Mother Puncher by Gina Ranalli Read Free Book Online Page B

English. How you doing?”
    “Right as rain!” she announced proudly. “Another boy. Can you imagine? That’s five now!”
    Ed said he couldn’t imagine and he really couldn’t. He lived at Envision for a reason.
    “I’m naming this one Jeremy! All J’s! Nine J’s! Can you imagine?”
    Still smiling, Ed nodded. “Jeremy is a fine name, Mrs. English.”
    “It is! A fine name for a fine boy!”
    “Uh huh.”
    There was a pause punctuated only by Jeremy’s loud braying and then Mrs. English took a deep breath, released it and said, “Well, I’m ready whenever you are, Ed.”
    “Ok.” He stepped up to the side of the bed. “Any preference?”
    “Nope. Same as always. Just not the nose.”
    “You got it, Mrs. English.” Then he socked her in the eye, trying not to hit her too hard, but hard enough to leave a bruise.
    Mrs. English gasped in pain but recovered quickly. “That the best you got these days, Ed?” she joked. “You don’t hit like you used to.”
    “I try to go easy on people I know.”
    She laughed and then Sandy brought Jeremy over to her, placing the baby on her ample bosom.
    Ed sat down at the foot of the bed and watched mother and son for a while, waiting for the shiner to show itself. It took a while, but Ed was happy to wait. The baby gurgled while Mrs. English cooed at him, wiping drool from his chin with a corner of the sheet.
    Watching them together cheered Ed up somehow, but he couldn’t really say why. He still thought having babies in the current world was sinful but there was something about Mrs. English and her determination to keep doing it for no other reason than that she loved kids. And it was obvious that she was a kind and caring mother. Hell, she was a kind and caring woman.
    Go figure, Ed thought.
    A little while later, Mr. English hurried in, saying, “How are you, Barb? You ok?”
    Ed stepped away for a bit, in order to give them some privacy and let the father examine and say hello to his new son. He figured five or ten minutes would be enough, but now that Mr. English was here, he knew he’d also have to wait for his shiner to show up too, doubling the time he had to spend in here. He hoped no other mothers were waiting to be punched, but he certainly wasn’t going to let an opportunity to punch a father pass him by.
    When the time came, Mr. English was a good enough sport about it. Not as good as his wife, of course, but no one else was that good. Mr. English climbed into the bed with his wife, little Jeremy perched between them, both parents ginning into the camera as Ed snapped their picture.
    “Congratulations to you both,” Ed told them before he left them alone. And for once, he was pretty sure he meant it.

 
    11
     
         He found out he had plenty of time to go home for a while and hurried out to his truck, got in and sped along with the windows open so he wouldn’t stink up the cab. On the radio was that familiar feminine voice backed by the familiar soothing jingle as she said, “Envision: It’s a lifestyle.”
    Ed smiled to himself. “Damn right it is.”
    He pulled into his driveway ten minutes later, cursing that damn Firebird yet again, got out and began fishing around on his key ring for the one that would open the door. He found it and was about to slide it home when the door swung open of its own accord.
    Ash stood before him, still wearing her robe, a burning cigarette in one skeletal hand. “Where have you been?”
    Frowning, he said, “Work. Where the fuck do you think I’ve been?”
    “You have company.”
    “Who?” he asked, his frown deepening.
    “Come see for yourself.”
    Ed followed her into the house, closing the door behind him, knowing that it would be Drizzle. Damn, he had to remember to tell security that the property was