As we walk out of the cereal aisle, Linda takes the cart from me. Rounding the corner, I toss a bag of chips into the cart. She gives me the side-eye, but I notice her lips curling into a smirk.
“What?” I deflect and shrug my shoulders.
“Nothing, sweetie. It’s just nice to see you thinking about food again.”
We make our way through a few more aisles and my appetite comes back in full force. Suppressing her laughter, Linda scans the filled-to-the-brim cart. “That’s funny. I don’t remember cookies, orange sherbet, pickles and tacos being on the list.” She waves the yellow sheet of legal paper in my face. Ignoring her sarcasm completely, I toss an oversized candy bar in with the rest of my pregnancy-craving induced purchases.
“Didn’t the doctor say that spicy food could help bring on labor?” I eye the taco kit.
“Yeah. So I guess you want those for dinner then?” She bumps me with her shoulder, nearly throwing me off balance.
I take the cart from her, remembering that the doctor also said something about walking to help things progress. Apparently, somewhere in the back of my mind, I latched onto the idea that I want this baby out. Maybe it’s something about just needing to focus my attention on something happy and not sad. Maybe it’s about walking blindly into the fearful unknown while trying to ignore the pain that is currently my life.
When we make our way back to the refrigerated section to pick up a package of chopped meat, a searing band of heat flashes across my belly. I hunch over in pain, banding one arm around the baby. The other hand holds a white-knuckled grip on the handle of the cart. Linda comes up behind me and rubs my back until the pain subsides.
“You okay?” she asks when I stand upright.
Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I let out a deep breath. “Yeah, but wow, that was strong.”
By the time we make it to the front register, another contraction hits me, tightening my belly, back and groin in a blaze of scorching fire.
“Lin, I’m not so sure these are the fake ones anymore,” I grit out through a clenched jaw.
She pays the cashier and loads the last bag into the cart. “It’s okay, Luce. We’ve got plenty of time. Let’s get this stuff home and we’ll call the doctor, see what we should do. Okay?” Her word are cloyingly sweet, like golden honey, but I hear the fearful excitement hidden beneath them.
On the ten-minute drive back to the house—a house I still can’t bear to call anything else other than “ours” even though it’s really just mine now—I circle back to my thoughts about wanting something to look forward to.
When we hit a pothole, the bump causes my belly to pull and tighten. I’m no longer excited. I’m scared out of my mind. Needing some sense of not being alone, I reach for Linda’s hand that’s resting on top of the gearshift in the center console.
The feel of my fingers lacing together with hers shakes her out of whatever far-away thought she was just having. She looks over at me in the passenger’s seat like she’s seeing me for the first time, like I haven’t been in the car with her the whole time.
She squeezes my hand in return, and even though I thank God that I have her, I want no one other than Jimmy.
“I don’t know if I can do this without him,” my weak voices trembles through the pain, both physical and emotional.
Patting my hand, Linda looks over at me; a similar, but different look of pain is etched into her tired face. “Oh, sweetie, I don’t either.” She pulls into the driveway and races around to my side to help me out of my seat.
When I stand, what feels like a deluge of water crashes to the ground. Standing there, staring at my broken water, both of our mouths are agape at how quickly things are progressing
“So much for those tacos, huh?” We both laugh like hyenas at my ridiculous joke. It’s more to avoid the heavy emotional bubble descending upon us.
How is it possible to say hello to the one person you’ll love the most in your life, when you still haven’t been able to say goodbye to the other half of your soul?
“Come on.” Linda wraps her arm around my back and helps me climb the front steps. “Let’s get you changed and ready to have a baby.”
Her words scare the crap out of me and even though there’s a large part of me that wants to—no, has to—focus on the sadness and anger, I push that part down. Focusing on the joy that looking into my daughter’s eyes will bring, I decide to just let it be, at least for now.
