Phoebe and the Rock of Ages

by Becky Doughty

  Maybe Ricky was right to be worried. He glanced over at his young cousin, an eyebrow raised in question.

  “Nothing. I’m going to try calling her again outside.”

  Trevor nodded in agreement and gestured for Ricky to go on ahead of him. He stopped and spoke with Tom and Michelle Peterson, the older couple who had dedicated themselves to mentoring the college-aged and young career adults in the church. They hadn’t seen Vic and Juliette that morning, either, and when Trevor looked up to see Ricky hurrying back down the long aisle toward him, a knot of worry formed in his gut.

  “They’re all at the hospital,” Ricky announced without preamble, the words bringing all conversations around them to a stand-still, everyone collectively holding their breath as they waited to hear what had the Gustafson family at the hospital. “Gia’s sister had her baby last night.”

  Relief rode on the voices that rose in excitement and joy as Michelle pushed Ricky for details and a few of the other people clustered around them gathered close for information, too. But Ricky, being a typical eighteen-year-old guy, had no information to pass on, other than that Gia had said everyone was fine.

  “Dinner is postponed until next week and they still want us there if we can make it.” He hesitated briefly, and then added, “Gia said we can go see the baby if we want to.” His expression made Trevor grin—Ricky clearly had serious misgivings about the merits of the notion.

  “Do you want to go?” he asked, a spark of excitement igniting in his belly where the worry had been only moments ago. “I wouldn’t mind dropping in if she’s serious about us visiting. Have you ever seen a newborn, Ricky?”

  “Um, I don’t know.” Ricky’s noncommittal response made Trevor want to laugh out loud.

  “You don’t know if you want to go? Or you don’t know if you’ve ever seen a newborn before?” Trevor teased.

  “Oh, leave the poor boy alone,” Michelle interjected, reaching out to place a stilling hand on Trevor’s forearm. “Why don’t you two join us for lunch if your plans have changed? A bunch of us are meeting at The Griddle in about an hour.” She cocked her head and peered up at Trevor, her eyes narrowing. “Unless you really do want to go see the new baby….” Her voice trailed off as she studied his face, her eyes seeing more than he’d intended.

  He did want to see the baby. The thought lodged in his mind and held on. His fingers clenched tightly into fists in resistance to the urge to hold a warm bundle of life in his arms, to cup a down-covered head in the palm of his hand, to feel tiny fingers curl around his. Baby fever. The words sucker-punched him and he swallowed hard. He’d heard countless women coo and sigh those words over babies in the last couple of years, as many of his peers had started families of their own. He’d never heard a man admit it, though…. This is baby fever, his mind insisted. Oh God, I have baby fever.

  Not only was he going crazy without a woman in his life, but now he was imagining a child—a baby of his own—cradled in his arms, held securely against his heart, a soft cheek pressed to his shoulder. A longing so fierce it made his chest ache. What is wrong with me?

  He cleared his throat and turned to Ricky so he could avoid the questions in Michelle’s eyes. No, he did not want to go to lunch with the singles group, not after the startling revelation he’d just had. Even as he tried to push the desire from his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder at the intensity of it. He didn’t want a plate of fried food. He wanted to see that baby. “I’m thinking I’ll take a rain check on The Griddle, Z-man. I’m game for heading to the hospital. What about you?”

  Ricky lifted one shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “I guess I’m cool either way. You got any food at your place? Or maybe we should call Gia and see if she’s hungry. We can take her a taco from Titos—that’s her favorite place these days.”

  “We can do that,” Trevor nodded. “In fact, when you call, ask if anyone else wants anything. We can do a food run for everyone.”

  “My goodness, aren’t you boys thoughtful,” Michelle mused, a curious smile pulling the corners of her mouth up as she continued to study Trevor. He wouldn’t meet her gaze, but he felt her sizing him up. “You tell Vic and Juliette to give us a call, okay? And let them know we’re praying for the whole family; thanking God for the gift of that new baby.”

