Heart & Soul

by Nicole Williams

  I had to turn my head to hide my own smile. The disappointment on the two nurses’ faces was so sudden and extreme, they looked like they’d just been told the cruise ship had left without them. I tried to wrap my head around how I wasn’t off-limits as a married man, but I was apparently off-limits as a gay one. Couldn’t really work that one out though.

  After the nurses left, Katy stopped fighting her smile. “You can thank me later.”

  “I thought ranch hands were bad when it came to things like professionalism and moral code . . .” I returned her smile to be polite, not because it came naturally. I wouldn’t be able to give a genuine smile until Rowen was awake and no fewer than ten doctors had confirmed that she and the baby were stable and okay.

  “Hospital staff . . .” Katy shook her head as her eyebrows lifted. “They can make truckers look like prep school girls. Shameless. And classless, as you just bore witness to. If they had mentioned that in nursing school, I might have considered a career change, but now I’m stuck. Go figure the girl whose idea of living it up is an extra scoop of ice cream picked the same career as a bunch of swingers whose idea of living it up requires a dictionary for me to understand.”

  I kept my smile in place. I remembered Katy being serious, almost severely so, and approaching life like it was a to-do list instead of an all-inclusive paid vacation. It didn’t seem like much had changed.

  “How have you been, Katy?” I noticed that she seemed to smile a bit easier now that we were alone.

  “I had myself a double scoop last night at the Dairy Queen,” she said as she finished adjusting Rowen’s fluid bags. “I’m living it up.”

  I nodded. Her sense of humor had gotten a boost as well. “Good to hear.”

  “I’d ask you how you are, but since your wife’s in here because she went into early labor and you look like you’re two seconds away from losing your grip, I’ll save that question for a different day.” She moved to the head of Rowen’s bed and starting pushing her out of the room. “Had enough E.R. for one night?”

  I popped out of my chair and followed her. “Had enough E.R. for one lifetime.”

  I WONDERED IF this was how Garth had felt when he’d first woken up in the hospital room in Wyoming. A brief moment of not having a clue what had happened or where you were while trying to pry your eyes open, only to remember a few seconds later exactly what had happened and where you were right when your eyes were up to the task of opening.

  I was taking my time opening those eyes of mine. I needed to figure out what to say and how to look the second Jesse saw I was awake. He would be a wreck. He had a right to be a wreck. In my attempts to play off everything about my body, I’d put myself and, more importantly, the baby at risk. I couldn’t take that chance again. I couldn’t try to convince myself and everyone else that the pain I felt was indigestion or the light-headedness was from getting up too fast.

  I’d taken it too far. Played with fire and gotten burned. I wouldn’t do it again and risk being totally consumed by the fire next time.

  I knew the baby was okay—I’d heard it’s staccato heartbeat echoing around me before I’d heard my slower one thrumming in the background—but I didn’t know what exactly had happened or what exactly would come next. That was what got me to finally open my eyes.

  As expected, the first thing I saw was Jesse. His face was practically hovering above mine, his eyes lost and his expression matching. I tried to force a smile, but nothing came. I’d reached peak levels of bullshit a few faked smiles and assurances ago.

  His hand moved to my face as he exhaled. “Welcome back.” His thumb brushed down my cheek. His voice sounded weak, barely audible, but relief saturated those small-sounding words.

  Moving took a little more effort than I would have liked, but when I managed to finally lift my hand high enough to cover his on my face, I said, “You say that like I wasn’t actually expected to make it back . . . from wherever I went.”

  Instead of replying, he checked the monitors situated around my bed.

  “What happened?”

  He took a second to answer. “You went into early labor.”

  My heart rate monitor beeped faster, filling up the silent room.

  “They stopped it. Everything’s okay now,” Jesse said quickly. “You’re fine. The baby’s fine. It’s okay.”

  A tremble tingled down my back. I’d gone into labor early? Nearly three months early? As if we didn’t have enough odds stacked against us in this pregnancy, we had to deal with pre-term labor too?

