“I’m fine. I…what’s all this stuff?” There were machines to the left and right of her. One she recognized as an ultrasound. The other must be some sort of monitor. There was a do-hickey attached to her index finger with wires going somewhere. There was some big belt around her middle that went to another machine, which showed little wavy lines on a monitor.
“Can I talk in front of your friend, or would you rather have a private conversation?” Dr. Shapiro asked.
“Marla? We have no secrets.”
“Yeah, now.” Marla smiled at her in that way when someone really worried about you tries to make the cheerful face. It made Paris worry.
“Well, you had a little heat stroke, but also you’ve had some bleeding and pre-labor. We’ve got that under control now. Your blood pressure was a little high and probably you’ve had some headaches?”
Paris nodded.
“Well, we’re not sure what caused it, but we’ll run some tests. It’s actually lucky you fainted from the heat. It got you in here.” Dr. Shapiro turned to Marla. “She’s fine, and the babies are fine, now. But we’ll have to keep her here for a while, and she’ll have to be monitored after that. I’ll need to talk to her husband.”
“I’ll get him.” Marla gave Paris’s hand a pat and left the room.
“What’s a while?” Paris asked.
“Can’t tell. At least three days or maybe more, depending on how things stabilize. You want to give those babies a fighting chance, now don’t you, Mrs. Pruitt?”
Paris lay back on the hard hospital bed. “Yes,” she said. Then she closed her eyes. She hated hospitals. Only terrible memories came from hospitals.
Except one memory—when Paris had come to see her mother after she’d had the baby. She’d been excited and curious, and her father had been great. He’d bought her a big sister present—a teddy bear with a ballerina outfit. And they’d had dinner in a restaurant that evening while her mother had stayed another night.
Her little sister had been so tiny. Paris had taken her hand in her own, and the tiny fingers had curled around her bigger finger. The baby’s hair had hardly been there, but it’d been red, just like hers, and her mother’s. Daddy had said, “Here we go again, all my redheaded girls.”
Her mother hadn’t meant for everything to go so wrong for that baby. She’d had every intention of giving the baby a happy life. Bonnie. Her sister’s name was Bonnie. That was the first time Paris had thought of that for years.
Something in her heart felt sad and heavy. She didn’t want anything to happen to Turner’s babies. He was going to be a wonderful father. She had to fight for them to have a good start in life.
“Turner.” Sarah lay her hand on Turner’s shoulder. “She’s awake.”
He looked up at her. “Is she—”
“She’s going to be okay. And the babies are fine.”
“Thank you.” Turner got up and walked out of the chapel, leaving Sarah behind.
Sarah looked up at the large mahogany cross. She couldn’t help how she felt. She’d loved Turner since they were kids. He might love Paris now, but there was still a chance. When Paris handed him two infants and walked out the door, she would still be here. She would be the one there for him. Even if it took years, she would wait. Sarah sat down in the orange chair still warm from Turner’s body and said her own prayers.
Turner headed down the maze of corridors and quickly strode through the door of Paris’s room.
“Dr. Shapiro.”
“Mr. Pruitt, we’re out of the woods. Just in the last half hour we’ve seen no further labor, and her blood pressure is down to a normal level.”
“Labor?”
“Talk to your wife. I have to see to something for a moment, but I’ll be back shortly. I’ll fill you in on all the details together.” Dr. Shapiro stepped out, and they were alone.
The early night sky was still bright with stars and sunlight as Turner came up beside Paris. He noticed light patterns from the curtains dancing on her bedcovers. He found her free hand between the wires and held it up to his lips for a moment.
“I was coming to yell at you.” Paris smiled weakly.
“Any particular reason?”
“General stuff. Making love to me, expectations, you know the drill.”
“I do.”
“I’m sorry, Turner, I didn’t know taking a walk would make me go into labor.”
“It’s not your fault.” He thought that was probably the first time he’d ever heard her say she was sorry for anything.
“I promise I’ll do everything I can to take good care of your babies. I’ll listen to the doctor and eat right from now on, and behave.”
