“She’s good. They are giving her fluids to help replenish her blood volume.”
“Same for the baby,” I say. “But she might need to be given some blood.”
I hear her gasp. “She needs a blood transfusion? Oh, God. That doesn’t sound good.”
“Actually, all things considered, the news is pretty good,” I say, not wanting to give too much away but at the same time needing Ivy to know the sky isn’t falling. “The doctor didn’t feel any kidney abnormalities.”
“Really? Well, I guess that is good news.”
“Yes, it is. They think she’s going to be okay, Holly. Tell Ivy that.”
“I will,” she says. “How’s Eli holding up?”
“He’s … good, I guess.”
“Briggs, what aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing.”
Holly whispers forcefully into the phone. “Don’t mess with me, Briggs. I’m not about to tell Ivy that things look good if they aren’t. I won’t get her hopes up just to have them dashed. I want more than anything to give her good news, but not if it’s just temporary.”
“I get that, Holly. And I’ll explain more when I come to see Ivy. I’ll be down as soon as I can. And I think I have more good news.”
“You think?”
“I hope,” I say, not revealing any more. “Listen, go ahead and tell her that the baby’s oxygen saturation is lower than they’d like. But the doctor didn’t make it seem like any kind of emergency. He’s giving her saline through her umbilical cord. He said she’s crying and responsive and that those are both very good signs.”
The nurse comes over and stares at me.
“I have to go, Holly. I’ll be down soon.”
The nurse removes the needle and holds cotton on my arm for a few seconds before wrapping gauze around it. “Here,” she says, handing me a glass of orange juice. “Drink this before you try and stand up.”
The baby’s doctor comes in the room as I’m sipping my drink.
He nods to the bag of blood I just donated. “Looks like we won’t be needing that after all.”
“What? Why not?”
“Your daughter’s O2 saturation levels have risen significantly. And I’m happy to say, she looks and acts like any other healthy newborn.”
The relief that courses through my body brings tears to my eyes. I’ve only held her once, when she was pale and lifeless. I’ve never kissed her. I’ve never looked into her eyes. I’ve never held her tiny hands. But I love her so fiercely that it hurts.
All I can do is nod as tears of joy stream down my face.
The doctor pats me on the shoulder. “I’m heading down to Ms. Greene’s room now to explain everything.”
I swallow hard and find my words. “Doctor, would it be okay if I told her about me being the father?”
He looks at his watch. “I tell you what. Your daughter’s saline I.V. should be coming out soon. We’ll have to keep an eye on her hemoglobin and O2 levels, but I see no reason to keep her in the NICU. If you think Ms. Greene can wait another thirty minutes or so, we can all go down together.”
“All?” I ask, wide-eyed. “As in the baby, too?”
“Like I said, she’s looking good. So, yes, we can take her down.”
I smile. “Ivy can wait. I just called her sister and gave her an update. I don’t think she’s panicking anymore.”
“Good,” he says. “Then you can wait for us in the NICU waiting area and I’ll find you when we’re ready.”
I reach out to shake his hand. “Thank you, Dr. Moran. I can’t tell you what all of this means to me.”
He nods, handing me a tissue. “You don’t need to, son. I can clearly see.”
Chapter Forty
Ivy
The door to my hospital room opens and a bassinet gets wheeled through. My heart leaps when I see it. She must be well enough for them to bring her down here.
Then I see a doctor and Bass following behind. I wait for Eli to come in as well, but he doesn’t.
“Where’s Eli?” I ask.
“He left,” Bass says.
“He left? Why would he do that?”
Bass looks around the room, seeing some familiar faces like Holly and Alder, but also a few people he’s never met—my parents. But somehow, I feel that now is not exactly the time for introductions. I need to hold my baby. Everything else can wait.
“Ivy, can we have some privacy?” Bass asks.
I strain to sit up and look at the baby. “Why? What’s happened? She’s not okay?”
