by Fiona West
Winnie felt emotion clog her own throat as well. She didn’t have a father whose blessing Daniel could ask, but her grandfather had just made his feelings clear on the matter. She lifted her glass in salute, fighting back tears, and he lifted his in response.
MARTINA WAS STARING. Sitting next to Winnie at the nurses’ station, she was taking big, juicy bites of her Pink Lady apple and just . . . watching her.
“Can I help you?” Winnie asked, not looking up from the computer screen.
“Today’s eight weeks; the bet’s over. You won.”
“How do you know that?”
Martina rolled her eyes. “I did math. So?”
“So . . . what?” Yes, she was committed to not talking about this. Staunchly.
Her friend leaned closer, pitching the apple core into the wastebasket. “So, are you going to . . . ?”
Winnie bit her lip. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Martina hissed. “If I were you, I wouldn’t even be at work today. I’d have called in sick and spent all day—”
“Yes, yes, all right, well, I’m not you, Nurse Lopez. We’ve just been busy, okay? We have a hard enough time connecting without trying to find a time for . . .”
“Connecting,” Martina said, lowering her voice to an alto register, as her eyebrows bounced.
“Stop it,” Winnie whispered sharply. “We are at work.”
“Well, in this department particularly, I’m pretty sure people know how it works.”
Winnie giggled, then made herself stop. “No. I’m not talking about this now. I’m sure Daniel and I will find time to celebrate . . . eventually. There’s no rush.” Her body vehemently disagreed with that statement, but she was saving a lot of money on her electricity bill due to all the cold showers she was taking. That was . . . a plus. But the truth was that she was disappointed. She hadn’t expected rose petals strewn over her bed or a seven-course dinner, but she’d expected something; some acknowledgment that the bet was over and they’d prevailed over the forces of lust and motherly concern. She picked up her Thor bobblehead and scowled at him for a long moment before putting him back down on the desk with a thud. Really, Daniel? And more than that, it was 2:01. He hadn’t even come by to flirt with her.
She went back to her paperwork with resignation in her heart. She’d known what they were getting into with two difficult schedules. She’d just be . . . flexible, that’s all. Understanding. Forgiving. Not a big deal, not a big deal, not—
A low, out-of-breath voice interrupted her pep talk to herself. “Nurse Baker, can you come out from behind the nurses’ station, please?” Her annoyance got the better of her, and she decided that if he was going to be too busy for her, two could play that game.
“Sorry, I’m really behind, I just need a few more minutes to—” She looked up to find him nowhere. “Daniel?”
“Down here.”
She peeked over the Formica counter, expecting to find him tying a shoe or greeting a small patient. She did not expect to see him on one knee, holding up a white gold engagement ring with a square emerald winking up at her, his baby-blue scrub shirt covered in vomit. Now? At work? Like this?
“What is happening right now?” she whispered.
“Sorry I’m late,” he whispered back. “Kid threw up on me.” He whipped the shirt off and tossed it away as if it were an inconvenience, simply something unwanted that had stuck to him.
“Babe, you could’ve changed . . .” But thank God he hadn’t; she’d been aching to get a look at that chest for weeks now, but she hadn’t dared. But now . . . Worth. The. Wait. Winnie wanted to pinch herself to make sure this was really happening.
“No. This is more important. And it’s already 2:10, so I’m fifteen minutes late as it is. Your friendly neighborhood fiancé shouldn’t do that to you . . . and I needed to say this before anything else happened today.”
All her annoyance vanished. Winnie felt her face break into such a huge smile, she was surprised it fit on her face.
Daniel took a deep breath and held up the ring a little higher. “Winifred Baker, when you nervously looked into my eyes and told me about the bet you’d made with your mother, you put a lot of faith in me. You believed that everything I’d told you was true and not a lame attempt to get you into bed.”
“Little ears,” she said, still nervous apparently, tipping her head meaningfully toward Annabelle Gardner, who was staring at them, wide-eyed.
