MORE THAN THE MOON

by A Rosendale

  Dirk maintained his grip on her hand, but he felt as if the world were tilting violently. No concrete thought would form in his mind.

  “I started to think something was wrong, but then you left and I obviously couldn’t get ahold of you. The doctor says I’m about three months along.” She studied her husband’s face nervously. For the first time in years, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “You’re upset,” she settled on.

  “No, no!” he insisted, gripping her fingers tightly. “No. I…I just need to think.” All he could think were of three thoughts: kids, pregnant, three months. He shook his head to clear it and placed an easy smile on his lips. “Let me process for a bit, okay?”

  Alma nodded. She could certainly understand. It had taken nearly all of the past two months for her to process the idea.

  Dirk cleared his throat and took a sip of ice water. “Do you mind if I have a whiskey?” he asked her.

  “No. Of course not. I get it. Trust me!”

  They shared a reassuring smile and Dirk waved a waiter over. They ordered dinner.

  “Tell me about the last couple months. You went to Woods Hole at the beginning of the month, right? How was it?”

  “Wonderful, as always.”

  “Did you tell Stacy and Mark?”

  “No. I haven’t told anyone. I wanted to talk with you first.”

  He nodded appreciatively and urged her to continue her exploits. They carefully avoided the topic of children. After dinner, they walked silently down the sidewalk, arm in arm through Boston streets.

  Dirk stopped abruptly and turned to face his wife. He brushed her cheek and stared down into her glittering eyes.

  “Alma, I am ecstatic to have a child with you!”

  “Really? Even though-”

  “Yes! Yes! It’ll be okay. We’ll keep our baby safe. I know we will! God, how lucky am I to have a kid with the greatest woman in the world!” He laughed aloud and spun her in a circle enthusiastically. Alma was utterly startled at the sudden jollity. He saw her alarm and stopped spinning to place both hands on her shoulders. “I know we have a lot to figure out. And I’m sure you’ve thought everything through already. I know it’s a lot. But I know we can do this. I know we can be great parents. And you! You’ll be the best mother!”

  Chapter 34

  The clock read 3:04 pm when Dirk entered the apartment. Alma wouldn’t be home from work for another two hours. He’d rather she be there, but knew he’d get more homecoming chores done without her presence. Tired, he plucked out a report on his laptop, submitted it, and went to the bedroom. He turned on his personal phone and hopped in the shower.

  Patting dry, he redressed in jogging pants and T-shirt and picked up the iPhone.

  2 Voicemails

  Neither of the numbers did he recognize. Curious, he tapped the first message.

  “Dirk, this is Michael…Michael Elliot. I’ve called, like, thirty times, and I hate to leave a message like this, but… Mom died two weeks ago. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you ever since the accident. Um, the funeral was last week in San Diego. I’m sorry, man. I…” Regretful sigh. “I tried to call you. Hell, I don’t even know if this is still your number. Anyway, a lawyer from Billings might be calling.”

  Dirk held the phone to his ear long after the message played to its end. After a while, he tapped the second message.

  “Dirk Travers, my name is James McKintyre. I’m your mother’s lawyer in Billings, Montana. I’m so sorry for your loss. Please give me a call in regards to her estate.”

  ‘Accident?’ he thought vaguely.

  * * *

  Alma was pleasantly surprised to find the apartment filled with light. Her ankles ached horrendously from a long day on her feet. The growing bundle of joy in her belly made every day a painful waddle to and fro. She looked forward to propping up her feet while Dirk prepared dinner, as was his post-trip tradition.

  But she found him sitting at the table, eyes creased with some foreign emotion. He looked up distractedly when she entered and didn’t rise to plant the typical kiss on her cheek.

  “Dirk, are you okay?” Alma asked, easing herself into the opposite chair.

  “Yeah,” he answered distantly. He frowned. “My mom died.”

  She watched him closely for an expected response, but his expression remained troubled, not angry or melancholy.

  “I’m sorry. What happened?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I just got a voicemail from my stepbrother.”

