sound and then turned her lips downward. “Are you hormonal, too?”
“
When isn’t she?” Doretta answered for Teagan.
Pai glanced again at the man before easing into a chair. “Actually Teagan, I might still be looking for a place to park, but a nice black Chevy Blazer pulled out of one.”
“That creep! I’ll bet it was the same one who stole my spot.”
Doretta touched Teagan’s forearm. “Mama’s full moon must be making us all weird.”
And Teagan calmed down for the first time since gobbling breakfast. Doretta’s simple touch of friendship did more than all of Teagan’s inward scolding to be more kind. Her shoulders relaxed and her brow smoothed. Her friends did need loving consideration. Knowing and putting that into practice was hard; it went against her solitary lifestyle.
Pai cleared her throat, preparing for a grand announcement. “Erica wants us to come to her house once a week so the boys can be friends right from the start.”
Teagan straighten up and glanced at Doretta. “I wasn’t asked. Were you?”
“
She stopped by the restaurant, but never mentioned anything. Just ordered a sandwich to go and left. She probably bought the sandwiches there because you two insisted she looked too skinny and needed to eat more.”
Pai gasped. “Why are you guys making a big deal out of it? Erica just wants our boys to be friends. What’s wrong with that?”
A thought nudged Teagan. It didn’t materialize, but left an uneasy feeling sitting right beside the anger, depression and insecurity that started this morning in the harbor master’s office. “Nothing is wrong with it. I just don’t like to commit right now and I’m just worried about her baby. She didn’t even start to show until a couple of months ago because she is so thin. That can’t be good.”
Doretta glared at Teagan and Pai. “See what you guys started?’”
Pai sighed. “I didn’t mean to start a big conversation about Erica. I like her and her plan. In fact, I want to have you at my apartment, too. It’s so lonesome with Duffy gone. I’d like to have parties. We could celebrate.”
Surprised, Teagan asked, “Celebrate what?”
“Does everything have to have a reason?” Pai’s question was asked meekly, like no answer was expected, like her questions always went unanswered.
Teagan nudged Doretta. “Are you going to help me out?”
“Nope. You’re digging one heck of a hole all by yourself.” Doretta arched her back, very much like a satisfied cat and resettled at a different angle.
A motion in the hallway caught their attention. “Doretta Johnson,” the doctor's assistant called.
“Over here.” Doretta struggled from the chair in a sideways motion and steadied on her feet. Before walking away, she said, “This is Erica’s first baby and she got to be forty. She’s in over her head and wants help. Just doesn’t know how to admit it. That’s good enough for me. I’ll be glad to visit and let our boys play. And Pai, I’ll come to your place if you feed me.” She waddled to the waiting aide and disappeared down the hallway.
Pai snickered behind her hand. “She looks even bigger this week.”
“You don't look any smaller.” Teagan grinned and patted her own bulge. “I feel for Erica, but I can’t commit to once a week. I don’t have a husband to help either. None of us do.”
