The Nurse's Newborn Gift

by Wendy S. Marcus

  Someone knocked on the door.

  As Krissy went to answer it Spencer said, “Great. And if you need a Lamaze coach...”

  “Absolutely not.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  FIVE DAYS LATER, on Saturday morning, Spencer found himself driving to Lamaze class with an unhappy Krissy in the front passenger seat of his car.

  “How do you like your new place?” he asked, trying to make conversation.

  “It’s fine,” she answered, sounding bored, as she looked out the window.

  Much better than fine, her one-bedroom apartment in his building—because the rent on the one-bedroom was less than the rent on the two-bedroom—was beautiful. Spacious, with freshly painted walls, refurbished hardwood floors and an updated kitchen. He knew the details for certain, because he’d helped Derrick and Kira move her in on Thursday night, not that she’d required much help since all she’d brought with her were two duffle bags, five or six boxes, and a small, twin-size bed.

  Now, every time he rode the elevator past the fourth floor, to or from his apartment on the sixth floor, he thought about her, wondered if she was okay, if she needed anything.

  Yes, as she’d pointed out during their chat in the staff lunchroom at Derrick’s office, Jarrod had entrusted her with a part of himself. Well, Jarrod had also entrusted Spencer to look after and help the woman he’d loved completely and the child he’d entrusted her with. Spencer took his responsibilities very seriously, always had. Jarrod knew that, had seen Spencer step up after his father had died, keeping a close eye on his younger sisters, protecting and guiding them, like his father would have. Better than his father would have.

  As much as Spencer had been looking forward to his newfound freedom from his mother and sisters, the truth was he’d been feeling a little lost for the past few months. No way he wanted to take on the responsibility of another woman in his life, one mother and two sisters were enough, thank you very much. But the more he thought about it, the more the idea of helping and looking after Krissy and her baby, at least for now, until they were both settled, started to grow on him. It gave him a purpose, made him feel needed again. And just like researching future occupations, scholarships and colleges with his sisters, and helping his mom figure out college loans and investment strategies for retirement planning, Spencer had put in the hours to research pregnancy, labor and delivery, and caring for a newborn.

  The timing worked.

  During soccer season he could be around for Krissy, help her out. After she had the baby he could stop in here and there, make sure little J.J. was well cared for. Then, at the end of soccer season, he’d take off for a few weeks of rest and relaxation.

  Playing the role of godfather to Krissy and Jarrod’s baby didn’t have to ruin his plans.

  “I really appreciate you coming with me today,” Krissy said, again, for the... Spencer had lost track of how many times she’d said it. “I have lots of friends down in New York City. But Kira moved herself and my mom up to White Plains while I was out in Hawaii. I don’t know many people here yet.”

  She repositioned herself in her seat, again, either uncomfortable or antsy. He couldn’t tell which.

  “No problem,” he answered, again, like he’d answered each time she’d stated her appreciation. The crash course version of Lamaze—three hours on Saturday morning and three hours on Sunday afternoon—worked out perfectly with his work schedule. Luckily he hadn’t been scheduled to travel to Canada with the team. Only a few injured players had stayed behind for rehab so he could easily flex his schedule.

  “Kira had to work today. I’m sure if I’d asked, she would have come tomorrow.”

  “But I insisted on going both days because—”

  “Attending only half of the class won’t make either one of you a proficient coach,” she finished. “That makes sense. If you’re even around when I go into labor.”

  “I’ll be around.”

  “What if you’re traveling with the team?”

  He wouldn’t be. Come Monday he’d be talking to management about his need to stay local for the next few weeks. “Even when the team is out of town, one assistant athletic trainer stays behind to work with the players who are injured. And not all of the guys travel with the team. The ones who remain here still practice, so an athletic trainer needs to be on site.”

  “Don’t go changing your schedule at work because of me. I mean it’s not like I need a coach.” She continued to stare out the window as Spencer pulled into the parking lot behind her doctor’s office. “I mean I am a nurse. I did do a labor and delivery rotation as a nursing student. I know what Lamaze is.”

  She demonstrated a breathing sequence he recognized from the Lamaze research he’d done online to prepare for the class. “During which phase of labor are you supposed to use that particular breathing technique?”

  Still looking out the window, she crossed her arms over her chest, defiant, and said, “When it hurts, that’s when.”

  Spencer pulled into a vacant spot, turned off the car, and removed his seat belt. Then he shifted in his seat to face her. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing’s the matter.” She wouldn’t look at him.

  “You’re all sulky.”

  That got a rise out of her and she swung around to face him. “I am not all sulky.”

  Oh, yes, she was. It’s not like he’d never seen her sulky before. This was her standard MO back in high school, every time he and/or Jarrod had tried to get her to do something she didn’t want to do—like go to geometry class, stay after school for extra help in U.S. History, or walk directly home with them rather than getting into trouble with the kids who hung out at the deli on the corner.

  In the past he’d have made a joke or poked fun to get her riled up. But not today. Today was too important. “What’s wrong, Krissy?”

  She turned back to the window. “I don’t want to be here.”

  Now they were getting somewhere. “Why not?”

