The Hail Mary

by Ginger Scott

  “Unfortunately, this is not one of those things that you get to call a time out for, Reed. This ball’s in play with or without you.”

  “Football references are not cute right now, Sar,” I shout, looking in both directions and spotting a garage to my right.

  “I’m not trying to be cute, Reed. Your wife is losing her shit. I need backup.”

  “Right. Backup.” I look ahead at the traffic I’m facing. I’m at least two miles away, and this road is not going to move anytime soon. I’ve tried to outsmart this area enough to know that none of these roads are going to help me out either. They’re either going to dead-end at an ocean or back up into some crazy one-way drive filled with parallel parkers. My only shot is to run.

  I hate running. This is why I throw things, dammit.

  “Fuck it. I’m gonna run there.” I hang up to the sound of Sarah’s laughter and make a hard, fast right toward the parking garage. It’s for State’s campus, and it’s permits only, but I’m desperate. I find an open spot at the end of the first row, and I pull in, grab the plastic bag of things I could be trusted with, and beep the locks.

  I use the little bit of downhill slope on my way out to my advantage, and I’m full-on sprinting when I hit the main sidewalk along the road I just abandoned. Now that I’m out of the traffic, I get a clear view of the backup ahead, and I feel good with my decision when I see a pile of flashing lights, and a tow truck trying to work through the bumper-to-bumper line of cars.

  The first mile goes down easy, but I hit my wall just after that. My feet feel a lot heavier, like my shoes are somehow suctioning to the pavement with each and every step. I get to the park and file through my mental snapshots of the route I used to take with Nolan on our walks and runs. She hasn’t been running much lately, being pregnant and all, and I’m just up for any excuse to put this stuff off. I get enough work in on the field.

  I duck through the small patio area where the restaurants cluster, then break it open when my feet hit the grass. The park is empty, minus a few people out walking their dogs, so at least there’s nobody to get in my way to slow me down. There also aren’t any witnesses to see me stop mid-sprint in the middle of the soccer field to walk a few steps with my hands on my head. I am breathing hard; I really think I might throw up. My pocket vibrates with a new text from Sarah. I kick it back in without even reading.

  I can’t miss this!

  I slide to a stop at the glass doors of the main hospital entrance, and I luck out and find the stairs right by the reception desk. I know where I’m going…mostly. Noles and I took our parenting classes here and half of her appointments were here because she was so high risk.

  This baby girl we’re having is going to be such a miracle. She’s going to be a fighter, I can tell. She’s already fought through so much. One week early is a lot better than six, like they predicted.

  I pop out on the maternity floor and I’m sure I sound like a grizzly bear. My chest is heaving, and I can’t work my tongue to form words. I grasp a paper cup from the dispenser mounted on the wall just outside the waiting room and I fill it four times, gulping down water as fast as I can. Eventually, Sarah spots me and waves her arm emphatically.

  “She’s pushing!” She takes the plastic bag from me and tosses it on the chair for later, and with a quick jerk on my arm she sends me up to Nolan’s face—red and sweaty, just like mine.

  “Why do you look like you just ran a marathon?” Nolan huffs at me.

  I give a pathetic, exhausted laugh that only lifts one side of my mouth.

  “Left the Jeep on sixteenth at a garage. Traffic was shit. I wasn’t missing this,” I say, finding more of my smile.

  Nolan’s hand grips mine sweetly at first, then starts to squeeze so hard that my fingertips turn purple. She begins to yell like a warrior and sit up.

  “That’s it. One more like that, Nolan. You’re doing great,” our doctor says somewhere below Nolan’s knees.

  My wife collapses back on the hospital bed and pants. I find myself starting to breathe with her, and it’s making my head light.

  “How’d it go?” I have no idea how she’s having a normal conversation right now, so I quirk a brow. “You signed. Yeah?”

  I shake my head quickly.