“Right. Sorry,” he chuckled, then cleared his throat and sobered. “When you told me with such sincerity that this could be something good, I knew in my heart that it already was. And with any luck, it still will be eighty years from now.”
Laughter bubbled up out of her, uncontainable. “Only eighty?”
“Even with my excellent skin care regimen, I don’t think either of us wants to see what I’ll look like past one hundred.”
“You’re so vain,” she giggled, then suddenly noticed the crowd that had formed around the half-naked doctor, and her gaze fell back on Daniel, still on the ground, still holding up the ring. A blonde head at the edge of the group caught her eye: her mother stood watching them, obvious tears in her eyes, one hand covering her mouth. Dr. Baker gave her a small nod, and Winnie smiled. She didn’t crave her mother’s acceptance anymore, but it was nice to have it nonetheless.
“Um, Win? Are you going to answer?”
“You didn’t ask me anything,” she replied primly, and the crowd bubbled with soft laughter.
“Always making me work for it,” he grumbled, still grinning. “Winifred Elizabeth Baker, will you please let me be your sidekick till death do us part? Will you marry me?”
“Of course I will.”
He was up off the floor and kissing her over the counter before she could even get a proper look at the ring. After a moment, Daniel vaulted himself over the counter and brought her into his arms as the crowd chattered and giggled excitedly.
“Kyle’s going to be out tonight,” he whispered in her ear, lips grazing her lobe, and she was amazed no one ran for the fire extinguisher given how her body had assuredly just burst into flames. Being held by a shirtless Daniel was definitely a fire hazard.
“Okay, but if he interrupts this time . . .”
“He won’t. I promise. Not brothers, not mothers, no one. And if they try, I’ll kill them myself.” He kissed her again, longer and deeper than was really appropriate with so many people watching, but Winnie couldn’t bring herself to care. She wanted this man, however she could get him, whatever he was willing to give her. Daniel caressed her face tenderly. “Nothing’s going to keep us apart anymore, Fred. I promise.”
Something good indeed.
EPILOGUE
TWO YEARS LATER
“Breathe, honey.” Daniel rubbed Winnie’s neck, trying to ease her tension, even as he watched her fetal monitor begin to spike with another contraction. Her back rose and fell rapidly under the thin cotton of the long nightgown she’d chosen to labor in. Fourteen hours in, he’d hoped that things would be going better than this.
“I am breathing, Daniel,” Winnie snapped. “If I wasn’t breathing, I’d be dead.” She was on her hands and knees on the hospital bed, her blonde hair curtaining her face, and she began to rock forward and back, moaning as another contraction hit.
“Breathe slower, I mean.” The monitor was really distracting, and he didn’t notice how patronizing his tone was. She was, after all, a far greater expert on childbirth than he was.
“Do you want to be here to meet your daughter or not?”
“You’re not gonna kick me out.” He grinned, getting down on his knees on the cold gray tile to face her. “You love me. You married me. I’m a keeper.”
“You are,” she muttered, pressing her damp forehead against his dry one. “You are a keeper. Now go turn off that stupid music, will you?” He had to agree; for such mellow instrumental music, it did not seem to be calming her down. He nudged the exercise ball she’d tri
ed bouncing on out of his way, but tripped over the aromatherapy heating pack she’d rejected. When he came back to her, Winnie looked utterly dejected.
“Harder than you thought?” he whispered, and she nodded, closing her eyes.
“I’m just so tired. I didn’t know this kind of tiredness was even possible.” Her shaking arms buckled, and she went to her elbows, groaning. “Maybe I should’ve taken the drugs.” Her admission shocked him and impressed him at the same time; it took a lot of humility to admit you might have been wrong, that what was right for someone else might not be right for you.
“But you’re doing amazing. So amazing. And you’re getting closer . . .” He rose to go check on her progress, but she reached out and grabbed at his clothes.
“No, no. Stay here,” she panted. “Right now, you’re my partner and her daddy, not the doctor.”
