A Ballad For Beulah

The last time Beulah had been to England, she was three years old and too young to truly admire the country's beauty and culture.

Now she was nearly twenty-six and had the opportunity of being in the place she'd spent the first three years of her life, with her son.

And the man who loved her.

She was sitting on a park bench in London's Hyde Park, wrapped warmly in a winter coat, with a skull cap on her head that matched the scarf around her neck and the fleece gloves on her hands. And as she smirked at how her warm breath billowed from her lips and clashed with the cold air, her blue eyes watched as Bailey tumbled in the snow; his nose and cheeks bright red in color as he sent a smile over to his mother.

Beulah smiled back as her eyes shifted to Mike who was trying to build a snowman all by himself because Bailey was now too preoccupied with throwing himself down into the snow.

Occasionally, Mike threw her a look over his shoulder with a wink until he returned his focus to 'Frosty.' And it was the quick looks that sent a shiver down Beulah's spine. Not the cold.

"Mommy, can you make a snow angel with me?" Bailey asked.

"Mommy's not feeling well to be rolling around in the snow today, honey," she replied as her son's shoulders slumped.

Mike straightened his posture and turned to face his girlfriend, his own blue eyes narrowing in concern. "You feeling alright?"

Beulah shrugged. "I dunno. I just feel tired and...blah," she replied, wrapping her arms tighter around her waist to keep warm as a cold wind rushed by. "I think the change in weather is doing me in. I mean, one day I have sunbathing outdoors at my fingertips, so to speak, and the next I'm immersed in a Winter Wonderland."

Nodding with a slight laugh, Mike turned his head slightly to pat 'Frosty' on the 'shoulder' before he trudged through the snow, over to Beulah, and sat down beside her. The two of them sat side by side, admiring his craftsmanship.

"You know, for someone who grew up in California, you sure know how to make a quality snowman."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Some people are born with the gift, some aren't. And what can I say? I was a prodigy."

"Smug is more like it," Beulah teased. "But I think it's missing something," she added, tilting her head to study the snowman a little better.

"Like this?" Mike muttered as he snatched the skull cap off her head, ruffling her hair in the process so that she ended up looking like a poodle.

Before she could even react properly, Mike was up off the bench and over by the snowman, placing the skull cap on his white 'head.' Scrambling to her feet, Beulah tugged on his arm and lifted her left leg in kicking mode.

"Give the hat back or Frosty gets knocked down."

"A sacrifice I'm ready to make," Mike muttered with a mischievous grin. "Frosty may fall, but others will be built. You cannot stop the snowman."

Shaking her head to signify that Mike was a big honkin' dork, she simply tried grasping for her skull cap instead; leaving poor, defenseless Frosty alone.

"Bailey, help mommy attack Mike," Beulah spoke to her son.

"Hey," Mike complained jovially. "No fair using your kid against me."

"Yeah, well, when you pop a kid out of your crotch, you get to use him or her on your side too."

Mike just stood still, his face mirroring his stance, which caught Beulah off guard.

"What?" she questioned, as Bailey ran at Mike and pushed as hard as he could to pull the grown up down to the snowy ground.

Looking down at the nearly five-year-old for only a brief second, Mike refocused his attention on Beulah who he advanced on in one long step. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he spun them both around and all three fell down to the ground with Mike breaking everyone's fall.

Bailey crawled in between the bodies of his mother and Mike, grinning goofily as he rested his head on the bassist's chest. Meanwhile, Mike just laid there with his head in the cold snow, looking up at Beulah with a smile, while her face seemed to sour.

"Beulah? You okay? Listen, I'm sorry about making us fall, but you gotta admit, it was pretty damn--"

She cut him off by springing to her feet and taking off in a hurry near the closest garbage bin and throwing her head in, face first.

* * *

Adrienne wasn't showing yet, but in her second month of pregnancy, anyone around her could tell she was just glowing with the life growing inside of her. But unlike her first two pregnancies with the boys, her skin was a little more oily and she was starting to break out with pimples, which was just odd for a 36-year-old woman to get.

She'd gotten past the phase where her breasts were sensitive and the phase of the foods she liked making her more nauseous.

Both of which she was thankful to be out of.

As she walked quite nonchalantly into her office at Adeline Records, she twisted her lips in a sort of pout as she set her purse down on her desk and considered what she would do first. When there was a knock at her office door, she turned in time to see it open and then Tom stepped in.

"Oh, hey, Adrienne. I'm glad I caught you."

Adrienne just looked at him. "I'm here almost five days a week and if not, I'm at home which is, like, a minute's drive from here," she replied with a faint smirk.

"Good point," Tom laughed. "But given the fact that you didn't seem to hear me calling your name when you left yesterday and your phone kept ringing when I called..."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"So, what did you need?" Adrienne inquired.

"Nothing much really. Just some numbers on the sales from some of the Adeline merchandise from this last month," he answered passing a few sheets of paper to her that he'd been holding in his hands. "We went up about twenty percent in sales. Most of the purchases were made in the first week of the month, obviously as Christmas gifts. Then some in the last week of December, most likely because people are spending their gift money."

