Evergreen: The Complete Series: Including exclusive bonus scene! (Evergreen Series)

by Cassia Leo

  I stepped out onto the curb and Jack helped me into the wheelchair. “My phone. I left it on the console.”

  He snatched it out of the car and handed it to me. “Text me the room number, if you can. I have to park the car.”

  “Hurry. Please,” I pleaded as the woman pushed my wheelchair toward the sliding doors.

  “Don’t worry,” she assured me as we entered the hospital lobby. “You don’t need to text your husband. They will recognize him in the labor and delivery unit. He will find you quickly.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered as I began to feel another contraction coming. “Will my midwife be called? I need her here. She knows everything. I’m not due for another four days.”

  The woman laughed. “As soon as your husband checks you in, if they have not already been notified, your midwife and doctor will be contacted immediately. Just breathe and try to relax. Everyone else will take care of the rest.”

  “Oh, my God!” I cried, my entire body tensing as she pushed the wheelchair into the elevator. “She just pushed the pee out of me. I peed myself.”

  “Oh, honey, it’s okay. It’s probably just the water breaking. Don’t feel embarrassed. We’ll get you into a gown and get you all cleaned up.”

  She rolled me into a room in the labor and delivery unit, and just the sight of the padded blue footrests at the foot of the hospital bed made me nervous. I had discussed my birth plan with the hospital a couple of months ago. They understood that I wanted to try for a vaginal birth despite the fact I’d had a cesarean section with Junior. I knew there was a good possibility I would need another C-section. And now, as I stared at the padded stirrups while another contraction rocked me, I was beginning to wonder if perhaps my birth plan was a bit ambitious.

  Jack slipped into the room after the nurse had helped me out of my clothes and into a gown, and was now wiping away the amniotic fluid, which had dampened the backs of my legs. “Doc and midwife are on their way,” he declared. “Is everything okay in here?”

  “This is Nurse Jenny,” I said, breathless from the last contraction.

  Jack nodded at her. “Is everything okay?” he asked her.

  She smiled as she gently pulled the back of my gown closed without tying it. “Everything’s looking good,” she said, pressing a button to lower the bed for me to get in. “You can lie down now. Doctor will be here soon. I’ll be back to hook you up to the heart rate monitor. Nurse Helen will be in to check your cervix. If you need to use the restroom before we get you hooked up, you should do that now. Restroom’s over there,” she said, pointing to a door in the corner of the room. “Please be careful as your feet might still be a little damp from the fluid. If you need help in there, just press the button and someone will come.”

  My midwife, Maisie Ocampo, arrived about twenty minutes later. Dr. Eastman arrived almost an hour later, when my contractions were just two and a half minutes apart and I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, worrying that he wouldn’t get there in time to deliver the baby. Luckily, he arrived in time and, after a brief examination, conveyed the news that I would likely be delivering the baby vaginally in less than two hours.

  One hour and thirty-seven minutes later, at precisely 3:17 a.m., after pushing for what felt like an eternity but was actually only twenty-four minutes, I gave birth to a seven-pound-fourteen-ounce healthy baby girl. As Dr. Eastman stuck me with multiple doses of local anesthetic so he could stitch up my torn flesh, Maisie and Nurse Helen cleaned up my daughter, bundled her in a hospital issue receiving blanket, and placed her gently on my bosom.

  Jack took video of me as I cradled her in the crook of my arm and tugged open the blanket to expose her puffy face. Unlike Junior, she had Jack’s dark hair, and the daintiest fingers I’d ever seen. I didn’t get to hold Junior right after he was born, so my initial maternal instinct was fear.

  Was I holding her right? Should I sit up more? Was she hungry? Should I try to get her to latch onto my breast right away?

  But almost as soon as this thought entered my mind, she pursed her lips and the instinct kicked in. I cradled her carefully in my left arm as I pulled my gown down to expose my breast. With a bit of encouragement, as tears flowed freely down my cheeks, she latched on for her first meal.

  “Does she have a name?” Maisie asked as she watched us, her round face glowing with pride.

