by Lane Hart
Taking a deep breath, I get to my feet and walk back into the hospital with Claire on my heels. I let her hit the buttons on the elevator since I’m not sure which floor to go to.
On the second floor, she takes a left out of the elevator, following the obvious signs that say, “Nursery.”
As we approach a wall of windows, I see rows of those baby bed things lined up in an explosion of pink and blue. Looking at each of the baby faces I try to find the one that’s mine…but they all look alike. Great, I can’t even recognize my own child. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a father after all.
“This way,” Claire says before leading me down a hallway. The wails of a pissed off baby can be heard before we step into one of the rooms. My feet stop short when I see Linc bouncing around the small space with a screeching blanket on his shoulder. He looks at us with sweat dripping down his forehead.
“I don’t know what else to do. She doesn’t want to eat. She just keeps yelling at me,” he says, offering the baby to Claire, who immediately thrusts the bundle at me.
“No, no, no!” I say, taking a step back and holding up my arms. “I might break her.”
The room falls silent.
“Holy shit,” Linc mutters. “She stopped—”
And cue the screaming again.
“Senn, take her,” Claire says.
“I can’t,” I reply. “What if I drop her?”
“Sit,” Claire orders, nodding to the white rocking chair in the corner.
My ass barely hits the seat before she’s putting the baby in my arms, positioning them where they’re supposed to go to hold the bundle. She’s so light, and with my elbow resting on the chair arm, I’m not as worried about her falling to the floor. “Got her?” she asks.
“Yeah, I think so,” I say, and Claire removes her hands and steps back. By this point the yeller has turned it down a notch and only sounds slightly displeased. Her scrunched up, blood red face starts to relax, and then dark blue, tear-filled eyes are staring up at me. When her bottom lip pokes out, and her breath hitches like she’s about to explode again, it’s just too much. “Don’t do it, baby girl. All that screaming can’t be good for you.”
She blinks up at me a few times like she’s trying to clear the tears from her eyes. Or maybe it’s too bright in here.
“Turn the light off,” I tell Claire, who adjusts the dial on the wall until the room darkens.
“Is that better?” I ask the baby in my arms. In response, she tries to jab her fist into her mouth. “Hungry?”
A bottle appears in front of my face, so I put it to her lips. It takes a few tries, but she finally figures it out and starts sucking the bottle down. Within seconds, her eyes drift closed.
“You’re like the baby whisperer,” Linc says softly.
“No, he’s not,” Claire replies. “He’s just her daddy.”
She’s mine. She’s really mine. God, she’s beautiful, and there’s no anger in me like I thought there would be after seeing her. Only infatuation and unconditional love, so much so that it hurts as a million worries start swirling in my mind. I’ve got to do everything I can to take care of her, to protect her.
Reaching down, I swipe my fingertips over her still clenched fist and spin the bracelet around on her wrist. The one that reads, “Baby Girl Duncan; Mother: Abby Merchant; Father: Senn Duncan.”
A nurse comes in sometime later and puts a matching bracelet on me after I show her my ID. I’m so torn because I want to see Abby, but at the same time, I don’t wanna put my daughter down. Eden. The name fits her perfectly. She’s my calming heaven in the center of the hellish devastation whirling all around us.
Eventually I find the willpower to lay her back down in her crib that has a card with Baby Girl Duncan on it and go ask the nurse’s desk if Abby’s in a room yet.
When they tell me she’s in ICU, my heart plummets to the basement. That’s a bad sign, but she can get better. I’m sure she will, in a matter of days probably once she has all the transfusions and treatments. A nurse gives me directions, so I head upstairs to find her.
Seeing her is even harder than I imagined. Unmoving. Unconscious, like she was when I brought her in. I hold one of her hands that’s hooked up to cords and sit next to her in the room that’s silent except for the beep of machines and the nurses moving around.
