by Freya Barker
I’d spent most of the afternoon fielding phone calls from Jaimie, Autumn, and even Blue had called in to see how mother and baby were doing. Word travels fast. All of them wanted to come and visit, but only direct family is allowed in the NICU, and Tahlula is not about to leave her little pea for longer than it takes her to visit the bathroom. Dr. Haebe decided to keep her one more night, using the excuse that after this morning she wants to keep an eye on Mom a little longer. I think it’s because she gets Tahlula isn’t ready to leave her—our—daughter behind.
“Take your time,” Ma interjects. “I’ll stay here until you get back.”
I lean over Tahlula and she lifts her face for my kiss. “Love you,” I mumble, a sentiment she doesn’t hesitate returning. Then I turn to my mother who looks as blissed out as sleeping Hanna is in her arms. “Love you too.” I kiss her forehead and note her blinking away tears as she lifts a hand to my face.
“Thank you,” she whispers, and I don’t have to ask what she’s thankful for. I know she’d always hoped for me to find someone and start a family, but had probably given up on that notion a while ago, just as I had.
Which is why, looking down at the content little miracle in my mother’s arms, my own eyes sting with emotion. I bend over and kiss her downy cheek. “Love you, Little Pea,” I say softly, using the nickname Tahlula gave her, and watch as her face scrunches up at the tickle of my beard against her skin.
I abruptly turn and walk out of the room, barely able to contain my overwhelming emotions.
Instead of first going home, I head toward the fire station, stopping at the Durango Smoke Shop on my way. With a bit of luck, my crew is around and has enough food to include me.
“How is she?” Blue is the first to spot me when I walk in.
It smells like Sumo did dinner tonight, rich spices and sweet coconut wafting from the kitchen, and my stomach rumbles in response.
“Did you come here to mooch?” Sumo calls from the kitchen, and I flip him the bird as I focus on Blue.
“Both of them are doing great. Tahlula will technically be discharged tomorrow, although I suspect she’ll spend most of her time at the hospital with Hanna, who probably will be kept for another week or two.”
“Sit down,” Cap barks from the end of the dining table. “Grab the man a drink, Hog.”
“Coke?” he asks, and I give him a thumbs-up.
Digging into the paper bag I’m carrying, I hand out the first cigar to Blue, who grins widely. Then I dole them out to the rest, including Sumo, who is hanging over the counter.
“What’s this? Did I miss something?”
I can’t hold back the grin. “Last night at seven forty-five Hanna Rae was born. This morning at eight fifteen she became Hanna Rae Biel.”
There is dead silence in the room, before it erupts in cheers and whistles. I’m hugged, punched, clapped on the shoulder, and can’t stop smiling if I tried.
“Well, shit. Talk about moving fast,” Sumo points out grinning. “But I guess at your age there’s no time to waste.”
I reach out and slap the back of his head. The bastard is only a year younger. Cap punches his shoulder on the other side.
“Time doesn’t matter,” Cap says, turning a serious expression on me. “When it’s right, you know. Couldn’t be happier for you, brother.” He folds me in a bone-crushing hug, before sitting back in his chair. “Now, can we get something to fucking eat around here?”
I pull out the chair he indicated earlier and sit down at the table to break bread with my crew.
Nothing better than to celebrate family with family.
Tahlula
“I don’t know about this.”
I just received my discharge papers but I’m not ready to go. Leaning over Hanna’s little warming bed, I brush her little palm. Her fingers immediately curl tightly around mine.
“See? She doesn’t want me to go.”
I feel Evan step close behind me, putting his chin on my shoulder to look at my Little Pea. Our Little Pea.
When I started this journey last year, I fully intended to go it alone—was excited for it—and be the best mom I could be for my child. Never in my wildest dreams could I have conjured finding this man behind me, whose eyes hold all the love in the world, not only for me, but for Hanna as well. Now I can’t imagine raising this tiny human without him by my side.
Blessed.