  They extricated themselves from the group, and headed across the parking lot to Trevor’s four-year-old Dodge Challenger. When he was younger, he’d watched Dukes of Hazard religiously, yearning for a General Lee car of his own. But as an adult, he preferred the old school look of the newer Challenger SRT to the curvier body of the modern Charger. He loved the fuel-efficient muscle car—he kept it running as clean as it looked—and even though he secretly agreed the racing stripes were “a bit much” as his mother put it, he liked the black on orange color scheme, his not-so-subtle nod of acknowledgment to the Duke boys.

  Once they were both buckled in, Trevor grinned satisfyingly as the car rumbled to life beneath them. It wasn’t nearly as loud as his Harley, but the V8 growled like a hungry beast all the same. While Ricky made his phone call, Trevor let the car idle while he considered his unsettling feelings.

  The gift of a new baby, Michelle had said.

  “A gift!” Trevor stiffened in his seat and turned to look at Ricky who was just ending his call. “We need to bring a gift, don’t we?”

  The younger guy looked bemused, and then with growing revulsion, he blurted out, “You’re not going to make me shop for baby clothes, are you?”

  “No, no!” Although, much to his chagrin, Trevor got a visual of the two of them perusing an aisle of miniature clothing together. Another glance at Ricky’s horrified face, and he discarded that imagery without any difficulty. He’d much rather peruse baby clothes with a woman at his side. His woman by his side. Lord, have mercy. Stop. “No, I mean like flowers or balloons or something.”

  “Taz. Dude. I am not going to buy a bunch of flowers and balloons with you. Not cool.” Ricky crossed his arms over his chest and stared straight ahead. “Can’t we just get tacos? That’s a gift, right?”

  Trevor punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I won’t make you carry anything too pretty. Besides, I’m sure there’s a gift shop at the hospital. We can just grab something once we get there.”

  “I’m holding you to that. I’m not carrying balloons or flowers. It’d be one thing if they were for Gia, but Renata scares me a little. I’d rather she not notice me at all.”

  Trevor laughed outright and shifted into reverse, backing slowly out of the parking spot. Nothing like Sunday morning congregants loitering in the parking lot. “So are we off to hunt down wild tacos for the women and children?”

  “Actually, only for us and Gia. No one else wants anything.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Trevor glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It wasn’t quite noon yet, but surely they hadn’t all eaten already. “Okay,” he said again, and pulled out of the parking lot, the car surging forward as he shifted gears.

  They stopped at the taco stand and loaded up on a myriad of entrees anyway, enough to feed an army—two shredded beef tacos, an order of chicken taquitos, a couple of carne asada burritos, and a chille relleno burrito for Trevor. Ricky insisted that he and Gia could eat the majority of the food themselves, and Trevor agreeably doled out the money for all of it. It hadn’t been that long ago when he could eat one of everything on a menu.

  At the hospital, the gift shop was open and a pretty teenager came out from behind the register to offer them help in finding the right gift to take up to the third floor with them. She spoke to Trevor, answering all his questions and making a few suggestions of her own, but her eyes rarely left Ricky’s face. She seemed fascinated by the way his hair kept flopping over one eye, and when Trevor noticed her chewing on her bottom lip, he decided to put the poor girl out of her misery. He selected a square glass vase filled with a short bouquet of sunburst-colored roses, and a mishmash of greenery, opted not to
wait for the girl—Brenda—to fill a bunch of balloons for them, but instead snatched up a little stuffed mouse with huge ears and a pink bow around its neck.

  “It plays ‘Somewhere Out There’ when you squeeze its ear,” Brenda said, her eyes begging for some kind of a response from the oblivious Ricky. “See? You try it.” She held it out toward him and Trevor rolled his eyes when Ricky shook his head.

  “That’s cool. I believe you.”

  Brenda smiled bravely, took the credit card from Trevor who cringed when she told him the total due, and said a sweet, sad goodbye to them as they hurried out of the shop. Ricky had his phone out and was texting Gia to let her know they were on their way up, so he didn’t even notice.

  ~ ~ ~

  They found the right floor, the right wing, and even the right room without mishap, mainly because the tall, willowy Gia stood in the corridor waving them down the minute they pushed through the double doors of the ward. When they slipped into the room behind the girl, they were greeted warmly by Juliette, Vic, and Renata.

