“I’m trying to be good,” she said with a hint of an impish smile. “So we can do something like that again.” The next day he took her to a nearby harbor. They walked along the docks and looked at the boats, and he told her that sometimes he and Dominic hired a boat there and went fishing.
“Have you ever gone sailing?” she asked him.
“I did when I was a kid. It’s great.”
“We didn’t do a lot of sailing in Kansas,” she told him.
He looked at her. “Not a lot, huh?”
She grinned. “We didn’t do any.”
It was another sunny day, but the wind was gone. The temperatures were mild and there was just a soft breeze. “You want to go sailing for an hour or so?”
“Could we?” Her entire face lit up.
How could a guy say no to that?
It was the most wonderful experience she could ever remember.
She really didn’t believe they would be able to do it. How could Rhys conjure up a sailboat, for heaven’s sake?
But he found a place that would rent them what he called “a day sailer” for the afternoon.
And the next thing Mariah knew she was being strapped into a life vest and bundled aboard a launch that took them out to a sailboat tied to a mooring. It took some maneuvering to get her from one to the other, and Rhys muttered a lot, mostly about this probably being a really bad idea. But eventually she was sitting in the cockpit, hanging on as they bobbed up and down, and watching with delight as Rhys unfurled the mainsail.
“Can I help?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “Sit still and stay out of the way.”
She sat very still as he did whatever needed to be done. And then the sails were up and crackling in the wind and, whoosh, they were moving lickety-split across the water.
“Oh!” Mariah’s breath seemed to catch in her throat. “Oh, my! This is fantastic!” She beamed at him.
And Rhys, settling in the stem with one hand on the tiller, grinned back at her.
They sailed on a zigzag course across the harbor, and Mariah leaned back and tipped her face to the sun, enjoying its warmth as she enjoyed the feel of the wind in her hair. Rhys seemed to be happy, too. He looked younger, more carefree.
The way he used to look.
“It’s so quiet,” she said. The only things making noise were the sails and the rigging, and the waves that slapped against the side of the boat. She smiled at him again. “Thank you.”
He nodded almost soberly. “My pleasure.”
They didn’t stay out long. And they never went out of the calm water of the harbor. But it didn’t matter. She felt refreshed and renewed by the time they tied up again and the launch returned to pick them up.
She yawned mightily when they were back in the car and were heading back to the house.
Rhys said, “Wore you out, did we? I’m sorry.”
But Mariah shook her head and said sleepily, “I’m not. It was perfect.”
Live for now, her mother always told her.
On afternoons like this one, it wasn’t hard to do just that.
Izzy and Chloe gave them a shower.
“I can’t come into the city,” Mariah said when they told her what they intended.
“No problem,” Izzy said cheerfully. “We’ll come out there.”
“Izzy and Chloe are giving us a shower,” Mariah told Rhys that night. Izzy had called her right after supper to sort out the particulars.
“A shower?” Rhys looked surprised and not exactly approving.
“It’s a tradition,” Mariah said. “To celebrate. We are celebrating, Rhys.” She said this last firmly, in case he thought they weren’t.
He just nodded his head.
She worried a little that he would find some reason not to be there on Saturday afternoon, which was when Izzy and Chloe had decided it would take place. He seemed to pace around irritably the rest of the week. He talked on the phone a couple of times to a man she guessed was probably his boss, and she halfway expected he might find a fire several thousand miles away that needed his attention right now.
But when she said nervously on Friday night, “You’re not leaving, are you?” he just looked at her.
“Of course not.” As if there could be no question. “I told you, until these babies are born, I’ll be here.”
There was a finish line, of course. A deadline. Until the babies were born…
And then…?
Live for now, she reminded herself.
It was lovely to see all their friends again.
Izzy and Chloe had invited everyone—Sam and Josie Fletcher, Stella, her editor, Lindy and Gert, the assistants in the office, Damon and Kate Alexakis, Mrs. Alvarez, the Gillespies from upstairs, several more colleagues and neighbors, Rhys’s brother Dominic, and, of course, Sierra and Kevin.
She was so glad to see Kevin.
He’d called several times but she’d been asleep every time but one. Now when he came in, she stood up and he took her in his arms and gave her a gentle hug. “You look great,” he told her with a grin. “Big as a bus and twice as healthy.” He touched her check. “Seriously, you do look much better. Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling. And it wasn’t a lie. It was as okay as it was ever going to be.
“And for you?”
Kevin gave her a rueful smile. “On my own again.”
Her own smile slipped and she put a hand on his arm. “There will be someone, Kev.”
“Mariah,” Rhys said, coming up behind her and taking her arm to steer her away. “Izzy wants your opinion on something.”
He had her halfway across the room before she realized it. She looked back and waggled her fingers at Kevin. “Later,” she mouthed.
But there was no time later. There was always something happening. Gifts to be opened. Silly games to be played. Cake and ice cream to be served.
It was, as she had said, a celebration.
She opened the gaily wrapped packages and oohed and aahed over the tiny garments and practical diapers and blankets and the double stroller and twin high chairs. She opened them all because Rhys shook his head when Izzy tried to get him to help.
