Rude Awakenings: A Novel of the Terribly Acronymed Detective Club (Book 2)

Chapter Seventeen: Lauren, Spring, 2000

Lauren had two miscarriages before she had Naomi. She never told Rachel, Al and Sunny about them after she reunited with them. They were just too painful to recount, and she wanted her reunion with them to be joyful. She also considered them a private pain for the family only, and she knew Joe wouldn't want her talking about them either.

Two promises broken by God in a terrifying flow of blood that, mercifully, happened at home and not while she was on a stakeout. That was the price Lauren paid for finally deciding she was ready for children. That was what Joe's parents implied; she'd taken birth control for too long, and it had done something to her body. When she showed them research that proved it did nothing of the sort, they trotted out other excuses: her body was too small, her hips were too narrow, there was no way a child could gestate in there, certainly not one that came from Joe.

When her mom confessed to her that she too had had her share of miscarriages and never told her before, that it was why Lauren was an only child, and that this might be a hereditary condition, it made her feel better, and at the same time it didn't.

Joe cried with her and held her close for days after each one, forsaking his construction company and his other responsibilities, and in those times she could not have asked for a better husband.

There were other times, though, when she hated him. When he didn't stand up to his parents, when he didn't contradict their silly superstitions. When he filled her womb with seed that wouldn't take root.

They said she was too busy, that she worked too much to properly care for herself so her babies could grow. She did work a lot in those early days at her new job. Justiciar was just a start-up then, not fully established yet, not a major player in the security and investigation sector in Vancouver. She started at the bottom, as a security guard doing after-hours beat walking on construction sites (not Joe's sites, that would have been awkward, but Joe's company did hire hers for the work), and in malls and parking lots. 

Her bosses, Ralph Rose and Gary Somers, the two partners who'd incorporated the firm, soon promoted her, though, impressed with her certification from the Justice Institute (which still sounded like a superhero headquarters to her), and because they had a very specific vacancy to fill: that of the unassuming, diminutive, non-threatening woman, invisible in a crowd, able to observe and document activities without alerting the wrong people. She milked that image for all it was worth, so eager was she to escape the boredom of guarding. She was very good at her job; no one ever suspected that the pixie-like girl in the yoga wear, or the jeans and leather jacket, chattering away on her phone, was actually tailing them and taking pictures of them with it while they weren't looking.

Ironically, when she finally became pregnant, and it held, she became even more effective. There was no one on this earth more indulged than a pregnant woman, and thus no one less questioned; any sign of challenge, and she could use her condition to her advantage, especially on men, who found the whole idea of gestation alien and unnerving; a fainting spell, a faked contraction, a quick run to the bathroom to relieve a weighed-down bladder, these provided escape routes that weren't available to a male investigator, or even a female investigator who wasn't carrying.

That was one victory of finally having a baby that took.

The other was that it shut up Joe's parents for a while.

She worked right up until the due date, too, with no ill effects. She gave birth to a squalling seven pound girl with her face and eyes and, to her utter delight, a full head of auburn hair. She was gorgeous and, paired with her skin tone, that hair would be remarked on by every adult who passed by. She'd look like a shiny new copper penny.

As predicted, Joe was in love from the moment he saw her. They decided on the name Naomi because it had no connection at all to any family, so as not to show favouritism, and the name sounded both Japanese and Italian depending on how it was pronounced. They'd had a lot of time to discuss baby names in the years of the losses, and that was their choice for a girl. For the boy, well, that was still under discussion. The temptation was to name the boy after one of their fathers, but there was no way she was going to name her son Umberto, and she really wanted to honour her father, especially after he'd given her the sword. They could Anglicize it and shorten it for the schoolyard, and it would sound vaguely cool. Tosh! It sounded like a British slur. Joe hadn't been entirely convinced, but she knew she'd be able to wear him down when the time came.