by Lori L. Otto
“And more than that, I want you to have a part of your mom with you all the time. I want to name you after her.”
As I hold him against my skin in the privacy of that small corner of the room, I go over the night again, and her last words echo in my head. Hollands are fighters, I’d said. I’m not, she’d told me.
I will forever wonder what she meant by that, but she gave me the perfect name for our son in that one puzzling response.
“You know who you are, little guy?” I ask, lightly running my thumb on his scalp. “Luca Paxton.” I smile at the sound of that, but then think I can do one better. “Luca Paxton Augustus Scott. Because Mama loved that damn name. Welcome to the world, son.”
For thirty minutes, they let me hold him. For a half hour, I feel at peace. I know he’s going to be the one thing that gets me through this.
“Katie?” I ask the nurse as I pull my shirt back on and watch her check his diaper. “Do you think I can bring Jack and Emi in?”
“Sure,” she says.
“Thanks.”
Chapter 23
EMI
She’s not alone. It’s the only thought that brings me any comfort this morning. I watch the street below as traffic starts to pick up with the sunrise. A crowd of reporters and photographers lines the sidewalk at the main entrance. I can see people approaching with flowers, too, but I’ve yet to figure out where they’re leaving them. Are they for Livvy?
Has the news gotten out already?
Ignoring the countless text alerts, missed calls and voicemails on my phone, I opt instead to bravely check one of the tabloid sites that has notoriously followed my daughter around for years. Her picture is the only one featured on their home page under a large headline: UNVERIFIED: Livvy Holland Scott DEAD.
My phone slips out of my hand and crashes to the floor. I cover my face as I weep with shaking hands, trying to hide the sorrow from my granddaughters. Trey’s presence next to me is obvious before he even speaks or puts an arm around my shoulders. “It cracked,” he says.
“I don’t care.”
“I know. I just don’t want you to cut yourself.”
I shake my head. “Throw it away.” I wipe my eyes and catch a glimpse of the page again as he examines the phone.
“Oh, Mom.” His strong arms bring me into his chest and hold me tightly. “Why’d you do that?”
“Look out there.” He leans toward the glass and glances down.
“That pile of flowers?”
“Is there one?”
“You can’t see it?” I shake my head again. His height gives him better visibility of the street directly below us. “Hundreds of bouquets.”
“Do you think they’re for her?”
“Yeah, Mom. After seeing this? Yeah. I do.” My son has been so strong all night, but I can tell he’s fighting off tears right now. “I’ll hold onto your phone, okay?” he says, changing the subject.
“Thanks.” The room gets silent all of a sudden, only to be broken by Willow crying out for her daddy. I look up and see that Jon has finally returned. He picks up his youngest daughter and kisses her cheek.
“Where were you?” she asks him.
“I was with your brother.”
“I don’t like hi–”
“Wils,” he says seriously, “that talk stops right now. Edie?”
She looks up at him, her head laying on a pillow in Jack’s lap as he strokes her hair. “Yes, Daddy?”
“That goes for you, too. We’ll have many more conversations about this, but right now, I want you both to come with me.”
“Okay,” she says, climbing off the couch and taking the hand Jon offers her.
“Jack? Emi? I, um…” He pauses and sniffles. “I want you to meet Luca.” He nods his head, and my heart falters when I hear the name. “The NICU said you can both go in.”
“Luca?” I ask.
“Yep,” he responds with a smile. “Luca Paxton Augustus Scott.”
I start crying again, and Jack collects me in the corner. He puts his arms around me and smiles, his eyes still wet. They haven’t been dry since we got the news tonight, but I haven’t seen him smile in hours.
“I love it,” he tells Jon. “It’s a beautiful name.”
“She named him… in a way…” he responds.
“I want to see him,” I state, filled with a sudden burst of hope.
“Daddy, I don’t want to,” Willow whines.
“You’re just going to look through the glass. Anyone else want to come?”
“I have to see him,” Shea says, and Will nods.
“I can’t wait to meet him,” Coley agrees.