“She’s okay,” he tells me. Then he looks at the others in the room. “We just need a minute. Please.”
Everyone looks at the doctor for verification. He nods, and I guess that’s good enough for them because they all get up and file out of the room, taking peeks at the baby on the way out.
When the door is closed, the doctor steps back and motions to the baby. “Go ahead,” he says to Bass. “Introduce them.”
Bass carefully picks up my daughter and steps over to the bed, placing her in my arms. I look at her through thick balls of tears. “Oh my God,” I say, taking her in. “Oh my God.”
I move her little pink cap to the side and kiss her dark hair. I examine her fingers. I open the blanket and look at her toes. I lean down and inhale her intoxicating scent. And then I begin to shake, sobs bellowing out of me. Happy sobs.
“Is she … is she okay?” I ask the doctor.
“She appears to be,” he says. “We haven’t seen any effects of oxygen deprivation. We’ll want to monitor her milestones for the first year, just to be sure, but I don’t think you have any reason to worry.”
“And the ARPKD, did you test her? Does she have it? Is she a carrier?”
I stare at the doctor, my eyes pleading with him for good news.
“It looks like we don’t have to test her for it after all,” he says.
“Why would you not test her?” I ask, appalled. “And where’s Eli?”
He nods to Bass. “I think Mr. Briggs can best explain that.”
I eye Bass in confusion. He sits down on the bed next to me and puts a hand on the baby’s head. “They thought she might need a blood transfusion, so they had to get her blood type.”
“But she didn’t get one, right?” I ask. “I mean, she’s here and there aren’t any tubes or wires.”
“No, she didn’t. But when they were preparing for it, they made a discovery.”
“Bass, what are you trying to tell me? And why are you telling me instead of the doctor?”
“Eli was upstairs with us earlier when we were talking about the baby possibly needing a blood transfusion,” he says. “He told the doctor your blood types.”
“I’m B and he’s AB,” I tell them. “We had lots of tests after Dahlia was born.”
“That’s exactly what Eli said. But, sweetheart, when the baby’s blood-type results came back, it said she’s O-negative.”
“Okay. What does that mean? Is that bad?”
“Ivy, that means Eli can’t possibly be the father. But I can. I’m O-negative, too, just like she is.”
I look down at the baby, then up at Bass, then over at the doctor. I’m not exactly sure what’s happening here. “But … but they said she was conceived on Dahlia’s birthday. That was two weeks before Bass and I …”
“That’s why we call it an estimated date of conception, Ms. Greene,” Dr. Moran says. “We go off the date of your last period.”
“Which was always screwy,” I add.
“And even if there were minor variances in the growth of the fetus, if you didn’t voice any concerns over the EDC, then your doctor wouldn’t have either.”
I look up at Bass, my mind absorbing what they are telling me. “Oh my God, Bass, this means—” My lips press together as I try to hold back more tears. My heart just swelled so much, I think it might burst open. It’s like every dream I had has just come true all at once.
Bass leans in and pres
ses his forehead to mine. “This means she’s our daughter, Ivy. And there’s no way she has ARPKD.”
“She doesn’t have ARPKD,” I repeat as if saying it again will make it more real. “And she’s yours.”
“She’s mine,” he says. “You both are.”
He leans down and places a kiss on our daughter’s head. Then he kisses me. He kisses me like I’ve wanted him to kiss me for months. And with his kiss, he tells me everything I need to hear. That he’s with me. With us. Through thick and thin. For better or worse. That he’s not going anywhere. Not ever again.
The doctor clears his throat from across the room, reminding us of his presence.
Bass pulls his lips away, but he doesn’t let me go. “I love you, Ivy Greene.”
“I love you, too, Sebastian Briggs.”
We revel in our daughter as the doctor explains everything to me in detail. Then he exits the room, leaving the three of us alone for the first time.
“She looks like Dahlia,” I say. “Except she has your nose.”
“She looks like you,” Bass says. “She’s beautiful.”