Luke and Abby’s parents come by, but only stay a few minutes, until they break down and have to leave. Whitney sits on the other side of the bed, holding silent vigil with me. We’re both still there late that night when the oncologist finally stops by.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Robertson,” he says in greeting and offers a handshake that I stand up and take. I try to judge his expression, but his frown looks anything but optimistic.
“So, how is she?” I ask, unable to wait any longer.
“We’re doing all we can, even starting the chemo,” he says followed by a sigh. “But, I would suggest that you say your goodbyes before you leave the room tonight.”
My legs give out as I slump back down into my chair, unable to get any oxygen in my lungs.
“No!” Whitney sobs. “She made it this far…please…”
“I assure you that we’ll do everything possible, I’m just warning you that it may not work. She’s extremely weak after placing an enormous amount of stress on her body for too long without treatment. The damage may not be reversible at this point, even if we had a bone marrow match, which we don’t. I’m very sorry,” the doctor says softly before leaving the room. I want to yell at him or punch him, but this is not his fault. Abby wanted our daughter to be healthy, even if it meant hurting herself.
Whitney comes around the bed and into my arms as we try to console each other, but both of us are a mess.
“She’s gonna be okay, right?” she asks, sniffling against my shoulder.
“You know how stubborn she is,” I tell her, and Whitney gives a bark of laughter.
“I can’t imagine life without her…” she says before her body shakes with sobs again.
“Me either.”
I can’t imagine leaving this room and never seeing Abby again. Never hearing her voice again or having a chance to hold her.
Suddenly a thought hits me. Something I have to do before it’s too late.
“Will you stay with her?” I ask, and Whitney nods. “I’ll be right back, hopefully.”
I feel like a zombie trying to make my way back to the nursery. It’s like I’m frozen inside. Lost in complete darkness without Abby. As soon as I see our daughter, though, and I actually recognize her right away out of the row of babies, a little warmth flares in my chest again.
“Can I take her to see her mother in ICU?” I ask the nurse, uncaring about the wetness on my face.
“S-sure,” she says. “You can take her anywhere in the hospital, but not outside until her band is removed.”
I nod in understanding before lifting her from the crib. Eden’s awake when I pick her up, but she falls asleep on the walk back to Abby’s room.
“OhmyGod! She’s beautiful,” Whitney squeals when I return.
“She is, just like her mama,” I tell her.
“And her favorite aunt,” she says with a smile. “Can I hold her?”
“Sure,” I say, placing the baby in her waiting arms. Whitney coos at Eden through her tears, and I know that, like mine, they’re probably a combination of happy and sad ones.
“Here,” Whitney says a few minutes later when she hands the baby girl back to me. “I’ll let you three have a few minutes together. I’m gonna go down to the chapel and tell God that if he lets her get better, I’ll never ask for a single thing again.”
I nod, knowing she’s probably feeling like me, lost without direction, hating the loss of control and having to accept that this is out of our hands. It makes me angry, and while I want to blame God for being such a fucking asshole, at the same time, I think at this point he may be the only option left.
“Just…call me if…” she sta
rts.
“I will,” I assure her.
Whitney walks over and kisses Abby’s cheek before she leaves the room.
The baby’s still asleep when I place her face down on Abby’s chest. I reach for one of Abby’s hands and place it against Eden’s back through the warm blanket, keeping my hand on top of hers to hold it here. Pulling out my phone one-handed, I snap a few quick pictures.
“Abby, if you can hear me, you’re holding your daughter. She’s perfect and healthy and so beautiful, like you. I don’t know if you got to see her or hold her before…God, mama bear, I need you to get better. Your daughter needs you. I don’t wanna do this without you,” I tell her with a kiss to her forehead. “I love you so much. Please don’t leave us.”
I let Eden sleep there, on her mama’s chest, until she wakes up crying, probably getting hungry. I don’t want to leave Abby’s side, but I know she would want me to take care of our little girl. It’s why she risked her life to save her.
