I pushed the curtain open just enough to see him. His eyes were closed but he looked like he was resting. I stepped up to his face and leaned down to kiss his lips, watching his eyes as they slowly opened and looked at me. He reached for my hand and I encircled mine around his, squeezing it gently. “Irish, I love you so very much,” and tears fell, so I dropped my face onto his shoulder trying to hide them.
“I love you too,” he whispered. I lifted my face and wiped my eyes, smiling at him and kissing his cheek.
“I’ll be right here waiting for you to come out of surgery and then I’ll spend the night in your room.”
I felt him make a ball with his hand and I squeezed back.
“It’s time to go Mrs. Thompson, your husband has a date in the OR,” and she gave me a sympathetic smile.
I reached down and kissed Irish again as I released his hand. He gave me a smile and mouthed I love you.
I followed the nurse back to the waiting room and thanked her at least twenty times for helping me to see my husband before his surgery.
“I’ll let you know when I hear anything, dear,” and she left me in the little room. It wasn’t long before Memphis and Mary arrived. I threw myself at Mary and started crying all over again. She hugged and rocked me back and forth for what seemed like forever.
“He’s going to all right, Jurnee,” and I lifted my head from her petite framed shoulder.
“Did you talk to the doctors? Who told you he was going to be all right?” and I’m sure that I looked confused.
“Dad called when we landed and a nurse told him that Irish went in for surgery but he was expected to be just fine.” She gave me her sweet Irish smile.
“That guy stealing from the company shot him, I just know it was him,” I announced with a matter-of-fact attitude and walked over to the sofa and sat down. Mary followed and sat down beside me. Memphis sat in the chair across from us and just looked at us and listened.
“Well when Irish gets better, you two will have to decide if you want to stay here or come back home, so you two have a lot to think about, dear,” and I looked at her as I felt my mind wander away to her spoken words.
Maybe leaving here would be best. That guy could have his friends come after us and maybe we’d never be safe here again, I thought. Memphis’s phone chirped, breaking my train of thought.
Looking at Mary now, I asked her, “What do you think we should do?” and I paused wiping the tears from my eyes. “Can Irish just leave the company here if he wants to?” I sat and waited, looking into her eyes.
“Of course he can, dear. He’s finished his work here and if you two want to leave, that’s exactly what you’ll do.”
I smiled at her and took a deep breath. We had a choice. If Irish said that he wanted to leave, we could move back to La Jolla and that thought made me feel enormously better.
Before I’d ever realized he was gone, Memphis came back into the room. Looking at Mary he said, “I’m going to take care of Irish’s car; they’re finished with it. Then I’ll run by the office. Can I bring you anything while I’m out?”
I smiled and shook my head no.
“Would you bring us something to eat, Dad, and stop and get Irish some of those donuts he likes? He might just want one later,” she said, looking at me.
He reached down and kissed her head and gave me a smile. “I’ll be back in a bit,” and he left the room. The next hour seemed like ten, but finally the door opened and it was the doctor who’d been here before. I smiled at him as Mary and I stood to greet him.
He stood in front of us and returned my smile. “Well, he’s out of surgery and in recovery. I think he’ll be just fine. He’s a lucky young man. The bullet went through without damaging any organs and we’d like to keep him until tomorrow evening just to keep an eye on the bleeding, but he should be able to go home soon after that. Do you have any questions for me besides when you can see him?” and he smiled, looking directly at me now.
I looked at Mary and she stood smiling at the doctor. “Can he have a donut if he wants one?” and her face was somewhat serious. I looked at the ground and smiled. Always a thoughtful mother, it crossed my mind. Please let it be that easy for me.
“I don’t see why not,” and I looked up and watched him smile at Mary. After he left Mary reached out and opened her arms for a hug. We stood there several minutes embracing each other and smiling. Things were much better with her here.
A nurse came in and asked, “Family for Irish Thompson?” and we both reached for our things and followed her. I had goose bumps I was so excited about seeing him.