"December's always the most fruitful month."

"No kidding," Tom smirked, gesturing to her stomach. "You found out Billie knocked you up in the holiday season."

"The Thanksgiving season, to be exact. Found out before Christmas."

"Same difference."

Adrienne smiled and set the sales numbers down on her desk. She'd look them over more intently later. "So, how's the family?"

"Oh, the kids are great. Lisette's enjoying first grade, and Tobey hates pre-K, so I guess it's a win-lose situation," Tom replied.

"And Julie?"

"Stir crazy at home. She's looking forward to going back to work in the fall once Tobey's in Kindergarten. I mean, she's been at home since Lisette was born because we both thought someone should be home with the kids. I grew up with a lot of family always around me and I want the same experience for my kids."

"Speaking of which," Adrienne began with an impish grin. "How is the Mason gang?"

"Growing every year. And we're so spread out across the country it seems, too," Tom remarked as he sat down into the chair nearest the door. "Elliot's still in the Air Force, stationed on Edwards Air Force Base, here in California with his wife and three kids. Then there's both Fred and Claire who live in Ohio with their families. I'm here in Oakland, Steve is in LA with his wife and daughter, Larry is still single and teaching in San Antonio and then there's Nick and Beulah. Both still live in Vegas and have kids of their own."

"Oh, Billie mentioned visiting Nick and Beulah and how he bought their kids some presents while in Vegas because of a concert date bringing them there."

"He did? Well, I guess that makes sense why Mike went to Vegas on Christmas. D'you hear about how Beulah's apartment got completely wiped out? She was robbed on Christmas Eve."

"Yeah," Adrienne nodded. "Billie Joe said he got a message from Mike about it on his voicemail. I mean, how horrible. I'd like to know what heartless assholes found Christmas the best time to do something like that."

"Or at any time."

"Tell me about it." As a moment of silence fell over them and Adrienne stepped closer to Tom. "Do you have any pictures of Nick and Beulah and their kids. I haven't seen them since, Christ...1991."

"Oh, yeah...hold on." Tom nodded as he stood up and pulled his wallet from his back pocket and flipped it open. "I have pictures of all by brothers and sisters with their families then, of course, mine."

After flipping toward the back of the pictures, Tom pointed to one picture of Nick with his wife, Laura, holding their son, Jeremy. It was one of those Sears family portraits.

"Aw..." Adrienne cooed upon looking at little Jeremy. "And, holy shit. Did Nick become a quarterback? He has no neck."

Tom laughed. "Yeah, he's bulked out over the years. He's a bouncer at some high scale night club in a casino down there." Tome them pointed to the picture adjacent to Nick's. "That's Beulah and her son Bailey."

"What happened to Bailey's father?"

"Beulah said he was some guy she'd met one night. They got a few drinks into them and ended up in bed. She said she never saw him again after that night. Nine months later, she had Bailey. And he's the apple of her eye."

Tom watched as Adrienne studied the picture, her right index finger grazy over Bailey's face, not able to place why the boy looked familiar.

"He's so adorable."

"Yeah, he is. And someday I will get my ass moving to meet all my nieces and nephews."

"You haven't met Nick or Beulah's sons?" Adrienne asked, completely flabbergasted.

"Well, I've met Nick's son because he went to Elliot's house for Thanksgiving this year. But Beulah...she's slowly becoming the family's black sheep. She distances herself, and I don't know why. She was always the one who clung to the rest of us the most. I mean, she was the baby and we kinda doted on her. But she's changed. And it's not like I wanna force her to have a relationship with the rest of us now, but it'd be nice to see her again. And meet Bailey, of course."

"I'm sure you will," Adrienne insisted. "We got all the time in the world to mend relationships and build them."

Tom looked sideways at Billie Joe's wife and smiled. "Pregnancy sure has made you very...Ghandi-ish."

"Ghandi-ish? You think I'm like Mohatma Ghandi? Heh, that's a new one." Adrienne simply snickered and shook her head as she turned to stare out the office window.

* * *

"Beulah, when you gonna let me in?" Mike called, leaning his forehead on the bathroom door along with his right hand holding the knob.

And while he waited for an answer, all he got was the sound of gagging, spitting and then the toilet flushing for the umpteenth time that evening.

"Honey..." Mike pestered further. "Please?"

Bailey was twirling in the sitting room and, from what Mike could tell from the corner of his eye, the boy was trying to make himself dizzy, and succeeding when he fell over on his ass and sat up very disoriented.

Mike smirked but the sound of Beulah yaking again in the locked bathroom brought his attention back to her.

"Was it something you ate this morning?" Mike inquired.

"No," came her weak answer. "I didn't eat breakfast 'cause just the sight of those eggs made me--oh shit..."

Then came more vomiting noises, followed by yet another flush.

Mike tipped his head back so that his neck was pointed toward the ceiling as he bit his lip and closed his eyes. "Then maybe it's just the weather messing with your innards or something? The change in atmosphere, or even the different country. Sometimes it's all in the water. Or maybe--"

"Mike, could you maybe just shut up for a few minutes?" Beulah grumbled.