  “Oh…yeah. We can talk about that later, Noles. You’re kinda busy…” I stop when her hand starts to tighten again, and I rub her back as she sits forward. Her back has been killing her, so it’s the one thing I know might be helpful. She screams out and grunts for a full fifteen seconds, then sucks in a long breath as she falls back into the pillow.

  I’m feeling nauseous. If I throw up, she and Sarah will never let me live it down. I reach for the cup of ice on the table and pour a few pieces into my mouth. Sarah jerks the cup away from me and glares into my eyes.

  “That’s her ice, you ass,” she says.

  I lift a shoulder.

  “Sorry,” I mumble.

  Nolan jerks on my hand to get my attention.

  “How did it go?” She’s right back into our previous conversation. It’s weird. Her focus is crazy.

  “Oh, uh…fine. We got exactly what we wanted. Three years, forty-two.” I feel weird talking about this in a room full of other people, but nobody else seems to care.

  “Three years. Here, in the same place,” Nolan says, her hand softening for just a moment. A smile starts to dust her lips. More than anything, Nolan wanted us to find a steady place to start our family.

  I smile back and lean forward to kiss her head.

  “Three years, same place,” I say, readying myself for the next push I know is coming.

  “Come on, girly. This is the one. I know it,” Sarah coaches from the other side. Nolan’s mom wanted to be here for this, but Peyton is showing up ten days early, three days before they booked their flights. I got Jason to get their flights changed the second Nolan called me and said it was time. They should be here tonight.

  Nolan growls on this push, and her entire face, neck, and chest go beet red. I step closer to the doctor on a hunch, and I look just in time to see our baby girl’s head, then shoulders and body slip out for the world to welcome.

  “Oh God, thank you God,” Nolan pants. I start to laugh, a little hysterically, and tears pool in my eyes at a rapid pace, sliding down my cheeks as my laughter picks up even more.

  “You did great, babe. She’s amazing. So great,” I say just before kissing Nolan’s head. I brush her hair back from her face while the doctor works to clean up our baby and make sure everything is as it should be. A sharp cry pierces the air, and Nolan’s breath hitches.

  “That’s her?” She looks at me and grabs my arm.

  I nod.

  “That’s her,” I smile.

  “Mom? Someone wants to meet you,” the doctor says, bringing a perfect tiny human that is somehow ours to Nolan’s chest. We’re both a mess of tears, and someone hands me a pair of odd scissors and holds my hand through cutting the cord. I don’t know how clearly I’ll remember everything that happened in the last two minutes, but I’ll remember this right here.

  Two loves of my life, breathing, cooing, looking around wildly and not sure how they got here. I’m not sure how I got to be theirs, how I got so lucky.

  “Peyton, meet your daddy,” Nolan says through half laughter and half tears.

  “Hey, baby girl. You ready to run my world?” I whisper, kissing her damp but perfect head. I kiss Nolan’s next and slide into the small space on the bed to be with them.

  That’s all I need in this world. To be with them.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Nolan

  I always hated those rides at the fair that spun me around and made my world crooked. I’ve somehow found myself on one now, though. Not a real one, but also not one I can get off. My world is tilted.

  “Congratulations. You’re pregnant.”

  Reed and I sat, dumbfounded, in the doctor’s office for what felt like an hour. It must have been less, but I swear time
has slowed down completely.

  Pregnant. I’m coming up on forty. My daughter is fifteen. I wasn’t supposed to be able to do this.

  Reed drove us home, and we’ve been sitting in the driveway filled with cars. We dropped Peyton off and got in at our doctor right away, mostly because Reed can call in favors. While we were here, everyone else was arriving at our house for dinner—for the big engagement surprise. I was so excited for this about three hours ago. Now, I have no idea what anything is or feels like or means.

  “It was probably that night in the Jeep,” Reed says, and I swallow and let my eyes flit closed. Thank God I’m done throwing up.

  “What are we going to do?” I ask the question we’ve both been thinking.