We bond for a few more minutes before a nurse comes in asking me if I want to try breastfeeding.
“More than anything,” I tell her.
I didn’t get to nurse Dahlia. She was too sick at first, so I pumped. And by the time we got her home, she just never took to the breast. So while she got the benefit of my breast milk, I never got to feel her nurse.
“Can you go tell my family?” I ask Bass. “I’m sure they are out there wondering what’s up.”
“You want me to tell them?” he asks.
I smile. “I can’t think of a better way for you to meet my parents.”
“I’d be happy to,” he says, pulling up a chair next to the bed. “Right after I watch you feed our daughter.”
~ ~ ~
The past twenty-four hours have been life-changing. I know a lot of people throw around that term like it’s nothing, but in this case, it’s true. I have a baby with Bass. A healthy baby. One who we can watch grow up and teach to play sports and travel with and give away at her wedding.
A tear travels down my cheek as I look down at my baby girl. “You would have loved your big sister. She would have taught you how to draw. She was so good at it. Someday, I’ll show you her drawings.”
Suddenly, a strange feeling comes over me. I think of the drawing on the wall at the shop. The one Dahlia made of a child being swung between two adults. The man in the picture, could it have been Bass? The child, was it this child?
“Could Dahlia have known?” I ask the baby.
She doesn’t respond. She’s asleep and her little mouth is puckered like she’s nursing.
“Who are you talking to?” Eli asks, coming into the room.
“Nobody,” I say.
He puts a vase of daisies on the side table, adding to the other flowers that are already there. I smile. He knows it’s okay now. He knows I’m not afraid of daisies anymore.
I look at Eli, not sure if he’s happy or sad.
“Are you … okay with this?” I ask.
“It’s not like I have a choice in the matter, Ivy. He’s her dad and that’s a fact.”
“I know, but I just want to make sure you’re all right.”
He sits down on the bed and kisses my cheek. “Ivy, you need to quit worrying so much about other people and take care of yourself for once. You have every reason to sit back and enjoy life. You deserve this. You deserve Bass. And, yes, I’m okay with this. I’ll always love you, but I’m happy with how this worked out. You have a healthy baby. And I’m about to get married. Maybe I’ll have a healthy baby sometime soon, too.”
I put my arm around him and squeeze. “Thank you, Eli.”
“Where is everyone?” he asks.
“At work mostly,” I say. “Holly was with me all morning while Bass went home to shower and get a few things. But she went in to relieve Janie after lunch.” I look at the clock. “I thought Bass would be back by now. He’s been gone a while.”
“You want me to stay?” he asks. “I could have someone cover my classes this afternoon.”
“No. That’s okay. I’m sure he’ll be back any minute. I could probably use the peace and quiet after all the jabbering Holly was doing this morning. She made me go online and order a ton of baby stuff. Then she was figuring out where to put everything in our apartment.”
“You don’t have any baby stuff?”
I give him a look. “Of course not. I didn’t want to jinx it.”
He laughs. “I’m glad she made you do it, Ivy. Someone needs to whip your ass in gear since I’m not around to do it. So, you’re not going to move in with Bass?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I mean, we haven’t really talked about it.”
“But you would, right? If he asked you?”
“Of course I would. But this was all so sudden, I’m not sure he will. I pushed him away for so long and now this. I love him, and he says he loves me, but he’s probably still trying to catch his breath. I don’t expect him to move both of us in with him at the drop of a hat.”
“I think you underestimate him. I’m pretty sure we all did.” He checks his watch. “Can I get you anything before I leave?”
I nod to the table. “My purse. Can you get my wallet out and bring it to me?”
He does what I ask, leaving it sitting on the bed next to me. Then he kisses me and walks out the door.
The baby squirms in my arms and opens her little eyes. I pick up my wallet and pull out a picture, holding it up for her to see. “This is your sister, Dahlia,” I say. “She was beautiful, like you. You have a brother, too. But I don’t have a picture of him. His name is Jonah.” I cock my head to the side and study her for a second. “What’s your name, little one?”
