Faith nodded. “They’re on order. But we got the matching bassinets for my shower last weekend. They’re all ready to go.”
“Okay, so these little lovelies will have some place to sleep. That man out there seems more than capable of helping you.”
“He’s wonderful. I’ve been in love with him my whole life. He knows me better than anyone. Even my own mother.”
“So what’s wrong?”
“It all happened too fast.” Faith drew a sharp breath. “I wanted him to myself for a while. I missed him so much when I was gone.”
The nurse only smiled instead of asking her to elaborate. Smart. Her twenty-five year journey with Greg could fill volumes.
“We’re ready to get these babies out, Faith. We want to check on that little guy making all the racquet with our monitors.”
Faith gasped. She’d forgotten about that. Oh no, she was already a terrible mother, putting herself above her child. “Okay. I’m ready.”
“You’re going to be fine, Faith. You already have it in your name.” She smiled and held the black nozzle herself. “Sweet dreams, Mommy.”
Faith dragged in deep breaths. She was achy and tired and just wanted to sleep. If she couldn’t experience this with Greg at her side, she’d rather be out cold.
A flood of dread flowed through Greg. The minute he’d made Faith his, he’d been in charge of her. She was his responsibility. What she needed…Greg took care of. The lack of control he had at the moment warred with his natural caveman instincts to protect his wife.
He let the nurse guide him out of the operating room. The hallway was dim compared to the thousand-watt bulbs he’d just been standing under, and he blinked to adjust his eyes so he didn’t bump into anything. A hand was still firm on his back. The sense of urgency in her touch kept his nerves alive.
Greg stopped immediately and turned around. “I got it. I’m good.” He nodded to her, knowing the nurse was needed back in that room. Not out there to babysit him or make sure he found a good seat in the waiting room.
She pinched her lips tight and touched his arm. “I’ll be back and forth to give you updates.”
He’d been waiting for, And it’ll be fine. The lack of that encouragement sliced through him, and his legs turned to rubber.
Another arm secured him. “Greg, what’s going on?” Andrew’s deep voice stung with worry.
“I…I don’t know.” Greg ran a hand through his hair, staring at his shoes. When he looked up, several more eyes were glued to his.
“How’s my Faith?” Madeline clutched on to Skye, her face scrunched in anxiety.
“She’s fine, but they’re intubating her. One of the babies is in distress.” He braced himself through all the gasps.
“Oh, my poor Faith.” Madeline’s hands rushed to her face, and Skye helped her into a seat.
“Hang on,” Edward jumped in. “She’s having twins. She’s a small woman. It’s quite common for one baby to have a little trouble.” He wasn’t a doctor, but his EMT training and volunteering with the fire department had put him in the middle of many different medical scenarios.
Still it didn’t ease Greg’s anxiety.
“Are they doing the C-Section now?” Skye asked, her hand closing around Edward’s wrist.
“Yes,” Greg said then cleared his throat with difficultly.
“Let’s all take a seat and say a few prayers.” Martin stepped up to Greg and took his arm.
After Faith, Greg would always go to his father.
In a seat, Greg closed his eyes and waited for his wife to deliver his sons.
Chapter 4
1:30 AM
“Mr. Mallory?” Both Greg and Martin looked up from their seats in the maternity ward waiting room, but Greg stood first and rushed to the scrub-clad man standing by the door.
A stern face addressed his panicked expression, which he was sure wore a list of questions. “I’m Dr. Cranston. Congratulations. Both babies are out. Baby B is having a little trouble breathing, and we’re applying the appropriate protocols. Baby A is strong.”
Greg felt bodies behind him. The hands on his waist were small and dainty; probably his sisters. They were right there with him. He nodded. “Thank you. How’s Faith?”
Dr. Cranston looked down. Greg lost his balance and needed to be steadied by another set of hands—stronger now. He assumed it was either Andrew or Edward.
“There was a lot of bleeding. Her vitals are weak. She’s breathing on her own, but she’s not woken up yet. We don’t want to force her. She’s been through a lot.”