  We both just breathe. The longer the silence goes, the more scared I become. There was a time when I would have cried with glee at this news. It’s happy news. It should be, at least. No…no, it is. It’s just…unexpected. It’s scary. It’s…

  “When Peyton’s a sophomore in college, this baby will be starting kindergarten.” Reed rattles that off like a simple fact, emotionless. We both think about it for a few seconds and simultaneously burst into laughter.

  “That’s ridiculous,” I say, tears of madness filling my eyes. I’m hysterical. I wipe them away but keep laughing, unable to stop. Reed joins me for the first minute, but while I continue to titter and feel sick, his face grows serious. His smile settles into a barely there kind and his eyes study me without blinking.

  He shifts his weight and leans over the center console, moving his left hand to the side of my face, sweeping it into my hair as he moves in to brush his lips on mine.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he says against me. I quiver with hope and hopelessness, then let out another small laugh.

  “You can’t say that,” I say, pulling back but holding onto his wrist. His eyes dip as he shifts his palm to my chin, forcing our gazes to connect.

  “I can, because it will, Noles.”

  I stare at him long and hard, waiting to see the crack in his resolve. It isn’t there, but it’s because he’s not thinking about this through my eyes. It’s not his fault. I don’t let him see things that way sometimes. But this…it’s too big. I’m carrying so much.

  “You’ll be starting camp for…who knows where…about the time this baby is born. You’ll be deep into a season when we’re working on crawling here.

  “So, I’ll come home more.” He wavers a little, starting to understand. “Or maybe I’ll land Arizona…or we can split our time.”

  “And let Jason and Sarah move in here to take care of your dad? And I’ll just cancel my clients for four months out of the year. And we’ll hire more people to tend to the horses. And Peyton…she’ll figure out how to manage herself when we’re gone so she doesn’t have to change schools or take high school online. She won’t miss cheer…”

  “Okay, okay. I get it. But we always figure it out, Noles. You’re just looking at the bad…”

  “I figure it out,” I interrupt. It stuns him and there’s a flash of defensiveness in his eyes, but then it fades with understanding. He sinks back into his seat, still facing me, while I stare through the window behind him.

  “I’m not looking at the bad, Reed. I’m just looking at the parts of life. I’m looking at reality. This is going to be hard—on me. And I’ve got to come to terms with that in my head, because I want this baby, Reed. I’ve wanted this baby for a long time, and you know that.”

  I move my eyes to his in time to see them become glossy. He flits his gaze to me but looks back out the front window with a hard breath. I’ve started to cry, and I’m so mad that our house is full of people right now. I—we—can’t leave this damn car until we get our shit together. This kind of news needs to be shared just right. The questions all need answers. And then there’s the certain bit about certainty—me and pregnancy has always been so uncertain.

  “I’ll retire,” Reed says, his voice soft.

  “Don’t make that choice right now,” I answer before he can say more.

  “Noles, you can’t do this alone…” he says, finally turning to me and reaching for my hand. I give my palm to him and watch the way our fingers blend together perfectly and move, caressing—loving. I love this man with every bit of my soul.

  “I can do it alone, Reed. You forget that I have,” I say, feeling his muscles flex as he winces. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

  “No, I know what you meant.” He twists again, this time pulling my hand into both of his, bringing it to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss against my knuckles.

  I feel him swallow.

  “You’re an amazing woman, Noles. An amazing mother…wife…” His eyes close and he brings our tethered hands up to the bridge of his nose, resting his head against them and closing his eyes.

  “You cannot make a decision about football because of this baby,” I say. I feel him nod slightly against our hands.

  “I know,” he says, his voice hoarse.

  “It’s not fair to him or her. This baby cannot be the reason that you stepped away, because there will always be the ghost of resentment. You won’t want to, but it will linger there. You know it…I know it…”

  “You’re right,” he says.

  He breathes in deeply and kisses my hand again, turning my wrist to his mouth and holding his lips there long enough to feel my pulse.

  I reach up with my other hand and thread my fingers into his hair, bringing his head to my lips to kiss.

  “You’re an amazing man…an amazing father, and son, and husband,” I say. I mean every word. I also mean this.

