by RJ Scott
He shuddered, then unpeeled his fingers from the wheel and clenched and unclenched his fists; he was as lost in fear as me. After a few moments he killed the engine and removed his seatbelt, before inhaling, then exhaling, sharply.
“Okay.”
I reached for his hand and held it tight. “Everything will be okay.” I lied.
He nodded but didn’t call me on my lie, or ask me how in hell I could know anything at all. How had we gone from love and passion to despair in such a flash of time?
We headed into the main hospital, knowing which way we had to go, taking the stairs instead of the elevator by unspoken agreement, and arriving at the fourth floor, both winded at the speed we’d moved. For me it was because I wasn’t as fit as I’d been when I played, for Ten it was sheer agitation and fear. We paused a moment before pressing the buzzer for entrance, and as if he’d been waiting for us, Eddie popped up like a Jack-in-a-Box with an administrative by his side, and he let us in. He already had passes for us, which we slipped over our heads.
One of us should ask what was happening, and I began to speak, but he held up a hand.
“This way and we can talk,” he said.
We followed him down the corridor, and through the last door on the left which led into a family room and as soon as the door shut Eddie turned to face us. He looked pale, exhausted, and I wanted to hug him so hard.
“Is Isobel okay?” Ten asked when I faltered.
“She’s fine,” Eddie began. “Her waters broke, and she has an infection, and they had to do a C-Section, I’m sorry you couldn’t be here—”
“Wait, Charlotte is here already?” I blurted, not quite believing what I was hearing.
“And she’s okay?” Ten added, just as fast.
“The doctor will want to talk to you.”
What did that mean? Why wasn’t he telling us about our daughter? Was something horribly wrong? I swayed into Ten, and my legs felt as if they were going to give way, and I’d fall in a heap on the floor.
A woman stepped inside and consulted notes as she closed the door behind her.
“Mr. and Mr. Madsen-Rowe?” she asked.
“Here,” I said.
“Us,” Ten murmured at the same time. He squeezed my hand hard, and I wanted to be the strong one but any minute now I was going to lose my shit.
“My name is Doctor Grierson, I was on call when Mrs. Mackie was brought in after her water broke early, with a suspected infection and that unfortunately entailed we had to perform an emergency—”
“Oh God,” Ten groaned.
“Mrs. Mackie is well.”
“Her husband, Eddie, he told us that,” Ten finished.
“Where is our daughter?” I asked and the doctor wasn’t at all fazed by my rudeness.
“She’s in the NICU, I’ll take you there.”
I glanced at Eddie with worry.
“Will you be okay?” I asked.
Eddie smiled. “We’re fine. Now go see your baby, I’m going to be with Izzy.”
Nothing made sense, all concept of politeness flew out the window. As soon as I knew Eddie was going to be okay with Isobel, I hustled Ten and the doctor out of the door, aware that no one was moving fast enough. Doctor Grierson didn’t push back, and we moved out of the maternity ward and through double doors to the NICU. Charlotte wasn’t supposed to be in there, she was supposed to be safe inside Isobel for another four weeks. I wracked my brains—how bad was it for a child to be born at thirty-six weeks? Was that even a thing to worry about? Why couldn’t I recall everything I’d read? Why was my mind a complete blank?
We had to put on scrub aprons, and masks, and then we followed the doc inside a hot space that I had prayed we’d never have to see.
“Mr. and Mr. Madsen-Rowe, this is your daughter.”
She moved to one side, revealing a nurse checking readouts, and all I could focus on was the glass and the baby inside. A tube into her nose, small pads on her chest, and fluff on her tiny head, she was perfect and small, and my breath left me in a sharp exhale.
“Oh my god,” Ten murmured, and stepped closer to the unit, dragging me with him. I hadn’t even realized I’d stopped dead in one spot, but we were still a few paces away. The NICU was like a NASA control room, the heat a slap in the face, flashing lights and beeping monitors everywhere, and I had no idea what some of the things in here did. We’d toured, but I never imagined we’d have to be in here, and I didn’t know enough.
Why don’t I know more?
Charlotte was at the center of a tangle of tubes and wires, and a wave of both grief and love passed over me.