Thirteen hours and lots of pain medication later and there’s still no baby. I had this crazy notion that I would go through this birth naturally, no epidural—just power straight through it. That was before I lost Jimmy. He was supposed to be my strength today, coaching me through my pain. That plan was crushed when Jimmy was. I’ve had enough pain, more than any one person should have to experience, so the second it was offered to me, I took the epidural. Now, in the early morning hours, through drowsy, but unable-to-sleep, heavy-with-exhaustion eyelids, I make out Linda’s blanket-covered form on the chair in the corner.
She notices me moving and walks over to sit at the chair next to the bed. She feeds me some ice chips and we watch the orange sun float up above the horizon. “It’s pretty.” My throat is scratchy and sore.
“Sure is. A beautiful way to start the day that you’ll become a mommy.” Linda’s words hit me right in the gut and grip at my heart. It’s the first time anyone other than Jimmy has called me that.
My God, I’m going to be a mom today. I never envisioned a life where I’d have to be a single mom and the idea of it scares me more than I can say. There’ll be no one there to help me through the sleepless nights, no one with whom I can enjoy the milestones. Before I let the emptiness engulf me, there’s a light tap at the door.
The doctor comes in, making her early morning rounds. “Let’s see how things are going.”
Linda moves out of the way while the doctor does her thing. “Looks like that little bit of rest helped, Lucy. You’re at ten centimeters. Are you ready to meet your daughter?”
Wordlessly, I nod at her. Linda helps me sit upright, straightening my pillows and feeding me a few last pieces of ice. Everything feels like it’s moving in a robotic kind of slow motion, yet at the same time, everything is slipping through my fingers at lightning-quick speed.
I can’t speak. I don’t want to say anything. I know that if I open my mouth, the only thing that will come out is a sob, a painfully tormented wail of anger. So instead of verbalizing anything, I silently communicate to my unborn daughter.
All right, little girl, it’s just you and me, now. Please take it easy on Mommy.
A flurry of activity fills the room. Doctors and nurses dressed in varying colors of scrubs rush around the small space—a perfectly orchestrated vision of chaos. I barely hear the instructions the doctor calls out. Instead, I focus on the one familiar face in the room. In a voice barely above a whisper, I ask Linda for his picture.
I can’t look at it; I knew I wouldn’t be able to, but I had to have him with me in some way.
“Push,” the doctor instructs and I feel Linda holding my leg back, a nurse at the other one.
“You’re doing great,” Linda coaches as she swipes a cool rag across my face. I still can’t say anything in response, not that I have the time anyway as another contraction causes a flood of blinding pressure and burning pain, even through the waning pain meds.
“She’s crowning, Lucy.” The doctor pats my thigh, trying to encourage me. Her instructions come out rapid fire now. “Push. Stop. Hold on. Let me ease her out. Push again, gentle.”
In the midst of all the craziness, I glance down at the picture of Jimmy in my hand. Speaking to him in my mind, I mentally verbalize my deepest fears.
I can’t do this without you, Jimmy. I need you. I need you. I need you.
I use my need for him, my fear for the unknown to help me push through the pain.
“It’s a girl!” The doctor announces triumphantly, a wide-smile spreading across her fac
e.
When the balloon of pressure eases and the blinding pain recedes, I look down at my daughter who has just been placed across my deflated belly. The doctor cuts the cord, a detail I asked Linda to work out ahead of time to avoid the pang of anguish and bitterness that I knew it would bring up.
The nurses rub the baby’s back vigorously, cleaning her of the messy goop covering her newborn skin, but she still doesn’t cry.
I gently pat her back, afraid to break her tiny and fragile frame. “Why isn’t she crying?” Concerned words float like a thin ribbon through the all too quiet room, threatening to wrap around my neck like a noose. The nurse steps back in place with a new blanket and roughly rubs up and down my daughter’s back.
Please let her be okay. Please. I need her.
Huge, grey-blue eyes, the color of stainless steel, stare up at me. In that moment, even though she’s still not making a sound, I know she’s all right. I feel it in my soul.
