by Susan Meier
Bev laughed. “Who’d have thought you’d break down at something as simple as a birth?”
Max hadn’t thought it. But he should have. He should have realized this would hit his mom hard. She might not have birthed Chance. But she’d raised him. Hugged him, cuddled him, kissed his cuts and scrapes, helped him with his homework.
Glancing at his own baby boy, he swallowed hard. Come hell or high water, he would get his brother home.
Kate looked at his mom. “So?”
She sniffed. “So I’ve always been fond of the name Clayton.”
Kate smiled, peeked down at her squirming bundle of joy. “Clayton.”
“We can call him Clay,” Gi Gi suggested.
Bev slid two fingers along the new baby’s knuckles. “Clay.” She smiled at Gi Gi. “I like it.”
Max laughed with relief. “Me, too.”
Kate smiled. “Me, too.”
And Max relaxed on his stool, enjoying the moment. Their family was so different now. Close. Comfortable with each other. Supportive of each other. There was no worry that he would take a drink. Not because he was foolish enough to believe he was cured, but because he was smart enough to be vigilant. Only a fool would risk this.
The nurses took the baby. The doctor finished up. Bev and Gi Gi kissed Kate’s cheeks, both suggesting she get some rest.
Max leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I love you.”
She mumbled, “I love you, too.”
“You do need to get some rest.”
“I could use a week of sleep.”
The nurse laughed. “Sorry. You get about an hour before they’ll ask you to try to breastfeed.”
Max kissed her forehead again. “So you rest and I’ll deal with the thundering horde in the waiting room. When I called Annette she said she was coming. Your mom saw your neighbor Mrs. Mayberry, so we know she’s here. And let’s not forget Mrs. Gentry.”
Kate laughed, but Max could see she was already drifting off.
So he left. He took off the surgical hat they’d put on his head and stuffed it into the pocket of the scrubs they’d told him to wear. As he shoved on the swinging doors that would lead him to the waiting room, a wonderful peace stole over him.
He might have had rough spots. He would definitely have more rough spots ahead of him—especially when he dragged Chance home; and if it killed him, he would. But right at this moment he was the luckiest man in the world.
* * * * *
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ISBN: 9781459230439
Copyright © 2012 by Linda Susan Meier
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