  “And you’re a great quarterback, Reed. Maybe one of the best. I love you, and whatever decision you come to…none of any of this—of us—will change.” I make a promise that will feel impossible in nine months. I make a promise that we’ve already broken, two years of a strained marriage have been so hard. We’ve changed from that alone. But I know that through it all, we won’t quit on each other. We can’t. I won’t let us.

  After another twenty minutes in the car and two texts from Jason asking when the hell we’re coming inside, we finally look normal enough to walk in and make jokes with our family as if earth-shattering news isn’t breaking in my womb.

  I’m glad I know what’s about to happen, because it makes watching Jason nervously twitch around the kitchen so much fun to watch. He’s sweating, and I feel so bad for him that I have to tell him that his shirt is starting to get damp. He’s still wearing his dress clothes, and I’m sure it’s because he wants to look his nicest for the proposal, but another minute in that button-down and tie, and he’s going to look like he’s been on a safari.

  I step up to Buck, knowing he’s the reason we’re doing this here and not on Thanksgiving on the beach.

  “Your son is not gonna make this. I think you need to intervene,” I say against his ear.

  He chuckles and turns to me, giving me a wink. I should have known, he was going to run this show his way all along.

  A few seconds pass and Rose starts to clank a spoon against her wine glass. I look to Reed to do the same, panicking because no more wine for me—bloody hell! He takes a quick spoon to his beer bottle, which only makes it foam. The sight of him licking up the side and trying to contain the overflow amuses me and settles the massive, mega butterflies trying to break free in my chest. I breathe, and just as quickly, they’re back.

  “You all know…how I like to talk…some say a lot,” Buck begins. It’s the usual crowd gathered—Jason and Sarah, Reed and I, Peyton and a few of her friends—who I am sure she told. No Bryce, though; Bryce will have to wait.

  What Sarah doesn’t know, though, is that Reed’s aunt and uncle are here along with Sarah’s parents and her sister, in the garage. They’ve been stashed in there for probably an hour. We saw their cars parked a property over, behind the construction trailers that have taken up the edge of our residence.

  “I’m not going to talk…”
Buck pauses because he has to, but the timing makes us all giggle. “Much…ah you thought…you were off the hook!”

  “Not a chance,” Rose says, taking an early sip from her glass and rolling her eyes to exaggerate.

  “Wow, tough…room,” Buck says, good at taking her teasing. She squeezes at his shoulder with adoration in her eyes. This will be Reed and me one day. I hope.

  “I just want to say…how proud I am of my…boys. Reed…Jason…I love you. You are my life’s…best achievement. I had very…little to do…with how great you turned out…too…ha!” His belly laugh is still the same, a punch at the end of a very sweet joke. He had more to do with the men those boys became than he knows. Hell, he’s had a hand on the person most of us became.

  “Reed…what you’ve done…in life…and on that field. It gives me such joy, son. Watching you play…live your dream. It’s…it’s everything,” Buck says, a little choked up by the end.

  This night isn’t about Reed. It’s about Jason. But Buck always talks about them both when they’re together. And he probably doesn’t want to tip Sarah off to what’s coming. But he has no idea how deep he’s dug with those words just now. I see it in the tight smile Reed offers with the slight lift of his hand. He’s showing modesty on the outside, but inside he’s living tug-of-war. Buck just voiced one more thing that makes it hard for Reed to walk away.

  The more time that passes with our new reality settling into my chest, my heart and mind, the more I think there’s no easy way through the near future. It’s going to hurt, and it’s going to test us—test me.

  I wish I could have a glass of wine right about now.

  Buck’s been talking up Jason for the last few minutes. I’ve been zoned out, noticing the details in every flick of Reed’s eyes, every bend of his lips and twitch in his cheeks. He’s not taking any of this night in like a brother. He’s in his own head, thinking about us. I step closer to him when Jason begins speaking, and without looking my fingers brush his until his hand grabs a hold of mine tight.