Matty, Anna and Trey all gather around, and Jon leads us out of the room together.
It’s easy to spot Luca–he’ s all by himself in the big room, with the full attention of three nurses. “That’s him,” I point to the only baby there, showing Jack his grandson. He laughs at my obvious observation and takes my hand.
“I think he’s grown since we last saw him,” he teases.
“Maybe he has,” I say, shrugging. Coley and Shea are both cooing at the sight of him. I realize in that moment they’re… they’re the only ‘daughters’ I have anymore. It doesn’t matter that Will isn’t our son. We’ve considered him that for many years, just as we have Jon and Max. And we don’t need vows exchanged for Coley to be a part of this family. She has been for some time now.
Every single second, a new revelation hits me about how our lives have changed. Every single second, the night moves on into daylight, but gets sadder and sadder as time goes on. Right now, the sadness is mixed with sweetness, as our daughter’s tiny baby sleeps just on the other side of the glass.
A nurse taps on it, getting my attention. She points at the door to our left, and Jon steps aside, telling us to go in and wash up.
“We get to actually go in with him?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says. “I think he’ll… I don’t know. I think he’ll bring you some peace.”
“Paxton,” Jack comments to Jon as he walks by.
“Coincidence?” my son-in-law asks. “Destiny? We may never know.”
Jack and I have to scrub with hot water before we’re allowed into the larger room with the baby. Luca. From DeLuca. Livvy’s birth surname. I appreciate Jon’s desire to name him after Liv, but I don’t like it. I don’t like it because of what he told me earlier.
My daughter was a Holland up until the moment she took her last breath. She’ll always be a Holland. Or he would argue that she’s a Scott. But a DeLuca? We removed that name from her, legally, when she turned four. It wasn’t until she was an adult, after she met Isaiah, that she started identifying with it again. And that was fine… but to name our grandson that?
Isaiah. I look up to the heavens and pause.
“Poppet?” Jack says, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Go ahead.”
They’ve moved his bed closer to the glass so everyone else can have a better look at our new family member. He’s even tinier up close, especially when they tell us we can slip our hands through the side holes and we compare the size of our fingers with his.
“He’s so delicate,” I say. “Was Trey like this?”
“Yes, Em,” Jack says, laughing again. “Have you lost all the memories from that time?”
“I just… it was so difficult,” I remember. “I think I wanted to forget a lot of that time spent in the NICU. I remember when we brought him home. I remember knowing he was okay.”
“Those were the better memories,” he admits, but his voice sounds even farther away as he feels the soft skin of Luca’s legs with his thumb. “Just look at him. What a wonder…”
“I hope he does amazing things with his life, Jacks.” I start crying again and wipe my face on my shoulder. “For everything she sacrificed.”
“I hope he’s healthy. I hope she’s watching over him now.” His voice cracks. “Tessa, we’ve got him from here.”
“Oh, Jacks,” I sob. We bo
th let go of Luca and hold onto one another. “She should be here.”
“I know, Poppet. I know.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Holland?” one of the nurses says. “We want to keep the environment calm and stable in here for him. Maybe it’s best if you both come back a little later?”
“I think that would be best,” I say, looking back into the incubator. “We’ll be back, sweetie.”
Jon and Matty are the only ones left in the hallway when we come out. “I’m sorry,” our son-in-law apologizes quickly.
“Oh, no, no…”
“He’s beautiful,” Jack adds. “It’s just so hard.”
“I know.” He hugs us both.
“Nolan’s downstairs,” Matty says. “I… I think I should make a statement or something. The rumors are out there.”
“This isn’t their business,” Jack says, frustrated and so much more emotional than I’ve ever seen my husband.
“No, it’s a private, family matter,” his brother agrees, “but Jacks, you have to know, she was loved by this entire city, state. She was loved around the world. And people in this hospital have obviously talked to people on the outside. My phone’s blowing up with friends asking me questions. I… I don’t want to repeat the words a million times; I’ll be honest with you. It hurts too much.”