“We’ll go home so you can shower, get changed, give Luke some attention, and maybe eat a little. I’ll call Blackfoot; see if he’ll come to Mercy to take your full statement. Then on our way back to the hospital we’ll stop in at the Public Health Department and register Hanna. We’ll be back here before you know it.”
I lean back against his chest. “Promise?”
He nuzzles my neck, mumbling, “Of course.”
“We’ll take good care of her,” Hanna’s nurse says, when Evan pries me away and firmly guides me into the wheelchair—hospital regulations—and out of the NICU.
By the time he has me settled in the passenger seat, I’m already tuckered. I can’t remember the drive home and Evan has to wake me when we get there. My limbs feel like lead walking in the door, and Evan has to hold the dog back from knocking me on my ass.
“You glad to see me, buddy?” Luke’s entire hindquarters are wagging, and he’s smiling his pittie smile as he butts his head against my knees the moment I sit down on the couch. “Maybe you should take him for a walk,” I suggest.
“Ma took him earlier this morning. I’ll take him after you have your shower.”
Slightly annoyed, I snip at him. “You don’t need to babysit me, you know.”
Clearly I’m not impressing him, because he leans over the couch and grins in my face. “It’s not so much about what you need or not, as it is about what I want. Stop trying to prove you’ll be fine on your own—I already know that. The point is, you aren’t anymore, you have me.” I try hard to stay annoyed, but it’s impossible when everything he says makes sense. “Go take a shower, the dog can go in the yard while I cook you some breakfast.” I open my mouth to tell him he doesn’t need to, when he quickly adds, “Because I want to.”
The kiss he plants on my mouth has me swallowing my protest and curling my toes. “Don’t tease,” I say instead when he lets me up for air. “I’ll be out of commission for a while, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel.” His grin goes from sweet to shit-eating in a split second. “And it’s not nice to gloat,” I add on a huff, getting my booty off the couch and march—fine, waddle—down the hallway to the bedroom.
My shower is sheer bliss, compared to the acrobatics I had to perform to catch a piddly stream of water in the claustrophobic hospital bathroom. I used to think my shower was the bomb, but Evan’s has three showerheads.
I finally drag myself out of there and into the bedroom, where over these past weeks a disturbing amount of my stuff has accumulated. The walk-in closet sports a his and a hers side, and the top two drawers of the dresser hold my jeans, tees, and underwear. Somehow even the frame with a few snapshots of Trunk and me growing up has found its way from my nightstand at home to the one on my side of the big king-sized bed here.
Home. I’m starting to learn it’s not just a place you live in. It’s not just the safety provided by the four walls around you. Home is the arms you sleep in and the feeling of security they give you.
Shit.
I quickly tug on a pair of lounge pants and a three-quarter sleeved tee. There’s no rush to hammer out the housing logistics. Determinedly pushing those thoughts aside, I walk out of the bedroom into the welcome smell of bacon and eggs.
An hour and a half later, I walk into the NICU under my own steam and rush to Hanna in her little bassinet.
“She’s been asleep this whole time,” her nurse tells me.
The moment the words leave her mouth, Hanna’s face crumples and she lets out a big wail and immediately I feel my milk let down. Thank God for those pads Joan bought me.
�
��You sit down before you fall down,” Evan orders. “I’ll bring her to you.”
What would normally have raised all the hair on my head, now barely causes a ripple. I’m starting to recognize the difference between concern and control.
While Hanna is nursing, Evan gets a text from Keith, letting him know he’s on his way.
“Shall I tell him to meet us in the cafeteria in twenty?”
Twenty minutes gives me enough time to feed, change her, and straighten myself out.
“Sounds good. I think I need some coffee.”
“Decaf,” the nurse and Evan correct at the same time.
I send each of them a dirty look.
“Before we start, let me warn you I can’t hold my wife off much longer,” Keith says when we walk up to his table.