  A very large man sat on the side of Renata’s bed, a beefy hand resting possessively on her thigh beneath the bed linens. Renata’s husband, Tim, Trevor decided. And beside him, in a chair pulled close to his mother’s bed, was Renata’s oldest son, Reuben, a tiny blanketed baby in his arms. Trevor smiled in greeting at the young teenager, lifting his chin in the universal nod recognized by men of all ages. Gia had brought the star struck kid over to listen to music a few times; Reuben now had a copy of every Trevor Zander album in existence, and digital files of a few unreleased acoustic numbers as well.

  The grandparents weren’t there, but since Renata’s three younger boys were also absent, perhaps they’d already left for the day and taken the boys with them.

  Phoebe Gustafson was also not accounted for and the immediate and overwhelming disappointment caught Trevor unawares, leaving him feeling like a deflated balloon. He had to press his lips together to keep from asking where she was; they were there to congratulate the parents and their new baby.

  Tim rose and introduced himself, but didn’t stray far from his wife’s side. He, too, wore the satisfied smile of a man who recognized a job well done. Trevor considered Tim’s role in the blessed event, and even though neither Reuben nor Baby Charise were genetically his children, there was no mistaking the look of a proud father and husband.

  Trevor added his vase of flowers to the others lined up on the counter beside the sink, but handed the stuffed mouse to Renata, along with his congratulations.

  The woman looked amazing, Trevor thought. The blue smudges beneath her eyes were the only indication she’d had an eventful night, but otherwise, Renata seemed to emanate a subtle glow, making him think of a Renaissance Madonna painting. A soft smile molded her pale lips, her cheeks were pink with happiness, and her gaze never lingered long away from the baby in her son’s arms. As he watched her, she reached out and stroked the dark wisps of hair on top of the baby’s head, then brushed the backs of her fingers against Reuben’s cheek. It was an almost unearthly tableau, the purest love of a mother for her children, and Trevor had to look away, an odd sense of guilt over having witnessed the intimate exchange.

  “Would you like to hold her?”

  He almost missed the question, having forced his attention away from the woman sitting upright in the bed. He turned back abruptly. “Me?”

  “Yes, you,” Renata said, her smile still warm, friendly. “Reuben was getting ready to hand her back right before you two showed up. She’s perfectly content right now, so take advantage of the moment if you want to hold her. She’ll be ready to eat again in about half an hour and you’ll have missed your chance.” She spoke with a teasing lilt, but Trevor realized she meant what she said.

  “Well, yes. Yes, I’d like to hold her.” He moved to the sink to wash his hands first, and then circled the bed to sit down in the chair vacated by Reuben. Trevor swore he could feel the weight of Tim’s measured gaze on him, but the need to hold the tiny girl in his arms was unrelenting, and he kept his eyes averted from the big man to his left. Instead, he focused on steadying his hands, on relaxing his shoulders, on making it appear as though this wasn’t the first time he’d ever held a brand new baby.

  Reuben laid the infant in Trevor’s arms, his voice cracking a little when he spoke. “She just farted on my arm so good luck with that. The nurse said that’s a good sign she’ll probably poop soon.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” Trevor said, a flutter of nerves and excitement making his throat tight. But when he peered down into the tiny face, the closed eyes with only a hint of eyelashes resting against flower petal cheeks, a pointy little chin beneath a mouth no larger than the end of his thumb, the tightness moved to his chest, making it feel like his heart was too full to be contained within. The miracle in his arms moved him in a way he’d never experienced before, and he began humming softly, his soul overflowing with wonder, words of praise and worship finding their way into the lilting melody.

  The room fell silent around him, but he barely noticed. He slipped his hand beneath the baby’s head, marveling at the way the curve of her skull seemed designed to be held that way, and his thumb traced the half-circle of her ear.

