Chapter 31 Marlowe ~ Winter
Marlowe ~ Winter
Marlowe had never felt so tired in her entire life.
This wasn’t the kind of tired that a nap could fix, or even a day at a spa.
A bone deep weariness made her limbs feel heavy and her thoughts drifted in a fog.
She also felt like she could throw up any minute.
Dr. Fielding said this fatigue was to be expected in the first trimester.
“A tiny being is growing inside you,” she’d said.
“This is a normal response.” Marlowe struggled to hide this from Izzy.
Her baby sister might feel guilty and no way did Marlowe want that.
The living room at Sunnycrest was quiet that Sunday morning.
Snow had fallen during the night, softening the world outside into a blur of white and silver.
Inside, the house creaked and sighed as it always did in winter, as though the cold was settling into its bones.
Christmas was long gone and all they had in Charlevoix was this stern, forbidding winter weather.
But Marlowe had more to dream about.
Slumped against the sofa cushions, she rested one hand on her stomach.
Her gray slacks felt tight around the waist, even though the band was elasticized.
She’d tugged her oversized aqua turtleneck down to hide the soft roundness beginning to appear.
Was her round tummy all in her head? Sam and Izzy had assured her that she wasn’t showing.
Three months along—nearly the end of the first trimester—and already Marlowe felt as if her body belonged to someone else.
That Sunday the faint smell of coffee drifting from the kitchen made her stomach turn.
Who was this woman collapsed on the sofa?
Marlowe had always been the athletic one.
Colds and flu were rare. And here she was, down for the count.
She should be getting ready for her open house in Petoskey that afternoon.
Her portfolio and handouts sat on the dining room table so she could grab them on the way out.
Marlowe had to be there by one o’clock to set up.
The open house would last until three o’clock.
The house she was showing was large, with three bedrooms. What if she curled up in one for a short nap, kind of like Goldilocks?
She chuckled, imagining the horror on Gabby’s face if she ever heard about that.
Marlowe wasn’t about to disappoint her with a wild stunt.
With Gabby’s help, she was establishing her real estate career up in the frozen north.
But this pregnancy brought more surprises every day.
Dr. Fielding had warned her it could be like this.
Somehow she’d made it through Thanksgiving and Christmas.
Somehow she’d smiled at her anxious family, pretending to eat mashed potatoes and gravy.
She’d kept her secret safe until Izzy had given her the green light to share the news.
Her family had been so excited and Marlowe was too, but some days most of the food wouldn’t stay down.
And she wanted to sleep, not eat. Sitting there in her carefully chosen “hide-the-bump” outfit, she wasn’t feeling very professional.
Grabbing her phone, she set the alarm and fell back. A twenty-minute nap wouldn’t hurt.
She’d just closed her eyes when she heard her sister’s footsteps coming down the back stairs. “Marlowe? Hey, you up?” Blinking, Marlowe watched Sam skip through their new kitchen to the living room, where she stopped in the doorway.
Wearing black warm-up pants and an oversized sweatshirt, Sam looked comfortable and rested.
For one crazy moment, jealousy lanced through Marlowe.
But that was stupid. Her sister would have loved to carry this precious child.
Sam’s hair, that rich auburn-brown color that always looked expensive, was pulled back in a low ponytail.
In one hand she carried a mug of coffee; in the other, the folded Charlevoix Courier.
She always got up early on Sundays, grabbed the paper outside and then took a mug of coffee up to bed.
Aunt Cate slept later, so as Sam finished one section, she would tuck it under their aunt’s bedroom door. Marlowe read the news on her iPad.
Sam stopped short when she saw Marlowe stretched out. “Whoa. Looks like you got steamrolled.”
Marlowe managed a weak smile. “Good morning to you, too.”
Sam crossed the room and set her coffee on the end table. “What’s going on? Are you nauseated?”
“Yes, and so tired.”
“You’ve got rings under your eyes.”
Marlowe sighed. “I noticed.”
Sam tilted her head, studying Marlowe with that sharp, analytical gaze that came from running her own advertising agency. “You sure it’s just fatigue? You didn’t catch something?”
“I’m sure,” Marlowe said softly, though her voice lacked conviction.
Before Sam could respond, a soft thump sounded on the floor. Bogart, Sam’s black-and-white cat, had wandered in, tail up like a flag. He took one look at Marlowe, gave a sympathetic chirp, and jumped onto the sofa beside her. Curling himself into a neat ball, Bogart pressed himself against her hip.
Sam smiled. “You’ve got the cat’s approval. Bogart loves to nap.”