Faith. Didn’t. Wake. Up.
“Gregory, what are they saying about my Faith?” Madeline’s voice cracked.
He held his mother-in-law’s hand even though he was the one in need of support. “I’m not sure yet.”
“How long do you suspect she’ll be out?” Edward’s voice drifted over his shoulder, strong and invested.
“We’ll keep monitoring her. It’ll be hour by hour, for now.” Dr. Cranston nodded with a face of stone, which didn’t clue Greg in on what was going through his mind.
“When can we see the babies?” Gwen asked from behind him.
The doctor looked wearily at the crowd before him. The Mallory’s were a crowd now. “Faith isn’t in a room yet. The babies are in the nursery. Dad, come with me.”
After Greg let the feeling of being called Dad the first time—without Faith—wash over him, he mumbled, “Okay,” and prepared to follow the doctor by himself.
His father marched up to his side. “Gregory, there are two babies. Let me help you.”
Greg nodded, secretly grateful to not face that alone.
“That’s fine.” Dr. Cranston seemed okay with two people not eight, including a little boy.
“I’m going too.” Mrs. Copeland pushed forward.
Greg turned. “I’d like you here in case they have an update about Faith.” His gaze penetrated into hers. Besides the Mallory’s, all Faith had was her mother.
It took a moment for that silent message to sink into Madeline. Finally, her lips tightened, and she grasped back on to Skye.
“We’re here if you need us, Greg,” Edward said, holding his son, Julian, by the shoulders.
“Greg, wait,” Gwen chimed in. “What are the babies’ names?”
Greg rubbed the back of his neck. “We hadn’t decided yet.” There was no way he would make that decision without Faith.
He followed his father as they stepped through the sterile, bland hallway. Martin’s gait matched his. But while Greg’s shoulders were slumped, his father walked tall and strong. That had always been the dynamic of their relationship. When Greg’s mother died, he’d held his father. Martin returned the compassion when Faith had left him two days before their wedding.
Dr. Cranston stopped at a door. “Wait here. I’ll have someone get you gowns and masks.”
Greg rocked anxiously on his heels, thinking he’d have to linger outside that door forever, but it wasn’t more than a minute. The nurse, whose name was Cassandra, according to a badge Greg only saw just then, appeared with protective gear draped over her arm.
“Congratulations, Daddy.” Her chipper voice lifted Greg’s spirits. “And I assume you’re Grandpa?”
Martin took both gowns and began to help Greg. “Sure am.”
The room on the other side of the door was small, and there were two plastic machines whirring. Fear pricked him and he turned quickly. “Both babies are in incubators?”
“No sir,” Cassandra said and led him to the second one. “Baby A is in the maternity pool. We’ll bring him to you in a moment.”
“Oh.” Greg pushed a hand through his hair.
“Gregory, come on. Your son is right over here.” His father tugged him.
“My son,” he whispered, his throat thick with emotion. Why was he afraid? He’d faced bullets, knives even. He could face his son in an incubator.
With heavy steps he approached the machine. For one month p
remature, he was a big boy. It took Greg’s breath away, though. Two of those incredible little guys had been crammed inside his tiny wife. It was a miracle they hadn’t tried to squeeze their way out sooner.
“Take a seat, Gregory.” Martin held the chair for him.
Another nurse in the room showed him where to slip his hands into the machine to touch the baby. But Greg yanked his hands back in protest. “No. I want Faith to touch him first.”
Martin sighed. “Gregory, when your mother was sick, I didn’t put off being a father.”
Those words rolled over him. His father was right. It rocked the piss out of him to think…he’d have to do this by himself. But he manned up, sat, and pushed his hands through the access ports. The baby’s eyes were closed, but the moment he touched his son, the slits fluttered. “Hi little guy. Daddy’s here.” He stuffed away sobs in his throat as he gently caressed the tiny arm.
A plastic oxygen tube was taped to his son’s little face. But he didn’t seem to mind. His legs jerked, and the warmth of his skin pleased Greg.