  Charise’s nearly-translucent eyelids fluttered, her lips fell open with a little smacking sound, and he felt the tiny body tense in his arms. He stopped singing, momentarily concerned, and the silence was replaced by the sound of the baby girl filling her diaper. Everyone burst into laughter around the room, making the baby startle in his arms. Her eyes popped open and she seemed to look directly up into his, and then closed them again and began bumping her face against his chest in movements that reminded him of newborn puppies. Nonplussed, he lifted a questioning gaze to Renata, who grinned and held out her arms for Charise.

  “That’s my girl,” she said, her voice ringing with pride. “Although, if we ever have any trouble with constipation, now I know who to call,” she teased. But her eyes shimmered with what he could only assume were unshed tears. “That was beautiful, Trevor,” she murmured as he leaned over the bed and handed her the baby. “Thank you. I don’t know that anyone has ever sung a blessing over my newborn baby before today.”

  Trevor straightened, a lump in his throat as his eyes darted around the room. There were tears on Juliette’s cheeks and she brushed them away with her fingertips, even while she smiled at him. Vic was dry-eyed, but he nodded his appreciation. Tim cleared his throat and stood to gather supplies for changing Charise’s diaper. Reuben had joined Ricky and Gia in the corner and the three of them huddled over the paper bags of food, but Gia’s eyes were bright, her smile sweet.

  “That was amazing, Taz. You should record that for Charise,” she declared around a bite of taco. “Right, Ricky?” She elbowed Ricky and he grunted, nodding agreeably, his mouth too full to speak.

  “You should,” Reuben responded in Ricky’s stead. “It was pretty cool.”

  “Where’s Phoebe?” Trevor asked, the question slipping out unchecked, almost as though the words had waited until his guard was down and then made their escape.

  The room stilled again. And then, as she efficiently unwrapped the lower half of the blanket swaddling Charise and changed the tiny soiled diaper like she’d done it a thousand times before—she probably has, Trevor realized—Renata said, “She was here last night. She’s catching up on the sleep she lost.”

  The response, as straightforward and sensible as it sounded, left a whole lot more unsaid, and Trevor raised a questioning brow in Vic’s direction. His friend shook his head, a movement so slight it was almost indiscernible, but Trevor knew the stoic man well. He’d just been strongly encouraged to drop the subject.

  When he turned back to Renata, he froze. In a deft motion, the woman brought Charise to her breast, and even though she’d draped some kind of blanket over her shoulder, from where he stood, he could see the swollen mound of flesh above the matching curve of the fuzzy head of the
baby. He blinked, swallowed hard, and once again was filled with an overwhelming sense of awe over God’s masterful design.

  Trevor darted a glance at Tim. He appeared to be relaxed in his chair, his hand still resting on Renata’s leg, but Trevor recognized the tightly leashed challenge in the way the man gazed up at him, clearly gauging his reaction to the scene before them. Trevor hesitated long enough to analyze his own feelings, decided what he was feeling was appropriate, nothing to feel guilty about, and he smiled, meeting the large man’s gaze squarely. “Your daughter is beautiful. Congratulations, man.”

  “Hey Taz,” Ricky called out from the corner of the room where the three teenagers sat on the floor. “Here’s your burrito.”

  But Trevor wasn’t really hungry anymore, nor was he about to slink off into a corner at that moment, even if he’d been ravenous. He had his pride, by golly, and he’d done nothing to be ashamed of, felt nothing but innocent admiration over what he’d inadvertently witnessed. Besides, part of him knew if he did join the younger group and separate himself from those gathered around the nursing mother and child, he would only perpetuate the misguided notion that breastfeeding was somehow perverse or sexual, if not to those around him, perhaps in a subtle way to himself. “You guys can have it. I’ll get something later.”

  “If you’re hungry, Trevor, please eat. I don’t mind,” Renata urged.

  Juliette laughed and dipped her head toward Gia, Ricky and Reuben. “You wouldn’t know it by looking, but those two have already eaten, too.”

  “We’re just keeping Ricky company, Jules. It would be rude to make him eat alone,” Gia quipped, and then elbowed Reuben who sat cross-legged beside her, unwrapping the chille relleno burrito Ricky had handed him. “Right, nephew-of-mine?”

  Reuben bit off the end of the burrito before nodding. He chewed the bite maybe three times and swallowed. “Thanks for the chow, Taz.”