  “Are you okay?” I asked, knowing the answer he’d give me would be different from the one on his face.

  When he nodded, chunks of hair fell over his forehead and into his eyes. “I’m okay now.”

  My arm wrapped around my stomach. “Did I pass out or something? Is that why I don’t remember anything from you bolting through the E.R. doors to right now?”

  Jesse swallowed. “Yeah, your heart . . .” He swallowed again, his eyes drifting to a corner of the room. “Just the very start of you going into labor was too much for your heart. You weren’t getting enough oxygen . . .”

  My heart stopped. The malfunctioning thing actually stopped. I didn’t say a word until it restarted. “If I wasn’t getting enough oxygen, that means the baby wasn’t—”

  Jesse’s head shook. “We made it here in time. Barely, but we made it. You and the baby are both safe. Healthy.”

  I didn’t miss the subtle edge in his voice that suggested For now. That was when I felt it. The guilt. If I hadn’t already been lying down, it would have knocked me over. I’d been feeling weird all day. I’d been feeling really weird all night. I’d written it off to indigestion and normal pregnancy woes so as not to freak my already freaked-out husband out even more and avoid him rushing me to the emergency room. Turned out, the emergency room was exactly what I needed. God, if we hadn’t gotten there in time . . . if I had kept playing off that I was fine . . . if Garth hadn’t driven so fast . . . if Jesse hadn’t been so keyed in to my every move . . .

  All of those dot, dot, dots led to the same place.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, telling myself I wouldn’t cry. This time, I would come out the victor in my battle against hormones. I lost. Again. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.” My hand skimmed up my stomach. “For taking such good care of us.”

  Some of the creases on his face softened, but they didn’t disappear. They never disappeared completely anymore. “It’s my job to take care of my family.” His hand moved up my face, combing the hair back from my face. “I take that job seriously.”

  I was able to find a smile. “You take that job beyond seriously.” Before he could open his mouth to defend himself, I added, “And I love that about you.”

  Something close to a laugh came from him. When he relaxed into the chair beside my bed, he fell into it like he hadn’t slept for weeks. I knew for a fact the truth wasn’t far from that. “Indigestion?”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. “Apparently early labor and severe indigestion feel shockingly alike. Good to know, just in case, you know, this happens again . . .” This had better not happen again. I didn’t think Jesse could take it. I wasn’t sure if I could.

  “Are you going to stop giving me the tough person routine now? Will you actually admit when you’re not feeling good or something doesn’t feel right?” His voice was soft, but his words hit me in the opposite way.

  “I will never stop playing the tough person routine because that’s what’s gotten me through the hard parts in life and will continue to get me though them.” My voice filled the room, and I found myself wondering if I was saying it more for my benefit or his. “The only way I’ll make it through the next three months is by holding on to that tough grittiness you’re obviously not a fan of.” Just like that, I saw hurt bleed into his face. It was so easy to wound those we love most because they took their armor off around us. “I’m tough. That’s who I am. Please don’t ask me to be a lesser
version of myself. I’d never ask you to do the same.”

  I watched him fumble to find the right words. I waited as his mind raced through what to say next. Finally, his face lowered to mine. Instead of answering with words, he answered with a kiss. And then another.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said before kissing me one last time.

  My flash of anger was extinguished as suddenly as if a water tower had just been dumped over it. “You’re right too though. I’m also sorry.” I wound my hand around the back of his neck and pulled him back to me until our foreheads touched. “I promise I will speak up when I’m not feeling right or something’s bothering me. I can do that. I just don’t think I can make it through this if I let myself get softer now. I need all of that crazy rough and tough thing you fell in love with now more than ever.”

  His eyes closed. Like that, he almost looked like the peaceful Jesse I remembered. The one I missed. “I know.” His forehead creased against mine. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  We stayed like that for an eternity. Or for a fleeting moment. Time got lost when we were like that because it just didn’t matter. It became inconsequential.