  I looked to Jack, not surprised to find tears in his eyes as he stroked the soft hair on the top of her head. “Her name is Rose.”

  “Rose Beth,” Jack corrected me with a smile as he placed a gentle kiss on my bare shoulder, then he reached into his pocket and came out with a ring in the palm of his hand. “Happy anniversary, pixie.”

  It wasn’t the engagement ring I thought I’d lost. My engagement ring was a simple titanium band with a two-carat princess-cut diamond. This looked like the same band, but the setting was changed to accommodate a diamond twice the size, with two round morganite jewels on either side.

  “That’s you, and those are Junior and Rose,” Jack said, pointing at the smaller pink jewels. “I was thinking we could take a trip to London with Barry and Drea and the kids, meet their family and renew our vows there. What do you say? Will you marry me… again?”

  I nodded as my entire body trembled with joy. He chuckled as he helped me shift the baby’s weight a little so he could slide the ring onto my left ring finger. Maisie and the nurses clapped as Dr. Eastman, with his hands still occupied, could be heard cheering through the mask covering his nose and mouth.

  Jack kissed my knuckles. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  After giving birth, I got some much-needed sleep in my new room in the Women and Newborn Care Unit. Jack got a couple of hours sleep on the recliner in the room, then he headed home to shower. He was back at the hospital in time to have breakfast with me. He stayed with Rose and me the whole day and night, insisting it was the most comfortable recliner he’d ever slept in.

  I breathed a sigh of relief as I entered the master bedroom and found the bassinet next to the bed. Jack didn’t have much time to get everything ready for us when he came home yesterday, so Drea was all too happy to walk five-hundred feet from her house to ours and do it for him. Rose and I were discharged thirty-two hours after I gave birth on the condition that I would bring Rose in to see Dr. Eastman in two days.

  I reluctantly set her down in the bassinet, tucking the corner of the pink blanket snugly beneath her to keep it from unraveling. “I got you something for our anniversary, but I wasn’t able to give it to you yesterday,” I said to Jack as he set my weekender bag on the floor. “I’ll go get it. Just stay here.”

  I walked through the master bathroom and into the walk-in closet. Opening one of the drawers where I kept my undergarments, I lifted a stack of panties and carefully pulled out Jack’s gift from underneath. I hid it behind my back as I made my way to the bedroom again.

  He grinned as I approached with my hands hidden. “It better not be an engagement ring.”

  “Happy anniversary,” I said, smiling as I presented him with a framed black-and-white photograph of himself.

  It was a picture taken by Maisie almost three and a half years ago. In the photo, Jack was crying as he held Junior for the first time in the surgical suite, while I was still under anesthesia.

  Jack stared at the photo for a long time, and I was fairly certain I could read his anguished thoughts. Shaking his head, he slowly set the frame down on my nightstand and pulled me into his arms. He kissed the top of my head, and without speaking, said every word I needed to hear.

  Epilogue

  Laurel

  After a couple minutes trying to force on the pink rain boot, I finally conceded it was officially too small for Rose’s growing feet. I tugged it off and stared at her white socks, which were adorned with rainbow unicorns. Shaking my head as I knelt before her, I couldn’t believe the rain boots I’d purchased for her five months ago in early November, no longer fit. She was growing too fast.

>   This thought made me woozy and I had to stand up before I tipped over. “Here, baby. You can wear Mommy’s boots,” I said, removing my mid-calf rain boots.

  Rose giggled as I helped her off the bench in the mudroom. “Your boots are too big, Mommy.”

  “And your boots are too small,” I replied, kneeling down again to help her slide her right foot into one of my boots. “I’ll have to get you some new boots this weekend. Maybe we can go shopping with Aunt Drea and the boys.”

  “I hate shopping!”

  “Don’t say you hate shopping. Say you don’t like shopping,” I corrected her, sliding her other foot into my left boot. “Scoot back a little so Mommy can open this.”

  I slid open the drawer built into the bench and extracted a pair of my old rain boots.

  “You don’t like those boots,” she said, reading the discomfort in my face as I slid my feet into them and felt the insole sliding around beneath my right foot.