Picking Eden up, I’m starting to feel more confident that I actually know what I’m doing with her in my arms. I promise Abby that I’ll bring Eden back to see her soon and that she better still be here. Then, I give her one last kiss goodbye.
Epilogue
Senn
Ten months later…
“Look what I’ve got,” I say to Eden, waving the clear baggie full of Lucky Charms in front of her angelic face. She’s standing up, holding on to the sofa with both tiny fists, and I’m trying to tempt her away from it with her favorite.
When I pull a rainbow marshmallow out and hold it up, Eden gives me a toothy grin, all four of them, and practically shivers in her little yellow dress with excitement for the treat. That’s right. Nowadays other than the few hours when I’m training, I shop for dresses, change diapers and play peek-a-boo with my daughter.
“You want them?” I ask Eden, scooting back on my knees just out of her reach. “Come get ‘em,” I encourage her.
Her little forehead creases in thought like she’s trying to figure out the quickest way to get from point A to B. Finally, she decides to let go of the sofa and reach for the treat. Before she can touch the bag, I evilly scoot back another foot. “Good girl,” I praise her. “Come on. Just a little farther.”
She bites her bottom lip and scrunches her forehead, clearly unhappy that she can’t reach the bag of goodies yet, but she does what I want, and takes a step, and then another as I keep moving just out of her reach. “That’s it, baby girl. Look at you walking! You’re doing it!”
When she wobbles, I reach for her and scoop her up in my arms, gladly giving her the prize she was after. She has no idea what she just accomplished, or how huge it was, only happy that she can now cram colorful marshmallow charms into her mouth.
“I can’t believe you walked!” I tell her with a kiss to her chubby cheek. Looking up to the ceiling I shout, “Did you see that, mama bear? Your little girl was walking! I wish you were here, but hopefully you still got to see it…”
I remind myself that I’m not only a grown-ass man, but a bad ass cage fighter, and we do not cry about such things, even if they are enormous milestones. Besides, it doesn’t count if no one sees it except a ten-month-old. After wiping my eyes, I stand Eden back at her starting place at the couch and try to lure her away again.
She’s halfway to me when the front door bursts wide open, making her freeze to look over and see who it is. Cackling with glee, she turns away from me and starts heading in the other direction.
“OhmyGod, ohmyGod, ohmyGod,” my wife says as she drops to her knees just as Eden lunges for her, and she wraps her in her arms. “You did it! You walked! Such a big girl!”
“Did you see her on the camera?” I ask.
“Yes! That’s why I went double the speed limit to get home,” she answers.
“Good, I was worried you might have missed her first steps,” I tell her as I crawl across the floor to my two girls.
“Uh-oh,” she gasps dramatically. “Daddy bear is coming! Watch out!”
“Da-da!” Eden squeals as I growl on all fours until she’s within reach for me to tickle her.
My beautiful wife clears her throat before she says, “I hope I get some of Daddy’s tickles tonight.”
“Oh, you’re definitely gonna get tickled,” I assure her, leaning over to nip at her neck, making her squirm. “I’ve been thinking about…tickling you all day.”
“Is that a promise?” she asks with a smile.
“Abso-fudgin-lutely,” I reply, knowing better than to use words I don’t want our daughter to repeat.
“You know what we haven’t done in a while?” she asks before covering Eden’s innocent ears.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“The Conception.”
Two words, and I’m ready to put the baby to bed and carry my wife off to do very naughty things with her.
“Deal. But without the cab,” I quickly agree.
“Can’t wait.”
“How many more hours until bedtime?” I ask.
“Three and a half.”
“It’ll be the longest three and a half hours of my life, but I know it’ll be worth the wait,” I tell her with a quick kiss that ends when Eden starts bopping me on top of my head.
“I love you, mama bear.”
“I love you, too,” Abby says with a breathtaking smile.
Her words, her smile and having her here are all things I know I’ll never take for granted after almost losing her. It was a long, tough fight. But thankfully, our sin created a miracle.