“I’m just going to go finish cleaning her up and get her all weighed and measured. I’ll bring her right back.” The nurse’s compassionate caramel-colored eyes reassure me and I hand her the baby.
The second she’s out of my arms, her tiny cries fill the room and my heart bursts at the sound. “She’s here, Lin. She’s really here.” I stare up into my best friend’s tear-filled eyes as we exchange huge smiles.
“You did real good, sweetie. She’s beautiful.” Swiping away her tears, she leans down and kisses my forehead.
We hear a few more cries, but within a few minutes, the nurse returns my daughter to my arms. Cuddling her close to my chest, her tiny body swaddled in a sea of soft, pale pink blankets, she smells like a slice of heaven.
The doctor stands next to me and looks down at the baby curled in my arms. “Congratulations. I’ll be back in a few hours to check up on you girls.”
After a few minutes of oohing and ahhing over my baby, and lots of hugs and kisses, Linda clears her throat. “I’m going to go, too.” Linda’s words startle me. She can’t leave.
She must register the look on my face because she sits on the edge of the bed and smiles at me warmly. “Just for a little bit. I’m going to grab a shower and let you girls get to know each other. You need some rest anyways. I’ll call Franny and Lou, and let them know they can come up later.”
Jimmy’s parents.
I’m not sure I have the strength to face them, but I know I’ll have to find it somewhere.
Linda waves from the door and reminds me one last time that she’ll be back in just a little bit.
“Looks like it’s just us, baby girl.” I press my lips to the soft, fire-red tuft of hair on her otherwise bald head. She wiggles her hand out of her blanket and I can’t help but count her small, wrinkled fingers.
When they band around one of mine, I lose it. Bringing our joined fingers up to my mouth, I kiss her through the tears.
“Sweet, Melly Belly.” I swear she tilts her head to my voice as the words come out of my mouth. It’s as if she’s piecing together that I’m the one who’s been talking to her all these months.
I wonder if she’ll miss hearing Jimmy’s voice, his lips pressed up against my belly, fuzzy mumbles of fatherly love filtering through the waves of water surrounding her.
Pulling her impossibly close to my chest, I cry through the memory of the last time he spoke to her—the morning that he died.
I press my lips to our joined fingers one more time. “I promise you, Melanie. I will never let you forget your daddy. He loved you so much. I love you so much.”
Forcing back my tears, I stare into the eyes of this beautifully, precious, teeny, tiny bundle of love. “She’s beautiful, Jimmy.” I stare out at the now fully risen sun. The skyline is set ablaze in a glorious kaleidoscope of pinks and oranges. The almost black surface of the lake is speckled with a million dots of light dancing across its surface.
It looks like heaven.
That’s where he’ll be forever now − in the vast beauty of nature, speaking to us through the flickers of sparkling light that reach us only in our most serene moments.
In the quietly humming hospital room, I tell Jimmy all about Melanie, describing her beautiful red hair and grey eyes, her tiny button nose and plump cheeks.
He might not be there to hold me, but I feel him next to me. I feel him here in my arms where my beautiful Melanie sleeps peacefully.
Chapter Five
November 22, 1995
My day shift ran over today. Fine. It didn’t run over so much as I let it run over. Manny let me know yesterday that he was going to need a few hours this afternoon because his daughter was in a Thanksgiving play at school.
The guy saves my life and he asks me to work a few extra hours so that he can watch his six-year-old in her star role at the head of the first Thanksgiving Day table. Yeah, that was a no-brainer.
I must have lost track of time studying because when Manny claps a hand to my back, it scares the shit out of me.
“You studying?” He reads over my shoulder—nothing all that interesting if you’re not a firefighter. Building structures, safety procedures, fire codes.
Closing the binder, I reach for my coffee and take a sip. “Yeah. There’s a lieutenant’s test in the spring. Thought I’d at least give it a shot.”
“Good for you, Donovan. Well, if you ever need any help, let me know.” Manny leans back against the counter and pours himself a cup of the freshly brewed pot.
