Beauty From Love

by Georgia Cates

  “I’m calling bullshit.”

  “You’re right,” he says, laughing. “I totally made that up.”

  “You were scared as hell the first time we were together after we knew I was pregnant.” I had to get on top because he would hardly move.

  “True, but doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy the hell out of it.”

  As if. “Name a time you didn’t enjoy the hell out of it.”

  “Right.”

  We pull into the parking lot and Jack Henry lets me out at the front entrance. “Do you want me to wait for you in the lobby?”

  “No, you go on up. I’ll be hanging out in the waiting room if you need me.” I’m not worried about him finding his way. He’s very familiar with this place after our scare a few months back.

  I go through the waiting room outside labor and delivery on the way to Addison’s room. Her family is here. Even if she’s delivering early, the timing couldn’t be better since her family is here for the wedding—unless she has complications because the baby is early. I hadn’t considered that until now.

  All of Addison and Zac’s family is here, including Ben. Great. Jack Henry sitting in the waiting room with him won’t go over well, but at least Chloe’s here to defuse her brother.

  “Where’s Jack?” Chloe asks. “He better not have stayed at home while you drove yourself here in the middle of the night.”

  “He’s parking the car. He’ll be right up.” I make small talk until he arrives because I feel like he’s been forced to tolerate Ben a lot lately and his patience could be coming to an end.

  He walks in and I detect frustration on his face when he sees Ben. I can’t tell him what I’d like, so I mouth for him to please be nice before I leave the waiting room. He draws his imaginary halo over his head. “Thank you,” I mouth. That’s one less thing for me to worry about.

  I walk into Addison’s room and she’s sitting straight up in the bed, her legs frogged out, applying makeup. Good grief. That’s not at all what I pictured. I thought she’d be bucking and screaming for sure. “Why are you putting on makeup and not acting a fool?”

  She stops and looks up from her mirror. “I want to look good for the pictures.”

  What the hell? “I thought you were in labor.”

  “My water broke but I’m not having contractions yet.”

  This doesn’t sound right. “Don’t you need to have contractions to birth a baby?”

  “Apparently so since I’m not dilated, but they’re about to start a drip that will stimulate contractions.”

  The drip is one of the topics I read about on a childbirth forum I follow and everyone said it makes the contractions much harder. I bet Addison has no idea what’s about to happen to her. She’s not a researcher like I am. “Maybe you should be practicing how you’re going to breathe if you’re about to be given a pitocin drip.”

  “I’ve got this, Laurie.”

  Ninety minutes into the pitocin drip and Addison so obviously does not have this. She’s writhing in the bed so hard, she has a huge rat’s nest in the back of her hair. “Omigod, this is the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life. I didn’t think it was going to hurt this bad. It’s awful, Laurie. Terrible.”

  I don’t know what to say except to remind her of the things I’m learning in my birthing class. “Breathe in slow, deep breaths.”

  Zac is sitting in a chair at the bedside watching the fetal monitor. “Here comes another one.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Zac!” She beats her hands on the mattress. “You think I don’t know when another one’s coming? I’m the one feeling this shit!”

  I make my best attempt at giving Zac a look of encouragement, although I’m not really sure what that looks like right now. One thing I do know? Your water breaking before you’re in labor—turns out that’s not what you want to happen. It often takes longer to get into active labor—four centimeters—which means you have to hurt longer before you can get an epidural. Addison was one centimeter on her last exam. This is going to take a while.

  I pray this doesn’t happen to me.

  “I’ve got to have something for pain. Call my nurse and tell her.”

  Amy, Addison’s nurse, is a sweet, young woman with a high ponytail. She radiates happiness, which is great, but I want to warn her that her smiles aren’t flying with her patient right now. Addison’s being downright bitchy. “It’s time to check you, Mrs. Kingston.”

  Amy lowers the head of the bed to do her exam and her hand disappears under the bed linens. Addison squirms, I’m sure making it harder on her nurse to see how much she’s dilated. “Oh God. Here comes another one.”

  “You’re much thinner this time. Will you try to tolerate me checking you with this contraction so I can stretch your cervix?” Amy looks like she’s digging with all her might as Addison writhes. “Hang in there, Addison. Almost … finished.”

  “Motherfucker!” She grabs Amy’s wrist and I can tell that she’s squeezing it. “You’ve got to stop.”

  Her nurse takes her hand out from under the covers and removes her glove. “Got you to four centimeters. How you feel about getting an epidural?” She returns to the bedside after depositing her bloody glove in the trash and begins lifting the head of the bed.

  “Yes!” Addison calls out. “Stat!”

  Amy giggles with her childlike grin. “Okay. I’m going to start your IV fluid bolus and I’ll get the anesthetist in here.”

  “Thank you, Amy.”

  “Oh, you’re welcome. Glad we could get you to that point,” she says before leaving the room.

  That’s a lot of change since her last exam. “That’s fantastic—from one to four centimeters. They said you’d only dilate a centimeter an hour once you got going, so maybe things are going to pick up.”

  “Thank God. That exam felt like she was ripping me a new one, but I don’t think I’d be getting an epidural if she hadn’t stretched my cervix.”

