by Vivian Ward
“I have to grab something before we go,” he says to Zack.
The two of us are face to face, standing at the door while Trent leave us alone.
We stare at each other, neither of us knowing what to say before he finally breaks the silence.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you were pregnant?”
“I was still in shock myself.”
It’s an honest answer. I didn’t know what to think after I took the test.
“Is it—,” his voice cuts off, afraid to ask the question.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Your brother and I are dealing with things.”
He nods.
“Okay, I’m all set,” he turns to me. “Joline, you remember what to do if I’m not back by 9.”
I shake my head.
“Call the police.”
“I love you,” he says before he kisses me.
It’s not a peck either.
His lips meet mine, and his tongue finds it way inside my mouth, almost as though he’s claiming me, right before his brother. We kiss passionately for a moment before he lets go of me.
“I love you, too,” I say.
Not long before 9, the two of them pull up in the driveway. Trent’s driving and Zack is doubled over in the front seat with blood all over him.
Worried what happened, I run outside and help Trent bring his brother into the house.
“What did they do?” I ask, worried about Zack.
Trent seems annoyed that I’m so concerned about his brother, and that’s when I notice the dried blood trail coming from his nose. They got him, too.
“They took the bribe money,” Zack says. “But they left me a parting gift.”
I’m not sure what he’s talking about.
“Us, they left us a parting gift,” Trent interrupts.
“What?”
“They beat the shit out of him, probably cracked a few of his ribs,” Trent fills me in. “They told him this was his one and only warning, next time they’ll kill him if they ever see him again.”
Looking over at Zack, I can see the blood coming from his mouth as he winces in pain, still doubled over holding his ribs.
“What’d they do to you?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he straightens his shoulders. “Just showing each other a little brotherly love.”
Damn it. They were fighting with each other. I have no way of knowing who did what to whom.
“Well, let’s get some ice for you two,” I say.
“No, that’s okay. I’m going to get going home,” Zack says and slips right out the door without uttering so much as another word.
Taking Trent into the bathroom, he flinches when I begin cleaning up his face.
“Be careful,” he says.
“I am.” I get a fresh cotton swab with rubbing alcohol on it and begin cleaning a few cuts he has on his cheek. “So what really happened tonight?”
“You already know.”
“No, I don’t,” I say. “What was that whole brotherly love business about?”
“We traded a few good slugs.”
“I wish you two wouldn’t fight,” I say, applying ointment to one of his gashes. “It’s not worth it.”
“You’re worth it. You’ve always been worth it,” he grabs my hips and pulls me into him. “You know,” he changes the subject. “You’re going to have to go to the doctor soon.”
He plants a soft kiss on my stomach.
“I will. I’ll make an appointment tomorrow. Hopefully, they can tell me how far along I am so I can figure things out.”
Chapter 23
My legs are awkwardly spread in these stirrups, and I am beginning to hate the fact that I’m a woman. Trent’s busy holding my hand while he coaches me on my breathing techniques.
“Yeah, the last thing I want is for you to tell me what to do,” I say to him through clenched teeth. I look at the doctor, “Can I push now?”
I’m already pushing because I feel like I need to; it seems like the baby’s head is right there.
“Stop pushing, Joline! I’m not ready yet,” my doctor warns me. “If you push that kid out before I’m ready, he’s going to shoot out onto the floor. Give me a second to check things out first.”
The doctor slips his latex gloves on as he makes his way over to check me. I want this ordeal to be over. I don’t remember which book I read that said childbirth is the most natural joy in the world, but that author was lying.
With my contractions coming less than a minute apart, I know the end is near. It has to be because I can’t endure this much longer.
Dr. LargeHands pokes his head between my legs and shoves his hand up my hoo-ha.
“Oh, yeah, you’re definitely ready. On the count of three, take a deep breath and push as hard as you can.”
I’m so annoyed that he’s telling me that I’m ready to push. Gee, without him, whatever would I do?
Taking a deep breath, I push on 3, and I can feel the baby’s head beginning to crown. It doesn’t take long, maybe two, three minutes tops, until I hear his lungs screaming with each breath he takes.
“It’s a healthy boy,” the doctor says, wiping him off. “Dad, do you want to cut the cord?”
“Yes!”
Trent practically leaps to the end of the hospital bed, taking the scissors from the doctor to cut the umbilical cord.
After the baby’s all cleaned and weighed, the nurse brings him over to me, swaddled in a white blanket covered in pink and blue footprints.
His wrinkled face is adorable, and he’s so tiny.
“Can my father come in to see the baby?” I ask my doctor.
“Let the nurses get the room cleaned up and then you can have as many visitors as you’d like.”
Trent and I admire all of the baby’s features as the nurses go about cleaning the room and removing all the equipment.
“We need to pick out a name,” I remind him. “What does he look like his name should be?”