He was in a private room sitting up at a slight angle reaching for a cup with a straw in it when I finally set eyes on him. He smiled when he saw us walk in. I hurried my pace to get the first kiss from him. Maybe it was selfish, but I didn’t care in that moment. When I bent over to kiss him, I could smell the anesthetic they used to put him under. It made my stomach suddenly feel very upset, but I smiled and gave him a peck anyway.
He reached for my arm and held me so that he could look into my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Jurnee,” and I felt my face scrunch up and my mouth fall open in response to his soft spoken words.
“You have nothing to be sorry about, Irish, that’s a ridiculous thought,” and I stood straight up breaking from his hold.
“Mom, please come talk some sense into him, I’m going to the ladies room and I’ll be right back.”
She smiled and took my place by Irish’s bed.
I scurried from the room. On my way to the restroom, I could feel the nausea building in my stomach and I hurried myself a bit faster, afraid that I might not make it. Once in a stall my fears of throwing up became a reality. I hadn’t eaten enough today to be throwing up this much, I thought with my head hanging over the toilet. Maybe it was my body releasing all of the stress from this horrible day. I rinsed my mouth and splashed some water on my face. I needed to get back to Irish, but I still felt sick to my stomach. Deep breaths, Jurnee, and I watched myself in the mirror. On number five I began to feel faint, so I stopped and held onto the sink with both hands. Looking into my own eyes now, I tried to pull myself together to make myself stop this foolishness.
Looking in the mirror at me suddenly pulled everything that had happened today back up emotionally. I watched as my eyes began filling with water and a single tear ran down my cheek. “That’s quite enough, Jurnee,” I said out loud as I turned on the cold water. “Let’s try this again,” I mumbled and began splashing water on my face. I slapped my cheeks for some color, put on some lip gloss, and headed back to see Irish.
As I approached the room I could see Irish’s parents sitting close to his bed, casually talking as if nothing had happened. They couldn’t see me yet, so I stood and watched Irish interact with them sweetly. In that moment, I really missed my parents and a twinge of jealousy ran through me, catching me off guard.
A nurse was now heading for the room so I quickly followed her in. While she checked Irish’s vitals, he sat staring at me, but at the same time smiling a smart-alecky grin. At first it was sweet, maybe even cute but now it was beginning to feel awkward.
“Do you need me to get you something, Irish?” I took the nurse’s place when she turned and left the room. He reached for my hand and I quickly gave it to him.
“I missed you terribly. Do you know how beautiful you are, Jurnee?” and I felt myself automatically begin to blush. Irish’s parents were now staring at me, too, and I looked into his face, trying to avoid looking at them.
“Well someone needs to tell the doctor that your pain medication is working,” and I bent down and kissed his lips. When I pulled myself back up to look into his eyes, both of his arms encircled my body and pulled me tightly into his. I held myself up trying to avoid the bandages on his lower stomach, but he was holding me tightly.
“We’re going to go get some coffee and make a few calls. We’ll see you two in a little while,” I heard Mary say and her voice faded as she left
the room.
“Irish, you have to let go...I’m afraid that I’m going to hurt you,” and he slowly released me. When I looked into his face, he was still smiling. I walked over to the chair his mom had vacated and his eyes followed me every step of the way. This must be Irish drunk, I thought with a giggle. Talking about anything serious now was probably pointless, so I looked at him and relished the idea that he was really here and all right. It could’ve ended differently and I was grateful to be sitting here with him in all of his present silliness.
“Are you hungry?” I asked reaching for his hand.
“No, I just want you,” and he slowly raised an eyebrow. Sexy and medicated, I thought. I had to laugh. There, lying in that hospital bed was the man I loved. He was my world.
“I want you too, baby,” and I tried to take my smile down a notch. “I guess I don’t have to ask how you feel now, do I?” and I chuckled at him. His smile remained almost frozen on his face and his hand reached out for mine.
“Come up here and take a nap with me,” and his face was now serious.