  Shoulders hunched, she shrugged and mumbled something.

  “What?”

  “I’m not ready,” she said quietly. “For the whole giving birth thing.”

  “You’re not ready? I’ve got news for you. This baby’s going to be coming in the next couple of weeks whether you’re ready or not so you’d better get yourself ready.”

  She turned on him. “Don’t be mean to me, Spencer. I really can’t handle you being mean to me right now.” Her voice sounded like she might be on the verge of tears as she turned to look down at her hands fidgeting in her lap.

  A moment of vulnerability from the tough-talking, fiercely independent and confident Krissy took him by surprise.

  “I didn’t think this whole ‘have Jarrod’s baby’ idea through carefully enough,” she went on. “The pregnancy itself? Not totally awful. Raising little J.J.?” She caressed her belly lovingly. “I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it.”

  Get the hang of it?

  Her eyes met his again. “It’s the getting the baby from in here,” she pointed to her belly, “out into the world that’s giving me some trouble.”

  “Krissy—”

  “I have four weeks left until my due date,” she cut him off. “In four weeks I’ll have to be ready and I will be ready. Until then I don’t want to talk about it or think about it or worry about it.”

  He reached for her hand, finding it ice cold. Whoa. “Hey.” He gave it a squeeze. “You know it’s normal to be scared.” For sure he would be. “But women have been having babies for centuries, a lot of them over and over again. It’s a very natural process.”

  “Says a man who has never experienced and will never have to experience the act of pushing a fifteen pound baby out of an opening the size of a walnut.”

  Smiling probably wasn’t the best response, but he s
miled anyway. “You’re not having a fifteen pound baby.”

  She slid him a look. “You don’t know that.”

  That’s right. He didn’t, at least not for sure. But according to his research, the average birth weight for babies was seven and a half pounds, with a range of five and a half pounds on the low end of normal and ten pounds on the high end. Since, even pregnant, Krissy was on the small side, he’d guess her baby would be on the small side too.

  “All this talk about individualized birth plans and creating the experience you want. A bunch of bull.” She waved off the idea. “I told my doctor I wanted the unconscious plan. A scheduled cesarean, so I know when J.J. is coming. General anesthesia, so I can sleep through the painful parts and wake up relaxed and happy and ready to get started on the mother son bonding.”

  She may be scared, but she managed to be amusing at the same time. “General anesthesia, that’s your birth plan.” She had to be kidding. Although she didn’t look like she was kidding at all.

  “Don’t judge me, Spencer. I don’t like pain. Pain hurts. And to have to endure it for hours and hours and maybe days.” She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. Then she shook her head. “Nuh-uh. Not for me.”

  “How’d your doctor respond to your request for general anesthesia?”

  “He laughed.” She looked like she couldn’t believe he’d had the nerve. “Like I was joking around. Well I wasn’t. I was totally serious.” She fidgeted with her necklace. “Then he told the nurse to sign me up for the next Lamaze class. I told him I wasn’t available this weekend but he told me to make myself available that he expected me to be here and would be very disappointed if I didn’t show up. Like a parent tells a child. ‘I’ll be very disappointed if you don’t show up,’” she mimicked in a deep, authoritative voice. Then she turned to look out the window. “I really don’t want to disappoint him but...maybe I should find a new doctor.”

  “You don’t need a new doctor.” Spencer liked the guy, especially since he seemed to know how to handle patients like Krissy. “Maybe he wanted you to take this weekend’s class because he thinks you’re going to deliver early.”

  Krissy’s eyes went wide and all the color drained from her face. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think it.”

  “Lamaze is supposed to teach you how to cope with the discomfort of contractions,” Spencer said, keeping his voice calm. “Give the class a chance. Maybe you’ll learn something. Maybe it’ll alleviate some of your fears.”

  “I doubt that.”

  He gave her hand a shake. “I promise to take you for a hot fudge sundae when it’s all over.” Her favorite, at least it used to be.

  “No.” She shook her head and pulled her hand from his. “I’ve made up my mind. If my current OB-GYN won’t knock me out with medication, I’m going to find one who will. So all this Lamaze stuff is going to be a total waste of time that could be much better spent shopping for furniture and baby stuff.”

  “As a nurse you know natural childbirth is best for the baby.”

  She turned to look at him, or, more specifically, to stare down at his crotch. “Hmmm. What do you think we could do to you to simulate what natural childbirth might feel like?” She smiled sweetly. “Then we can talk about natural childbirth.”

  Okay. Not going there.

  “I have seen women give birth,” she said. “I have listened to their screams on the Labor and Delivery floor. I have actually witnessed the birthing process, live and in person. I can tell you, in no uncertain terms, nothing short of knowing I will be heavily medicated so I can sleep through delivery, will put my mind at ease.”

  “Krissy,” he cautioned.

  “What?” she snapped.

  Good lord. The woman was stubborn to the end. “We’re going to Lamaze class,” he told her calmly. Even if he had to drag her. “Just give it a try. That’s all I ask. If you hate it and find it not at all helpful, we’ll leave.” Not before he did his absolute best to convince her to stay. Hopefully once he got her inside she’d calm down.

