BABY ROYAL

by Bella Grant

  The neurologist came by as promised and spoke to me about Debra’s condition. He explained that although generally, she should be out of the coma in seventy-two hours, there was no telling the effects of the seizure on her brain and that in itself could increase the length of time she remained unconscious. I listened in a state of despair, feeling my hope slipping.

  When he left, the nurse returned with the beaming grandparents.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to see your son?” the nurse asked kindly.

  The grandparents stared at me expectantly and I sighed and consented with a nod.

  “He’s absolutely beautiful, Lucas,” Claire gushed. “He looks just like you.”

  I grunted and followed the nurse, my legs like deadweight, dragging on the floor. We walked down several corridors before the nurse stopped at a room with several babies lying in cots. She brought me to a wash station where I had to scrub my arms and hands, drying with a paper towel before we continued over to the babies.

  “At thirty-five weeks, your son is doing well,” she said. “He’s not in the NICU so you can tell we’ve not discovered any problems. We’ll keep him here and routinely feed him until the mother wakes, and then he’ll stay with her. Before you go, I’ll be tagging you with a bracelet so you can come by for feedings if you want to do that yourself. It creates a great bonding experience.”

  I didn’t respond. How did I tell her I had no feelings whatsoever for this child?

  She came to a halt at a cot. The first thing I saw was the tag on the cot with Debra’s name. Then I peered in and saw my son for the first time. My heart lurched as I stared at the infant lying on his back. He did bear a striking resemblance to me, I noticed in awe. He had a lot of black hair, more than I thought to see on a newborn baby. He had a thumb stuck in his mouth and pulled on the finger.

  “Can I hold him?” I surprised myself by asking. I couldn’t take my eyes off the little boy. My son. Our son.

  “Let’s get this smock on you first,” the nurse responded in an approving tone. She helped tie a blue disposable smock around me and then lifted the infant and placed him in my arms, demonstrating how to support the little body.

  Warmth flooded me and it was more than the heat of the small bundle fitted in the crook of my arm. The baby stirred and mewled before eyes flickered open and stared at me. Dark blue eyes. I placed a finger in the middle of the baby’s hand and tickled softly. He made a small sound and gripped the finger. Gripped my heart.

  I fell in love with my son.

  Debra

  Through my haze, I heard voices. My body was lethargic and I would have panicked at my inability to make my limbs work, but that voice… I couldn’t make out what was said, but the soothing voice was familiar and reassuring. It didn’t make me scared to be surrounded by blackness in a perpetual state of stillness.

  Sometimes, I heard other voices as well, familiar ones too, but this voice was different. Special. It made my heart ache. At least my heart still worked and each time I heard the voice, as if my heart was able to make the connection, it would beat harder.

  I concentrated on the voice, trying to claw my way out of this nothingness. The voice continued, droning on. I focused on the sound and the words started to penetrate my semi-conscious state.

  “…will be happy to know you’re a week old today.” I smiled, now able to recognize Lucas’ voice. I felt relieved he was here with me. I wasn’t alone as I feared.

  “You know, I thought you looked more like me when you were born,” he continued. “But now, I’m not so sure. You’re starting to look more like your mommy. Hear that, Mommy? You’ve got a baby here who looks just like you but you won’t see unless you wake up.”

  So that was what was different about my body. They’d taken the baby. My last memory was talking to Lucas and then everything else was blank. Did he say the baby was a week old? Oh, my, how was he managing with the baby on his own?

  “As soon as your mommy wakes up, little man, we’re going to ask her to marry us.”

  I gasped in surprise although I intended to be quiet and eavesdrop on the conversation between father and son.

  “Debra?”

  It took considerably more effort than I would have thought to open my eyes. Light exploded through my pupils, causing me to groan and close them again. This time, I was careful to give my pupils time to adjust to the light by opening my eyes slowly.

  Lucas stood over the bed, our son balanced against his shoulder, one hand supporting the child’s back. He looked such a natural, I smiled weakly at him.

  “Oh, God, Debra, you’re awake!” he exclaimed and the worry clouding his eyes was chased away by relief and happiness.

  “Hey, Dad-dy,” I uttered on a croak.

  “Don’t talk,” he advised. “I’ll buzz the doctor that you’re awake. We were worried sick about you. It’s been a whole week!”

  He pressed the buzzer then came back over to the bed. “We have a son.” He beamed.

  I chuckled weakly. “I know. Don’t I get to see him?”

  “Gosh, yes.” He came over to the bed and sat, transferring the baby from his shoulder to his arm so I could take a look at the little bundle. I was too weak to hold him so I contented myself with admiring him. I knew his daddy had him anyway and would until I was fully recovered.

  “You’re wrong,” I told him with a smile. “He still looks just like you.”

  “You heard?”

  I nodded.

  “Then that means you also heard…”

  “That too,” I affirmed.

  Dr. Francis walked into the room with a smile. He was the doctor who had worked with me and Dr. Howard since my first seizure.

  “Miss Hoskins, I was on my way to pay you a visit when the nurse alerted me that your buzzer went off,” he announced, drawing close beside me. “Welcome back.”