Your babies. He wanted to correct her, but she was showing the first maternal instincts he’d seen in months, so he didn’t want to break that moment. “You’re going to be fine. We’ll make sure of it.”
“I’m a brat, Turner.”
“But so cute.” He bent over and kissed her forehead. She looked up at him with her emerald green eyes, and he thought for a moment he saw tears well up on the edges.
“Don’t start thinking things are different now. My plans are still the same. But I like you, and you deserve good things. I know you really want these babies.”
“I want you too, Paris. And if something had happened today, I would have still wanted you.”
“I can’t do anything about that, Turner, but I can make sure and do the best I can with this pregnancy.” She turned her face away from him.
He was sure she was crying, in that silent way in which women sometimes cry.
Dr. Shapiro came in. “Okay, folks, let’s pull up a chair and go over the facts. I like to have all the facts, don’t you?”
15
Playing for Keeps
All her spa time down the drain.
“I cannot stay flat on my ass in bed for four months. That’s impossible.” Paris crossed her arms and fumed. What were they thinking, she would like…pee in a bedpan twice a day? She shuddered. “Get me that throw, Meyers.”
“Say please and behave yourself,” Marla retorted. She picked up the throw anyway and came to tuck it around Paris’s shoulders.
“Please.”
“Good girl. They let you get up to go to the bathroom,” Marla said.
Paris perked up. “Well, thank God for small favors.”
Sarah stood in one corner, glowering at Paris. Now what’s up her bonnet? thought Paris. Sarah was such a priss, Paris wondered how she could become a nurse being so prissy.
“Anton and I are going back to the hotel, Paris.” Marla kissed Paris on the cheek.
Paris swatted at her and missed on purpose. “Stop that.”
“Marla’s going to send you a laptop computer so you can learn to e-mail us. The Internet is full of fascinating places, Paris. It will keep you occupied for months. And out of everyone’s hair. Speaking of hair, if you don’t behave I won’t fly back here and do your roots for the whole four months, and you’ll look like an old woman with all the gray that’s going to grow in.” Anton cackled. “I’ve got special natural dyes just for pregnant women, too.”
“You would fly back here and do my roots?” Paris asked.
“Sure, honey. No one knows your formula but me. Well, and that one guy at the hotel,” Anton answered. He’d been sitting on the side of the bed while Marla had been fussing with Paris. He got up to leave.
“I can’t believe you two are abandoning me.” Paris stuck out her lower lip.
“Only because we know you are in such good hands.” Marla winked at Turner.
“Yeah, look at these hands!” Millie held her hands up in the air and made fists.
Paris saw her flex her old lady muscles and was pretty impressed.
“I’ll keep her in line,” Millie continued.
“She will, that’s true.” Turner laughed.
Paris made a face at him. How could life get so weird as to leave her locked up with crazy Millie and sour-faced Sarah for f
our months? And just when she’d planned her escape so well. She’d been hoping to take an apartment near Turner’s place. She’d plotted it all out on her walk up to the chapel. She’d been going to tell Turner he could visit her there and watch her be pregnant from afar, because she was sick of his one-bathroom loony bin.
“Well, darling, we’ll come back in the morning. We’ve got a late flight out tomorrow.”
“I’ll have your things sent to the flat.” Marla gave her one last over-the-bed hug.
“Call me.” Paris’s voice broke.
“I will. You can bet on it.”
“Don’t be a brat, and don’t let anyone touch your hair.” Anton gave her another bed-hug.
Paris thought she might cry, but she bit her lip instead. “Scram. Give Ripple a big sloppy kiss from me when you get back.”
“I will,” Anton smirked.
Marla smacked his arm. “No, I will!”
“No, I will,” Anton countered. Turner put his arms around each of their shoulders and walked them to the door. They kept repeating that same game until Paris couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
Turner returned. “I’m going to run Millie and Sarah home, Paris. I’ll be back.”