There’s a knock on the door and then Bass comes in carrying two very large vases of flowers.
“How are my girls?” he asks.
All I can do is smile. I’m his girl. She’s his girl.
Bass puts the vases down on the table. He leans down and plants a careful kiss on the baby’s head and then a not-so-careful one on my lips.
“We haven’t had much of a chance to talk, have we?” he says.
“No. I guess not. I’m sorry I fell asleep on you last night.”
“I’ll let it slide this one time considering the day you had yesterday.”
I laugh. “Gee, thanks.”
“What did you do all morning?” he asks. “I hope you weren’t alone all day.”
“Holly was here for a few hours and Eli just left.”
“Are you expecting anyone else?”
I shake my head. “Not until after they get off work, why?”
“Good. I was hoping we could have a minute alone.” He nods to the flowers he brought. They’re daisies of course. “I brought two dozen,” he says. “One is from me and the other is from Dahlia. I know she would want you to have them.”
My eyes mist up. “Thank you. I was just introducing her to the baby.”
“Do you mind?” he says, reaching out for our sleeping daughter.
“Take her,” I say. “She’s yours.”
“Say it again,” he says, looking at her beautiful face.
“She’s yours,” I say.
He closes his eyes as he cradles her. Then he puts her in the bassinet and sits on the bed. “Are you mine, too, Ivy Greene?”
I nod. “Yes.”
He pulls the table with the flowers closer to me. “Can you guess which one is from me?” he asks, motioning to the two vases of flowers.
I eye him skeptically.
“You have to look closely,” he says.
I let my eyes wander over the daisies in the vase on the right, not noticing anything that would give me the slightest clue. I look up at Bass.
“Keep looking,” he says.
I look at the ones on the left. And then it catches my eye. One of the stems has a sparkle on it. Stems d
on’t sparkle. I pull the vase closer and see the diamond ring.
My heart races as I turn to him, speechless.
“You don’t have to say anything now,” he says. “I mean, we haven’t been together for a long time. I know this is sudden. And maybe a little crazy considering we were only ever together for a few weeks. But I want this more than anything. I want you. I want her. I want us to be a family. And crazy or not, it feels right.”
I didn’t think I had any more happy tears to cry. As they fall down my cheeks, I ask him, “What if I do have something to say now?”
“You do?” he asks. “I mean, you will?”
“Well, that depends. I’m not sure I know exactly what the question is,” I tease.
He smiles. It’s a smile I haven’t seen since the day I got back from Hawaii. Then he pulls the flowers out of the vase and gets the ring off the stem. “Marry me, Ivy Greene. Marry me and I promise I’ll make the two of you the happiest girls in the world. I promise never to let you forget to jump into puddles. I promise to take you to every waterfall we can find. I promise to help teach her how to make flower pancakes with fruit in the middle.” He looks over at our daughter. “Marry me and I promise never to let our daughter forget that it was her sister who brought us together.”
I wipe my tears, wanting to see him clearly when I say the words I’ve only said to him in my dreams. “Yes, Sebastian Briggs, I’ll marry you.”
“Yes!” He pops up off the bed and does a fist pump. “Sorry,” he says, sitting back down to slip the ring on my finger.
He kisses me passionately, letting our tongues taste each other while giving me small glimpses of the possibilities that lie ahead. Possibilities I never thought existed. Possibilities that wouldn’t have existed without him.
We pull apart when the baby starts to cry. Bass picks her up and places her in my arms. Then he walks over to open a curtain to let in the afternoon sun. On his way back to the bed, he looks around the room, noticing the daisies Eli brought. “Damn, I see someone beat me to the punch.”
I laugh, admiring my ring. “Nobody beat you to this punch,” I say. “Plus, I can never have too many daisies.” I look down at the picture of Dahlia that still sits next to me on the bed. “Did I ever tell you what Dahlia said about daisies?”
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