Eden was a perfect bone marrow match for Abby. So instead of taking her life, she saved it. Now, months later, I’ve learned that Abby knew her leukemia had come back before I knocked her up, and that the day we conceived Eden, the doctor had told her that they didn’t have any bone marrow donors for her, so her chances of surviving cancer a second time with just chemo and radiation were slim to none.
But God had a fucked up plan all along, one that started with the two of us being at the same place at the same time, included a really hot taxi ride, followed by a failed prophylactic, and ended with more love than I ever knew existed.
Abby eventually got her dream wedding in the hospital chapel, and together we’ve found our own little slice of paradise. Now I know that miracles happen every single day, heaven really is a place on earth, and angels do exist.
Her name is Eden.
The End
The Conception
Nineteen months ago…
Senn
Sitting at the bar of the new club called Old School, listening to the classic hip hop songs of the 90s and 2000s, I’m trying to decide which of the women gyrating on the dance floor I’ll be fucking later tonight.
“Let me get three shots of vodka,” a familiar voice shouts over the music to the bartender.
I glance over to my right and do a double take when I see the fine ass of a petite brunette. Abby Merchant, my best friend’s ex-girlfriend. Her and Linc dated in high school, not that I knew either of them then, but Abby’s been hanging out around the gym with Linc for the past few months. The way she makes puppy dog eyes at him is pathetic. They are so done it’s not even funny. In fact, this week Linc and Claire announced they’re engaged and planning a June wedding at his beach house.
“You really want to do three shots?” I yell down the bar to ask her. “You look like a lightweight.”
Tossing her long braid over her shoulder, Abby’s eyes widen when she recognizes me, then she’s quickly starts looking around the club.
“Nope, he’s not here,” I tell her. Linc doesn’t go out with me, Nate, and Mace anymore, not since he started dating Claire.
She leaves her place at the bar and comes up behind my barstool, so I spin around until we’re face-to-face.
“What?” I ask. She opens her mouth to say something, but then looks down at the ID and cash in her hand before she stuffs both into her tiny purse. “Cat got your tongue?”
; “Is it true?” she asks, blinking watery chocolate eyes at me. God, I hope she doesn’t fucking cry. “That Linc’s getting married?”
“Yeah. June,” I tell her honestly. Andddd cue the waterworks. “What’s going on, Abby? I thought you two broke up like five years ago.”
She swipes her fingers under each eye and nods. “Yeah we did, it’s just…I always thought we would end up back together. He-he wanted to marry me, have a family with me, but now I know…it’ll never happen.”
Oh, Jesus H. Christ.
I look around the club for some type of escape. Where the fuck is Mace? Of course he’s sandwiched like usual between two hot as fuck girls. Bastard. That’s probably the last I’ll see of him tonight. And Nate, hell, I have no idea where the ginger went.
“Here you go,” the bartender says, placing the three shots on the bar behind me. I reach over and hand them to Abby, watching her throw each one back before giving me the empty glasses that I sit on the bar. She shakes her head after the last one and loses her balance, teetering in her high heels. When I grip her hips to steady her, she grabs on to my upper arms and squeezes my biceps. The low hum of appreciation she makes inflates my ego and my cock.
Stepping forward, she closes the distance between us until she’s standing between my legs, pressing her nice, perky tits that are falling out of her little black dress against my chest. When she reaches up and runs her hands through the back of my chin-length hair, my dick really sits up and takes notice. Feeling the lengthening going on in my jeans, Abby grinds her lower belly against the hardness.
“What are you doing, Abby?” I ask the slutty little temptress, who smells like fresh, squeezed lemons. I wanna squeeze something all right.
“Make me forget him,” she whispers with her lips brushing my ear.
My cock twitches in interest, even though there’s no way in hell that’s gonna happen. Bro code rule number one. “That’s a terrible idea,” I tell her.