“I think I can be both,” he said, craning his neck, but she yanked him back to the front of the bed by his T-shirt, and he chuckled, rubbing his tired eyes under his glasses. “Fine, you’re in charge.”
“That’s right,” she said, and despite being a sweaty, laboring mess, she somehow still managed to retain that primness that had so attracted him to her. Despite that tender thought, he couldn’t keep the concern off his face, and she saw it.
“I’m running out of time, aren’t I?” she asked softly. Another contraction hit, and he got up to press inward on her hips as she groaned loudly. His muscles shook; his arms were starting to get as tired as the rest of him . . . He hadn’t gotten much sleep in the last forty-eight hours, and it was messing with his head. He returned to the front of the bed to see her eye-to-eye.
“This is not your fault, Fred,” he said sternly. “These things happen; she’s pressing on the cord. Babies do that. That’s why I insisted on the hospital, babe. Your health and our daughter’s health are the most important things. How many times have you told mothers that? Embrace it, lady. You’re gonna have a C-section.”
He saw the tears shining in her eyes, but she nodded, letting her forehead rest on her arms. “I can’t believe this. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I failed you.”
“What?” He scowled, feeling his anger rise like floodwaters. “Winifred, that is not true. Not at all.”
“I know, but . . .” Hearing the wobble in her voice felt like someone had punched him in the gut.
“But nothing!” His voice rang off the pink walls; he shouldn’t be yelling at a laboring mother. He was probably stressing her out. But the fatigue and the tension meant the yelling kept coming. “You know that’s not true, I’ve had to listen to you rant about this time and time again. If the roles were reversed, you’d slap me for saying that!”
“You’re right.” She sniffled. “I would. It just feels different on this side of it; my brain’s all messed up.” His heart went out to her; none of this was simple. None of it.
“Well, you’ll never hear the word ‘failure’ from my lips where our daughter’s birth is concerned.”
She nodded. “Is my mom freaking out?”
“No, she knows you’re in good hands.” It was a bald-faced lie; he’d put his phone on ‘do not disturb’ an hour ago because he was tired of her panicky text messages. Dr. Baker had been confined to the waiting room per Winnie’s request.
“Okay. But you’ll be in the operating room with me?” Her voice was small, and when she lifted her head again, Winnie’s eyes glimmered with fatigue and fear. It was almost comical; his experienced, confident wife was asking questions she absolutely knew the answer to, suddenly needy and wanting reassurance, doubting things she’d known for years. He felt like he was back at Kyle’s house when she’d shown up unexpectedly after dropping the truth bomb on her mom, holding her as they lay on the couch, trying to show her how much he cared. His guess was that while she felt in control here, laboring, her confidence was crumbling at the thought of needing interventions. Daniel was having a hard time not being knocked off his feet by this as well; he wanted to take charge, but he knew he couldn’t. The operating room wasn’t a comfortable space for either of them, and they were both all too aware of the risks involved with surgery.
“Nothing could keep me away,” he assured her, rubbing her arm in what he hoped was a soothing way. It was harder than he thought, too. His mind pitched forward to what was next: he’d need to scrub and change. It was probably overkill, but this was his kid and his wife they were talking about. God forbid he make them sick in some way—
“Daniel,” Winnie said.
“Hmm?”
“Go tell them.”
“Oh, right.”
“And Daniel,” she said, pulling him back, putting them nose to nose. They paused in that awkward position as another strong contraction hit, and Winnie’s face contorted with pain before it cleared once more. “No unnecessary watchers. I have to be able to look these people in the eye later.”
“Got it. No interns.” He kissed her forehead, and he could smell the lavender she’d used. Daniel started out of the room, but saw the tiny bottle of lavender oil sitting by the door, and on impulse, he quickly slathered some on his neck. He needed all the calm right now. All these intense decisions, all this stress was taking a toll on him, and the helplessness had him feeling desperate.
Frances Mitton looked up as he approached the nurses’ station. “She agreed?”
“Well, she doesn’t really have a choice, but yes, she did.”