I smile as he gets up and kisses my cheek. “Tell her she can call anytime, and if she’d like she can come here for a visit. She won’t be able to come into the NICU, but she can at least have a peek from the window.”
“How about I wait to tell her that until tomorrow,” he returns with a grin.
Evan is off to get us some coffee—decaf for me—when Keith asks me to share every moment from the time I noticed that woman in Hanna’s room. I do my best to recall every detail and every word she said.
“She’s off her rocker,” Evan concludes and Blackfoot nods in agreement.
“That she is, which is lucky for us,” Keith explains. “The woman is so mired in her own righteousness and devotion, she seems eager to share her convictions.”
“Okay, so off her rocker is probably too mild a concept. How about bat-shit crazy?” I suggest, making Evan snicker.
“Apparently she met Sutherland two years ago when her father brought her to one of the first ANL meetings. According to her, it was love at first sight. Dad encouraged a union between the two, despite the fact Sutherland was already married.”
“Poor Jaimie.”
Evan puts a comforting arm around my shoulder.
“Yeah. From what I can tell, she was absolutely clueless and feels pretty torn up about it. Especially after finding out Sutherland only stayed married to her because she’s prime Arian breeding stock. Margaret’s words, not mine,” Keith quickly adds when he sees my reaction. “Since Sutherland himself is the poster boy for the—” He makes air quotation marks. “—superior race, he was urged, along with others matching the requirements, to procreate.”
“Jesus,” Evan hisses. “Isn’t that something Hitler was reported to have dabbled in? Breeding the perfect race?”
“I can’t even comprehend people like that exist in this day and age,” I contribute, a shiver running down my spine.
“Sadly they do,” Keith commiserates, looking at me. “Apparently when you appeared in the public eye last year, Sutherland—who’d already been unhappy with his wife working for a lesbian—tried to get Jaimie to quit. He wanted to keep her in a pure environment.”
“What? Like my color is contagious?” A few heads turn in the cafeteria at my raised voice, and I duck my head between my shoulders. “Sorry,” I mumble.
“Don’t be. It’s as disgusting to me as it is to you.” Blackfoot stares at me hard, daring me to blow him off. I don’t. He’s Native American and I’m sure is very familiar with racism and discrimination. After a moment he continues, “Margaret—or Elizabeth as you know her—was placed at the agency to find out your whereabouts. They tried to get to you in Denver, but then you disappeared.”
“The break-in,” Evan offers.
“My guess,” Keith confirms. “She rambled a bit when we got to that point. Something about Lena being too nosy for her own good. She as much as confessed it had been her who killed your agent, when she discovered a few emails Lena sent you.”
“Holy shit. I found them too late.” It’s impossible not to feel guilty for what happened to Lena.
“How did you find her?” Evan asks the detective. I suspect he’s purposely changing the subject, but I’m grateful for it.
“The name Margaret used to get hired by the temp agency is Elizabeth Dale, her mother’s maiden name. We found her registered at the Sunrise Motel and her room was plastered with pictures of Tahlula. As far as we can see, they date back to an interview you did with a magazine last fall. But there are images far more recent.”
I’m officially freaked out at the thought someone’s been watching me for that long.
“One more thing, we have reason to believe jealousy was a major factor in her apparent obsession with you.”
“Jealous of who? Of me? I’m half-black, it doesn’t make sense she’d be jealous of that?”
“Not that. Jealous of your pregnancy.” He sets his cup on the table and shoves his chair back. “You see, she’s recently discovered she’s unable to have kids.”
I’m still trying to process all the information long after the detective leaves the table.
“Are you okay?” Evan inquires gently.
“Is that crazy bitch behind bars?”
A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “From what Blackfoot says, yes, and will be for a long time.”
“Then I’m okay,” I answer, standing up. “Now I think I want to go see our daughter.”
He moves his chair back and takes my hand. “Then you lead the way, Lula.”
29
Evan
I’m sweating buckets and the acrid smoke stings my eyes.