  Of course that would be when a certain person’s voice echoed down the hospital hallway and interrupted our quiet moment.

  “This place is a goddamned fucking circus!”

  Jesse exhaled. I groaned.

  “First they won’t tell us anything in that joke of an emergency room, and now they won’t tell us where they’ve moved her! I’ll just keep searching each and every room on each and every floor of this hick hospital until I find them!”

  I could make out Josie’s voice in the background but not any of her specific words. Unlike her fiancé, she knew proper hospital etiquette wasn’t screaming profanities and insults down the halls.

  “You better go grab him before he gets himself into trouble,” I said as Jesse stood.

  “I guarantee he’s already in trouble,” Jesse said as he moved for the door.

  “Okay, then before he gets hauled off in cuffs and spends the night of his engagement party curled up on a concrete slab beside a guy named Bubba.”

  He paused in the doorway. “For no other reason than I’d pay good money to see Garth in that kind of situation, I’m tempted to let him keep screaming his lungs out.” When I gave him a disapproving look, Jesse raised his hands. “But since he’s the reason we made it here in record-setting time, I’ll save him from tallying up another mark on his record. Be right back.”

  He lingered in the doorway for a moment, looking at me like he was afraid I’d vanish if he left, then he made his way down the hall. From his boot-steps, I knew he was hustling. Not even half a minute later, Jesse was dragging Garth, who was dragging Josie, into the room.

  “Found them,” Jesse announced, seeming to sigh with relief when he found me exactly where he’d left me.

  “This hospital is a—”

  “Goddamn fucking circus?” I interrupted as I waved at Josie. “Yeah, the rest of the county heard your opinion on the place.”

  “Including our baby . . .” Jesse mumbled as he made his way back to the chair beside my bed.

  Oops. I gave him an I’m really, really, really sorry look. I had been trying to watch my language. Good practice for when a toddler was running around and repeating every single word they heard. It was difficult, if not impossible, to keep up with that goal with Garth Black in the room though. He could bring out the profane in anyone.

  “We need to get you transferred to a different hospital. I know more about the human anatomy than these clowns.” Garth hitched his thumb over his shoulder, as if he was just waiting for the signal from me to roll me out of there.

  “You know about more certain parts of the human anatomy—no argument from me there,” I said.

  A nurse appeared in my doorway, lifting a brow and a finger to her lips as she gave Garth The Look.

  “Clowns!” he shouted.

  “Quiet down please. Patients need their rest.” The nurse didn’t even sound perturbed. She must have been used to frazzled visitors shouting obscenities.

  Garth snorted and stuck out his arm, ramrod straight and middle digit pointing to the sky. “How’s this for quiet?” He waved it a few times before slamming the door closed. “Gets the same message across, I think.”

  “Thank you for alienating every single nurse on our floor, Black. Really appreciate it.” Jesse scrubbed his face, looking exhausted. He looked older too. Older than he had at the start of the night. It was like every one of these adrenaline-fueled crises aged him a few years.

  “How are you doing, Sterling-Walker? How’s the little Sterling-Walker doing?” Garth’s hand slipped into Josie’s as they approached me. Concern was an emotion a person didn’t normally see on Garth Black’s face, yet it was the only thing there right now.

  “We’re good. We’re both good.” I scooted over to make room for Garth and Josie to sit on the edge of the bed. Josie was the only one who did; Garth chose to pace at the foot of my bed. “Thank you guys for getting us here so quickly, and I’m so sorry this happened in the middle of your engagement party. You guys should head back. Enjoy what’s left of a great night.”

  Garth slid up behind Josie and dropped his arms around her. “I’m here with my three best friends in the whole world. This is a great night.”

  “The atmosphere leaves a bit to be desired though,” I said. From the smells to the sounds to the sights, there was nothing inviting or warm about a hospital room.

  Garth scanned the room. “True enough. So why don’t we bust you out of here, now that you’re all stable and shit, and go finish the night some place else? Anywhere else,” he added when a grumpy-faced nurse shoved open the door and marched in.