“I don’t know, whatever you think.” He lets the baby wrap his hand around his tiny finger. “He’s so perfect, just like his mother.”
“Thank you,” I kiss him.
“We’re all done if you’d like, I can stop and get your father on my way down to the cafeteria,” my doctor offers.
“Yes, please, that’d be great.”
My dad is in love with the baby the minute he lays eyes on him, and doesn’t stop fussing over him until he leaves when visiting hours are over.
“I guess I’ll leave you and my handsome grandson alone, but I’ll be back tomorrow. You better believe that,” he says.
“Thanks for coming, Dad. I’m glad you got to meet him today.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I knew when I told Trent I wanted a grandbaby that he’d deliver,” he shakes his hand. “Good job, son.”
“Thanks,” Trent leans in and hugs my dad.
“Do you want to leave with me, or are you staying behind?” my dad asks Trent.
“I think I’ll stay the night with Joline; the nurse said I could.”
“All right, you two kids take it easy. Love you, honey,” my dad bends over the side of my bed, kissing my forehead.
“Love you, too, dad.”
Now that Trent and I finally have some alone time, I feel like I can breathe. It’s been such a hectic day with the doctor, all the nurses, my dad, and the lab people that I haven’t really had a chance to talk to him.
“How are you holding up over there?” I ask him.
“Today was exhausting, but the good news is we get to do it all over again tomorrow. Hopefully, you’ll get to come home then.”
Ever since I found out I was pregnant, I’ve been living with Trent. I thought my dad would get lonely at first, but I was wrong; he does plenty to keep himself busy.
“I, um, wanted to talk to you about tomorrow,” I say to him. “Before I leave the hospital with the baby, we can do a paternity test so we ca—,” he puts his finger to my lips.
“Joline, I don’t care. I don’t care if it’s my baby or not. We’re going to raise him together as one. Will you marry me?”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring. It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.
“Oh, my god. When did you do this? I mean, how long have you been planning this?”
“A few months now; is that a yes?”
Tears are threatening to stream down my face. I told myself that I wouldn’t cry on the day that I gave birth, but all of these damn hormones raging through my body; I can’t control it.
“Yes,” I cry, kissing him.
“Joline, I love you so much. I just want us—the three of us—to spend the rest of our lives together as a happy family. I don’t want to know what the paternity test is because it would crush me to lose something that belongs to me twice.”
I know exactly what he means because I don’t care either. I don’t want to know if it’s his or Zack’s baby; I couldn’t live with myself knowing that the baby wasn’t his.
It’s better this way.
It’s been over seven months since I’ve seen Zack, but I’ve kept my eye on him because I still care about him. He started dating a woman named Angela, and from what I’ve seen on social media, they seem like a happy couple.
They look like they’re serious and even opened a business together. They had a grand opening for a jewelry shop in an upscale strip mall not too far from my house, and I’m glad he’s doing well.
“I love you,” I say to him, our foreheads pressed together as we nestle the baby between us. “I don’t know how me and….the baby got so lucky, but I’m glad that we did.”
“We really need to name that baby, don’t we?”
“Yes,” I laugh, wiping away my tears. “What does he look like to you? I think he looks like a Aaron or maybe a Dominic.”
“No, not Dominic. I like Aaron, or maybe Todd.”
“Let’s go with Aaron. I like that better than Todd, and we both agreed on that name.”
“Okay, whatever you say, fiancé,” he grins at me.
It’s so strange being someone’s fiancé but I’ve been called worse, I can get used to it.
Epilogue
Hanging Aaron’s kindergarten picture over the mantle in the living room, I step back to admire how adorable he is. He looks exactly like Trent did at that age, based on his old kindergarten pictures.
Marriage has been good to the two of us. We get along well and when we have a disagreement, neither of us will go to bed angry. We always work it out before we go to sleep.
Aaron’s a typical 6-year-old little boy who loves to dig up all of my flowers while getting dirty and riding his bicycle. His teacher loves having him in class and says her only complaint is how outgoing he is because he likes talking to everyone.
He’s a fast learner, catches on quick, and is always up for a challenge. His dad has taught him how to push himself and explore his environment, no matter what that environment might be.
Trent’s the best dad any boy could ask for. They play ball together, ride bikes together, and he teaches Aaron everything he knew when he was that age. Those two are pretty much inseparable.
We’ve talked about having more children, but I want to go back to school and get a degree. I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet, but I figure I’ll take this year off for myself to enjoy and relax before I start my next chapter in life.
Zack and Angela didn’t last; though, they did work out for almost four years, which is longer than any other woman he’s been with. I heard through the grapevine that she has a sister who she brought into the jewelry business to help out, but she had her hands in too many things—such as deposits and display cases.