  I laughed. “That’s right. They’re not as comfortable as the ones you’re wearing, but I have to wear these because I don’t want to wear Daddy’s boots. Are you ready?”

  She nodded and we entered the garage, walking slowly to accommodate our awkward foot fashion. We walked across the garage and exited through a side door into the backyard. To our right, warm light glowed through windows on the office space attached to the garage.

  Barry and Jack were in there working on two completely different projects. Barry was finalizing an update on an app he and I had collaborated on. Jack was sifting through hundreds of hours of surveillance footage for a missing persons case he and Sean were working on. Considering it was nearly 6:30 p.m., Drea was probably at home helping the boys with homework or making dinner.

  Rose brushed her long, silky brown hair out of her face as she kept looking down at the boots. “They’re falling,” she said, dragging her feet across the flagstone pathway that hugged the back of the house to keep the boots from slipping off.

  “We just need to get some herbs. This won’t take long,” I said, resisting the urge to pick her up so we could get to the herb garden faster.

  For the first five months of this second pregnancy, I had ignored Jack’s and Dr. Eastman’s warnings not to carry four-year-old Rose anymore. But my last ultrasound indicated the placenta was shifting, and if it continued I would be put on bedrest. I was eight months along now and very ready to be done with this pregnancy.

  The rain made a soft pitter-patter as it fell on our raincoats. We descended four steps down to the lower terrace and walked past the pool. Walking around the pool house, we picked up another footpath. This one led toward an arched arbor covered in shaped laurel shrubs. The arbor served as the entrance to a fenced-off secret garden, where I kept plants that required full sunlight.

  I opened the iron gate beneath the arbor and smiled at the familiar sound of the squeak in the hinges. Pulling out a pair of shears from the pocket of my raincoat, I snipped off some chives and tarragon for the frittata I was making for dinner. Then, I headed over to the roses lining the back wall of the garden to check on their progress.

  My white roses were covered in tight buds, but the Osiria roses only had a few. Most of these would bloom next month, in early or mid April. I pruned a few more leaves on the Osiria bushes to encourage more buds to form in the notoriously stubborn plant.

  “No, sweetie, don’t touch that,” I said, moving Rose’s hand before she could touch the thorns on a white rosebush.

  “But the roses doesn’t hurt,” she said, as she always did.

  She was two years old when she realized she shared the same name with the roses. Ever since then, she insisted the thorns didn’t hurt her. It was true that she’d purposely pricked herself multiple times and never cried, but I still didn’t need her believing the roses were completely harmless, or she might pass on this information to her brother with dire consequences.

  “The roses don’t hurt,” I corrected her. “And you’re right, the roses don’t hurt. But the thorns do hurt if you prick yourself very hard. So let’s try not to do that. Okay, Rosie-posie?”

  She smiled at Jack’s nickname for her, the blue eyes she’d inherited from him lighting up with glee. “Okay.”

  We left the rain boots in the boot tray in the garage to dry off as we went inside to finish dinner. I supervised Rose from the kitchen as she kneeled next to the coffee table and colored while watching Beauty and the Beast. Jack entered the kitchen just as I was pulling the finished frittata out of the oven.

  “Smells good,” he said, leaning in to plant a kiss on my cheek.

  “Did you find anything yet?” I asked as I flipped the frittata out of the pan onto a serving platter and sprinkled it with fresh chives.

  “Not yet, but I still have more than 130 hours of footage to get through,” Jack replied as he washed his hands in the sink.

  “Do you need me to help?” I asked as I cut wedges of the frittata and placed them on plates next to a helping of baby greens salad.

  Jack shook his head as he wiped his hand on a towel. “We’re good. Sean is working on his portion and I’m doing mine. Shouldn’t take more than a week. How are you feeling?” he asked, placing a hand on the small of my back.

  I shrugged as I carried the plates to the round table in the breakfast nook, which overlooked the pool. “Same. Still tired and dying to have this baby so I can get back to work,” I said, grabbing the salt and pepper out of a cupboard and taking them to the table. “I discovered Rose has outgrown another pair of rain boots. And I’m going to check on the camellias when we’re done eating.”