“So how was the play?” I move to the sink, rinse out my mug and hang it on the rack that’s attached to the bottom of the cabinets.
Manny smiles widely, a fatherly grin of pride. “It was good. Vikki was more than happy to have the spotlight on her.”
“You’re going to have your hands full one day.”
He chokes on his coffee. “One day? Are you kidding me? They’re full now!”
I check my watch. Six o’clock. I’m supposed to meet Tessa for dinner at some fancy restaurant around the corner in an hour. “Well, I’m glad you could make it. Happy to help.”
As I walk up to the bunks, I can’t help but smirk at Manny and his full hands. I wouldn’t mind having to run to work late because of my kid’s play. I wouldn’t mind knowing that I have a life outside of this place. But, in the weeks following my accident, the thought of having that kind of life with Tessa diminished rapidly.
To be honest, I’m not even sure why I agreed to meet her for dinner tonight. We’ve done nothing but fight recently. She wants more and I just can’t get past her neediness, her complete and total inability only to think about what she wants.
I know I’ll never be able to get over how she gave me so much shit for wanting to help out Brody when he was first discharged from the hospital. Me and the guys all helped build a wheelchair ramp up to his front door. His parents live a very simple life and they weren’t expecting their grown up son to return back to their home. We did our best to make the transition as easy as possible—for all of them. Brody wasn’t all that keen on having to move back home either, but he knew it was what was best for him.
We all saw the depression lingering just beneath the surface. The one thing Brody loved, the only thing he ever thought worthy of devoting his life to, was taken from him in an instant.
All because of me.
Sensing his anger, his sadness, we all made a pact to spend as much time with him as possible when we could. He’s still not one-hundred-percent healed—neither physically nor emotionally, but he’s getting there.
It was when I would come home from those late night visits, or early morning shopping trips for Brody’s parents that Tessa’s true colors would show in vibrant form.
“Nice to see you.” Dripping sarcasm, her words grated on my last nerve.
Ignoring the bait, I walked past her and into the kitchen. Popping open a beer, I leaned back against the counter and scrubbed a hand over my face. I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a massive headache by the name of Tessa taking shape there.
“You said you’d be home at six.”
“And?” I swear she brought out my inner asshole.
“And it’s eight.” Angrily, she pointed at the green flashing lights on the microwave.
“The ramp took longer than we thought. Had to make three extra trips to the store.”
“You didn’t think of calling?” With her hands on her hips, she stood there, waiting not so patiently.
Yep, there it was. The headache. Not to mention that my arm was fucking killing me. I only just got the cast removed, so it was probably too soon to be doing construction—light though it may be, but there was no way in hell I wasn’t helping.
She started tapping her toe, and I lost my cool. Putting my beer down on the counter, with not much gentleness, I stared over at her. Had she once been kind? Had she once been understanding and less self-centered?
If she had, I hadn’t remembered those days.
They were apparently long gone.
“No, Tessa. I didn’t think of calling. The man can’t walk because of a mistake that I made so letting you know that I’d be running a little late slipped my mind.” I snagged my beer from the counter and stalked past her, back into the living room where I flopped onto the couch and turned on some random college football game.
When the sounds of her huffing and puffing got closer, I turned up the volume to drown out the fight I knew was coming.
Recalling that fight, and more than a handful that decorated the last few weeks of our dying relationship, I chuckled a humorless laugh looking at the freshly pressed dress shirt waiting for me in my locker.
“Your blue shirt is ready at the cleaners. Make sure you pick it up on your way in to cover for . . . what’s his name?” She handed me the ticket to the dry cleaners as I walked toward the door.
“Manny, and, a dress shirt? Really? Where the hell are we going anyway?” Her idea of the perfect night was some place “fancy”—her word, not mine. Spending an arm and a leg on food I could cook myself, in a restaurant so loud and busy that we could barely keep up a conversation, was most certainly not my ideal date.
The Love Series Complete Box Set Page 88