  “That’s good. Means you a have a nurse who knows what she’s doing and can get this done.” I want Amy to take care of me when I come in.

  Zac remains in the designated chair where Addison told him to park his ass. “Baby, I’m not sure I can handle seeing them put that long needle in your back. I’m getting a little woozy just thinking about it.”

  “Zac Kingston, you are not going to wuss out on me.”

  “I don’t want to but it’s not like I can help it. I’m weak when it comes to medical stuff—especially needles. I can’t handle them.”

  “Too bad. You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here.”

  Addison is being rough on Zac. I hope I’m not this way with Jack Henry when the time comes. “I’ll stay in case it becomes too much for you and you have to leave.” I want to tell my best friend she’s being a total bitch to her new husband and he doesn’t deserve it. Zac has been there for her through everything from the moment she told him about the baby, so I’d really like to tell her to cut him some slack. I don’t have the chance, though, as the anesthetist and Amy come into the room.

  The man with Amy is wearing blue scrubs—and must be at least sixty since his hair is solid gray—so I’m hoping that’s a sign of experience. “I hear someone in here is looking for an epidural.”

  “Yes, honey, bring it on. Where you want me?”

  “Sitting—either cross-legged or with your legs dangling. Either is fine. Just make sure both legs are in the same position so your back doesn’t twist.”

  Amy positions Addison so she’s holding a pillow around her pregnant abdomen. “Poke your lower back out. The more you curl around the pillow, the more you open those spaces. When you sit up, it closes the space, so try to curl your spine into a C and hold that position until he tells you that you can sit up.”

  Addison gets situated and I watch from across the room, mesmerized by what they’re doing
to her.

  “I don’t feel so good.” I look at Zac—he’s a sick shade of white.

  Amy gives me directions from where she stands. “Can you help him to the couch and get his feet up.” Addison is leaning against her nurse for support. “I can’t move from this position.”

  I steer him toward the sofa and I’m instantly worried because Zac’s a big guy and I’m a not-so-big girl. “Please don’t pass out on me because I can’t catch you if you go down.” I’m relieved when his ass hits the cushion and he spins to put his legs up on the arm. “What now?”

  “Put some pillows under his feet,” Amy answers.

  “And then take pictures,” Addison calls out, still remaining in position. Zac doesn’t laugh or argue. He really isn’t feeling well but maybe a tiny little bit of pink is returning to his cheeks.

  I go into the bathroom and wet a washcloth for him. “Here. Maybe this will help.”

  He takes it and wipes his face. “Thanks. I think I’m gonna be okay now.” He sighs. “I can’t fucking stand needles.”

  I look at the black ink on his biceps. “Both of your upper arms are covered in tats.”

  “That’s different. Those only tap the surface of the skin. Nothing gets shoved into your spine.”

  “They didn’t shove a needle in Addison’s spine.” But it did sort of look like that’s what they were doing.

  “I think I can sit up now.” He rises to a sitting position and puts his feet on the floor, staring down so he doesn’t catch a glimpse of Addie or what they’re doing to her. “You all right over there, blondie?”

  Addison doesn’t answer and we both spin around to see what’s going on. Amy smiles and points at Addie. “Already asleep.”

  Is that normal? “Did the epidural put her to sleep?”

  “The epidural didn’t do that. She’s exhausted because she’s been at this for a while, and it’s quite early, so the poor thing is worn out.” And I’m sure she wasn’t in the bed sleeping when all of this got started. I’m guessing Jack Henry almost had the scenario right.

  I use Addison’s little nappy time to step out and see Jack Henry since it’s been hours. I’m surprised, or rather shocked, when I find him in a civil conversation with Ben. I think they’re discussing work from the little bit I hear—something about vineyards and the management of them depending upon the location. Chloe sees me before they do and shrugs, giving me a baffled look. I want to eavesdrop, just to see what they’re talking about, but Jack Henry looks over and sees me. “Hey. How’s it going in there?”

  “Better now, but it was really bad for a while. She’s four centimeters, got an epidural, and is comfortable. She’s napping.”

  “Are you scared now?”

  Hell, yeah. I’m terrified. “I was scared before but what I just saw confirms that there’s reason to be and she hasn’t even had the baby yet. It’s going to be rough, McLachlan.”

  “You’re tough as nails, L. I have faith in you.”

  It takes the better part of the morning for Addison to get to ten centimeters—thirteen hours from the start—but we’re told that’s about average. Next comes the fun part: pushing this child out of her body. He’s thirty-six weeks’ gestation so technically, he’s still considered a preterm infant. Surely, he can’t be too big if he’s almost a month early, right?

  “Ten centimeters is my cue to go, Addie.”

  “You’re leaving me because you’re a chickenshit and don’t want to see what’s about to happen.”

  Probably. “This time belongs to you and Zac.”

  I lean down to hug her before I leave. “I’m scared, Laurie.”

  “No fear. You’re gonna rock this.”

  I join Addie’s family and Jack Henry in the waiting room and we wait for an excruciating ninety minutes before we’re allowed back.