I looked toward the door and then at the curtain. “Well, let me close the curtain and the door. Scoot over some,” and I walked to the door peeking out before closing it. I pulled the curtain and lowered the outside bed rail. I hadn’t been in the bed three seconds and he was molded around me. I felt his arm fall over my waist and his sweet hot breath on the back of my neck. I couldn’t have moved if I’d wanted to. We hadn’t been resting more than a minute and Irish began to snore. He was out. I closed my eyes and smiled, feeling yet again happier then I’d ever felt before.
Irish’s parents left that evening, Mary needing to get back for Paris and Memphis having work-related matters to tend to. I spent the night in the hospital with Irish, and the next day he was cleared by his doctor to go home. When the taxi dropped us off in front of our house, I got a chill when I stepped out into the driveway.
Irish’s dad had taken the Mustang to be repaired and I was grateful to have the visual absent from my memory. When we got in the house, it was clear Mary had been there. A card leaned up against a birthday cake in the refrigerator and several wrapped gifts sat on the kitchen counter. Irish sat down in his chair while I fetched a sheet and blanket to make him a place on the sofa to rest, doctor’s orders.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” I asked fanning the sheet over the sofa. When he didn’t answer, I turned and looked at him. He was staring out the window, lost in thought. I wondered if he was thinking about that van.
“Irish” and I was standing directly in front of him now.
He finally turned and looked at me. “They should never have had our address; I messed up big time, Jurnee,” and the look on his face was totally serious.
I knelt and rested my hands on his knees. “Irish, they could have followed you home from work for all we know. This was in no way your fault. Tell me you know that,” I pleaded. He just stared at me.
“So you think this was your fault? Because if that’s the case, then I need to get you back to the hospital so they can take out the crazy ideas floating around in your head.”
We both stared at each other. Before I could even think of a relevant example of how ridiculous his guilt feelings were, I felt my stomach flip-flop and nausea begin to move slowly up into my throat. I turned and ran for the bathroom. I hadn’t closed the door when I heard steps behind me and wished I had. I felt Irish take my hair and twirl in into a pony tail. He sat down beside me and his free hand rubbed my back.
“Jurnee, can I get you anything?” I shook my head no and raised my hand, trying to wave him away, but he didn’t move. This was the fifth time this week, I thought.
My head still in the toilet bowl, I finally asked. “Irish, would you get me a washcloth, please?” He slowly lifted up from me and disappeared into the other room. I jumped up and bent down under the sink facet to rinse my mouth. When I turned around, Irish was standing behind me with a curious grin on his face. I swear I saw a little light bulb flicker brightly above his head.
“I don’t know what you’re grinning about, daddy,” and I grabbed the washcloth from his hand and headed for the kitchen. He was right behind me. I flipped up the calendar and looked for a dot. I dropped the page and leaned back against the counter crossing my arms in front of me.
“Well isn’t this a fine Howdy Doody,” and I looked at Irish. He was standing there trying to read my face. “You said we could do this without me being on the pill, Irish,” and I felt my eyes brim and my bottom lip quiver. The last couple of days were finally taking their toll on me.
Before I could wipe the tear from my cheek, Irish was pulling me into his body. “Jurnee, it’s okay. We planned on doing this anyway and I’m actually so happy right now I could explode,” and he gently kissed the top of my head.
“That’s because you’re on drugs and it hasn’t hit you yet,” I spouted sarcastically.
“No, I’m genuinely happy” and he squeezed me tightly. I felt his body jolt a little and I stepped back. He was hurting. I took his hand walking him to the sofa and with wifely authority demanded he lay down.
I knelt down next to him on the floor. “I really wanted some time with Jewel first. I wanted to know that I could do a good job with her,” and I rested my forehead in my hand.
“And I wanted to be closer to your mom before we had a second child, Irish. What if I’m terrible at being a mom?” My voice now just above a whisper.
He raised an eyebrow and chuckled, but also grabbed his stomach. Now taking a small strand of my hair, he twirled it in his fingers. “You’re going to be an amazing mom, Jurnee, I have no doubt about that,” and I rolled my eyes at him.