  “You’re not going to leave me alone about this, are you?”

  He shook his head. No. He wasn’t.

  “Fine.” She threw open the door. “Let’s go waste the next three hours of our lives. Time we will never get back, by the way.” She slammed the door shut behind her.

  Spencer didn’t care. She’d gotten out of the car, and that’s all that mattered. Reaching into the backseat, he grabbed his pad and pen and the two pillows Krissy had brought, then he climbed out, too.

  One look at what he held in his hands and Krissy slammed her hands on her hips. “Really? A pad and pen? You plan to take notes?”

  Just to get a rise out of her he said, “I plan to study them, too.”

  “Poindexter.” She turned to walk up the sidewalk. “Some things never change.”

  He smiled as he followed, hadn’t been called that name in years and he liked hearing it, especially in Krissy’s annoyed voice. Just like old times. “Call me what you will, but when you’re ready to give birth, I’ll be ready to coach you through it.”

  “I plan to be sleeping through it.” She glanced back. “But thanks.”

  Two hours later, in a large, dimly lit room, with Krissy laying on her side on a mat with a pillow under her head and one between her legs, Spencer, and the couples around them, got an earful of how Krissy likely sounded and acted during sex.

  Vocal—gratifyingly so, a total ego boost. He dug his thumbs into her low back.

  “That feels sooooo good,” she moaned.

  Demanding—better to know than to have to guess and hope you get it right.

  “Lower. Right there. Harder.” She let out a deep satisfied breath. “Don’t stop.”

  An active participant—the very best kind of bed partner.

  She rolled her hips and arched her back. “Up a little. No, down.”

  He slid his hands up, then down, following her directions.

  After her “Aaahhh,” accompanied by a pleasure-filled exhalation, Spencer actually found himself getting a little aroused by it all.

  The teacher, a tall, slender, middle-aged woman wearing a lab coat over street clothes, said, “Okay, time to change positions.”

  “Nooooo,” Krissy whined loudly. “I like this position.”

  The teacher smiled at Spencer. “Looks like someone has the magic touch.”

  Why thank you, thank you very much.

  Krissy turned onto her back. “Don’t look so proud of yourself.” She whacked him in the face with the pillow that’d been between her knees. “It’s only because I haven’t...been touched...in a long time.”

  The teacher called out, “Next position I want my partners to take a seat on the floor, backs straight, legs opened, knees bent.”

  Shoot, just when things were starting to get interesting.

  The teacher continued, “Now I want my mamas to sit between their partner’s legs, back to their chests, and rest your head on their shoulder.”

  Krissy maneuvered into position.

  “Partners,” the teacher said. “Slide your arms under and around,” she demonstrated on another couple, “then clasp your fingers together on the top of her belly.”

  Spencer did as instructed.

  Krissy felt so good and smelled so good. Her soft, fragrant hair tickled his cheek. Her body heated his wherever they touched, which felt like everywhere. How many times had his teenage self dreamed of holding her this close?

  She wiggled her bottom then stiffened.

  Krissy may have been clueless about Jarrod’s true feelings for her, but she didn’t miss the key indicator of how Spencer was feeling about her at that particular moment.

  She wiggled her bottom against his arousal again then turned her head close to his ear and whispered, “Really,
Spencer? I’m big as a manatee and we’re at Lamaze class of all places.”

  She wasn’t big as a manatee. She was full and lush and even sexier than she’d been in high school. “Sorry,” he said. Thinking fast he added, “It’s only because I haven’t...been touched...in a long time.”

  Krissy pinched his thigh.

  He tried to muffle his laugh in the side of her neck.

  Then she wiggled against him again.

  The minx probably planned to torture him for the rest of the class. Well, no way he’d allow that. Determined to put a stop to it, Spencer leaned in close, moved his mouth to her ear and quietly warned, “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

  Krissy stiffened.

  Then she pulled his head down and whispered back, “Oh, I can finish, Spencer, in so many different ways. FYI, those rumors back in high school were true.” She licked his ear. “I give an amazing blow job.”

  Lord help him.

  A rookie mistake. He should have known Krissy would take his words as a challenge and use her confident sexuality to say something outrageous that would give her the upper hand.

  It’d worked, too. The image of a naked Krissy, on her knees at his feet, looking up at him as she took his erection into her hot, wet mouth filled his mind. At the anticipated feel of her sucking him deep into the back of her throat, over and over, he grew bigger, and harder, and more aroused.

  She slid her backside in even closer, readjusting her position again, rubbing from side to side against him until all Spencer could think about was lifting her onto his lap, lowering her leggings and his zipper, and entering her from behind, thrusting up into her, again and again until...

  This had to stop.

  Spencer wasn’t a sexually inexperienced teenager anymore. He was a man who liked to take charge and be in control.

  So he called her bluff, leaning down to whisper, “Maybe I didn’t get much action back in high school, but I’ve made up for it in adulthood.” Not really, but what he lacked in quantity he’d made up for in quality. “You’re not the only one with amazing talent. In fact, if you can keep quiet, I bet I can get you off in minutes, right here, right now, in this room full of people, without anyone knowing.”