“It’s expected that you will feel overwhelmed, but I’m pleased to say that your daughter weighed in at five and a half pounds,” the doctor said.
“Charlotte,” Ten interjected. “Her name is Charlotte.” The tag simply said Baby Madsen-Rowe, and somehow that seemed very wrong. She was Charlotte and Ten was just the first one of us to say it. The doctor wasn’t upset, if anything she softened and her voice lowered it a little.
“Even though Charlotte looks healthy we need to monitor her for some of the unfortunate problems of prematurity. Not that this appears to be an issue; all the signs are good.”
The doctor’s voice was white noise, as I stared down at our perfect tiny Charlotte. I wish Ryker had been there so he could meet his sister, I expected we’d have hours to wait, that anyone who wanted to be with us could be, but standing here with Ten I felt as if we were the only two men in the entire world.
“…lungs won't be completely developed for another couple of weeks, and also, she doesn’t have enough fat to stay warm or enough strength to breast or bottle-feed effectively. Your surrogate has donated the first….”
Oh my god. She’s perfect. I refuse to let anything ever hurt her.
“…continuing to protect their health until they are ready to go home is important. There are no signs currently of respiratory issues. She’s not hypoglycemic, and we’re keeping her warm and as unstressed as we can as she fights.”
“She’s fighting?” Ten sounded broken.
“Life is always a fight,” the nurse said with a smile. How could she smile? What did she think was happening here? Our daughter was bright red, covered in fine down; she wasn’t the healthy bouncy baby we’d planned for, she was struggling and I couldn’t do a damn thing to help, and… I’m losing my shit.
“…Charlotte’s heart rate was faster than normal and with the possibility of infection—”
“What’s wrong with her heart?” I interrupted, fear gripping me. What if she had the same issues as me? It wasn’t as if I was her biological dad, but that didn’t mean she could be the one in a million who wasn’t born with a defect in her tiny fragile body.
“Nothing, Jared, it’s okay, listen to me.” Ten was cradling my face. “Look at me, Jared. You’re in panic mode, come back to me.” He’d clearly been listening. “Doc was saying that they had to do the C-section. She’s fine, the doc says she’s doing well, and her heart is strong.”
I sagged into Ten for a moment, and he held me up, and then I did what every new father had to do if they wanted to be strong. I pulled myself together, and hoped to hell the adrenalin rush would subside before I was sick. I couldn’t breathe behind the mask, and more than anything I wanted to touch Charlotte, to make sure she was real. Love was starting to push shock aside, and the doc kept talking about times and dates, reassuring us that the nurse, Sarah-Louise, would be on hand for anything we needed to ask.
“When can we take her home?” Ten was asking serious questions, and I was standing there like an idiot.
“All being well, we would hope in around two weeks, of course we will carefully monitor the situation, and in partnership with the healthcare…”
I touched the glass gently, my entire world focused on Charlotte, lying there in that nest of bedding and wires, her tiny chest rising and falling, her hands so small, her long legs still bent from being inside Isobel, slightly o
n her side facing us, her eyes closed and her lashes fanned on her cheek. I swear even as we stood there that her color was better, and that she seemed less fragile.
“If you have any further questions, then I’m a phone call away.”
I recalled shaking the doctor’s hand, I knew that we thanked her, and the nurse, and I remembered Eddie coming in and explaining that Isobel was well, and so thankful that everything had turned out okay.
Other than that, it was me, Ten, and Charlotte against the world, and nothing was going to separate me from this fierce love that I felt for the tiny scrap of a baby that moved inside the incubator.
She was already in my heart, right alongside Ryker and Ten, and abruptly, my heart was full.
On day three we were able to hold Charlotte in what the nurse called Kangaroo care. Ten went first, sitting in the chair next to the incubator as the monitoring wires couldn’t be removed.
“So if you unbutton your shirt,” the midwife said, and Ten undid the whole thing right to the bottom. He’d already washed his hands, and only just showered at home, and I could see the shakiness in his hands as the nurse pressed a miniature cap onto Charlotte’s head and then placed her directly against Ten’s bare chest. “Skin-to-skin is best,” Sarah-Louise explained, “so if you could support the weight of her, here and here.” She moved Ten’s hands to the right position and he did exactly what he’d been told.