  I had been trying to get the middlemist red camellia seeds Jack bought for me to bloom for four years now. The seeds had sprouted on multiple occasions, but they never flowered. Most gardeners would have thrown in the towel by now, but I had no intention of giving up. Especially when the gardening only took up a few hours per week of my time, and it was an important skill to pass on to Rose, to help her stay connected to the grandmother she would never know.

  We ate dinner then headed upstairs, so I could shower while Jack got Rose ready for bed. By the time I’d showered and dressed in my nightshirt, Jack was in Rose’s bedroom reading The Tale of Peter Rabbit, her favorite bedtime story.

  “Mr. McGregor was on his hands and knees planting out young cabbages, but he jumped up and ran after, waving a rake and calling out, ‘Stop thief!’” Jack continued, undaunted by my arrival. “Peter was most dreadfully frightened; he rushed all over the garden, for he had forgotten the way back to the gate. He lost one of his shoes among the cabbages, and the other shoe amongst the potatoes.”

  Rose’s eyes widened. “Maybe he was wearing his mommy’s shoes!”

  I laughed as I took a seat on the other side of her bed. “Maybe,” I agreed.

  By the time Jack finished reading The Tale of Peter Rabbit, Rose’s pink-rimmed eyelids were closing. Without further prompting, she turned over onto her side and hugged her white comforter with the dainty pink roses to her chest. Her soft toffee-colored hair fanned out over her pillow as Jack and I kissed her goodnight.

  As we tiptoed out of her bedroom, her brother decided that would be a good time to kick me in the cervix. I grabbed the doorframe and pressed my lips together to stifle a yelp.

  Jack locked elbows with me and guided me out into the corridor as he softly close Rose’s door behind us. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

  I nodded and flashed him a smile. “Yeah, nothing like a swift kick in the crotch to remind you who’s boss.”

  He shook his head. “If he keeps it up, there’ll be cops with handcuffs waiting for him in the delivery room.”

  I looked back at Rose’s bedroom door. “If he’s anything like his sister, he’ll be pricking himself with rose thorns just to feel alive. Her fascination with the rosebushes is getting a little out of hand. I think I’m going to have to plant some thornless roses for her.”

  “Maybe she’s inherited her grandma’s green thumb. Or steel t
humb. Not sure what to call it,” he said as we entered the master bedroom. “Speaking of obsessions with flowers, did you check on the camellias?”

  I smacked my forehead. “I can’t believe I almost forgot. I’ll go now.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  I glanced over my shoulder and grinned as Jack trailed behind me while we descended the stairs. “You’re so paranoid,” I said, knowing he was following me to make sure he was there in case I went into early labor. “By the way, Jade called earlier and said the event venue is perfect. The only problem is it has a max capacity of seven hundred. Is that going to be enough?”

  He laughed as we padded across the wood floor toward the corridor leading past the library to the greenhouse. “Seven hundred should be enough. Did she say how much we’re charging per plate?”

  “I think she said we would need to charge $2,500 per plate at less than five hundred heads. Seems reasonable. The gala we went to for Kent’s foundation was $3,500 a plate, but I think people are more concerned with violence against women and children than men with prostate cancer.”

  Jack shook his head as he opened the door to the greenhouse. “Remind me never to get prostate cancer.”

  Jack and I started the Reboot Humanity Foundation three years ago. It started as a way to justify spending thousands of work hours on non-profit apps that helped people prevent and report violence against women and children. The first app we created had preprogrammed messages for a person to send to a friend to help them out of a dangerous situation. It also had emergency resources and tips for staying safe.

  When we convinced Kent to allow users to connect the app to Halo so users could have their messages analyzed for possible grooming schemes, that was the turning point. The app took off pretty quickly after that, and led to the arrests of multiple offenders. The stories we began receiving on a daily basis about how the app was saving people from violence — and even death — were enough to inspire us to devote ourselves to the foundation on a full-time basis.