"Sorry."

After a few more minutes of listening to his girlfriend throw up everything she'd eaten in the last year, it seemed, Mike heard the sound of the faucet running, and then the door unlocked. Taking the opportunity while it was open, Mike opened the door and stepped inside, finding Beulah standing wearily at the sink, brushing her teeth.

"I hate throwing up," she whimpered through a mouthful of sudsy Colgate.

After spitting the contents in her mouth out into the sink and rinsing clean with a cup of water, she wiped her face on the towel beside her and then turned toward Mike. She seemed to meld against his body as he welcomed her into his arms, resting the side of her face against his chest.

"No one likes throwing up, babe," Mike muttered, kissing the top of her head. "But I think you were going for some kind of record today. Twice at the park in the garbage can, once in the lobby, and I'm guessing more times here in this bathroom than I can count on my right hand."

Beulah lifted her head and glared up at Mike.

"Sorry, sorry. Just trying to make light of the situation."

"I think I'm starting to hate England," she mumbled. "I think it is the water. 'Cause I didn't feel this shitty at home."

Mike just rested his chin on the top of her head, smiling at how cute she was when she was sick and vulnerable. "How about you go lay down. Go to bed early tonight. Throwing up's probably exhausted you."

"Yeah, it has," she agreed as the two of them slinked out of the bathroom. "Will you make sure Bailey gets a bath tonight, and that he eats dinner and...uh...not int that order, please. Do what I said, but reverse it. Eat first, then bath otherwise the bath was for naught."

Mike grinned. "Beulah, shut up," he laughed. "I know what to do. I am a father, you know. Just go...sleep. Dream of me all naked and sexy."

Beulah giggled as she trudged tiredly into the master suite. "Mmkay."

As soon as she shut the door, Mike turned to Bailey who had fallen on his ass for the last time.

"Okay, monkey man, time for some dinner," Mike announced. "What do you want?"

"Buhsketti-O's!" Bailey squealed as he clamored to his feet.

"You mean, Spaghetti-O's?" Bailey nodded. "Well, I don't know if they have Spaghetti-O's in England, but I'll check Room Service, okay?"

Bailey nodded again. "I hope they got 'em, 'cause I like Buhsketti-O's a lot."

"I bet you do," Mike smiled as he headed to the hotel phone.

* * *

That night Mike stirred in bed when he felt the bed shift and then could sense that the bathroom light was flicked on. He rolled over, figuring Beulah had to piss, but when his sleepy ears picked up the sound of her throwing up again, he opened his blue eyes and sat up.

"Beulah?" he called in a groggy voice. He looked over at the bedside clock and saw that it read 3:42 AM and he frowned. "Still sick?"

After the toilet flushed and he heard the faucet running for a few moments, he watched out Beulah turned off the bathroom light and staggered back into the bedroom to sit down on the bed beside him, in the dark.

Mike scooted closer to her and frowned as he placed a hand on her arm and nuzzled his nose against the warm skin of her neck; her hair slightly tickling his face.

"You okay?"

"I'm not sick," came her stoic repsonse. "It's got nothing to do with me being sick."

"Then what is it? 'Cause you know I was thinking that jet lag could be responsible, even though we've been here for more than two weeks, so maybe that doesn't make sense, but--"

"I'm pregnant," she cut him off; her posture completely zombie-like.

Mike sat up straighter and stared at her profile. And for a few moments he couldn't say anything. His brain had heard what she said, but it was taking a while to register everything.

"Did you hear--" she began.

"Yeah, I heard you," he replied, cutting into his owned stunned silence. "I mean...are you sure?"

"Yeah. It makes sense. I was due two days ago, but thought I was just late," Beulah answered, slowly turning to look him in the eye, albeit sheepishly. "But all the symptoms point to pregnancy. Nausea, aversion to food, sensitive breasts...no period." She shrugged. "I'm pregnant."

When she looked at him fully, he held her gaze and his stunned expression began to morph into that of glee.

"You mean...I'm gonna be a dad?" he questioned hopefully, which surprised him somewhat.

Beulah nodded. "Yep," she replied with a coquettish smile. "It musta been all that hot sex we had at Christmas and pretty much every day since then."

Mike mirrored her smile as he wrapped his arms around her waist and forced her to turn and face him. Pressing his nose against hers, he kissed her and then pulled her up into his lap.

"Thank you."

"For what?" she questioned.

"Giving me this," Mike answered a little vaguely. "For giving me you, Bailey...and our baby."

Beulah's breath hitched as she looked down her nose at his and bit her lip. "You're welcome, I guess."

Mike kissed her again and then pulled back with a sour look on his face.

"What?" she asked.

"I think I got a taste of vomit," he teased as she swatted him and then he proceeded to throw her down onto the bed.

"Be careful with me!" she pleaded in a fit of giggles. "I'm pregnant and I may throw up in your face!"

But her pleas were drowned out by her laughter as he began to tickle her mercilessly.