  Lucas stood back, walking the baby and cooing to the child as the doctor made his checks. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him and how natural he seemed at fatherhood. And to think I had thought to keep our baby from him. I’d been concerned he wouldn’t be able to bond with the child. Even when we’d spoken, it hadn’t escaped my attention that he rarely referred to the baby. His concern had only been with regards to my health. But watching him now with his son, it seemed my days spent in a coma had done some good. And I couldn’t be any happier for them.

  I had a twinge of regret that I hadn’t been there to hear the first cry or get to hold him, but seeing the two together made up for every moment of his life I’d missed.

  “You’ll regain your strength in a few days,” Dr. Francis said to me. “Your blood pressure is stable once more, as we predicted it would be once we got the baby out. I’ll make another check on you during my evening rounds.”

  I thanked the doctor who left, and I was alone again with my family.

  “Do you want to hold him?” Lucas asked, moving back to my bedside to sit.

  “Not yet. My arms feel too weak. He’s beautiful.”

  “Yes, he is,” he agreed. “Debra, thank you.”

  “For what?” I asked, puzzled. All I’d done was lie to him.

  “For being brave enough to keep him,” he answered. “You didn’t have to.”

  I reached up to touch the baby’s soft hair. “Yes, I had to because he’s ours. He was a part of you I wanted to keep.”

  “I’ll put him in his cot so we can talk.” I observed him as he placed the baby in the cot inside the room. I hadn’t even been aware of it.

  He returned to the bed and straightway, kissed me gently on the forehead.

  “I was so worried about you,” he informed me. “But I knew I had to be strong for you and the baby.”

  “I’m glad you were here for him.”

  “I doubted I could do it,” he confessed. “I wanted to reject him at first, Debra, but when I saw him, when I first held him, I felt this great love for him. I’ve only ever felt a love so great with one other person and that’s you.”r />
  “I was wrong for keeping you away.”

  “All that’s in the past,” he assured me. “Now we have our lives together to look forward to.”

  “Yes, the three of us.”

  He smiled brightly at me. A knock sounded on the door and we drew our attention away from each other as my parents entered the room. Mom had flowers and Dad held the door for her. They had started being cordial to each other when I was sick but there was something different between them now. I glanced questioningly at Lucas and he gave me a grin.

  I winked at Lucas. “While they’re here, you have time to think of how to propose to me.”

  “I’m on it,” he said with a loving smile. Our eyes held and we shared a look that told me everything would be fine between us.

  “Well, don’t monopolize her!” Dad announced jokingly and Lucas stepped back as we all laughed. I watched him return to the cot where the baby had woken up with all the excitement and energy in the room.

  I’d never felt more loved and complete as I did in that moment. Last year, I’d been depressed at only being a college student and the rest of my life unfulfilled. That sense of irrelevance no longer haunted me. For I was many things, a daughter, a friend, a mother, a lover.

  Epilogue

  Lucas

  Almost tearing up, I glanced around at my family gathered in the living room. I’d been amazed everyone had shown up for Wyatt’s christening earlier and even more so when they’d accepted the invitation to return to the house for a family get-together. Dinner was over and they were still there, laughing and chatting.

  I couldn’t remember the last time my mother and father had been in the same room with each other, but there they were, sitting on the same sofa. They’d spent several hours together, even talking, and none was threatening the other. It was a wonder the house hadn’t burned down flat around us at that miracle.

  I’d tried to warn Debra about the possible repercussions of having her parents and mine in the same room. I’d tried to work out something where one set of parents could be present at the christening and another set at the family dinner, but Debra had balked. She wanted everyone at the church and then back at the house I’d bought for us in Denver.

  All through the introductions, I’d been alert, prepared to part fights or stop arguments, but everyone had been civil to each other. Their wish to be present for this celebration of the birth of the newest member of the Caine family had put everyone on their best behavior.

  Not just my parents had shown up either. Ruby, the godmother, was there and blushing at whatever my younger brother Josh whispered in her ear. I groaned, watching him turn the infamous Caine charm on. Another Caine was unleashed on the female population at Regis University. Hopefully one day, a woman would come along to tame his wild ways as Debra had tamed mine.

  Apart from Josh, Lionel had made it, sober for a year and trying to get his life back on track. Sitting beside him were Giselle and her fiancé. She was trying to convince Debra and I to have a double wedding with her, but we wanted our own special day. She was going for extravagant while we were going for small and familiar. A very pregnant Samantha and her husband rounded up the party. Nobody had known about her pregnancy and she had been bummed she didn’t get to have the first of the third generation of Caine babies.

  Seeing everyone together was touching, especially since we were all getting along. I had no hopes my parents would get back together as Debra’s parents had. They had wasted no time in getting remarried, but it was plain they were suited to each other, a perfect example that opposites attract.

  I smiled widely when the love of my life entered the room with Wyatt. He’d been asleep throughout dinner but five minutes ago, we’d heard him cooing through the baby monitor. She passed me our son and I took him gratefully, still awed that I’d thought I couldn’t love this bundle of joy. I couldn’t imagine my life without him and his mother in it.