  A less grumpy-faced doctor followed her. The nurse shooed Josie and Garth away from my bed, but no amount of shooing worked with Jesse. He stayed right at the head of my bed, arms crossed, jaw locked.

  The doctor introduced himself and the nurse, but I didn’t catch their names, probably because the doctor mumbled. Jesse shifted as the doctor and nurse scanned the beeping machines scattered around me.

  Garth waved his finger between the two and mouthed, “Are these clowns for real?”

  I shook my head. “Control yourself,” I mouthed back. “When can I leave?” I asked the doctor, who was still studying one of the machines.

  His brows pinched together. “Providing you and the baby are both still stable in the morning, I see no reason why you won’t be discharged tomorrow.”

  I had to lean in and watch his lips to catch most of what he was saying, but I exhaled with relief. “Thank God. No offense, but hospitals make me uncomfortable.”

  “Really?” the nurse chimed in as she changed one of my I.V. bags. “Most people feel all kinds of warm fuzzies in a hospital.”

  Jesse’s brows hit the ceiling. I grabbed his wrist and gave it a squeeze before he could open his mouth. No doubt she was one of the nurses Garth had spread his “charm” around with.

  “Will I need to take any extra precautions?” I asked the doctor, ignoring the increasingly grumpy nurse. Her attitude might have had something to do with Garth making vulgar hand motions in her direction. “You know, get extra rest, no more spicy food, limit the time on my feet? That kind of thing?”

  The doctor finally looked at me. From his expression, he was waiting for something to dawn on me or for me to catch the punchline. Jesse sighed. Great, so he knew something I didn’t. Based on the looks on both Jesse’s and the doctor’s faces, it wouldn’t be something I’d be thrilled to learn about.

  “To answer your question, yes, you will need to take extra precautions going forward unless you want to go into early labor again.” The doctor’s gaze scanned the length of the bed. “You’ll need to be on bed rest for the duration of your pregnancy.”

  The machine beeping my heartbeat skipped a few beats. “And, like, by bed rest you mean . . .” I told myself
to stay calm. “A few hours in the afternoon to lie down and rest?”

  The doctor came close to smiling. Then he shook his head. “I mean unless you’re on your way to or from the toilet, you’re in bed.”

  Another silent stretch from my heart rate monitor. “Oh, so when you say bed rest, what you really mean is a rare, especially brutal form of torture.”

  I’D BEEN OFF when I blamed the doctor for dishing out bed rest. Wrong in the sense of labeling it a rare, brutal form of torture. No, what bed rest was . . . it went beyond that. Having to lay in bed, day in and day out, sunrise to sunset, sunset to sunrise, over and over and over again. If it hadn’t already driven me there, I felt like I was mere days away from getting dropped off at Platform Insane.

  Jesse, along with the rest of the Walkers, had been a saint through it all, but I’d been the opposite of a saint for the past two months. I only had one more month to go, but how was I supposed to make it another thirty days when I wasn’t sure I could get through tomorrow?

  That was when I felt the kick. When I saw it too. As was typical, whenever I felt doom and gloom about the whole bed rest situation, someone reminded me why I was doing it. This doom and gloom moment’s someone was the growing baby in my stomach. Nothing like a not-so-gentle kick to the belly button to remind me why I was, for once in my life, being a good patient and following the doctor’s orders: for the baby. To keep it safe and give it time to get stronger before it came into the world. The kid encouraged me almost as much as the Walkers did—its positive, uplifting tendency was very much like that side of the family. It definitely didn’t get those traits from my side.

  I’d fallen asleep for my third nap of the morning—if I watched any more morning television, I would throw the remote through the screen, right between the eyes of that perma-smile, perky blond host—but from the looks of the clock perched on the table beside my bed, my nap had barely registered at the fifteen-minute mark. That seemed to be becoming a habit. The further along in my pregnancy I got, the shorter my naps and stretches of sleep became.