  “Didn’t you just see her?”

  “Yeah. I guess that’s what makes it so weird. I stopped in San Diego three weeks ago to tell her about the baby. We had a decent conversation. She seemed happy and healthy.”

  She took his hand gently.

  “Michael said it was an accident, but I can’t find any reports online.”

  “You haven’t called him back?”

  “No. I’ll call him and the lawyer tomorrow.” He answered her question before she could speak it. “My mother’s lawyer from Montana called, too, to discuss the estate.” He sighed. “I might have to fly out there.”

  “That’s okay.” She placed a warm hand on her protruding belly. “I wish I could go with you.”

  He smiled and covered her hand with his. “Me, too. But it’s all right.”

  * * *

  “Thank you for meeting with me,” Dirk greeted.

  Michael Elliot nodded begrudgingly, but didn’t offer his hand in greeting. “You don’t answer your phone any more?”

  Dirk considered a sarcastic response, but refrained from answering harshly. “I was out of the country on business. I’m sorry.”

  Elliot scowled. The expression irked Dirk, reminding him of his stepfather.

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  The scowl turned to incredulity. “You haven’t talked to our mother for more than ten minutes at a time for over twenty years. Hell, I haven’t heard your voice or seen your face for just as long and she lived with me! Now you suddenly give a damn!?”

  Dirk flushed, but maintained his calm.

  “You are, and always have been, a selfish asshole, Dirk! She missed you desperately! She wanted to have a relationship with you!”

  “The phone rings two ways,” Dirk replied calmly. He allowed the first angry punch to meet his cheek, but blocked the second by gripping his stepbrother’s fist.

  The sudden movement caught Michael by surprise and he stared in shock at the older man.

  “I understand that you’re upset with me. And I know it hurts right now. We didn’t have the greatest relationship.” He released Michael’s hand. “And I won’t defend my motivations for splitting. I just want to know what happened.”

  The scowl returned. “She was crushed by a tractor,” he muttered angrily.

  Dirk felt broadsided. He nearly staggered at the words. “What?”

  “We get our dog food from a specialty feed store. She was on the loading dock. A forklift crushed her.” Michael took in Dirk’s suddenly pale face and distant gaze. “Maybe if you’d spent more time with her, she’d have been living with you in Boston and not here.” The guilt of the statement was clearly aimed at Dirk, but actually reflected Michael’s own sense of remorse.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” he muttered vaguely. But Michael’s guilt was the furthest thing from his mind.

  His stepbrother frowned for another minute, shook his head, and walked away. They’d met on a street corner in downtown San Diego, just a block from his office building. He had no qualms about leaving this estranged member of his family. In fact, he hoped never to see the man again.

  * * *

  Dirk was staring idly into a glass of ice water when Alma arrived at the restaurant.

  “Hey,” she greeted softly.

  He flinched, surprised at her arrival. “Hey.” He rose quickly to peck her check. “How are you?”

  She placed one hand on her stomach, the other on the chair back and gently lowered herself to the s
eat. Once settled, she let out a satisfied sigh. “Tired, as always. Hungry, as always. Sore, as always.”

  He allowed a half smile of humor.

  “What happened on your trip? What did you find out?”

  Dirk shook his head. “I’m still flabbergasted, really.” Her anticipated gesture of a raised brow brought a genuine smile to his lips. He sobered as events returned to him. “My mother was crushed by a tractor at the local feed store.”

  Her expression was utter shock, but he didn’t allow her time to speak.

  “Which is exactly how my dad died.”

  Shock doubled. “You’re not serious.”

  He stared at the table, imagining the scene as if it were occurring on the opaque tabletop. “He was moving bales. A round bale was in the bucket of the front loader. He was moving it to a shed, but there was a railroad tie in the way. He stopped the tractor so we could move it out of the way. The hydraulics gave out and…”

  Alma bit her lip to keep from gasping. She’d never, in so many years, heard the details of this story, never imagined he’d witnessed his father’s death.