“He’s right,” I say. “She meant so much to this city. Trey says there are hundreds of bouquets outside… probably for her. Let’s make a statement. Just short and sweet and get it out there and over with. And we’ll ask for privacy. I had too many texts and calls to go through, and I don’t want to deal with them, either.”
“All of your parents know,” Matty follows up. “Your siblings, nieces, nephews… Finn and Katrina are trying to get a flight up.”
“I need someone to call Ariana and Kora in Brazil,” Jon says. “I don’t want them to find out from a press conference.” He hands Matty his phone after unlocking it.
“Anna can handle that,” he assures him. “Should I write something for us to say?”
“No,” I tell him. “You don’t need to do it. Jack and I will go out there.”
“I don’t know, Em,” my husband says. “I don’t feel like I have anything to say.”
“Jacks, you’ve always been the one to speak to the press and ask for privacy. They listen to you.”
“I’m a wreck.”
“Of course, you are. You think people won’t expect that? Forgive that? They need to see that to respect our time and our ability to grieve in peace.” He nods. “Is this okay, Jon?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” I hug him. “Can we… announce the baby?”
“As long as it’s clear we need people to give us all space. And I want security at the NICU 24/7, although I don’t plan to leave here.”
“Well, you can’t stay here forever,” Matty reasons with him.
“Someone needs to be with him. It would be Livvy if she were here… well, she’s not. So… I need you guys to watch the girls while I do what needs to be done here.”
“We’ll do anything,” Jack assures him, “but you’ll need breaks. And we’ll gladly cover for you then. Matty, I want you to call the private security company and get a guard scheduled, full-time.”
“I can do that.”
“Let’s go back to the room and try to freshen up,” I suggest. “Maybe Trey can let you borrow his shirt.” I remember my son wore a pressed, blue button-down, which looks nicer than the clothes we threw on in the dark of night when we were summoned here for the joyous birth of our first grandson. That seems like days ago.
Trey accompanies his father, uncle and me outside, standing to my left on the top step just outside the side entrance of New York Central Hospital. He looks even more youthful in the Columbia University t-shirt he’d had on under the button-down. I’m used to seeing him in dressier clothes, now that he’s busy volunteering at the law center on his break from Harvard.
The crowd silences as we stand in front of them, something that never happens. Where are the shouted questions? Why aren’t they yelling about the latest rumors? Our family hasn’t been respected by the press in years. But today is different.
Matty clears his throat. “My brother, Jack Holland, and his wife, Emi, would like to make a statement. There won’t be any follow-up questions this morning, but you can expect more news from the family in the coming days. I’ll let Jack take it from here.”
I watch Jack as Matty nods in his direction. His shoulders slump, and the corners of his lips are heavy as they begin to quiver. Composure has always been one of Jack’s best qualities, but I’m watching him fall apart beside me.
“Tonight, at around 12:30 this morning, our daughter, Olivia Sophia Holland Scott, was brought to New York Central in a state of distress. Doctors decided…” His voice is shaking. “To deliver… the baby.” He chokes out a sob, and the reporters, paparazzi and citizens of New York who have gathered react in one of many ways. Some gasp, undoubtedly at Jack’s emotions. Some stare in stunned silence, mouths agape. And others cry with Jack, not even knowing for certain the news we’re about to confirm.
My husband looks at me for only two seconds, shaking his head before turning and going into the double doors behind us.
“I’ll handle it,” Matty says, following him quickly.
“Mom, I can take over,” Trey says.
“No,” I say to him, grabbing his hand in mine and holding on. I take a deep breath and look into the faces of the crowd. Another slow breath is required, but I continue for Jack. “Luca Paxton Augustus Scott was born at 1:05 a.m. and weighs four pounds two ounces. He is currently being doted on by multiple nurses in the NICU, but Jon, Jacks and I have all been able to go in and see him. He’s very handsome, and they say he’s doing well, even though he was born early.”
In the silence that follows as I wait to build up the courage to continue, someone asks the obvious question. “What about Livvy?”