“Let Mariah,” he said. And he stood back, leaning against a wall, with his hands in his pockets, and watched.
She was surprised to find one package to her from him. She looked at him curiously. Then she opened it up. Inside was the very pregnant mother bear from the shop in Montauk.
“To keep you company,” she read on the card. Her gaze lifted and met his again. His dark eyes were unreadable.
She hugged the bear against her breasts. “Oh, Rhys. Thank you.” Their gazes were still locked.
“What are you having? Boys or girls or one of each?” Kate Alexakis asked, and broke the spell.
Mariah shook her head, trying to get back into the moment. “I don’t know.” The doctor did. He’d offered to tell her, but she’d declined.
“Got names picked out?” Chloe wanted to know.
Mariah looked at Rhys. He looked just as interested as everyone else, and she shook her head again. It wasn’t a decision she wanted to make on her own. They were his children, too.
“Better start thinking about it,” Finn said. “We’re already using up all the good names—Tansy, Pansy, Rip, Crash.” He grinned.
“We’ll figure it out,” Mariah said with one more look at Rhys. She saw Dominic look at him, too, as if assessing his brother’s attitude. She wished she could get Dominic alone and talk to him, maybe learn a little more, try to understand.
Everyone stayed after to cook out on the terrace. The day was overcast and everyone but those manning the grills stayed inside. But it was a lively afternoon and evening. Even the babies were up for it—bumping and bouncing against her belly. Mariah winced a time or two after dinner, and Rhys left a conversation he was having with Finn and came across the room to hunker down next to her chair. “Are you okay?”
“Of course. I’m fine.” But a foot
against her rib at the very moment she spoke made her grimace again, and she felt a cramping sensation. “It’s nothing,” she said.
But Rhys wasn’t convinced. “You need to lie down.”
“I can’t lie down! We’re in the middle of a party.”
“Well, that’s easily taken care of.” He stood up. “Hey, everybody. Time to go home.”
“Rhys!”
But Rhys was adamant. “Mariah needs to rest. Say goodbye, Mariah.” He took her hand and began to haul her to her feet.
“Rhys! You don’t have to—” she began.
But already Izzy and Finn and Chloe and Gib were gathering things up. Everyone else left, too.
Sierra was the last one out the door. She gave Mariah a hug. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. Truly.”
“Good. Rhys is doing a good job.”
“Rhys is a bully.”
Sierra shrugged. “Just doing what he’s supposed to do.” She shot him a look that was almost fond. “He’s coming around, Mariah.”
Mariah glanced quickly in Rhys’s direction. He was helping load the presents in Finn’s car so they could take them back and put them in her apartment.
“Do you think so?” she asked. She wanted to believe it. Dear God, she wanted to believe it.
“He wouldn’t be acting like a guard dog, otherwise,” Sierra said. “Once he sees those babies…”
Rhys banged the back of Finn’s car down and came over to take Mariah’s arm again. “Goodnight, Sierra.” It was an order, not a remark.
Sierra grinned and sketched him a salute. Then she looked at Mariah. “What’d I tell you?” she said.
He bossed her along to bed, told her he’d do the cleaning up,, and told her he’d be along to check on her shortly.
She hated to admit it—and wouldn’t to anyone but herself—but she was beat, and she waddled off to the bedroom without a protest. The kickboxers were going at it with a vengeance tonight, pummeling her and, she imagined, each other.
“You’re going to be black and blue when you’re born,” she told them, twisting and arching her back, trying to give them a few square centimeters more room.
She was in bed when Rhys stuck his head in the door. “Okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes. Thanks. Rhys,” she said as he started to back out, “could you do me a favor? Bring me my bear.”
He looked startled for just a moment, then nodded and went to fetch it. When he brought the bear back, Mariah cuddled her in her arms and looked up at him. “Thank you again.”
He didn’t say anything, just stood there. Then he nodded his head.
“It was a nice shower, don’t you think?”
Another nod.
She rubbed her cheek against the bear’s soft fur. “Could you… um… give me a back rub?”
He swallowed. “If you want.”
“Please.”
He ran his tongue over his lips. His eyes flickered shut, then opened again. “Let me lock up. I’ll be right back.”
She was ready when he returned. He flicked off the light and settled onto the bed beside her. She felt his fingers on her back, felt his thumbs press into her spine, felt her own body soften and relax into the rhythm he created.
“Rhys?” Her voice was a whisper almost next to his ear.
He jerked awake, disorientated. Then realized he must have fallen asleep next to her, holding her. He was still on her bed. It was the middle of the night.
He hauled himself up hastily. “S-sorry.” He raked a hand through his hair. “D’you need something? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He heard her swallow. “But… I think this is it.” She gave a nervous little half laugh. “I’ve been counting for the last hour. The contractions are steady and regular. I think I’m really having the babies.”
CHAPTER TEN
They weren’t going to let him go in with her.
He hadn’t taken the prenatal class, they said. He didn’t know about breathing and panting and how to coach a woman in childbirth.
“I’m an EMT, damn it. A fireman. I can figure out what to do.”