“She’s light as air,” Ten whispered, and glanced up at me, his green eyes bright with tears. “And so warm.”
Sarah-Louise patted his shoulder. “Then if we close your shirt over her, you can lean back and relax with your daughter.”
Selfishly, I didn’t want to lose the beautiful sight of my husband cradling our Charlotte, but he didn’t move as Sarah-Louise crossed over the material. I sat on the chair next to him, scooting it around so we could talk, and so I could see Charlotte’s tiny face just over the top of Ten’s shirt. She was fast asleep, her belly full, her lungs strong, and her heart whole.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Sarah-Louise offered a soft smile, and moved away to the next machine where fellow parents were in a vigil over their son. That left Ten and me with Charlotte, and even in this space-aged room with the beeps and the lights, we felt alone.
“Jared,” Ten murmured, and I placed my hand over the top of his shirt. “I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know what?”
Ten cleared his throat. “I didn’t know I could love someone so completely in such a short time.”
“I know.”
We sat in silence for a while. “Was it like this with Ryker?” Ten broke the silence with his softly spoken question.
I nodded, recalling that first moment I’d seen Ryker as a baby. He hadn’t been in NICU, he’d been sturdy, strong, crying and wailing with a healthy pair of lungs, and I’d fallen completely in love.
“I remember telling Ryker’s mom that I would kill anyone who hurt a hair on his head.” I huffed a laugh at that. “Now look at him.”
“I can’t imagine Ryker being this small.”
“He was born at nine pounds, always seemed so strong.”
“Charlotte is strong.” Ten’s expression was utterly determined.
“So strong.”
And the next day it was my turn to hold her, and my whole word shifted with the weight of love that filled my heart.
Charlotte was in the NICU for eleven days, and somehow we fit staying by her in and around hockey.
The Railers management gave me some allowance in the schedule for being with her, but I still had to be there for games, and Ten got virtually no allowance at all. Despite the Railers’ support of family, he was the star of the team and we were at the start of the season. Against all the odds, Ten kept his head in the game to such an extent that the Railers had had three games in that space of time and we’d won them all. Every single skater on the ice rallied around and I don’t think I’d seen such focus before; if we could’ve bottled it, we’d be lifting the cup this year.
Every other second away from hockey we were at the hospital, either in the NICU with Charlotte until she could go home, or taking turns to nap in the family room. On the odd occasion when exhaustion became too much, we would sit together in that room, and lean on each other for support, and the morning they told us we could take her home, we sat there together and hugged so hard we couldn’t breathe.
“I love you,” Ten said, and buried his face in my neck. “And I love Charlotte.”
“I love you, too.” I held him tight. “I love you both.”
Chapter Eight
Ten
“Are you sure she’s okay lying like that?” I glanced from Charlotte to my mother. Jared was downstairs on the phone with Ryker talking about the latest snag in the wedding plans. Wedding plans were as unpredictable as babies. Just when a guy thought things were all set everything suddenly got twisted upside down. “I’m not sure she should be sleeping like that. What if the mobile comes loose and falls on her face?”
“Tennant, darling, my sweet youngest boy, trust me on this, Charlotte is perfectly safe on her back.” She pulled the yellow duvet up to my daughter’s chin.
“Are you sure? I thought they said…” I ran a hand through my hair. My head was so full of newborn information that I was beginning to feel concussed. “No, okay, yeah, you’re right. Back to sleep. Right. Sorry. I didn’t mean to question your expertise.”
She patted my arm. “It’s fine. Things have changed a lot since I was putting you and your brothers down for the night, but I’ve kept up. After all, with all the grandkids coming along, Dad and I had to stay up-to-date. Why don’t you go grab a smoothie before you go play? You look haggard.”
I did? “Haggard? Nah, I’m just… nervous. Why didn’t they give us a manual at the hospital? What if she gets sick? She’s so tiny. Are they sure she should be home with us? I’m… yeah…” I took a deep breath. “I’m mildly freaking out. Maybe I should skip the game tonight.”