  “Finally, I get to hold him.” I sighed in contentment as Debra sat beside me. He’d been monopolized by our family all day. Placing the baby on my knees, I grasped his chubby arms and made faces that caused him gurgle with laughter.

  “I thought you’d be happy to have someone else fussing over him for a change,” Debra chuckled and teased. “Aren’t you tired of being Daddy yet?”

  I turned from the baby to face her with a serious expression. “I’ll never be tired of being a father,” I vowed, then added. “Nor a husband. Tonight, we plan the date, Future Mrs. Caine.”

  She nodded and wiggled the fingers of her left hand, admiring the ring I’d proposed to her with. “I still can’t believe you thought of proposing to me back when I was so secretive and difficult. If only I’d known the extent of your love then.”

  “All that matters is that you know now. I love you, Miss Hoskins.”

  She leaned forward and placed her lips briefly on mine. “I love you too, Mr. Caine.”

  I captured her lips for a deep kiss, mindful to hold the baby securely on my lap.

  “Why do I have a feeling there will be a baby number two on the way soon?” I heard someone snicker but I was counting on it.

  And this time, I planned to be around for the whole experience.

  INTERNET BRIDE

  Raymond

  The sun streaked into the office and settled on the large pile of files that still needed signing. My eyes drifted to the pen dangling from the edge of my fingertips, and slowly, I started twirling it. The spinning pen captured most of my attention, almost hypnotizing me as I watched the blue cylindrical device become like a top as it spun. When the door suddenly flew open, it broke me out of my trance, and the pen fell from my hand and clattered on the solid wood desk.

  “Here are a few more, Mr. Jameson,” Marissa, my assistant, said as she flew into the office.

  “How many times do I have to tell you to knock?” I snapped at her.

  She paused in her steps, looked back at the door, and I could tell she wondered if she should go back out and come in again after knocking.

  “Just bring them. And remember next time,” I replied gruffly.

  I was annoyed with the magnitude of paperwork I was expected to complete. It was a part of my inheritance, but it felt more like slavery at the moment. I glanced at the fresh pile Marissa had brought in, but that was about all they would get from me today.

  The telephone rang, and one look at the caller ID told me the caller was Glen Rodgers, one of the partners with whom I had a scheduled meeting. Another dent in my already dull existence.

  “I’ll be there,” I barked after grabbing the handset and pressing it to my ear. I put it back down before he could speak. The fact that he called said nothing other than I was already late. I hardly wanted to be at the meeting, but like all the other things in my life, it was expected—a requirement I must fulfill whether I wanted to or not.

  I pushed the large leather chair back and stood. This was probably the one place I still loved to be. There was a lot of irony in that considering I had no passion for my job, which was handed down to me. I had accepted it because there was no one else. But the office was something of a hiding place. It shielded me from business associates I didn’t want to meet with because I could always tell them I was in another meeting. Usually, that other meeting would be with my whiskey glass and a cigar.

  My office was also the perfect hiding place from my mother. She would love nothing more than to see me married—for the sake of the family name—although I couldn’t understand why it had become her obsession. She was no longer a part of the family she so passionately cheered for. She and my father had divorced years ago, but still, she campaigned. If I were to go to the lake house, she would more than likely show up. But she hated the office, so there I remained.

  I had made it as much of a home as I could, and I admired the brass finishing on the handle of the small cabinet and the rich cherry-hue oak desk, a perfect complement to the moose head on the wall. At night, it gave the office the feeling I was in
a cabin in the woods, and I was tempted more than once to have a fireplace built.

  The meeting went as expected—long, dull, and unnecessary. By the time I returned to my office, I wanted to pull my hair out. I felt like I was trapped in a body I didn’t recognize, and as the days rolled on, I fell further into the wormhole. I sank into the chair and clicked on the monitor. The files would have to wait. I needed a reprieve.

  Internet surfing was as good a way as any to pass the time. A quick glance told me it was almost three. I only had two hours left on my sentence for today. My mindless tapping carried me through several social media sites, and a smile or two escaped me when I saw the latest posts from my ‘friends.’ Something caught my eye on one of the pages as I scrolled: find your bride today. Visit the ‘mail-order bride site’ and ride off into the sunset with the woman of your dreams.

  I chuckled at the thought of meeting a woman online who I had already decided I’d marry. But each page I visited, the ad kept popping up, and it sparked my curiosity. How did it work? I didn’t even know people could actually “mail order” a bride. I probably should have, considering my dreary romantic life. I hardly had time for romance. I barely wanted it. I had gone out of my way to avoid the bloodthirsty girls who lined up outside my door, ready to whisk me away to eternal damnation. My parents’ divorce had left a bitter aftertaste, and I did not look forward to love or marriage, nor did I fool myself into thinking happily-ever-after existed. My bride would be just that—a bride but never a wife. Anything else I could think of was just a dream.

  And as if to cement that thought, the phone rang, and the ringtone I designated to the caller told me it was Alison Jameson, my mother. I groaned and pretended I didn’t hear it ringing. Eventually, I had to answer—ignoring her calls was worse than taking them, which was bad enough.