  “Apparently, the same thing happened in San Diego.”

  Instead of offering the sympathy she knew he despised, she said, “That’s pretty suspicious.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence.”

  “But you don’t think so,” she added knowingly.

  He frowned in answer to her comment.

  “What did the lawyer say?”

  “She left me my parent’s wedding album and a little money. I figured we put it toward Junior’s education.” He motioned to his wife’s belly.

  “Yeah. About that… Maybe we should settle on a name. Cause, I’m not calling him Junior forever.”

  Dirk laughed. “I suppose we should.” And he set aside the circumstances of his mother’s death to focus on his unborn child. He recalled the ultrasound he’d accompanied Alma to and the joy of seeing their baby for the first time. The doctor announced it as a boy and Dirk felt a flush of excitement. ‘A son,’ he’d thought, smiling widely. He imagined their first game of catch, a father-son camping trip, all the model planes they’d build.

  Chapter 35

  “This apartment is going to feel really small soon,” Dirk commented from the kitchen where he was putting away groceries.

  “It already feels small with all this baby stuff. I can’t imagine when an actual baby is here, too.”

  They had partitioned a corner of the living room off with folding wooden panels. It wasn’t much of a baby room, but it would work until they found a bigger place. Alma was putting away the last of the boxes of diapers from the baby shower.

  The baby gave a violent kick that nearly brought her to her knees. She staggered to a rocking chair in the corner and sat down heavily. Another spasm of pain wrenched her muscles.

  “Um, Dirk!” she called.

  “Yes, dear?” he replied.

  “Can you please come here?”

  Footsteps crossed the wooden floor and he appeared. “Are you okay?” he demanded instantly.

  She took a couple deep breaths and nodded. “Yeah. I think…” She shut her eyes and forced herself to breathe evenly, like the classes had taught her. “I think this is it.”

  “Really? Um, okay! I-” He stepped toward her, paused, took two steps the other direction, and froze.

  Alma uttered a strained laugh.

  “What?” he demanded, swinging to face her again.

  “In all these years, after all the wild things we’ve been through, I’ve never seen you panic,” she teased and resumed the measured breaths.

  It took a moment to realize she was right. He’d faced some of the deadliest terrorists in the world and tailed politicians capable of mass murder. But the thought of his wife going into labor paralyzed him. He took a page out of her book and took a deep breath before sharing in her brief laugh. “You’re right.” After one more steadying breath, he returned to help her to her feet. He snatched a packed bag from the floor by the front door and they shuffled into the hall, down the elevator, and to the Jeep.

  “How are you doing?” he asked as they pulled onto Boston’s streets.

  “I’m okay.”

  “You learn that breathing stuff in class?” All of a sudden, he felt utterly guilty for not managing to accompany her to any birthing classes.

  “Yep.”

  While the breathing seemed to be helping her, he was a ball of anxiety. He snatched her hand off her knee and squeezed it tight.

  “Everything is going to be alright,” she assured him in between breaths. Her hands were sweaty and hot. “Women have been giving birth for a very long time.”

  “Yes, but…”

  “If you call me old, I swear to God, Dirk Travers, you will lose all feeling in this hand!”

  “Okay, okay! I’ll change my tact. Women may have been giving birth for a very long time, but never has the woman I love given birth. So excuse my apprehension.”

  She shot him a tender smile. “You’re right. I love you, Dirk, and everything is going to be fine.”

  “I love you, too.”

  They were whisked into the depths of the hospital immediately after entering the Emergency Room. Despite the death grip she had on his hand, Dirk never even contemplated reclaiming it.

  “Alma, dear,” a gray haired doctor greeted warmly. He smiled at her and extended a hand to Dirk. “And Mr.…Travers, if I recall.”

  Dirk shook the hand awkwardly with his free left hand.

  “How are things progressing?” he asked, addressing both Alma and the nurse.

  “Contractions are about six minutes apart,” Alma answered while the nurse fixed a blood pressure cuff to her arm and a pulse oximeter to her finger. She squeezed Dirk’s hand hard as another contraction tensed her muscles. Suddenly, her grip weakened and her head fell back on the pillows.