The older woman smiled, rising from her office chair. “She’ll be in very good hands, I promise.”
“Come on, I’ll help you change.” Daniel blinked; Kyle had taken him by the elbow and was leading him down the hall toward the OR. He looked over his shoulder; he hadn’t even noticed his parents, his siblings, his mother-in-law, and Winnie’s grandparents sitting in the waiting room. He waved at them, and they waved back.
“You look freaked out.”
“I am freaked out.”
“Everything will probably be fine. This hospital has an excellent record regarding C-sections.” Leave it to his level-headed brother to calm him down with his constant rationality.
Smiling, Daniel toed off his shoes as Kyle pulled out the teal scrubs. “How would you know?”
“I looked it up.”
Daniel stood still, his hands in mid-pull of his shirt, just staring at him.
“What?” Kyle asked, perplexed. “She’s my sister-in-law, I was concerned.”
“That’s sweet, bro.”
“Whatever. Take off your shirt.” He’d rolled the scrub shirt up toward the collar, like he would have done for a child, and was waiting for him to lift his arms. Daniel was too tired to complain. It gave him a burst of energy, being cared for instead of tripping over himself, trying to anticipate Winnie’s every need. Eyes closed, he took a moment to remind himself that he wasn’t alone. The family was here. They couldn’t affect the outcome any more than he could, but they were here.
Once he’d gotten changed and moved their stuff to the recovery room, he was back by her side. The placement of the spinal had not gone well, and he could feel the tension between her and the medical staff. She wouldn’t let go of his hand as they put her hair up, and he stretched to pull up a chair next to her head. He knew nothing he could say would be enough, so he just gazed into her eyes, trying to reassure her without words, brushing his fingers over her pale cheek; the operating room was freezing. As they put up the pale-blue barrier, Daniel felt they’d created a little room just for them. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, but he held back, knowing it was nothing he hadn’t told her before: You’re my hero. I’m so glad you’re mine. You inspire me. I love you so much. He felt hot, unbidden tears come to his eyes. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Nothing can happen to you. I need you.
“Uh-oh,” Winnie said, squeezing his hand even tighter. “Shit just got real, huh?”
“Man, you used to be so proper,” he laughed, wiping his tears. “Who taught you to talk like that?”
&
nbsp; “You did, whippersnapper,” she whispered, putting a hand to his cheek. “It’s gonna be okay, honey. We’ll both be okay.”
“I know.”
During the surgery, Daniel couldn’t keep still. His leg bounced incessantly, and he kept rolling his shoulders, as if that would help the tension that had clamped down on them like a vise. He jumped every time an instrument dropped onto the metal tray. He knew these doctors and nurses, but the urge to stand up and see what was happening was overwhelmingly strong. The only thing keeping his backside cemented to the hard chair was Winnie. She was hanging on to him for dear life.
“What’s going on over there? Are they almost done?” Her voice seemed muted and echoey through the oxygen mask.
“How should I know? I’m just the daddy. The doctors are over there.”
“Almost done,” Dr. Waters assured them. “Just another minute.”
“We’re gonna meet our baby soon,” she whispered, and she managed a grin that made him relax a tiny bit. And then a baby’s cries broke his focus, and he jumped up from his chair.
“Well, Dad?” the surgeon asked, as he lifted out the squealing, flailing person with a smile. “You want to cut the cord?” Daniel hesitated for just a moment, then hurried over, trying not to look at his wife’s far-too-open body. With a snip, they whisked her away briefly to get cleaned up and weighed. Then she was back, and the nurse was putting his daughter into his arms. Which nurse? Who cared. His girl was finally here, with a head full of wispy blonde hair and what was clearly his mother’s nose. She’d be horrified, he thought with glee. Daniel whipped off his shirt and took his daughter into his arms, cradling her against his skin. He’d been so jealous of Winnie during their whole pregnancy: getting to feel her fluttery kicks, her rolls, and yes, even her bladder punches. He was dying to know this little person.