Chapter 13 Reed
THIRTEEN
REED
“There’s your little one.” Dr. Laurier was pointing at the screen while adjusting the ultrasound wand on my belly. “Your baby is showing off because they’re in a great position.”
Our kiddo was so cool. I imagined them waving at us and saying. “Hi, Daddy. Hello, Papa.”
“Would you like to know the gender?" the doctor asked.
We had discussed this at home and decided we wanted it to be a surprise. But now as I was staring at our child and they were wriggling and stretching, I couldn’t leave without finding out.
I sent Roscoe a sneaky glance. And though I preferred not to have an important family discussion in front of Dr. Laurier, we could hardly ban him from the room.
“What do you think? I know we made a decision.”
My mate was close to tears and his eyes were darker than usual which was a sign his beast was close to the surface. Or his emotions were about to bubble out of him.
He gulped. “It’s up to you, but I’d love to find out.”
“Me too.” I beckoned him closer and we kissed. “Yes, please. We want to know.”
“Congratulations.” Dr. Laurier was grinning. “You're having a little girl.”
Oh my gods. That squirmy little munchkin in my belly was a girl. I’d been in love since I found out I was carrying a baby but I burst out crying. Through my tears, sobbing and hiccuping, I repeated, “A-a-a l-little g-girl.”
I grabbed Roscoe’s shirt and wiped my eyes, which was a little gross, but Dr. Laurier saved his shirt from getting more snotty and handed me a box of tissues.
But I wasn’t the only parent here and when I checked on my mate, his eyes were still glossy and there was no mistaking his reindeer at the forefront of his gaze.
“A girl,” he whispered as he brought my hand to his lips and kissed it.
Dr Laurier took measurements and said she was healthy, while Roscoe and I tried to decipher which part of our daughter were her hands and legs.
I stared at the grainy black and white image, trying to make sense of the shapes that would become our daughter.
Was that her hand? Her spine and head were the easiest to identify and I assumed if she was missing an appendage, the doctor would have mentioned it. But I had to ask.
“Where are her feet?”
The doctor grinned. He’d probably had similar questions from all his parents-to-be and he identified her feet, or one of them, tucked underneath her and her arms.
“Oh.” I put a hand on my belly which was covered in sticky gel. “She's moving.”
The doctor nodded, saying the baby had been sleeping but she was awake now and was readjusting her position. Since I’d read up on pregnancy and discovered it was important to seek medical attention if the baby didn’t move much, I’d kept a digital diary of when she wriggled.
“Is there anything else you’d like to know?”
My mate and I shared a glance and I told the doctor all we needed was a print out of the image. I’d started a scrap book and would add this pic.
“Can we get extra copies of the pictures?” Roscoe asked. “For the family?”
“Of course.” Dr. Laurier handed us a strip of ultrasound photos. “Grandparents always want extras.”
While neither Roscoe’s nor my parents were alive, the baby would have multiple grandparents, uncles, aunties, and cousins.
Zelda was already bidding for the position of first grandma and others would be vying for additional spots.
There was no limit, but I didn’t want them using words like first or second or naming them Grandma Zelda and Grandpa Erik was boring.
So the pack decided to come up with a unique naming system and I was eager to find out what it was.
As we walked to the car, I hugged the photos to my chest of this tiny person growing inside me, and Roscoe called Zelda before we'd left the parking lot.
“A g-granddaughter,” he said into the phone as his voice wavered. “Yes, everything looks good. We'll be home soon.”
As my mate drove to the farm, we bounced names off one another and excitement tumbled out of us. I was giddy thinking of our little girl and was pleased I wasn’t driving because I might have run off the road.
I placed a hand on his thigh. “The baby needs a nursery.”
My one bedroom home, built however many years ago, wasn't suitable for a baby. I’d come to live with Aunt Mollie when I was seven and my room was the tiny den off the living room on the first floor while my aunt’s room was on the floor above.