From the talk around town, she stole thousands of dollars in cash and even more in inventory. Angela refused to press charges against her sister, and that was the breaking point for Zack. There had been some other rumors floating around town, but I assume they’re just that—rumors.
After Trent and I got engaged, I stopped checking on Zack’s social media because I didn’t feel it was right. When he asked me to marry him, I knew from that point forward, I had to dedicate myself to him 100%.
When I said my vows to him at our wedding, I meant them and I’m so glad that he was able to forgive me. Not many couples can move past something like that, but we defied the odds.
My dad might have something to do with that, helping our marriage. He often babysits and is a big part of Aaron’s life. I don’t think there’s a day that goes by where my dad doesn’t either talk to him on the phone or see him in person.
And on most weekends, Aaron spends every Saturday night with his grandpa. The two of them are a mischievous pair; I have to watch them when they’re together. My dad likes to teach him how to play cards and there must be something in that boy’s blood because he loves playing Black Jack.
I’ve told my dad that I don’t want him teaching my boy bad habits, but he says there’s nothing wrong with learning how to count and add, and he justifies their betting because it’s only pretzel sticks. He says he’ll graduate Aaron to the big leagues (chocolate candies) when he gets faster at counting.
I guess in the end, everything worked out with me coming back home. There was a time when I did everything I could not to come back here, but now I wouldn’t leave it for the world. This boy, my husband, my family mean the world to me. They are my rock.
The Baby Is Mine
Copyright © 2016 by Vivian Ward
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Blake
For the past year, I have been looking forward to this day. Today I am finally going to become a father. I can hardly contain myself as Tasha labors in the birthing room with my precious son, Carter Luke Adams.
She and I agreed early on, when we signed the contract, that I would not be allowed in the room when she gave birth. It has definitely been the longest week of my life.
As I impatiently wait in the waiting room to meet my baby, another gentleman walked in and sat opposite of me. His face matched mine in that his forehead was wrinkled, his eyes weary and he was fidgety. When he took his seat, he nodded at me, offering a nervous smile.
“How’s it going?” he asked, glancing at the large clock on the wall.
The time was 10:06 AM. I didn’t have to look at it to know because I had been checking it every minute since about 9 AM when the nurse showed me to the waiting area.
“Eh, it’s been a long morning. Waiting for my son to be born.” My voice trembled slightly. I’ve never been this nervous in my entire life.
“That’s cool. My wife’s having a boy, too.” He unzipped his jacket and folded it neatly on his lap.
“Oh, it’s not my wife.”
That was certain. There was no way I was ever going to get married again. When my wife died, I promised myself I would never endure that again—losing a spouse, that is.
Our marriage was blissful, the kind one can only hope to have, except I did have it. She was the whole reason I was here.
“Is it your girlfriend?”
“Not even close. She’s my surrogate mother.”
“Your who?”
The man had obviously never heard the term before judging, by the way, his face twisted, and his neck craned, trying to figure out what I was talking about.
“A surrogate.
I paid her to have a baby for me.”
“Bro, that’s crazy man. What do you mean you paid her to have a baby?”
At this point, I’d explained it enough times that his response seemed normal to me. The look of shock on people’s faces never ceased to amaze me. You’d think in this day and age, most everyone would have at least heard of a surrogate mother.
“It’s a long story.”
“Nah, dude, you gotta tell me now. I got time. My wife’s been having the Braxton something for the last two weeks. The doctors are sure it’s still false labor, but they’re observing her in case it’s not. When the nurse checked her, she was only at two centimeters.”
I peered up at the clock again. It was now 10:09 AM. “I’m thirsty. You want to go to the cafeteria to get a soda with me, and I’ll tell you on the way?”
“Sure man. This story sounds good.”
Walking towards the elevator, I started telling him why I was here. The steel elevator doors slid open before we stepped inside the car.
“So what’s your story?” he asked.
I sighed. “Oh, where do I begin? Let’s see, my wife and I dearly wanted to start a family together. She wanted it more than anything in the world. We were married for 13 years when we started trying. After a year of no luck—”
“That’s crazy, yo. My wife and I were trying not to have a baby when she got pregnant.”
“Consider yourself lucky then. Like I was saying, after a year of trying, she finally went to the doctor to see if she could get some answers as to why she still wasn’t pregnant. She was worried that one of us had a problem or something. Ultimately, they found out that she wasn’t getting pregnant because she had cancer.”
“Aw man, I’m so sorry to hear that. What kind did she have? If you don’t mind me asking.”
I shook my head. I’d told the story at least a dozen times before. “I don’t mind at all. It was a few years ago. She had cervical cancer that had metastasized to other parts of her body. When they caught it, they said she had less than six months to live.” I looked at his face; he was genuinely concerned as he leaned in and nodded at me to continue. “Before she died, she still wanted to give me a child, so she had her eggs harvested.”