“And here’s the other most handsome little boy in this hospital.” Cassandra held another swaddled bundle and sauntered toward him.
Since Greg's hands were occupied with Baby B, Martin reached out and took Baby A. “Hey there little guy. Are you one lucky baby. You have the best daddy. I know, I’m his daddy. That makes me your grandpa.”
Greg’s smile ticked up, watching his dad with his son. His son. But Martin didn’t hold the baby for long. He leaned forward to put his grandson into Greg’s free arm. It was surprisingly easy to manage a baby this way.
Like his brother, this baby’s eyes were closed. A hand found its way out of the swaddle and rested against a smooth peachy cheek. Greg leaned into the baby and placed a soft kiss on the nose. So small. So soft. The skin smelled like powder. “Hey there.”
The structure of the face stilled him. The slope of the tiny nose, the shape of the mouth… Faith. He looked at Baby B; the same. His emotions were cranking up, rising to the surface and taking over. Greg felt like he was ready to break down, which made him extra glad his father was with him and not anyone else.
Martin brought a chair up next to him. “May I?” He reached for the access port.
“Of course.” Greg shifted Baby A. “After me, you’re the man I want in their lives.”
“Tell me the truth; why didn’t you and Faith choose names?”
Greg looked over his shoulder, as if anyone within earshot had a stake in his answer. “We discussed Martin and Ronald.”
His father’s grin widened as he touched Baby B. “He looks like a Martin.”
“The names were my suggestion, but Faith thought they were…kind of dated.” He wished the names were the only points of disagreement.
“That’s true too. But names come back.” Martin leaned into the machine. “What names did Faith want?”
“Gregory.”
“And?”
“That’s where she got stuck. She couldn’t come up with another name. And didn’t appear to want to pick something else.”
“Did she want them both to be Gregory?” Martin chuckled.
Greg allowed a small laugh to roll through him, surprised at how good it felt. Mooning over an issue that had the power to divide him from the woman he’d waited ten years for had to stop. Faith was fighting for her life. “No, of course not. She left it to me to come up with another name. But since there were two, I wouldn’t want to appear to favor one over the other, so I wanted two fresh names.” He looked from one baby to the next. “I suggested naming them after their grandfathers.” He’d thought Faith would love to name her son after her father who died earlier that year. One Ronald left the world, but there could be another.
“You’ll figure something out.” Martin’s eyes slid over to the baby Greg held.
Greg stood and placed Baby A in his father’s arm, like he’d done to him. He stepped back and looked at what his father had been watching for the past few minutes. The scene struck him: those were his children. But it wasn’t a family without Faith. A family. Was he going to be denied? What had he done in his life to deserve that? Had it been his selfishness? His small-mindedness? Wanting her to be a full-time mother?
Sitting in a nursery, looking at his babies—as much as they swelled him with a sense of joy and awe he didn’t expect, doing it alone made Greg sick to his stomach. “This isn’t right,” he said as he paced the maternity floor ward, feeling helpless. “I need to see Faith. I should be with her.”
She was the true source of his love. All of his desire. It had started with her. It was going to end with her. Just not fucking now. Those little boys and any other kids they would have were going to grow up and move out, have their own lives, and in the end, it would be him and Faith.
Martin stood and placed Baby A back in his arms. “I’ll get the nurse.”
He sat, feeling dizzy. How was he supposed to balance all of this? How could he divide himself between the babies and Faith? It struck him, what his wife must have been going through to figure that out. And on a daily basis. Not just for a few hours.
When the nurse came over, Greg stood. “I really need to be with my wife right now. She needs me. She’ll wake up for me.” He handed his son to the nurse. “There’re plenty of people here who can hold a bottle. My sisters are probably dying to get in here.”
Martin nodded, seeming to agree. Their husbands were probably holding them back, otherwise they’d stampede their way in.
“I’ll make the arrangements to have your family do the next feeding for Baby A, but Baby B still needs to be monitored by the staff, Mr. Mallory.”