“Save it, Turner, I’m bone tired. I’ll just get some sleep. You can come back in the morning.” Paris pulled the skimpy covers up further toward her chin, trying not to knock into the wires. “Tell them to send in about five extra blankets. They really have the air cranked up in here.”
“I will. But I’m coming back. We are going to talk.”
“Whatever.”
“Come on, Sarah, get out of here before she puts you to work,” Millie said.
Sarah took one step forward. “Actually I have a shift tonight. I get to rock babies all night. I volunteered while we were here. I’ll take a bus home or get one of the other gals to drop me off.”
Turner and Millie stood still. To Paris they both looked surprised. The mouse had come out of her corner.
“I’ll be fine.” Sarah smiled at Turner.
Turner came over to Paris’s side. He kissed her cheek before she could move it. “Hang in there, tiger.”
“Go away.”
“We’re going, but I’m coming back,” Turner said. Then he and Millie left the room—finally. That just left candy striper Sarah.
Paris actually felt a little frightened by her. She had a really mean look on her face. Well hell, what could the woman do to her anyway?
Sarah came over to her bed.
“You don’t have to stay here, Sarah. Turner has seen you pretend to care about me. That’s all you needed,” Paris said. She was in no mood for this woman.
“Do you think everyone just pretends to care about people, Paris?”
“I’m not having this little talk with you. Leave me alone. I wish I’d had a miscarriage. Then I could leave this town and not have to deal with any of you.” She knew it was horrible the minute she said it, but it came out anyhow, and Sarah looked so shocked that Paris wondered if she might slap her.
Paris watched Sarah turn away from her for a moment. She looked overcome with emotion. Then Sarah’s whole posture seemed to change. Paris got very, very scared for some reason.
“I’ll be right back,” Sarah said. She said it all kind of hard and spooky. Not her usual, mealy-mouthed self.
“Don’t bother.” Paris did her usual snappy snap-back without thinking.
Sarah just stared at her. She turned and stamped out of the room, her little flat heels punctuating the quiet except for the beeping of a few machines.
What the hell? Was nurse junior going for Jell-O? Was she determined to sit by Paris’s side and keep an eye on her because of her secret crush on Turner? Keep an eye on the goods so Paris didn’t do anything stupid? Paris got very uncomfortable and shifted around a bit. Damn all these wires.
Time ticked by, empty as the room. Paris heard voices in the hall, then nothing. She watched the sky darken. If this was what the next four months were going to be like, she would undoubtedly go nuts even before the birth. That made her feel even more spooked out. She shivered.
Sarah came back in the room like a gust of wind. She had an orderly with her, and another nurse. Dr. Shapiro’s nurse. The nurse came over and took some readings off Paris—blood pressure, some blippy stuff—then took her temperature.
“What’s up?” Paris mumbled through the thermometer.
“Quiet,” the nurse ordered. She had that same look in her eye that Sarah had had earlier.
Paris had read bad books like this. She tried to scrunch under the covers.
“She’s good to go. Keep her flat.” The nurse unhooked a few wires.
“No, I’m not! I’m not going anywhere! Where’s Dr. Shapiro?”
“I just spoke to him. He approved a brief trip down the hall,” the nurse said sharply. She moved machines against the side of the room.
The orderly stepped out and returned, pushing a rolling gurney.
“I don’t want to go down the hall.” Paris scrunched down further. She was going to be mistaken for someone having a gallbladder operation. She was going to end up with a tonsillectomy!
Sarah came over to her and helped the nurse strip the sheets right off her.
Paris screamed, “Get away!” She tried to pull her skimpy hospital gown down to cover her bare ass. The orderly smirked as he butted the gurney up next to her bed. He came over to one side and pulled the bottom sheet out from the corners.
“We’re moving you, so hold on. On my count. One, two, three.” The nurse and Sarah picked up one side of the sheet, and the orderly caught the other. They lifted her over to the rolling gurney.
“I’ll scream.”
“Go ahead. No one on this floor is going to pay any attention to you,” Sarah said in a steel-cold voice.