Then with a huge smile on his face he added, “We’re going to have a baby,” and I slapped his arm.
“No, we’re going to have two babies at one time,” and I stared into his excited blue eyes.
“Want some cake?”
“I’d really rather make love to you and then have cake later.”
“Um, no,” and I gave him my best apologetic face. “The doctor said if you don’t let those stitches heal, we’ll be right back in the hospital for another surgery” and I jumped up smiling at him and headed for the kitchen. We ended up eating cake for dinner and watching the Western Unforgiven before finally heading for bed.
Tomorrow our daughter Jewel was due to enter the world and we were excited about receiving the news that she was finally here. Irish was also excited about telling his mom our good news, as I digested it all. In the back of my mind I couldn’t help but worry about the whole twin thing in Irish’s family. Maybe when I knew it was only one baby, I’d be less nervous and allow myself to become more excited.
Irish and I had already picked names; he wanted to name the girl, so I chose the boy name. When Irish decided on his name, he never wavered; it was absolutely going to be Jypsy Ciara. I was more fickle and jumped back and forth, depending on my mood. Jayden Bryce and Jaxon Bryce were my two favorites and I’d pretty much decided that when I saw him, I’d be better able to pick the right name.
We’d picked Jewel’s name from both of our mothers’ names. My mom’s name was Samantha Marie and his mom’s name is Mary Ann Jewel. The easy part was decided. Now I hoped all the authors of those parenting books knew what the hell they were talking about. We were getting really close to finding out.
On the nineteenth of November, Irish and I had our phones setting on the coffee table while we ate Lucky Charms and watched cartoons. “You know when Jewel gets here, we can’t eat this shit anymore, right?” and I threw a marshmallow at him.
“Um, you know that you can’t say shit around the kids either,” and he threw five marshmallows back at me.
“Shit isn’t a bad word,” and I gave him my most serious face.
He rolled his eyes, shook his head, and smiled at me before taking a bite of his cereal. Just then his phone rang. We both froze with cereal-filled mouths. Irish started chewing like crazy while reaching
for his phone. “It’s mom,” he finally mumbled. I sat up and leaned against his shoulder hoping to hear her exciting news.
“Irish, your sister and I are at the hospital but the doctors are saying that she’s not dilated enough to deliver, so we’re heading back home to give it some more time. Did your dad call you?” Irish looked at me and I shook my head no.
“No, Mom, you’re the first to call. We’ll be home all day so call us when you know something, and tell Paris we love her.” I rubbed his arm with my hand and mouthed tell her thank you for the cake. He scrunched his face a little until he finally figured out what I said.
“Thanks so much for the card and the cake, Mom. I’m saving the presents to open tomorrow.”
“You’re welcome, dear. I wish we could all be together. You get better and I’ll talk to you soon.”
He closed the phone and we both sat down on the sofa with our cereal. As the morning turned into afternoon, Irish and I played cards, practiced guitar, and finally ordered a pizza. It was now eight in the evening and Irish bet that Jewel would be born on his birthday. Staying competitive, I said she’d still slide in before midnight. Now we had to agree on the stakes. I always knew what Irish would say he wanted, so I tried to shake it up a little and ask him to do something I found extremely funny.
He wanted me to play his flute if I lost and if he was the loser, I wanted him to answer the door for the pizza guy wearing my underwear on his head the next time we ordered out. I laughed thinking about the look on the delivery guy’s face. The game was on. It was nine o’clock and since we both had a stake in Jewel’s delivery time, we were watching the clock like our lives depended on it. We were going to be great parents, I thought. Ten o’clock and I helped Irish put saran wrap and tape over his stitches so that we could take an almost non-sexual shower. Eleven-thirty and Irish was getting rather confident and shouting out the time in ten-minute intervals. I was preparing myself ready to accept defeat. At 12:01, Irish jumped to his feet and did a really embarrassing victory dance. It was now his birthday and he had legitimately won our bet.
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