“He has been paying me a lot of attention. Wish I could stay here all day with you, buddy,” Marlowe murmured, stroking the cat while he purred.
Sam sat down in one of the striped chairs. “Talk to me. You’re sure it’s nothing else. Should we call the doctor?”
“Absolutely not. I just feel drained all the time. Like my batteries need to be charged up.” She’d given up running with Brad…for lots of reasons. If she goofed up this pregnancy, she’d never be able to face Izzy again.
“What did Dr. Fielding say?”
“That this is what I can expect in the first trimester. But cripes, I wasn’t this tired when I trained for a marathon. Now I get exhausted just walking upstairs. It’s ridiculous.” Marlowe hated to whine but she got frustrated with herself sometimes. She’d expected to sail through this pregnancy.
Sam frowned and jumped up. “Are you eating enough? Soda crackers? Chicken noodle soup? I could make some for you.”
Food. She didn’t even want to think about it. “Sorry, nothing sounds good. I gag at the thought of food. Please, sit back down.”
“How about a sandwich?”
Marlowe’s stomach lurched. “Do not even say the word sandwich.”
“Scrambled eggs?”
“Oh, stop it!” This was getting worse and she pressed a hand to her mouth. Her sister really had no clue, but she returned to the chair. “Okay, okay. Crackers maybe?”
Before Marlowe could answer, the front door opened, and the sound of a little girl’s voice filled the hall. Izzy and Holly had arrived.
Holly came bounding in, curls bouncing beneath her red knit hat, a baby doll clutched to her chest. Izzy followed close behind, smiling despite the cold wind that had turned her cheeks pink.
“Careful, Holly,” Izzy said, setting down a tote bag. “Looks like Aunt Marlowe isn’t feeling good today.”
Marlowe managed a smile as the toddler ran straight to her. “Hey there, sweetheart. Sorry, I’m feeling kind of sick.”
“Mimi sick too.” Recently Holly had started to use short sentences.
They often weren’t quite right but they were a delight.
Planting her doll next to Marlowe, Holly began to tend to Mimi, feeling the doll’s forehead and clucking.
Bogart took off like a rocket. He steered clear of Holly since the little girl had tried to dress him in doll clothes.
Izzy shrugged out of her puffy red coat and went back into the hall to hang it up. “You look wiped out,” she said bluntly after she returned.
“That’s where we are today,” Sam said. “She can’t eat. Maybe she needs an IV.”
“Okay, I’ll put my nurse’s cap on.” Izzy grinned down at her.
Marlowe groaned. “You two should go into stand-up together.”
Izzy perched on the arm of the sofa. “Have you felt the baby yet?”
Marlowe shook her head. “Not yet. It’s still early, or so the doctor says.”
“I keep hoping you’ll call with good news,” Izzy said softly. “I can’t wait for that moment.”
There was such tenderness in her voice, and Marlowe felt a lump rise in her throat.
She’d known this pregnancy would be emotional, but she hadn’t expected how intertwined their feelings would become.
The baby had become a family project. Over the holidays they’d all given Izzy so much equipment and clothes that a baby shower might not be needed.
“Don’t worry,” Marlowe said gently. “You’ll be the first to know when I feel a kick.” Would she even recognize it?
While they talked, Holly turned back to her doll and began “feeding” Mimi invisible bites.
Eyes on her daughter, Izzy smiled. “She’s obsessed with that doll lately. Keeps telling me it’s her baby.”
Sam leaned back. “She’s practicing for when the real one comes. Just wait. She might give that doll back to Santa.”
“What do you mean?” Marlowe asked.
“My work in the hospital nursery has been an education.”
“What kind?” Izzy asked. “Are you learning how to change diapers? I’ll have an opening for that position.”
“Nope, I’ve learned enough to know this should never be me.” And she nodded her head to Marlowe.
“Really?” This was news to Marlowe. “You never said anything.”
Pursing her lips Sam shook her head. “The crying of colicky babies and everything they produce was something I really couldn’t handle.”
Izzy and Marlowe exchanged a look. This was a relief for both of them.
“Okay, then I’ll just put you on the burping crew,” Izzy said. “Forget changing the diapers.”
“I’m sure you’ll have a little helper.” Marlowe nodded to Holly, still feeding imaginary food to Mimi.
“I think she’ll be a wonderful big sister,” Izzy said. “But I try not to say too much in front of her. Holly thought that new stroller Aunt Cate gave me for Christmas was for her.” Then she turned back to Marlowe, her brow furrowing. “You really do look pale. Have you eaten anything today?”
She loved her sisters dearly but when would this stop?