“You can have Turner! You don’t have to kill me to get him.” Paris couldn’t believe it as she watched the orderly wrap her tightly in the sheet and fasten two straps over her.
“Kill you? Maybe later. Right now we want to show you something. So pipe down,” Sarah commanded.
Paris was scared out of her wits. She felt her heart pounding. They pushed the gurney out the hospital room door and headed down a bright corridor. Sarah walked beside her with quick steps. The lights were so bright that they made Paris squint, but her hands were sealed up in the straps so she couldn’t cover her eyes.
They stopped, and the nurse dug through the sheet for Paris’s arm.
“I’m telling Dr. Shapiro on you.”
“Go right ahead. I’m sure he’ll take me out to lunch.” The nurse kept a stone face while she took Paris’s pulse and blood pressure once more.
“Okay.” She spoke to Sarah. “I’ll be right at the nurses’ station. Holler when you need me.”
“Thanks, Rosie. Lennie, I’ll page you when I’m done.” Sarah took the wheel, and Paris watched Lennie the orderly wink at Sarah.
Well, great. She was now the prisoner of psycho student nurse Sarah. Who she was then going to be at the mercy of for another four months.
“Just remember in four months I can get up and pound you, Sarah, so whatever your evil plan is, I’d just remember that. I’m bigger than you.”
“Before we go in, I want to say what I have to say.” Sarah glowered over her.
Paris thought about grabbing Sarah or smacking her with her now free hand, but it occured to her that might not be the best strategy.
“Get it over with. You want Turner, I take it. Well, I’m sorry he fell for me, but if you wait around a bit, I’ll toss him to you for free.”
“You are without a doubt the most selfish, self-centered woman I have ever encountered in my entire life. You think everything is about you. You don’t deserve to spend a minute with Turner, and I’ll be glad to see you go, because I actually believe you when you say you would be the worst mother on earth.”
That actually hurt. Paris fell silent. She would not be the worst mother on earth. She wa
s doing these babies a favor. They’d be with a loving father. She’d be away from them where she couldn’t crack up…maybe even hurt them. Sarah was crazy. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sarah pushed the gurney into a room with less light. They stopped rolling, and Sarah pushed a brake with her foot. Paris could hear the thud. Another nurse nodded to her and moved to the far end of the room, busying herself with charts.
“I want you to look at these babies. Turn your head and look.”
Paris thought about not doing that, but she figured Sarah would twist her head if she didn’t. She turned and saw a row of incubators. In each one was a tiny, tiny infant. She couldn’t believe how small some of them were. They had bindings over their eyes, and they were hooked to all sorts of tubes and monitors. She gasped at the painfulness and strangeness of it all.
Sarah’s voice was low, but so, so nasty. “Some of these babies only weigh a pound. They might make it, they might not. If they do, they might be blind, or damaged in all sorts of ways. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?
“All I’ve heard is how inconvenient everything is for you. How staying in bed would be so difficult for you. You eat what you want, you do what you want, and you order everyone around. You are a spoiled, horrible woman. Well, this is what is going to happen to your babies if you don’t get a clue. If you don’t start focusing on the needs of the infants you are carrying, you’ll deliver early. If you do, they might actually live. Then you’ll be free to abandon them and Turner will spend the rest of his life caring for them.”
Paris wiped at a tear with her one free hand. “I…I don’t want anything to happen to them. You don’t understand. I might be a danger to them.”
“Whatever this thing is that you’ve got going in your head, I have no doubt that the truth is you can’t be bothered with being a mother because your enormous ego doesn’t have room for that. I have never seen anyone so heartless and cold as you, Paris.
“I don’t know why God gave you Turner’s babies, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let you hurt them before they’re born. You can do whatever you like after that. We’ll buy breast milk from the milk bank, because did you know that preemie twins need breast milk? Do you know anything about your own pregnancy? Have you read a single book? And all twins are basically preemies, because it’s very rare to make it past thirty-five weeks.”
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