“Yeah, could she go in and see him?” another person adds.
Two tears drip down my cheeks and I squeeze my son’s hand tightly. “No,” I say softly as I exhale, shaking my head. I swallow, then speak. “Livvy never recovered from the surgery.”
There are audible reactions of shock from the people who stand in front of me. Wails of sadness. Exclamations of ‘oh my god!’ Things I’ve heard over and over all morning from the people who loved her and knew her best. But she touched so many lives.
“After the delivery, something happened to her heart, and the doctors couldn’t save her,” I say, surprised that I was able to get it out in one breath. I remember her lifeless body lying on the table, and then break down. “She’s gone. I’m sorry.”
As Trey and I embrace, the rest of the crowd reacts. Echoes of collective sorrow. It’s a haunting–yet comforting–sound, and at the same time, I know I never, ever want to hear it again.
“We’d like to ask for privacy while we deal with the loss of our sister, daughter, mother, and friend, and the birth of this beautiful new family member,” Trey says, looking back into the crowd. I’d forgotten that part. “Thank you.”
“How is Jon?!” Someone shouts.
“Do Edie and Willow know?”
“Are the girls here?”
The questions continue as we escape into the building. A guard stands at the doors to make sure we aren’t followed by anyone not needing assistance from the hospital.
“I love you, Mom,” Trey says, hugging me close. When we separate, we both look to his father; my husband. “Did Dad drive here?” my son asks.
“Yeah,” I answer him.
“Let me and Coley take you two home.”
“What about the girls?” Jack asks.
I pull him to the side, away from everyone else so I can speak to him in private. “You know, Jacks, I know they just lost their mom, but we just lost our daughter. We can try to start being grandparents of the year tomorrow, but right now, about the only thing I thi
nk I can do is lie in your arms and recount every precious memory we ever had with her, so there’s no threat of losing a single one of them.”
“What if it hurts too bad?” he asks.
“It will hurt more if we forget her. Your parents are at our place. Let them take care of us today. Tomorrow, we figure out how we move on from this.” Reluctantly, he agrees to let Trey take us home.
“Matty?” our son says. “Can you drive the Rover to your place? I’ll pick it up when I swing by to check on Max later.”
“You’re gonna handle that?”
“I’ll take care of it.” Trey nods and hands his uncle the key to his car. We all get back into the elevator, and I wrap my arms around Jack, who’s inconsolable at this point. I wish I had the words to help, but I never thought I’d have to mend his broken heart. I’m not prepared for this.
He stays in the hallway, careful to hide his emotions from his granddaughters, as Trey and I let Jon know we’re going home for a little bit.
“I’ll be back soon. Whenever you need me,” I tell him.
“We’ll be here with them, Emi. Don’t worry,” Shea says.
“Don’t hesitate to call, though,” I continue. “We just need a little time to let this sink in. Alone.”
“I understand,” Jon says. “We’ve lost so much tonight.” I hug him tightly and kiss his cheek. “I love you. Tell Jack… tell him I did everything I knew to do.” Tears drip down his cheeks.
“He knows, honey. We love you, Jon,” I tell him. I kiss the girls and tell everyone else goodbye before following Trey and Coley out of the room.
“Let’s go,” I say to Jack.
“I don’t want to leave her,” he says, shaking his head and glancing down the hallway toward the operating rooms. “I don’t want her to be alone.”
“Dad,” Trey says, then hesitates. He exchanges a look with his fiancée. Coley links her elbow with his and leans into him. “She’s… Dad, she’s not there… anymore… you know?” I’m sure he’s speaking spiritually, but I’m also certain that her body has been moved to another part of the building by now. The thought of her being in a cold, sterile morgue makes me want to find her and take her to a more comfortable place, but I know we can’t now… and I also know there will soon come a time when we, as a family, will be charged with making those arrangements. This is why we need to go home. We will need to help Jon, and someone has to be better prepared, mentally, to make decisions. He will be in no shape for it.