GINA AND BOB Forrester had insisted on inviting Martha and Mike to a pre-Christmas dinner in one of Boston’s most expensive restaurants. Bob hugged her like she was an old friend the minute she stepped into the entrance of Giselle’s, Martha trying to smile and pretend she was used to eating in such places regularly as the French maître d’ led them to their table. Mike was in strange form; he appeared over-polite and distant with the other couple as they were seated at the best table in the house. Fortunately both Bob and Gina were so wrapped up in the excitement of Gina’s pregnancy that they scarcely noticed it.
‘Well, Martha, the least we could do was buy you two the best dinner in the whole of Boston for what you’ve done for Gina, well, for the both of us!’
Martha blazed red, embarrassed by their host’s effusiveness and insistence on her involvement in his wife’s pregnancy, and she could see Mike was annoyed too. He was staring intently into his wine glass as if it were a crystal orb, not wanting to get drawn into any discussion about her healing prowess.
Gina looked absolutely beautiful. Pregnancy suited her and there was a new contentment in her eyes. ‘I’ve already booked into the hospital and I’m having a scan in a few weeks’ time to check everything is going all right,’ she confided. ‘They wanted me to have that test for foetal abnormalities but I told my doctor I already know this baby’s fine.’
‘Are you sure that’s wise?’ questioned Martha.
‘I put my trust in the Lord and in you, Martha, that’s good enough for me.’
Mike cast her a scathing look for a fraction of a second.
‘And I told Gina, don’t let that doctor go spoil it by telling you if we are having a boy or a girl,’ joked Bob. ‘Just let nature take its course and we’ll find out when Junior makes his or her appearance.’
As they perused their menus Bob ordered the best champagne. The wine waiter filled all their glasses.
‘Let me propose a toast to my wife Gina and a good friend – Martha!’
Martha was pleased to see such a happy father-to-be as she sipped the champagne. Noticing that Gina barely touched the alcohol, she got the waiter to fetch her a sparkling water instead. Relieved, she watched as Mike gradually relaxed, talking to Bob about the company and its future direction, and who would be the winners and losers long term in the technology sector.
‘By the way, Dan was asking after you, Martha, last week when I was in San Jose.’
‘Dan?’
‘Dan Kendrick,’ explained Mike.
‘He’s been singing your praises and said to say thanks to you again,’ said Bob amiably.
Martha knew that Mike blamed the head of Powerhouse for some of the attention and publicity she’d received.
The food was delicious and Martha enjoyed getting to know Gina better and telling her about their own kids and the Irish family in which she had been raised.
‘I envy you, Martha, my parents divorced when I was eight, and my mom remarried when I was ten and then again when I was sixteen,’ admitted Gina. ‘I must have been a right brat to those new husbands of hers and given my mom a real hard time.’
‘What about your dad?’
‘I saw him a few times over the first year or two after the divorce, and then we moved to New Jersey and he got a job as a project engineer in Nebraska. We wrote and phoned for a while and then I guess just lost touch.’
Martha couldn’t imagine how one would lose touch with a parent or child no matter how good or bad they might be.
‘I was just a kid then, and I guess I didn’t know any better. Meeting Bob changed things, and I made contact with my dad again. He’s in a retirement home now, and I’m not sure if he remembers that I’m his daughter any more, but darned sure I remember and know that he’s my dad.’
‘I’m glad you found him again,’ said Martha.
‘Along with my four stepbrothers, which was a bit of a surprise,’ she giggled.
Gina was yawning by the time the waiter brought their coffees. ‘I seem to get tired more easily,’ she apologized. ‘I guess with the baby I just can’t keep up the pace of being a night owl any more.’
‘That’s OK. Martha used to be just the same when she was having our three,’ smiled Mike, passing her the cream jug.
A half-hour later they had said their goodbyes.
‘You take care of yourself, Gina, and try to put your feet up and rest over the holidays if you get the chance,’ said Martha, thanking the Forresters warmly for the lovely night out. She was relieved that Mike had enjoyed it and had got on so well with Bob.
‘They’re a nice couple,’ she said matter-of-factly as they rode home in the cab, the Christmas trees in the store windows sparkling like stars. Mike agreed. Laying her head on his shoulder she was glad that the awful row they’d had before going out about her interfering in his life, and overstepping the mark by trying to help his boss’s wife, had blown over and that her husband had calmed down. Mike’s lips tasted of mint chocolate as they began to kiss.
That season they spent a quiet Christmas at home. Frances Kelly and her friend Bee, as well as Martha’s brothers Sean and Jack and their families, joined them for the usual slap-up Christmas dinner of roast turkey and boiled ham, followed by Christmas pudding and mince pies, all of their stomachs groaning with the excess food. Alice had lit the candle in the window to welcome the child Jesus, and the red felt stockings hung from the banisters in the hall, the scent from the pine Christmas tree Mike had put up filling the house. Evie and Martha had gone carol singing with a group from the church on Christmas Eve, ending up making creamy Irish coffees at midnight in the Hayes kitchen as Evie prepared the stuffing for the turkey.
After Christmas dinner Martha was so tired she’d fallen asleep on the couch watching an old Bing Crosby movie.
‘Are you all right, Martha pet?’ asked her mother, concerned.
‘I’m grand, Mom. It’s just been a busy day and I think Evie was a bit heavy handed with the whiskey in the coffees last night.’
‘No harm in that,’ murmured Frances, waiting for her son-in-law to refill her glass. Looking out at the deserted, snow-covered street Martha realized how relaxed she’d felt all day, despite the crowd and rushing around. There’d been no post, no phone calls except to her brother in California and to Mike’s folks in Florida, and no unexpected callers looking for the Miracle Woman. Curling up in front of the fire with Mary Rose and Alice, she acknowledged how good that felt and the utter freedom of it.