“Go play hockey. Tennant, I got this.” She patted Charlotte’s tummy then turned to look up at me. “I have all the numbers for all the doctors in Harrisburg and all the surrounding counties.”
“That was Jared,” I was quick to point out. She smiled. “I might have added the poison control center and the medical helicopter numbers, but all the doctors were Jared.”
“Go play hockey. Everything will be fine. This isn’t my first rodeo.”
That made me smile. “You’re the rootinest tootinest grandmother west of the Pecos.”
“Darn tootin’, partner. Now go to work before you get fined for being late.”
“Someone will call between periods, just to check.” She pointed at the nursery door; her eyes merry. “Right, yeah, I’m going. Thanks for filling in until we can decide on a nanny. We thought we’d have more time but… well, Charlotte was in a hurry to make her debut.”
“I’m more than happy to help out. I did it for Jamie’s Lisa when they had their last baby. That’s the joy of being newly retired.”
I pressed a kiss to her soft cheek, then leaned over the rail of the crib and dusted a kiss to Charlotte’s sweetly-scented dark hair.
“See you in a few hours, buttercup.” Her tiny lips fluttered at the sound of my voice. I fell more deeply in love than I’d been the last time I’d looked at her. “She’s the most beautiful baby in the world.”
Mom rubbed my back as she moved up beside me. “I agree, but grandmas tend to be biased. Go get Jared.”
“I’m here. Oh my God, weddings! I told them to just elope,” Jared said as he rushed into the nursery, his tie in his hand and his shirt collar standing up.
“No, you didn’t,” I replied, moving to let him wiggle in to admire our daughter sleeping.
“Okay no, but I was close. I don’t recall us having all these creative differences when we got married.” He pecked Charlotte’s cheek then gave my mother a quick hug. “We have to go or we’ll be late. Jean, thank you, for ever
ything. I promise we’ll get the nanny situation taken care of by the end of the week if not sooner.”
“Oh posh, don’t rush. I’m in my glory. Now go!” She shooed us out of our own child’s room.
Jared and I exchanged an amused look then raced to the car and sped to the barn. We chatted about Charlotte, of course, and Ryker’s wedding planning battles. It seemed he and Jacob had differing views on where to have their upcoming nuptials. Once we walked inside the East River Arena, our minds switched gears. Hockey became the most important thing. But even as I taped my stick and pulled on my shoulder pads, Charlotte was never far from my thoughts.
We were squaring off against Buffalo tonight. They were always a tough team, heavy on defense, with some monstrously big men looking to knock me over the boards. I’d gotten used to the defensive attention over the years. Things started out smooth, a little awkward to be honest. We’d not played Buffalo since last April. They’d gotten a new goalie, Jens Hedlund, who used to play with the Railers during our first two years. He’d been traded and Bryan had taken his spot as Stan’s backup. Jens was a rangy Swede who sat in his crease like an owl, big dark gaze flitting around, waiting to pounce on a puck instead of a mouse.
The first period was spent feeling out Jens. We had all kinds of info on him, but he’d refined his stance, and was now much faster with his glove hand. He liked to play the puck, and he was good at it, plus he was prone to being mouthy.
“Okay, just saying, Jens is a jerk,” Adler complained during a TV timeout.
“Ignore him,” I said as Jared was yelling something at the defense. I washed out my mouth, spit the water to the ice, and crammed my mouthguard back in.
“Right, totally ignoring him,” Adler replied, tossed his water bottle to a trainer, and then skated off to torment Jens. “Hey! Headly! Got any ideas where Mongo is? Oops, wait! I found him!”
I chuckled when he draped an arm around Mills Bates, a huge D-man, last-of-the-grinders kind of guy. Mills called Adler various crude names as I skated in to take the face off. My eyes met the Buffalo center, a nice guy named Rory Biggleston, aka Biggy. The puck hit the ice at the same time Mills' and Adler’s gloves did. I whipped the puck to Connor but the play kind of fizzled as everyone on the ice opted to get into a fight instead of playing hockey.