Greg set his shoulders back. “I understand.”
“Who is your proxy? Who else can I go to for decisions?”
“My father.” Greg’s throat closed pushing away the guilt.
“Very well. Come with me.” The nurse nodded.
When he crossed into the waiting area, he was flocked by curious and worried faces.
“How’s the second baby?” Gwen asked, tugging on his shirt.
“What can we do?” Skye came up on the other side of him.
As a cop he’d been swarmed by people looking for direction before, but this was different. “I’m going to be with Faith. I put Dad in charge of the babies, speak to him.” He didn’t wait for any looks of disapproval and pushed past everyone to follow the nurse to be with his wife.
“I want to see my Faith too, Gregory.” Madeline’s voice stilled him.
“Madeline.” He swallowed hard. “Let me see her first, please.” Greg worried his fragile mother-in-law would see something she couldn’t handle. Heck, he wasn’t sure how he would handle it. “I’ll send for you soon, I promise.”
When Madeline nodded tightly and turned away, he took a breath and one more step to keep walking.
“Greg, wait.” Skye’s screeching command stopped him again.
He pressed his lips together tight, suppressing a growl and a comment that would probably earn him a punch in the mouth from Edward.
Skye held up Faith’s pink bag that had been left in the waiting room. “Gwen found this with her clothes.” She reached in and showed him a black and white composition notebook.
Faith had used them when she was a young girl to keep journals. From what Greg knew about those notebooks, she had started writing when she was ten and began crushing on him. She’d kept writing here and there until…she left him two days before the wedding. When he’d asked if she’d started up again once they were back together, her answer had made him feel like a god: For so many years growing up, I had no place for my feelings about you. And when we were together the first time, it was about how much I loved you and wanted to marry you. Now I get to live that life with you, and I don’t have to keep how I feel hidden in a book.
Greg looked at the cover. In a sharpie, her unmistakable handwriting had scribbled out that year. That year. Which meant, something had happened along the way, and she l
ost the ability to talk to him. He was more afraid to open that book than the others from their past.
Holding the bag, he followed the nurse with heavy steps. She stopped at a room sheathed in glass walls and opened the door. At the center desk, the busy medical staff was coming and going. As he scanned the room, Greg tuned out what the nurse said. All the words were gibberish to him anyway.
A sharp ray of red hair, one of the markers he always used to spot Faith, zinged him. Without waiting, he fled the desk area to see his wife. As he got closer, his heart sped up. “Faith?” he choked out when he reached her bed and touched her hand. The ice-cold feel of her skin shocked him as much as the lack of reaction from her.
The nurse caught up to him, breathless—at six-feet-tall, Greg crossed rooms quickly. “I got an update. Faith is breathing okay.” She came around and checked the IV bag. “But she’s not regained consciousness yet.”
“Why not?” He reached the end of his patience, and his words strained through clenched teeth.
“A neurologist is scheduled to visit.” The nurse took the pink bag from him and pushed a chair toward the bed. “Come. Talk to your wife. Let her know you’re here. Tell her about the babies. Coax her back to you.”
“Coax.” He choked out a sarcastic laugh.
Faith never needing coaxing. If anything, he’d been the one in need of coaxing when they were younger. And to some extent earlier in the year.
The nurse squeezed his shoulder, and her warm eyes soothed him enough to take a breath. Greg took Faith’s hands in his. He pancaked them together, transferring his warmth to her. Before folding himself into the chair, he leaned across the bed and rested his lips on her forehead. The bitter chill made his stomach do violent flips. But he didn’t pull away; he needed to feel close to her.
Without moving very much, he dragged his lips down her nose and across her cheeks. A faint trace of her scent still lingered. She was still there. She was still his.
When his lips reached her ear, he whispered, husky and low, “Hey Babe. It’s me.” He breathed and waited. It was too egotistical of him to think she’d been waiting for his kiss, like Sleeping Beauty.
A Must for Christmas: A Darling Cove Novella Page 3