  “Alma!” Dirk exclaimed urgently. “Alma!” He turned to the doctor, but the nurse cut off his concerns.

  “BP crashing. Baby’s heart rate is elevated. Baby is in distress,” she reported succinctly.

  “Doctor!” Dirk demanded feverishly.

  “We’re on to Plan B,” Dr. Cavendish said calmly. He motioned to the nurse, who called into the hall. In a moment, a storm of nurses was in the room and rolling Alma away.

  “Plan B?”

  Cavendish laid a reassuring hand on Dirk’s forearm. “We always knew this was a possibility, Mr. Travers. Alma wanted to try for a natural delivery, but she knew we might have to move on to another means due to her age. Everything is going to be alright.” He patted his arm. “She’ll be okay. I’ll see to it. Now, you go to the waiting room and I’ll be out shortly.” He nudged the reluctant husband down the hallway before pursuing his patient.

  Dirk paced the waiting room for twenty minutes before his cell phone dinged with a message.

  Text Message

  How’s it going?

  Christian

  Without thinking, Dirk tapped out a reply.

  Alma is in labor. Not going well.

  He forgot all about the text as he resumed his pacing.

  A half hour later, a figure appeared at his side.

  “Christian! What are you-”

  “You texted, I came. What’s the word?”

  His friend was pale and sweaty. The petrified gleam in Dirk’s eye was absolutely foreign.

  “Christian, I can’t…”

  “Let’s sit down.” He steered Dirk to a pair of chairs in the waiting room.

  “What if… Alma is the best thing that’s ever happened to me! If she…”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Christian insisted. “Everything will be fine.”

  “People keep saying that,” Dirk muttered angrily.

  “You’ve got to believe it, though. Alma will be fine; the baby will be fine.” He placed a sturdy hand on Dirk’s shoulder.

  They sat like that in silence for a while. When a swinging doo
r nearby opened, Dirk shot out of his chair like a Jack-in-the-box. The sudden movement startled Christian after such a long stillness.

  Dr. Cavendish wore a brilliant smile as he patted his patient’s husband on the arm. “Everyone is great!” he announced. “Alma is doing fine. She’s resting comfortably.”

  “Can I-”

  “Not yet. She’s still asleep. Let’s give her a bit longer. But you can go down to the nursery and meet your son.”

  ‘My son,’ Dirk thought staggeringly. He didn’t realize at first the silly grin that covered his face.

  “Go meet your son, Mr. Travers. He’s a beaut!” He patted the proud father on the shoulder and aimed him down the hall.

  “I have a son,” Dirk muttered vaguely as Christian joined him.

  “Let’s go meet the little tyke!”

  They stood outside the glass room while a nurse retrieved the little blue-blanketed bundle marked ‘Travers’.

  Dirk stared in wonder at the tiny face. The little eyes were closed peacefully and he found himself desperately curious to find out the color of those eyes. He touched the window gently.

  “Christian, that’s my son,” he muttered.

  Christian grinned and slapped his shoulder. “Congrats, man!”

  “Thanks.” He gazed at the baby for a long while before the nurse took him away.

  “Let’s go outside a minute,” his friend suggested as he held out a cigar.

  Dirk laughed and relief flooded him, making him giddy.

  “What’s the kid’s name?” Christian asked as he lit the cigars.

  “Uh…”

  “You haven’t picked out a name?” he demanded incredulously.

  “We have some picked out, but haven’t decided.”

  “What better time! What’s your first instinct?”

  “Cooper,” Dirk answered instantly. “Cooper Pearce.”

  “Pearce?”

  “My father’s name.”

  “I like it. Cooper Pearce Travers,” he rolled the name over. “Yeah. I think it fits.”

  * * *

  Alma was still asleep when Dirk was finally allowed to see her. He scooped up her hand and sighed in full relief.

  “Dirk.” The name was whispered vaguely, as if in a dream.