“But more than that,” he took his eyes off the road for a second, “the current house isn’t built for a family.”
I’d been thinking of using some of the lease money to add a room on the second floor and had been going to discuss Roscoe if it was appropriate to ask the pack to build it, for a fee of course. But I didn’t want them to agree out of duty.
He pulled up in front of the farm house.
Home. The afternoon light was hitting it just so and I was filled with love for the place that had kept me safe and the woman who welcomed me into her life when mine was upended.
But it was small for a family of three, especially when the third member was a baby who needed to be close to her parents.
“The electrical system is probably older than you and it’s dangerous, and the heating barely works upstairs.”
I followed his gaze and saw it from his eyes.
But that would be expensive and we weren’t going into debt to make ourselves more comfortable.
I didn’t have the money and most of Roscoe’s salary had been pooled with pack funds.
But also, I couldn’t see my memories swept away and replaced with a generic home that resembled thousands of others.
“But I can't destroy it.” My words came out in a rush. “This is home. Aunt Mollie is in every corner of that house. Her favorite book sits where she left it, and she carved my name in the kitchen doorframe when I was eight. I refuse to abandon all of that.”
Roscoe reached over and took my hand. “Hey. No one's asking you to knock it down.”
But now I was worried that the ancient plumbing was inadequate for a family.
“We renovate by taking what you love about the house and building around it. Make it bigger, update everything that needs updating, but keep all the significant bits. Also it’ll be more environmentally friendly.”
I stared at him and tried to calculate how much that would cost. Whatever it was, it was too much.
“We could add another bathroom and a nursery and expand the kitchen as well as updating the electrical system and plumbing while we're at it.”
But we had to keep Aunt Mollie’s fireplace and bookshelves. I’d have to make a list of what had to stay. But I was getting carried away because our luxury ideas didn’t fit with our bargain budget.
“We can’t.” I got out of the car and leaned on it while surveying the property. Selling any land wasn’t an option and I’d already leased a section to the pack, though technically, I was pack too.
“You’re wondering where we’d live while the renovation was going on?”
My imagination was racing ahead, thinking of how life would be easier if we updated the house.
But there was no money and as much as magic had been a part of my life since Roscoe had the others had entered it, there was no bag of gold at the end of the rainbow.
Unless Santa had hidden a stack of cash in our chimney, there was no way to pay for our big dreams.
“Money.”
“Ahhh.” A smile tugged at his lips. “Good thing I have some tucked away.”
“What?”
He explained that while most of his salary had been placed in the pack’s coffers, his former Alpha Rayne had insisted he keep a portion for himself, saying it was only fair.
And like the smart guy he was, he told Roscoe to keep that hidden from any succeeding Alpha because Jerome had been angling for the job for years
“You don’t have to do this.” This was his life’s saving and I couldn’t ask him to spend it on making my… no, our old house livable.
“I want to.” He put a finger to my lips. “This is for our family and I’ll do anything for us to be safe and comfortable.”
But we needed more than a small stash of cash.
“We’ll hire those in the pack who want to work on the building.” I went to object but he held up his hand. “And we’ll pay them a fair rate.”
Was it really that easy? Could we do this? We’d have to work out a budget. I strode toward the office, yelling for my mate to follow me because I saw a spreadsheet in our future.
“Good thing we just finished building the guest cabin.” Roscoe raised a brow as he waited for my reaction.
That was doable as long as we were in the house before the birth. I'd live in a tent if my mate was with me.
Before we could reach the office, the pack descended on us wanting to see the ultrasound images.
“Look at her little hand.” Zelda pointed to a blurry spot on one of the images. She was better at decoding the images than me. “Grandma Snowdrop loves you so much.”
I mouthed at Roscoe, “Grandma Snowdrop.”
“We decided to use names befitting the season your little girl was conceived. There’ll be Grandma Sugarplum and Grandpa Frosty.” Zelda grinned. “We’re making a list now.”
“And checking it twice,” I added and everyone giggled.