  We enter Addie’s room and the most beautiful baby boy in the world rests in her arms. He’s red and wrinkly, and screaming because he’s pissed off—how fitting for Addison’s child. Zac is leaning over kissing Addison’s face, telling her how much he loves her, and I get a glimpse of the happiness Jack Henry and I are going to feel when James Henry or Maggie James arrives. I can not wait.

  Addison turns her son around for us to see and Zac announces, “Donavon Zachary Kingston arrived at eleven forty-one, weighing six pounds, two ounces, measuring nineteen inches.”

  Yeah. Addison got her way on her son’s name, but I never doubted she would.

  Mrs. Porcelli has the week off so this morning, I’m eating a lovely country breakfast my wife has cooked for me—bacon, biscuits, and gravy made just the way Nanna taught her. My wife is quite the little cook but then again, she’s good at everything she does.

  It’s funny how she never used to get out of bed before I left for work, but now she’s up with me every morning. I think it’s the pregnancy playing tricks on her, or maybe preparing her body for less sleep since she’s thirty-two weeks now. Only eight more to go—if she reaches her due date. Either way, she still crashes midafternoon, so her body is still getting the rest it needs.

  I’m finishing my last bite when L’s phone rings—her mom’s ringtone. They’ve spoken very little since Laurelyn was in the hospital, and I don’t have a problem with that. Jolie Prescott rarely has anything positive to say.

  She looks at the phone and I think she’s debating if she’ll answer. “I wonder what it will be this time.”

  “You don’t have to answer it. I certainly wouldn’t think less of you.”

  “I always worry something has happened to Nanna or Pops. They’re the only reason I answer most of the time.” She picks up her phone. “Hi, Mom.”

  Laurelyn motions for me to leave my dishes as I gather and take them to the sink to rinse before placing them in the dishwasher. I know she doesn’t mind doing that for me, and maybe it even makes her feel more domestic when she does. I’ve often pondered how she feels about having Mrs. Porcelli here taking care of our home—if it’s an intrusion into her role as my wife or if she’s happy she’s freed up from household demands so she may devote her days to composing, rather than laundry.

  I close the dishwasher door and see Laurelyn grab the kitchen counter for support. “When?”

  I reach for her, afraid her legs will give beneath her, and assume the worst—that something has happened to one of her beloved grandparents. I steer her toward a barstool and she sits, placing her elbow on the counter and propping her head in her palm, pushing her hair away from her face. She leaves it there, her hand holding her head. “That’s all the information they’re releasing?”

  She ends the call with her mum and looks at me, saying nothing. “What’s happened?”

  “What have you done?”

  I’m baffled as to what she’s talking about. “What do you mean?”

  “Blake Phillips was found dead this morning—a gunshot to the chest.”

  And she assumes I had something to do with it? “Are you asking me if I had Blake killed?”

  “Yes.”

  I can’t believe she thinks I’m capable of something like that. I’ve had lots of thoughts about it, and maybe even insinuated I’d like to, but I’d never be able to take someone’s life. “What kind of person do you take me for?”

  “One who loves his wife and would take care of the man who attacked her and got away with it. And one who asked me for a no questions asked.”

  That’s what this is about. “I had some things I was working on where Blake was concerned, but I had no part in his death.”

  “I want to know what you were doing.”

  I guess the no questions asked is null and void now. “Jim went to Nashville when I found out the charges against Blake were being dropped. I was going out of my mind because he was going to get away with what he did to you, so I wanted to find another way to make him pay. If he didn’t do time for
attacking you, I was going to ruin him any way possible.”

  “What did Jim find?”

  She’s going to be sick all over again when I tell her what we know. “You weren’t the only one Blake attacked. He raped a young woman last fall while you were dating. She was being represented by Blake and suddenly dropped off the grid, leaving the music industry. It seems there’s a pattern of that with his female clients so Jim took a closer look. He located a few of the women but none would talk—until Hannah Dody.”

  She’s nodding. “I remember Hannah well. She was really young, something like nineteen, but quite good. Blake told me she left because she couldn’t cut it in the music industry, so she went home to Mommy and Daddy, his words verbatim.”

  “She’s the only one who would talk to Jim. She admitted that Blake raped her.”

  “You haven’t gone to Grayson Drake with this?”

  No, but I’m wishing I had now. “No. Jim is still investigating the other leads.”

  “Are they going to look at you for this?”

  It’s a possibility after the way I acted when I spoke with the prosecutor. “I don’t know the circumstances of his death, so I have no idea.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t make any threats when you spoke with Drake.”

  I was frustrated and outraged when I spoke with the assistant prosecutor. I have very little memory of that conversation, with one exception. “I may have mentioned something about having money and connections.”

  Laurelyn covers her eyes with her hand. “Oh God, you didn’t.”

  I could’ve said much worse, and it’s a million wonders I didn’t. “I’d just been told Blake was going to walk, so I was pissed off. They can’t use that against me. I’ve been right here with you all this time and that’s easily proven.”

  “But they could say you hired someone.”

  She’s assuming the worst. “We have no idea what the circumstances are. They might already have a suspect in custody. Someone could’ve confessed. We don’t know.”