“But she already has a coach,” the receptionist, bravest of the lot, said, consulting the paperwork.
“Who?” he demanded and wondered what he’d do if it was Kevin.
“Sierra,” Mariah said quietly from the wheelchair beside him. She was very pale now and her breathing seemed shallow. But her grip on his hand was formidable, had been for most of the hour-long trip into the city. He squeezed hers equally hard, then looked down at their entwined fingers, then at her.
“Do you want Sierra?” he asked.
She looked up at him, straight into his eyes and shook her head.
“I want you.”
I want you.
It should have sent him running in the other direction.
It made him knuckle down and settle in. It tapped into the best of him—the part that handled crises. He was good in the moment, could handle the demands.
He could handle this.
It was intense. It was demanding. It was the most awe-inspiring experience of his life.
Mariah was the most awe-inspiring person in his life.
He’d always admired her warmth, her openness, her enthusiasm. Since he’d known her he’d considered her mellow and sunny and happy. They’d had good times together.
She was a rock now. Solid to the core.
She was strong and stubborn. Deep and determined.
The doctor told her that the babies were early, that they were small, that they needed every chance.
“The less anaesthetic the better,” he told her. “We don’t want to dull their responses, slow their hearts.”
Mariah listened. She nodded. She clung to Rhys’s hand.
“I can give you something if you really need it,” the doctor told her. “I’d rather not.”
“I can handle it,” she assured him. Then she looked at Rhys. “Talk to me.”
He talked. They both talked—about everything. About her farm childhood in Kansas, about his New York City youth, about the pranks he and his brothers played and the trouble she and Sierra got into. He could see when the contractions overtook her. He rubbed her back. He fed her ice chips. He massaged her feet.
The contractions grew closer and stronger. Her body trembled and it shuddered. She breathed deep and clutched his hands. They stared into each other’s eyes, matching breath for breath.
He never saw her break. She dug deep for inner resources, and came back through each contraction with enough to weather the pain.
Through it all—minutes that seemed hours—hours that went on and on—Mariah was so focused, so determined, so strong.
His function, once she was fairly far along was that of cheerleader and pace-setter. He sat at the head of the birthing bed, his hands locked with hers. They breathed together, they counted together.
“Good job,” he told her. “Good going.” He felt like a charlatan, giving a pep talk when she had to do all the work. But when he didn’t speak she exhorted him to.
“Talk to me, damn it. God! Oh, God!” she exclaimed as another contraction shuddered through her. Then, “I’m… sorry. I’m… breaking your fingers,” she gasped when yet another had passed.
Rhys didn’t care. He didn’t notice. “Go ahead,” he said.
“I’ve got to push,” she said frantically.
“Pant,” he told her. He didn’t know how he knew. He just did. He yelled for the nurse. “Something’s happening. Do something!”
“Pant,” Mariah whispered to him. There was just a flicker of humor in her eyes.
They clutched hands. The nurse checked her again. “Well, now, yes. Moving right along.” She called the doctor. “Come on in.”
“Finally,” Rhys said. “We’re getting somewhere.”
But if he thought all the stuff she’d already endured was rough, this was worse. And it was agony for him watching her effort, watching her strain, knowing there
was nothing he could do.
“Push,” the doctor encouraged her as Rhys mopped her forehead with one hand, the other locked in the death grip of hers. “Yes. Like that. Good. Now hold it. Wait. Wait…. Until you feel it start again. Work with it, Mariah. Okay. Once more. Harder. Harder. That’s it.” His voice was getting higher. “Yes! Bear down, Mariah!”
She bore. Her face was scarlet, her body shaking. She bit down on her lip. She crushed his fingers in hers. Her gaze flicked up to his.
“S-sorry,” she muttered.
“Shh,” he said. “I’m the one who’s sorry. Sorry I got you into this.”
“Don’t,” Mariah said through clenched teeth. “Don’t. Ever. Say. That.”
“Yes!” the doctor exclaimed, reaching now and drawing a wriggling, squirming infant into the world. “It’s a girl!” he told her.
Mariah laughed and cried at the same time. “Is she… is she… all right?” she asked, watching as the nurses bustled around the whimpering infant.
“All her fingers and all her toes,” the doctor said. “Breathing just fine. Dr. Oates will check her over. She’s a beauty. See?” He took her from the nurse and held her so Mariah could see her. “See, Dad?”
And there she was, right in front of his eyes. This tiny person. Wiggling. Eyes open as if she were looking for someone.
Rhys nodded numbly, unable to speak.
The doctor handed the baby to the pediatrician who’d just come in. “But we’re only half there, aren’t we? Still got some work to do. You’re doing fine, Mariah. Are you ready?”
Rhys felt her fingers tighten on his once more. She smiled a watery smile at the doctor. “Ready,” she said, “whenever you are.”
Where she found the strength to do it all again, Rhys didn’t know.
But she did—and minutes later a second wriggling darkhaired infant kicked his way into the world.
“Congratulations,” the doctor said as he laid this one on Mariah’s belly. “You have a daughter and a son.”
Rhys looked, but barely saw. His gaze was focused on Mariah.
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