If not for Tahlula insisting it makes more sense for me to go to work now, and take some more time off when Hanna gets to come home, I would’ve been at the hospital with her and the baby. Instead I’m drenched to my skin in a burning warehouse, sucking in compressed air to avoid inhaling the chemical cocktail surrounding me.
“Heads up, Cheddar!”
Hog’s sharp voice snaps me to attention just as a loud groan sounds above me. A sharp yank on the hose pulls me back a few feet as one side of a large steel beam comes crashing down from the ceiling, sending up sparks when it hits the ground where I was standing seconds ago.
We got called into an out of control fire up at the Rock Point Chemical plant. The original report had come in at around one thirty; engines from Station One and Two had been first on the scene. It being the middle of a workday, their first concern had been to get all the employees out safely. The delay had the fire quickly growing out of control, and by the time we got there one of the warehouses was fully engulfed.
Small explosions from chemical compounds overheating had already sent two of the guys to the hospital with burns. Since we got here, more companies had to be called in. With the fire burning so hot, and intermittent explosions raining sparks, the densely vegetated cemetery right behind the industrial property was at risk. The guys from Station Thirteen are on their way to soak down the dry vegetation at the edge of the graveyard before this has a chance to run away from us.
With several ladder engines working the massive fire from the top, we’ve been trying to cover the flames with foam inside the building. Each hose has a nozzle man and a second firefighter as backup behind him.
Hog earned his keep as my backup, his attention sharp, while mine was a few miles away in the hospital. I owe him. Big.
For the next hours, I ban any thoughts of Tahlula or Hanna from my mind and focus on my job. My legs burn and my arms feel like they’re going to fall off by the time we finally get the fire under control.
When we return to the station—tired, sore, and dirty—I first call Tahlula.
Given the size of the blaze and the fact you could see the smoke for miles, I’m sure word of the fire has spread.
“Are you all right?” she asks breathlessly, telling me the news had reached her.
“I’m fine, baby.” I don’t plan to ever tell her about the near miss I had. I hear her blow out a breath.
“I was worried. I heard a few firefighters had been brought in, but no one would tell me the names and I didn’t know who else to ask.”
“I’m sorry. Just so you kno
w, both Cap and my battalion chief have your number as well as Ma’s listed as next of kin. Anything ever happens to me, you’d be the first ones to find out.”
“Good to know, although I hope it’ll never be necessary.”
Changing the subject, I focus on something more positive. “How’s the little one today? Is she feeding?”
The past few days nursing has been a bit of a struggle. Something about the transition from the rich colostrum to regular milk coming in. Apparently Hanna has to work harder now to get the nourishment she needs and is a little lazy. Normal, or so we were told by the lactation consultant, who dropped in for a visit yesterday.
“Much better. Trying those different positions helped.”
It boggles my mind how things that would’ve seemed so inconsequential before, have become so important. How long Hanna sleeps, how is she feeding, is she fussy, how are her blood oxygen levels, or even what her diaper looks like.
Having an infant in your life shrinks your world.
Having a child in the NICU shrinks your world to the four walls around her.
“That’s good. If she keeps going like this, perhaps we’ll have her home soon.”
“That would be amazing.” I hear the smile in her tired voice. “Oh, before I forget, Autumn came by today.”
“At the hospital?”
“Yeah, I was able to show her the baby through the window, and then I met her for coffee in the cafeteria.” She chuckles softly. “She said if Aleksander is anything like his father, Hanna will turn his head in a hot second.”
“Over my dead body,” I grumble, making her laugh harder before it turned into a distinct yawn.
“You should get some rest,” I urge her. “Are you heading home soon?”
“Well,” she hesitates. “I thought maybe I’d sleep in the recliner tonight.”
“You won’t get any rest there,” I point out.
“I know, but…” She never finishes her sentence.
“But what?”
“You won’t be home until tomorrow morning. It feels weird for all three of us to sleep in different beds in different places. I’d rather stay here with Hanna.”